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tank and header tank.
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He dropped lightly into the loft and moved to the hatch the
one door into any house that was rarely fitted with a
lock. It opened easily. The lights were on in the corridor. He
doubted if the house was fitted with an IRIS system. The
Roses probably relied on their windows rather than an
Infra-Red Intruder System, but Ian was careful. He squirted
some plumber's foaming polystyrene into a black plastic
sack and added the catalyst. The chemicals combined, causing
the bag to swell as the foam was formed. In so doing the
bag gave off a considerable quantity of heat. He lowered it
into the corridor and held it suspended for a few minutes long
enough for it to trigger any alarm systems. There was
no sound, nor did he expect there to be; alarm systems
didn't work like that. They alerted the security services but
not the housebreaker. He retrieved the sack, closed the hatch
and returned to the roof to wait.
He watched the lights streaming along the road. No vehicle
turned into the drive. Had anyone turned up, he would
have merely waited until they had checked the doors and
windows and had left. He waited thirty minutes to be
absolutely certain and re-entered the house. There were no
locked internal doors to contend with. First job was to find
the security lights control box and trip the circuit-breaker
fuse. Five minutes later he was in the office over the workshop.
That the lights had been left on made his job easier, but
the locked steel filing cabinet that had been made doubly
secure with a padlocked steel bar down the front of the draw174
ers was going to be a problem. He eased the cabinet away
from the wall and examined the back. He counted twenty
spot welds that secured the steel sheet back to the carcass.
Damn!
The trouble with spot welds was that they also spot
hardened the steel, making them a pig to drill out. Five
minutes per spot if he was lucky, and if the charge in his
cordless drill held out. He called Shief.
'I'm with the supplier now, sir. But I'll need at least two
hours to secure a delivery.'
'So long?'
"Fraid so, sir. But it's no problem as they went off with
luggage.'
'Very well. I'll stand by.'
Ian went to work with the cordless drill.
There was chaos around the check-in desks at Heathrow.
With their customary love of secrecy, flight operations had
enough information to cancel all flights to Indonesia but
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lacked the wit or will to tell over one thousand angry and
frustrated passengers why. London Airport was an information
hub: a sprawling entity tapped permanently into a
global communications network, and yet all its public radio
and TV station could manage were endless commercials,
inane chat and reports on traffic conditions on the M25.
Alec fought his way through the melee to where Christine
was guarding their luggage-laden trolley. 'Nothing,' he said
bitterly and jabbed angrily at the insert screen on his watch
which depicted a studio muppet showing viewers how to
pack a suitcase. 'Nobody knows a bloody thing.'
The answer came from a worried Indonesian doctor who
had called his wife on his Iridium Klipfone. 'There are tanks
on the streets in Jakarta!' he announced in a half-wail. The
hubbub died away. The Indonesian, now listening intently
to his wife, became the focus of attention.
175
'Oh, for Christ's sake,' Christine muttered bitterly. That's
all we want.'
'No fighting!' the Indonesian doctor announced, giving a
heave of relief. 'But there are soldiers everywhere.'
'Singapore!' Christine urged Alec. 'Get our tickets
changed.'
'What's the point? Everyone will have the same idea.'
'Just try! If you won't do it, look after our luggage and I'll
do it!'
'Even if we get to Singapore, the chances of us--'
'Just do it!'
Alec was back a few minutes later. 'All international airports
in Indonesia are closed,' he announced dejectedly.
Christine rummaged in her handbag for her Klipfone and
called the presidential office in Jakarta. The answering
machine detected that the call was from the United
Kingdom and provided her with an English announcement
to the effect that the office was unavailable until further
notice. She tried Honicker's number.
'Sorry,' said the Australian's cheery voice. 'I'm at a
concert and never have my phone switched on in a concert
hall.'
'That's it,' said Christine dejectedly, beaten for once. 'We
might as well get a refund on our tickets and go home.'
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Ian had removed the back of the filing cabinet and was halfway
through photographing the contents of the Darwin
patents file when Shief called him.
'How are the negotiations proceeding, Ian?'
'I'm about half-way through the contract papers, sir.'
'Excellent. Excellent. I'm looking forward to seeing the
results.'
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