White Gold (18 page)

London, England

Dan walked out of the underground station and began to walk up the street. The pavements were slick with rain and grease, slippery to the step. Dan grimaced. It was a dirty city, with chewing gum and dog shit vying for position with litter strewn over the path and gutters. Pulling up his jacket collar to shield himself from the fine drizzle being blown horizontally down his neck, he side-stepped an empty fast food container and turned the corner.

The offices of David’s team occupied a nondescript nineteen-sixties edifice four doors down, the steps partially hidden behind two vagrants wrapped in blankets sleeping off the depressing morning. Dan caught the eye of one of them as he climbed the step and reached into his pocket for some money, handing it to him as he passed. The man nodded in appreciation and pulled his woolly hat down lower over his ears. Dan bent down to whisper to him.

‘Grow a beard or something – you stand out a mile.’

The man’s eyes opened wide and he stared after Dan as he opened the entrance door and stepped through. Grinning to himself, Dan walked over to the sleek reception area and waited while the security guard finished a phone call. He looked around at the sand-coloured marble walls and at the installation art gracing the atrium and wondered if he could work in such a place. Probably not.

He turned around as the security guard finished his call. Walking over, he handed him David’s business card. ‘Hi – can you tell him Dan Taylor is here to see him?’

The security guard glared at him. ‘Have you got an appointment?’

Dan glared back. ‘No. I don’t need one.’ He turned and sat down on one of the chairs set back against the front wall of the building. Picking up a six-month-old magazine, he ignored the security guard, who took the hint and picked up the phone.

Minutes later, Dan threw down the magazine and stood up as the elevator doors opened. He waited while David Ludlow strode across the reception area towards him. They appraised each other silently before David held out his hand.

‘I’m glad you could make it.’

Dan shook hands, tentatively accepting the peace offering.

David steered him towards the elevator and they stepped in. As David punched a key, the doors swept closed and he turned to Dan.

‘What made you change your mind?’

Dan shrugged. ‘It got personal when Delaney went after Sarah and Harry.’

David nodded and said nothing. The two men rode up through the rest of the building in silence. When the doors opened, David led the way to his office, closed the door behind Dan and walked over to his desk. Philippa stood in the centre of the room and eyed Dan warily.

‘What exactly is your field of expertise?’ she asked.

Dan grinned. ‘This and that. Yours?’

Philippa arched an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure I should answer that.’

Dan shrugged, smiling. He turned to David. ‘Is she always like this?’

David nodded. ‘Yes – so watch yourself.’

Dan pulled out a chair and sat down without being asked. ‘So, are you going to tell me what you do here? What is it – MI5?’

David sat down and swivelled his chair to face Dan and shook his head. ‘Nothing on the radar. Mostly, we protect the UK’s energy assets from terrorist organisations. I report directly to the Minister for Energy as well as filing reports and advice to the Ministry of Defence. Sometimes I provide a brief directly to the Prime Minister. A lot of the time we just advise, keep our eyes and ears open and provide support to the other agencies. Every now and again though, we find someone like Delaney and the rule book goes out the window.’

He stood up and paced the room, turning a pen between his fingers. ‘MI5 and MI6 are aware of our existence, as are our colleagues in the United States and Australia. We’re picky about who we work with. At the end of the day, I’m responsible for safeguarding a future for this country’s economy from anyone who might be a threat.’

He stopped pacing and looked at Dan. ‘I have to ask. What’s Sarah’s involvement in this?’

‘I guess she’s just trying to figure out why Peter had to die,’ said Dan.

‘And she’s probably worked out it will make one hell of a story,’ added David. He threw the pen down on the desk. ‘Tell her from me that any article she intends to write will be subject to scrutiny by this office first. I won’t have this project compromised by anyone – especially a reporter.’

Dan shrugged. ‘I’ll try.’

David slammed his hand down on the desk. ‘You’ll do better than that, Dan. You’ll make sure she doesn’t. There are people higher up than me who will do anything –
anything
to make sure information about this technology doesn’t reach the public domain before we’re ready. If Sarah goes to print, I will not vouch for her safety. Or yours.’

