Deadly Diplomacy (3 page)

He shook his head, and beckoned her in. “There’s someone here,” he said into the phone. “Can you call me back in ten minutes?”

“Sorry.” Jess walked over to his desk and sat down on the chair opposite as he hung up. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Nigel’s dark-ringed eyes stared back at her.

“Everything all right?” she asked, concerned. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, and his cheeks were drawn.

He nodded curtly, and started scrawling on a document on his desk with his beloved fountain pen, or his “diplomatic weapon” as Jess called it. Nigel would never use a ball-point, it might cheapen his words. He was the archetypal diplomat. Schooled privately, and armed with a BA from Oxford, he’d joined the FCO on the fast track to the top. Now, in his late 40s and with a number of high profile jobs under his belt, he was poised to take on an Ambassadorial post after Canberra, a status he craved. By contrast, Jess’s route to the FCO had been via the local comprehensive. She often wondered how Nigel would have coped with life on the estate she grew up on.

“
There!
” Peering over his gold-rimmed specs, he pushed a report across the desk. “I’ve made one or two amendments.”

Jess wasn’t surprised to see it was her annual consular report. Nigel always had to put his mark on everything. “Is that what you wanted to see me about?” she asked, looking at her watch.

“No.” He stood up, and turned to look out of the window. Tailored by Jermyn Street, Nigel looked every inch the old-school Mandarin. Over six feet tall, and portly after years of diplomatic dinners, he quite literally and metaphorically looked down on everyone. “Simon told me about the Brisbane murder,” he said. “I want to know what you’re doing about it.”

“I’m going to Brisbane… on the ten o’clock flight.”

His jaw dropped open. “What about the Foreign Secretary’s visit? You’re supposed to be escorting him around your Section and introducing him to your staff.”

“The Foreign Secretary won’t miss me. And Sharon’s more than capable of standing in. Anyway, I’m needed in Brisbane. I had a voicemail from the victim’s sister, pleading for my help.”

Nigel spun round.

Jess nodded. “I haven’t been able to talk to her yet. I tried to call her back, but for some reason she withheld her number.”

When Nigel frowned, the grooves in his forehead seemed even deeper. “What did she say exactly?”

Jess didn’t have to think: Susan’s words were imprinted on her brain. “My sister’s been murdered… I need your help.” She paused. “But there was something else.”

Nigel raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“She asked me not to ring back because she said it wasn’t
safe.
Those were her exact words. It wasn’t
safe
.” She paused. “Poor girl sounded desperate.”

Nigel turned back to look out of the window. Feet planted astride, he stood like a captain on the bridge of a ship. Except he wasn’t in charge; the High Commissioner was. Only he’d been in Perth for the last few days, leading a UK trade delegation to drum up business for British companies.

Hearing footsteps and the rustle of papers, Jess looked round to see Simon coming through the door with a newspaper tucked under his arm. Tall, slim, and fit from jogging around Lake Burley Griffin every day, his tie was askew and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He nodded to them both in greeting, and pushed his square-framed glasses into position on his nose. “I
thought
the name Ellen Chambers sounded familiar.” He looked excited as he spread a newspaper over Nigel’s desk. “Have a look at this.” He pointed to an article. “Our dead woman worked for Western Energy Corporation, as Group Finance Director, no less. She was working on that big gas deal with China.”

“
Really?
” Jess turned the
Brisbane Echo
sideways to read the article. This would get the media fired up, she thought. A senior British businesswoman murdered while she was working on a lucrative LNG – liquefied natural gas – deal with the Chinese. In a photo above the article, Ellen Chambers stood between two men. She looked attractive with her long blonde hair and smart suit. Jess looked up. “Do either of you know the two men in this photo with her?”

That prompted Nigel to sit down and look at the newspaper. “That’s John Langhurst on her left. He’s the Chairman of Western Energy.” He looked up. “He’s married to Linda Shipperton.”

Jess knew Linda was the daughter of Robert Shipperton, a former Australian Prime Minister.

Nigel turned back to the paper. “The other man in the photo is the CEO, Richard Price.”

Little beads of sweat glistened on Nigel’s forehead as sunlight flooded through the window. A thought popped into Jess’s head. “Did you know Ellen Chambers, Nigel?”

