He downed the last of his beer and waited to take his leave, but it was difficult choosing the moment. Gloria, thankful that all had reverted to normal and anxious to make amends for having appeared over-inquisitive, was waxing lyrical about her home town of Perth.

'Excuse me, Gloria, Dan wants to go to bed.' Harold had no compunction at all about interrupting the flow. 'Off you go, Dan, there's a good lad.'

Daniel stood.

'We'll make it ten o'clock in the morning, shall we,' Harold said. 'No, no,' he corrected himself. 'Let's make it half past I want to explore the town before we leave. No need to set off too early, what?'

'Very well, sir.' Excellent, Daniel thought he'd be able to send his letter directly from the post office. He'd been a little dubious about the prospect of leaving it with the receptionist. 'Goodnight, sir.' He bade the couple farewell and went to his room.

Dearest Elizabeth. As he started to write, Daniel did not ponder his words. They poured out of him. Please forgive me for any worry I might cause you in writing as I do, but I have some grave concerns and no-one with whom to share them. The fact that I'm able to share them with you now means that I am not sending this letter from Maralinga, as you will have gathered. I have for some time been Lord Dartleigh's a.s.signed driver, and, most fortuitously as it has turned out, Dartleigh decided upon a trip to Ceduna, a small coastal town several hundred miles from Maralinga. In doing so, he has inadvertently granted me the chance to write to you free of censorship, and I cannot resist the opportunity. You are the only person in whom I can confide, my darling, and, although you are powerless to provide any answers, I know that simply speaking to you on paper will ease the burden.

This is what has happened I will be as succinct as I can.

The man with whom I have been sharing barracks accommodation was an ex-Australian army lieutenant by the name of Petraeus Mitch.e.l.l. He was serving in a government capacity as Aboriginal liaison officer, responsible for relocating any local population discovered in the area.

Pete was a tormented man in many ways, a heavy drinker, p.r.o.ne to black moods, but I liked and respected him a great deal. We had become friends. Anyway, a week or so ago, in a drunken state, he told me of unimaginable happenings at Maralinga, events that were quite shocking. He said that men had been threatened with court martial if they spoke of what they'd seen.

Daniel paused. He could not risk telling Elizabeth about the Aboriginal deaths. If by chance Pete's story was true, then in repeating it he would be violating the Official Secrets Act and risking his own court martial.

I cannot tell you the specifics of Pete's allegations for obvious reasons, which you will understand but shocking though they were, I couldn't bring myself to believe there was any truth in what he said. He was rambling at the time, practically incoherent, behaving like a madman. He actually laughed and boasted that he could 'cop a bullet through the brain' for what he was telling me. Those were his exact words.

Well, the awful part is, Elizabeth, this is exactly what has happened. Pete has been murdered, shot through the head, supposedly by the jealous husband of a woman with whom he was having an affair. I know that the affair with the woman is true, not something concocted, and, under normal circ.u.mstances, the event, ghastly though it is, would be understandable. Itinerant workers here in the outback like Harry Lampton, the fettler currently being sought for Pete's murder are tough, ruthless men. But the coincidence haunts me.

I have decided to make my own enquiries, if only to achieve some peace of mind. I truly do not believe there is a conspiracy, Elizabeth, and, even as I write this, I am starting to feel self-consciously melodramatic. You see what a help you are to me, my darling? In the meantime, however, I cannot help agonising over the awful coincidence of Pete's death. If I can only discover some irrefutable evidence that establishes Harry Lampton as the killer perhaps a witness amongst the fettlers then I will rest a.s.sured that my fears are as foolish and as groundless as I'm sure they are.

Forgive me, my darling, for pouring all this out to you, but, as I have said, there is no-one in whom I can confide, and it is such a relief for me to be able to write openly of it. I shall sleep more soundly tonight having unburdened myself, I can a.s.sure you, although I realise it is probably the ultimate act of selfishness on my part. It is not my intention to worry you, I promise. I will not place myself in any danger and I will not behave rashly. My enquiries will be made with the utmost discretion.

Oh, my dearest Elizabeth, how very much I do miss you, and how very much I do love you.

I remain yours forever and forever and forever, Danny.

The following morning, Daniel was at the post office the moment it opened its doors for business. He bought an overseas stamp, popped the letter in the bright red mailbox, and felt happier than he had in days.

Harold Dartleigh's mood remained ebullient as they set off on the long drive back to Maralinga.

