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“Research, mostly. He had many ongoing studies.”
“In which areas?”
“The economics of energy production, radiological engineering. But hydrocarbon economy was his main focus.”
“A subject list any government might show interest in,” Asher hinted.
She rolled her eyes. “Most governments care only for money.”
“Was Professor Taleb working on anything that may have been a conflict of interest or controversial? Anything that may have upset the wrong people?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Had he been acting suspiciously at all, as though someone might have been threatening him?”
Professor Amara stared at Asher. “Not that I’m aware. Do you think that’s why he was killed? The police said it was a misfire. Accidental.”
“Professor,” Harry said. “I can tell you it was no accident. He was killed via a targeted contract from a foreign government.”
Jesus fucking Christ, Harry.
She sat back in her seat, pale. “Oh, I, uh...”
“Do you have access to his email?” Asher asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Do you know what he was doing in Ghardaïa?” Harry pressed.
Professor Amara blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Uh, he, um, he has family there. A home, a wife and three children.”
Asher could feel Harry shrink back at that news. That a man he killed had a family.
Asher inhaled deeply and gave the professor a nod. “Thank you for your time. You’ve been most helpful. We’ll leave you now. I understand you’re incredibly busy.”
Before Asher could stand, she asked, “Who killed him?”
Christ.
Asher was quick to answer before Harry could. “It’s not the person who pulled the trigger we’re after. It’s whomever ordered the shot.”
So she rephrased her question. “Which government had him killed?”
“Mine,” Harry replied. “We’re trying to find out why. And who his contact was.”
Asher made a mental note to never bring Harry along to any kind of questioning ever again.
She cocked her head, confused. “Yours? What for? We don’t export gas to Australia. The pipelines run to Spain and Portugal, Italy, Sardinia, and Slovenia.” Then realisation crossed her features. Her eyes went to Asher’s. “Those pipelines that supply Europe run from the Hassi R’Mel gas fields.”
“Hassi R’Mel,” Harry said, looking at Asher. “Just miles from Ghardaïa.”
Professor Amara gave a grim nod. “And oil fields to the east. It may be prudent to check which companies export oil to your country,” she said to Harry. “What they would want Professor Taleb dead for, I cannot begin to imagine. But the answers you seek may be there.”
“Thank you, professor,” Asher said with a nod. This time he stood. “We’ve taken enough of your time.”
She stood also, though made no offer to walk them out, and Asher didn’t blame her. They made their way out of the main building, down the steps, and quickly crossed the street, walking at pace.
“That has to be a connection, right?” Harry asked. “That he lived a few miles outside of Algeria’s biggest gas and oil fields.”
