Strangled Silence (19 page)

'Good,'
-
muttered. 'I
have to admit, I'll be glad when it's secured again.
The risk of it being hijacked—'

'—Is well worth it,'
assured him. 'The
nation is losing faith in the war. If that happens,
they'll drop their guard and the British people will
become easy targets for any fanatic who wants to
try his luck. That can't be allowed to happen.'

was surprised to see that
both men looked anxious. The contradictions of
the human mind never failed to fascinate her.
These men had planned all this from its inception,
and had known the scale of operation they were
undertaking. Only now, as it was coming close to
realization, did her colleagues seem to consider the
risks they were taking. She had only a small, but
important, part to play in the delivery of this
shipment and had been nervous about it for some
time. She was not comfortable working outside of
the controlled conditions of her laboratories. These
men, on the other hand, should be used to this kind
of thing.

'Other business,'
said abruptly, as if keen
to change the subject. 'You say McMorris has
started avoiding your surveillance?'

'Doesn't everybody?'
murmured, much to
-
's annoyance.

'We think Sandwith made him aware of the
devices in his flat, and all three of them are careful
about what they say when they're together,' he
reported, shifting his large body in the small armchair.
'The easiest one to keep track of is Amina
Mir. She uses the phones and computers at the
newspaper and we've been tapped into them for
over a year. She's talkative too.'

'Her mother could be a problem if she gets
involved,'
cautioned him.

'She won't. The girl's fiercely independent. She
could use her mother's name a lot more than she
does, but she's obviously keen to go it alone. The
little tart has no idea what she's getting herself into.'

'Then maybe she should be given a hint,'
said quietly. 'Nothing loud enough to get the
mother's attention. I won't have this nation's security
compromised by another loudmouth reporter.

'And do something about Sandwith too. I
don't like the way his friends have been sniffing
around the Central Database. God knows what
kind of dirt they could be digging out of there. It's
time we started to tidy up all these loose ends.'

It was Saturday morning, and Amina was enjoying
a well-earned lie-in. She loved her bed. Her purple
duvet was piled up around her and a collection of
quirkily shaped cushions supplemented her pillows
to create a plush boudoir effect, echoed by the
terracotta-coloured walls. Despite the cynical
attitude she was keen on developing as part of her
journalistic persona, she was an avid chick-lit fan
and stacks of books on the pitfalls and perils of
modern relationships lined her bookshelves, along
with books on uncompromising reporters like
Edward R. Murrow, Nellie Bly and George Orwell.

Her stereo's timer clicked on at 10.30 a. M.,
playing her favourite morning radio show, but she
stayed under the duvet, resisting the DJ's jovial
efforts to kick-start her day. It was only when the
staccato lyrics and rumbling bass beat of Absent
Conscience started reverberating through the wall
from Tariq's room that she finally sat up and faced
the day.

'Tariq!' she yelled.

'
They say love is blind, but I see just fine/You're
tryin' to sell me a world when it's already mine/You are
my first love but not the last you see/I love hurting you
with honesty
. . .'

'TARIQ! TURN. IT. DOWN!'

The volume dropped until it was merely a
muffled annoyance and Amina flopped back into
her pillows. That was it; she was awake now. The
lovely fluffy fog of half-asleepness was lost. She
wondered if she could persuade her dad to bring
her breakfast in bed. He did sometimes, when he
was in a mood for spoiling her.

But one look at her PC was enough to
motivate her into getting up and putting on her snug
mauve dressing gown over her peach silk pyjamas.
She had promised herself she would spend some of
the day writing up her notes and putting together
the beginnings of an article on what they'd found
so far. But not before she'd treated herself to a nice
breakfast and an hour or two of lounging on the
sofa with a good book.