'I feel positively reborn,' he said. 'I shall return to Ceduna next year when I'm back for the Antler series. The sea air has done me the world of good.'

Last night had also done him good, he thought. There was nothing more satisfying than knowing one could have a woman right under her husband's nose.

'Oh, what a pity to be left all on one's own,' he'd said, when Vic had insisted upon winding his weary way off to bed. 'Are you sure I can't tempt you to a final nightcap?'

Vic had read his wife's hesitation. 'You stay for a drink if you like, love,' he'd said. 'I'm off to bed, I've had it.'

A complacent man, a.s.sured of his wife's fidelity, Harold had thought always a fatal mistake.

Gloria had stayed.

'Alone at last,' he'd said jokingly. Or was it a joke? Gloria had laughed, a girlish, breathless laugh, the sort he recognised middle-aged women always found him irresistible.

Gloria had been his for the taking. He'd known she would be from the moment he'd joined the couple at the table. Except, of course, he hadn't taken her. He never did. He was always faithful to Lavinia. But he did so enjoy the game. Harold was a terrible tease.

'Goodnight, Gloria,' he'd said forty minutes later. 'I've enjoyed your company immeasurably.'

Her disappointment had been palpable, and Harold had delighted in the thought that she'd been prepared to cuckold her husband, no doubt for the first time in a twenty-five-year marriage. Such moments were a wonderful boost to one's ego.

'So you had a decent night's sleep then, Dan?'

'Yes, sir, I did.'

'I must say, you look well-rested. The sea air's obviously worked wonders for you too. I thought you seemed a little peaky on the trip down.' Harold's bonhomie knew no bounds.

'I was rather out of sorts, but I feel very much better, sir, thank you.'

'Excellent. A bit of a change now and then would do all you lads good, I should think.'

Daniel wondered how twelve hours or more of heavy-duty driving over rough terrain could be termed 'a bit of a change', but he wasn't about to argue. Harold Dartleigh was, after all, quite right. The trip to Ceduna had done him the world of good.

Harold peered regretfully back at the last glimpse of coastline. 'It must be hard for you boys sometimes,' he said. The sea disappeared from sight and he turned to stare down the endless dusty highway. 'Very hard, being stranded out here in the middle of nowhere without family and without women. Lonely, I should think.'

Daniel couldn't really dispute the fact. It was lonely. Particularly now that Pete had gone he hadn't realised how much he'd come to rely on Pete's company. But he felt somehow bound to give a positive reply.

'Oh, I don't know, sir, we have a lot of laughs. There's plenty of camaraderie amongst the men '

'b.o.l.l.o.c.ks! Camaraderie, my a.r.s.e!'

Harold Dartleigh's reaction was so completely unexpected Daniel wasn't sure how to respond.

'There should be a great deal more camaraderie, boy.' As Harold warmed to his theme, it was plain he expected no response. 'The army is successfully demoralising the men, in my opinion. The need-to-know policy's been taken to such extremes it's denying the freedom of friendship.'

Harold was actually referring to William Penney's policy rather than the army's. Penney's insistence that the men be kept in ignorance irritated Harold intensely. There were times when even he was denied information, and all because of Penney's ridiculous obsession with his own power. Thank G.o.d he'd placed Gideon undercover, Harold thought, and thank G.o.d he'd cultivated the odious Melvyn Crowley. William Penney, in his megalomania, would close the doors even on MI6 if he could. d.a.m.n the man's hide.

'Men need to let off steam, Dan.' Harold looked out at the desolation surrounding them in only minutes, it seemed the desert had swallowed them up. 'Particularly in a depressing h.e.l.lhole like Maralinga.'

Harold Dartleigh's views surprised Daniel. He'd have thought the need-to-know regulations would be right on target for MI6.

'Well, don't you agree, lad?' Harold was inviting comment now he was in the mood for conversation. 'The camaraderie of men is of the utmost importance in a place like Maralinga, wouldn't you say?'

'Yes, indeed I would, sir.'

'So why the reticence? Come along, Dan, let's have your say. I feel like a chat.'

'I suppose I'm just a little surprised, sir. Given your position, I'd have thought you'd consider security in every form to be of the utmost importance.'

'Oh, I do, my boy, I do, believe me. But Maralinga's security lies in its isolation. The remoteness of its location makes it a veritable fortress. And do you know the next most important security factor to be taken into consideration after the choice of location?' Harold paused, and Daniel wondered whether it was a trick question. But it wasn't. 'The loyalty of one's team, Dan.' Harold triumphantly answered himself. 'And do you know what breeds loyalty?'