He shook his head. “I should telephone the Chairman to offer our condolences.” He smoothed his hair with his hand, and turned to Simon. “Is he coming to the High Commissioner’s dinner for the Foreign Secretary tomorrow evening?”

Simon nodded.

“Make sure I get seated next to him. I want to have a chat about the gas deal.”

Jess smiled. Nigel never missed an opportunity to cosy up to Australia’s movers and shakers.

Simon tapped his finger on the newspaper. “It says here the Chinese gas team are in Oz for another round of talks to try to break the deadlock?” He lowered his voice. “I hear they’re being
really
difficult.”

“Well, this murder’s only going to make things worse,” Jess added.

“I don’t see why it should.” Nigel’s voice sounded casual. “It’ll be some low-life who did it. Ellen Chambers was probably just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

Jess looked up, quickly. “Why would you assume that?”

“What are
you
suggesting happened?”

Simon cut in. “Well I agree with Jess. This murder’s bound to shake things up. That contract’s worth
millions.
And it’s crucial to both countries.”

Nigel stuck his chin out. He didn’t like to be contradicted and was about to sound off.

Jess quickly changed the subject. “Did the High Commissioner get back okay from Perth last night?”

With a satisfied smile, Nigel shook his head. “His flight was delayed until this morning. Technical problems.” He puffed his chest out. “That means I’ll have to go to the airport and meet the Foreign Secretary. I
suppose
I’ll have to chair the working lunch in Parliament too.”

Jess glanced at Simon, who gave her the ghost of a smile. They both knew Nigel was delighted the High Commissioner hadn’t made it back from Perth in time for the Foreign Secretary’s arrival.

Nigel’s ringing phone interrupted. Snatching up the receiver, he listened and covered it with his hand. “Right, you two, let’s get on with it,” he said.

Taking their cue, Jess and Simon stood up and headed for the door.

“Oh Jessic
aah
…”

She turned back to Nigel.

“Do everything by the book in Brisbane, okay? The media will be watching. No bleeding heart stuff. We don’t want any cock-ups, not with the Foreign Secretary here.”

It was the patronising tone Nigel reserved for her that really riled. She gave him a long, cool look, and walked out.

Simon followed her out into the corridor. “He’s
such
a prick! Ignore him, Jess.”

Furious as she was with Nigel, Jess wasn’t going to show it. At the staircase, she turned. “You don’t have to worry about me, Simon. I can hold my own in this organisation.”

“I know you can, Jess.” Simon’s eyes softened. “Look, we need to talk… about Friday night.”

Feeling the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks, she started to walk down the stairs. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Jess.”

“I can’t do this now, Simon.”

“But…”

“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

“
Fine!
” He threw his hands up in the air and walked off.

Jess went back to her office, slammed the door and leant against it. “You don’t have to like your boss, Jess,” her Dad used to say when she first started working at the Foreign Office and came home with tales of her snooty London colleagues, “you just have to find a way of working with him.”

How right he was!
Now, her way of working with Nigel was to give him as wide a berth as possible. And then Simon had to go and mention Friday night as well. He certainly picked his moment.

Pushing all thoughts of Nigel and Simon out of her head, she looked over at the beam of sunshine flooding through the window. It lifted her spirits. Never mind the dreary battleship-grey desk and beige walls, she liked her bright, north facing office. It was her haven of peace and quiet. Going over to her desk, she switched on her computer. Almost 70 emails had come in overnight from the Foreign Office and British embassies all over the world. Everything, from the notification of more biometric changes to the British passport to the latest reports of atrocities in Syria, filled her inbox. She scanned through, deleting, archiving, or forwarding unclassified emails to her laptop to answer later.

Curious about Ellen Chambers and Western Energy, she went onto the internet and found the Company’s official website. Clicking onto Our Management Team, a photo of Chairman John Langhurst popped up. Jess studied his thin, sun-tanned face and short grey hair. It was difficult to tell how old he was from a photo, probably in his 60s, she thought. Had she met him before? No, she’d have remembered those striking blue eyes.