Dan nodded. ‘I’ll speak to her.’

David shook his head, turned and walked over to the office wall which was strewn with notes, photographs, satellite images and maps. He beckoned to Dan and tapped the photo of them and two others next to the Warrior armoured vehicle.

‘Remember this?’

Dan stepped closer and looked at the picture. It seemed a lifetime ago. He shivered. ‘I wish I’d known that was the last time we’d all be together,’ he said. ‘After all we’d been through, we still went down like a naive bunch of amateurs.’ He looked away. The memories were still too painful.

David watched him carefully, then pulled the photo off the wall and turned it round to face Dan. ‘What do you remember about that day?’

Dan turned and stared at David. ‘Why?’

David walked back over to his desk and sat down, then gestured to Dan to take a seat, placing the photograph between them. ‘It might be important.’

Dan eased himself into the chair and looked at David for a few seconds before speaking. ‘I remember getting the call that there’d been activity out on the north road – you know, that single lane track out of town. So they sent us to investigate. Two in the front of the Warrior, four of us in the back. You, me, Terry, Mitch, Dicko and H.’

‘Go on.’

‘We reached the location, radioed in and got out. There was no sniper activity – we put it down to the lack of building cover. There was a house on the left side of the track – mud and bricks, a low wall keeping in a goat and some chickens. There was an old couple staring at us from the house. You shouted to Terry to get the old lady in the doorway to move away from the area.’

Dan pulled the photograph towards him and held it in his hands before continuing. ‘Me and Mitch began the routine – you, Terry, Dicko and H began to cordon off the area and watch out for snipers. I remember you sending Terry off in the direction of the house to make sure the old couple weren’t hiding anyone. Dicko and H began to walk along the track. That kid on the bike – he cycled into the middle of the road. Dicko and H ran to him, sent him back. Then they went to check out the dunes to the side of the road to make sure we weren’t ambushed from there.’

He rubbed his hand across his face, remembering too well what happened next. ‘Mitch saw something – a movement, I don’t know, something made him look up to where Dicko and H were walking and then over to the house. Then he turned to me and Christ, his face was so pale. He said “this isn’t the one” and then it all turned to shit.’

Dan carefully put down the photograph. He remembered the noise, the screams; Dicko – where was he? H lying there in pieces crying for help, knowing he was dying; shouts in a foreign language; and then, darkness. He looked up at David.

‘I don’t remember anything else.’

David nodded. ‘You were out of it for a couple of days straight. I think they thought it’d help with the trauma more than any injuries.’

Dan snorted. ‘Yeah, well it didn’t. I’d trade anything to lose the nightmares.’

David leaned over and picked up the photograph. He glanced down at it, and then looked up at Dan.

‘What if I told you Terry didn’t die?’

Dan felt his jaw drop open.

‘What?’

David said nothing and watched Dan as his brain processed the information.

‘T-that means –
fuck
– we left him there?’

David nodded slowly. ‘After we got you and Mitch onto the helicopter, we searched the area. There was a lot of mess, obviously, and it was too hard to make out if any of the clothing was ours. That blast knocked in one wall of the building opposite, the far end of our patrol line.’

‘Where Terry was,’ added Dan.

‘Yes. Well, we searched that area too – all we could see was rubble, bricks, dust, blood and some scorched clothing. No sign of Terry. We had to assume he’d come out of the building and been in the way of the blast when it went off.’

David stood up and, picking up a remote control from his desk, wandered over to a small television in the corner. He turned to Dan. ‘Come here and watch this.’

Dan wandered over to join him, standing in front of two armchairs. ‘What is it?’

‘A few weeks ago, I started wondering whether we were missing a link in this whole mess. How on earth did someone like Delaney get involved in bomb-making? We know he’s a megalomaniac and obsessed with protecting his assets but who else is involved? Someone’s got to be helping him finance it – all that research and development would be too easy to track if it was just being operated out of his companies. But who’s building the bomb for him? It’s almost as if he’s got outside help – which doesn’t make sense because Delaney doesn’t trust anyone.’

‘So you reckon someone’s got a grudge against the UK government and Delaney’s taking advantage of that?’