This time Daniel took a punt. 'The camaraderie of men, sir?'

'Exactly!' Harold clapped his hands and Daniel felt as if he'd just gone to the top of the cla.s.s. 'Loyalty and comradeship should be encouraged at all times, particularly under conditions such as those at Maralinga.'

Harold was very much enjoying his own argument. He really should be running Maralinga himself, he thought Sir William Penney and the military were both employing the wrong tactics.

'To nurture ignorance is to invite inefficiency,' he proclaimed. 'And to breed fear, as the army has done, is counterproductive on every level.'

To breed fear, as the army has done. The words struck an immediate chord with Daniel. Could Harold Dartleigh be indirectly referring to the army's threat of court martial? The man seemed very pa.s.sionate in his views, and if soldiers had been threatened with court martial then the deputy director of MI6 would be bound to know of it.

'What's the matter, Dan?' The boy had been paying rapt attention, but he'd suddenly drifted off as he had during the drive south. Harold was in such a good mood that, rather than finding the fact irritating, he felt a touch of concern. 'You've gone very quiet, lad. What's up?'

'I'm so sorry, sir, I do beg your pardon. I didn't mean '

'You've been preoccupied lately. Come on, boy, spill the beans. What's weighing on your mind?' Harold was imbued with a rush of avuncular affection. If young Dan had a problem, he'd like to help. Perhaps the lad was being bullied, or perhaps some senior officer was making his life h.e.l.l.

Daniel wondered whether he dared test for a reaction, and, as he carefully broached his subject, he studied Harold Dartleigh from the corner of his eye, searching for a giveaway sign.

'A close friend of mine died recently, sir. I'm afraid I've found it rather upsetting.'

'Yes, well, death tends to upset us all, doesn't it.' Harold's interest waned dramatically and he looked out the window. How disappointing, he thought.

Undeterred, Daniel continued. 'His name was Pete Mitch.e.l.l. He was my roommate at the barracks.'

'Ah, Pete Mitch.e.l.l ...' Harold's interest was immediately rekindled and his eyes lit up. 'The liaison chappie responsible for the Aboriginal business. Yes, yes.'

Daniel's breath caught in his throat. He felt himself physically gasp. Surely Harold Dartleigh couldn't mean the Aboriginal deaths. He'd hoped to garner some hint about the veracity of Pete's story, but he was shocked to hear the subject referred to so openly.

'What Aboriginal business would that be, sir?' he asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible and his eyes focused on the road.

'You know ... locating them ... seeing them off the land ...' Harold gave an airy wave of his hand; he really had no idea what an Aboriginal liaison officer did. 'All that sort of thing.'

Realising that Dartleigh had been speaking in generalities, Daniel nodded a little too readily and a little too eagerly. 'Yes, sir, that's right,' he said, 'that was Pete's job.' He was praying fervently that his reaction had gone unnoticed.

It hadn't. Very little escaped Harold Dartleigh. So the boy knew about the native deaths, he thought. How very interesting. He hadn't known himself until Melvyn Crowley had told him. Of course, Melvyn considered the natives' deaths a major breakthrough, but then Melvyn was a ghoul. A very handy man to have on side though, Harold told himself. If it weren't for Melvyn, he would be unaware of the army's threat of court martial. Gideon, for all his contacts, had heard nothing the men were plainly too frightened to talk. Just as well Melvyn, with his ear firmly pasted to the laboratory door, had overheard every word. He'd come up with a full report too, including an account of all those present. Good old Melvyn, Harold thought he was indeed indebted to the man. Personally, he couldn't give a tinker's toss about the natives, nor about the army's threat of court martial, which he supposed was necessary under the circ.u.mstances, but he did so detest being left in the dark.

'A terrible business,' he said, 'quite, quite terrible.'

'What's that, sir?' Daniel was nervous. Harold Dartleigh's mood had become contemplative and it worried him. He wasn't at all sure what to expect.

'Your friend's murder, of course.'

Harold had no intention of putting young Dan on the spot. Pete Mitch.e.l.l had obviously told the boy about the dead natives rather inconsiderate, he thought, feeding the lad information that could lead to his court martial.

'I didn't know you and Pete Mitch.e.l.l had been roommates, Dan. No wonder you're upset,' he said sympathetically. 'A gruesome affair, most unpleasant all round.'

'You know about Pete's death then, sir?'

