The Death Trade Read Online Free

his pioneering work on medical isotopes. He’s spoken of the awesome powers generated by nuclear energy as the Breath of Allah, which must surely have endeared him to Islamic opinion.”
    â€œI’m sure it did,” Ferguson agreed.
    â€œHowever, further studies showed how quickly it could be turned into a weapons-grade material, which was exactly what his masters were hoping for, and, as you know, it was impossible for him to argue because they had his family,” Nathan Gideon said.
    â€œThe fact that they’re allowing him to venture into the outside world only proves how serious the threats must be to his mother and daughter,” Sara put in.
    â€œYou’re dealing with a regime that doesn’t stop at stoning a woman to death,” Roper pointed out.
    Ferguson said, “Have you spoken to Claude Duval?”
    â€œYes, I have, he’s on our side and intends to be there himself. But let’s get clear now what we’re expecting to come out of this.” He turned to Sara. “The ball is in your court.”
    She sat there, looking intense and troubled. “I always remember Simon as a lovely man. I’d just like to hear him tell me out of his own lips what
he
would like done to solve this situation. I have a horrible feeling that not much
can
be done and we’ll be at a stalemate, but I’d still like to try.”
    â€œAnd so you shall,” Ferguson told her. “And it’s of vital importance that you do, because if he really has made progress beyond the theoretical in his nuclear experiments, it’s essential that we get our hands on his results before Iran does.”
    â€œBut what if he doesn’t agree? What if he’s faced with something so terrible that he’d rather nobody had it at all?” Sara asked.
    Ferguson said calmly, “It’d be too late. He could destroy his case notes, all records of his findings, and it would do him little good. A scientist discovers what already exists. Eventually, someone else would follow in Husseini’s footsteps.”
    She took a deep breath and said sadly, “I suppose you’re right.”
    â€œI’m afraid I usually am, Captain.” Ferguson got up. “I’m sure you’d agree, Nathan.”
    The rabbi, looking rather troubled, nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
    Ferguson said, “Thank you for your input. We’ll get on. We’ve much to do, and in limited time.” He kissed Sara on the cheek. “I can see this is getting to you, but be of good heart. There’s a solution to everything, I’ve always found. We’ll see you at Holland Park early this evening, Dillon and the Salters and we three. Maggie will produce one of her special meals and we’ll discuss the future. It’s been very useful, Rabbi, my sincere thanks.”
    Roper was already moving out in his wheelchair, and Ferguson followed him.
    â€”
    I t was just after six that evening when the taxi dropped Sara at Holland Park. It always reminded her of a nursing home or something similar, although the razor wire, high walls, and numerous cameras indicated a different agenda. She didn’t have to do anything except wait to be identified. The Judas Gate in the massive front entrance clicked open, she stepped inside, and it closed behind her. She crossed the courtyard to the front door, went in and made her way to the computer room, where she found Roper in his wheelchair in front of the screens. She removed her military trench coat.
    â€œWhere is everybody?” she asked.
    â€œThe boss is in his office, the Salters haven’t turned up yet, and the music wafting through from the dining room is Dillon on the piano. It pains me to say it, but the wretch is really quite good.”
    â€œNo, he isn’t, he’s damn good,” Sara called as she went out along the corridor and turned into the dining room.
    Dillon, at the piano, was just finishing “Blue