A photo of Chief Executive Richard Price came next. Though he was already balding, he looked younger than the Chairman. With his long face and tortoiseshell glasses, he looked like some Dickensian character. She was quite sure she hadn’t met him before.

Then she looked for Ellen Chambers, but could only find her name and designation as Group Finance Director on the website. Why no photo? Not to be defeated, she typed Ellen Chambers and Western Energy into Google. A few newspaper articles popped up, referring to Ellen’s name and position in Western Energy. But there were no quotes from her, and no articles about her. That was surprising. Wouldn’t a woman in Ellen Chambers’ position have
some
footprint on the internet?

“Morning, Jess.”

She looked up to see Sharon sashaying towards her in a figure-hugging black skirt and satin blouse, a pile of papers in one hand and a mug in the other. As usual, she looked immaculate, with her curly auburn hair styled, and her freckled complexion expertly made up.

“I thought you’d need some coffee before you go.” Sharon’s red-polished nails gleamed as she handed over the mug.

Jess took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

“Simon just told me you’re leaving for Brisbane on the ten o’clock flight.” Sharon lowered herself into a chair and crossed her legs. “I’ve asked the driver to bring the car round for you.”

Jess nodded. “Can you let the Queensland Police know I’m on my way? I’ll head straight to The Palms when I get there.”

“Have you spoken to Susan Chambers?” Sharon asked. “Only she’s been phoning every ten minutes to speak to you.”

“Why didn’t you put her through?”

“You were upstairs with big Nige.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “Bet he’s insufferable with the Foreign Secretary arriving?”

“He’s fretting about the programme. Can you cover for me when the Foreign Secretary comes round the office to meet the staff?”

“Of course.”

Jess frowned. “You know, Sharon, I’m worried about Susan Chambers. She left two voice messages on my mobile, saying she wanted to speak to me. But she didn’t leave a number, and said it wasn’t
safe
for me to phone her back. God knows what that’s all about.”

“Sounds paranoid to me.” Sharon looked thoughtful. “I
knew
she was going to be trouble. She refused to talk to me on the phone, and just kept asking for you. Anyway, she seems to have calmed down since I told her you were flying to Brisbane. At least she hasn’t phoned again.”

“Did you tell her I’d be staying at The Palms?”

Sharon nodded.

“Right, well, I’ll just have to find her when I get there.” Jess looked at her watch again. “Now, if the media call about the identity of the murder victim, put them on to Simon until I get to Brisbane. If anyone else asks, take the line that the police have notified us that a British woman was found dead at The Palms this morning. Tell them we can’t confirm her name yet, but we’ll issue a press release as soon as we can. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Anything else I should be worrying about before I go?”

Sharon slid the pile of papers she was nursing onto the desk. “Simon went rushing over to Parliament and forgot these agendas. They’re for the working lunch.” She glanced over. “Nothing wrong is there, only he seemed… distracted?”

Jess looked away. She didn’t really have time to stop at Parliament, but she wanted to smooth things over with Simon. “I’ll drop them in on my way to the airport.” She pushed the papers into her leather briefcase.

Sharon stood up and hovered by the door. “I know you won’t like me saying this, Jess, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you like. But, well, Simon’s a good man, you know. He’s intelligent, reliable, kind, and…” She took a deep breath. “Very fond of you. And if anyone deserves a second chance at happiness, it’s you.”

Jess felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. But when she did finally look up, Sharon had slipped out.
Oh my God!
Jess slumped back in her chair. Was Simon that transparent? Had others noticed too? She shuddered. She had to put a stop to this right now, and get some distance between them before
everyone
started talking. And this Brisbane trip seemed a good time to begin.

An incoming email distracted her.

Thank God you’re coming to Brisbane. I can’t talk to the police, it’s not safe. Don’t phone me, I think they’re monitoring my calls. I’ll find you at the Palms. SC

Not safe?
There it was again. Why would the police want to monitor
Susan’s
calls? Sitting there, Jess started to feel uneasy. It wasn’t just Susan Chambers’ mysterious messages worrying her. Call it instinct, experience or whatever, but something about this consular case didn’t feel right. She sighed. Sharon was spot on though, Susan Chambers
was
going to be trouble. But it wasn’t paranoia she sensed from Susan; it was more like fear.