'Of course I do. I know everything about it the whole of Maralinga does.'

Surely the boy must be aware of the book Gideon Melbray was running, Harold thought. The capture of Pete Mitch.e.l.l's killer was the hottest bet in town. But possibly, in the interests of good taste, the men had kept Gideon's book a secret from young Dan.

'I believe the killer's a chap from Watson,' he said. 'A fettler by the name of Harry Lampton.' He'd put ten pounds on Harry Lampton turning up in Kalgoorlie a gold-mining town had seemed a good choice to Harold.

'Well, yes, sir, Harry Lampton's the chief suspect.'

Harold's senses were instantly on the alert. There was something in the way young Dan had said that, he thought. But he kept his response casual.

'You have your doubts, eh, Dan?'

'About what, sir?'

'You think it might not be the fettler?'

'Oh, no, sir, I didn't say that.' Daniel was fl.u.s.tered in his reply. 'I mean, everything points to Harry Lampton of course ...'

'Yes, but naturally you'd want to be sure, wouldn't you?'

Harold's finely tuned antennae had come into play. He was sifting through every single nuance of every single word they'd spoken, and things were adding up. He didn't need to confront the boy. Who do you think it was, Dan? There was no necessity for such interrogation. He knew exactly who Dan thought it was.

'You'd want to be sure because Pete Mitch.e.l.l was your friend. And when a friend meets a terrible end like that, you'd want to know that the true culprit had been apprehended. Isn't that right, Dan?'

'Yes, sir, that's right.' It was the simple truth, and Harold Dartleigh seemed so understanding that Daniel had no trouble admitting it. 'The sooner Harry Lampton's found, and the sooner he's proved guilty, the happier I'll be.'

'Well, we'll have to get cracking then, won't we?'

'I beg your pardon, sir?'

'The only problem is, from what I've heard, the military police haven't been able to come up with any witnesses. The fettlers have closed ranks, I believe. Of course, a motley bunch like that always does when the police snoop around, what?'

'Yes, sir, that's right.' The conversation had taken a most unexpected turn, but it seemed Daniel had found an ally in Harold Dartleigh. 'I'd thought of making some enquiries at Watson myself.'

'Ah, no, Dan, no, no, wrong move. The fettlers wouldn't open up to you any more than they would to the police. But a civilian with hefty bribe money now that would be a different matter altogether. I'll put a man on to it, you just leave it to me.'

Daniel felt a rush of relief. The mental agony of the past few days suddenly lifted. If there had been any conspiracy to silence Pete Mitch.e.l.l, he thought, then Harold Dartleigh would undoubtedly have known of it. But clearly he didn't. Everything pointed to Pete's death being the coincidence it had appeared to be.

'I don't know what to say, sir. I'm very grateful, very grateful indeed.'

'No need to be, Dan. I can't have my driver distracted from his duties, what? Don't you worry, we'll get to the bottom of this. Nothing goes on around Maralinga that I don't know about or can't find out. You pop into my office in a few days and I'll let you know what I've come up with.'

'Yes, I will, sir. Thank you.'

'Now, if you don't mind, I might try and have a bit of a nap before we get to the really b.u.mpy parts of the drive. All right with you?'

'Yes, yes, of course, sir.'

Harold leaned back and pretended to doze. He wasn't at all tired, but he couldn't be bothered talking any more. What a very interesting turn of events, he thought. He could certainly see why young Dan had been so preoccupied.

He ran through the sequence in his mind. Natives killed, soldiers threatened with court martial, Pete Mitch.e.l.l blabbed it all out to the boy and ended up with a bullet through his skull. Well, no wonder the lad thought the army had murdered his friend. And who knew? Perhaps he was right. Pete Mitch.e.l.l wasn't a soldier, after all he couldn't be tidily dealt with in a court martial that no-one would hear about. The quickest and most efficient way to silence him would be to kill him. Harold would certainly have done so himself in similar circ.u.mstances.

Harold was grateful to young Dan, and had every intention of honouring his promise. He'd put Gideon on the job, he decided. If anyone could get information from the fettlers, Gideon certainly could. Personally, he didn't care one iota whether Pete Mitch.e.l.l's death had been a matter of military expediency or the result of a jealous husband's rage, but he would not be left out of the picture. First Penney, and now the army it simply wouldn't do.

Three days later, a familiar excitement pervaded Maralinga. Once again the routine of military life was about to be shattered by the thrill of a nuclear explosion.