David nodded. ‘What if Delaney found someone who had his own agenda and turned it to his advantage?’

‘What are you saying?’ asked Dan, frowning.

David smiled. ‘Watch.’ He hit the ‘play’ button on the remote and the television began to run a news item. ‘This is from three years ago,’ he explained, pointing to the screen. He turned up the sound, the male reporter’s sombre voice cutting in.

‘… bomb disposal squad turned up at the location and began to defuse the device using a robot. Unknown to them, the bomb they were defusing was a decoy…’

The camera panned out. Behind the reporter, dust and smoke churned the air from the explosion, a ruined house teetered to the left of the screen while people milled about behind the reporter, shouting and crying as they stepped over the rubble searching for family and friends. The reporter ignored them and continued filing his report.

‘… A second bomb exploded while the soldiers were working, killing at least five civilians and two army personnel. Two soldiers remain in a critical condition at a hospital at an undisclosed location …’

‘Jesus,’ said Dan, sitting down heavily in one of the armchairs. It was the first time he’d seen any news footage of the aftermath of the explosion. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as he watched the scene.

The camera panned round to the left, taking in the sheer devastation of the blast, while the reporter continued. ‘…the UK government has pledged it will keep on reducing troop numbers here, despite the ongoing problems, saying that this was an isolated case and attacks on troops are decreasing. The local populace is asking who is going to protect them from internal threats once the Western coalition forces have gone…’

David stopped the tape. ‘Did you see it?’

Dan looked up at him. ‘What?’

David smiled and hit the rewind button. He stopped the recording when it reached the part where the camera began to pan away from the reporter’s face and over the scene of the blast. Then he hit the play button again, the reporter’s voice continuing over the scene.

‘…reducing troop numbers here, despite the ongoing…’

David hit the pause button. ‘There.’

He pointed at the screen and went through each frame of the film, one at a time.

Dan got up and walked closer to the screen. From behind the ruins of the house, a figure appeared. Dan squinted. ‘It’s too hard to make out.’

‘Keep watching.’

Tall, ragged, silhouetted in the weak sun filtering through the dust-laden breeze, the figure seemed to waver, before turning and disappearing back behind the building.

Dan stood up and looked at David. ‘No way.’

David held his gaze. ‘How close were we to the border?’

Dan wracked his brains. ‘About fifteen miles. He’d never make it, not after surviving that.’

David walked back to his desk. ‘You’re assuming he was injured in the blast.’

Dan nodded, following him. ‘He must’ve been. All of us were, one way or another. I remember him being next to that building before Mitch yelled.’

‘Yes, but did he stop when Mitch yelled, or did he expect the worst and run for cover?’ David mused.

Dan shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s possible. But, to me, it doesn’t give him a big enough motive.’

David reached down to a file on his desk and flipped it open. He sifted through the papers on the top and lifted out a two-page document, then slid it across the desk to Dan, who turned it around and began reading.

‘Holy shit.’

‘Exactly my thoughts. The Military Police were about to arrest Terry for drug trafficking at the base. They just didn’t have enough evidence to take it all the way to court martial so they were biding their time,’ explained David. ‘Terry must have found out and planned his escape, taking advantage of the confusion after that roadside bomb.’

Dan leaned back in his chair. ‘But he’d have been incredibly lucky. There’s no reason to believe he made it through the desert on his own. We don’t even know if he survived the blast, so all of this is conjecture.’

David nodded. He picked up a photograph from the folder and flicked it across the desk. Dan picked it up and looked at it, then back at David. The photograph was a still shot taken from the news report, enlarged by computer and sharpened to bring the figure into focus.

‘Shit.’

David nodded. ‘Indeed.’

‘That was three years ago though – not enough to prove he’s Delaney’s bomb-maker.’

‘True,’ David conceded. He reached back into the file of papers. ‘Try this.’

He tossed another photograph across the desk to Dan. ‘This one was taken in December at Bangkok airport.’

Dan looked at the photograph. ‘Jesus – he hasn’t even bothered to disguise himself.’

‘He doesn’t need to – he’s dead, remember?’