He waited until the noises from the bathroom ceased, then took one of the water glasses from the small kitchenette and filled it with cold water. Walking through to the bathroom, he tentatively opened the door.
‘Hello?’
The door opened, the smell of vomit reeking through the small room. He ignored it, instead taking in the figure hunched over on the downturned toilet seat, her head in her hands.
‘Sarah?’
Dan crouched down next to her, setting the water glass on the floor.
‘Talk to me, Sarah. Who was that? What just happened?’
He reached over and took her head in his hands, raising it until he could look her in the eyes.
‘Sarah, talk to me. Who was that? What did he say to you?’
She shook her head, closing her eyes and refusing to look at him.
‘Please.’
He let go, gently, willing her to start talking to him.
Sarah took a deep, ragged breath then turned, pulled a wad of toilet tissue off the roller next to her and blew her nose. Holding onto the sodden tissue, she gazed at him, then through him.
‘They’ve killed Hayley.’
Dan sat back on the tiled floor, stunned.
‘I don’t know who it was on the phone,’ continued Sarah. ‘But I can hazard a guess, as I’m sure you can.’
Dan ran his hand over his face. ‘Jesus, Sarah.’
‘Yeah, well he’s not much good right now – never was, never will be,’ Sarah retorted, standing up and flipping the toilet lid. Throwing the tissue in the bowl, she pressed the flush button.
Dan handed the glass of water up to her. ‘Here.’
Sarah took it from him, finishing its contents in two gulps. She handed the glass back to him as he stood up.
‘Sarah, I don’t think Hayley would have wanted you to quit now – we’re too close to finding out what’s really going on,’ he said, following her into the living area. ‘At least we got what we needed. We can follow up those leads up tomorrow, book flights to Singapore and find where that container is.’
Sarah spun round, glaring at him. ‘What did you say?’
He shrugged. ‘Hayley was a journalist too. She’d want to know why this is all happening. We can’t give up now – she wouldn’t have wanted us to.’
Sarah put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. ‘Oh, is that right? Well, when I see her parents back in the UK, I’ll be sure to convey that to them. I’m sure they’ll be really fucking chuffed to know that.’
She snatched up her handbag from the table. ‘You know what, Dan? Sometimes, there’s more to life than just finding out the answers. I just lost a really good friend because I agreed to help you work out what Peter’s research notes said. The same damn notes that got him killed.’
Dan reached out to her and she drew back, snarling.
‘Don’t you dare. How many people have to die, Dan? How many?’ she gulped. ‘Christ, I wish I’d never met you. I wish I’d never agreed to help you.’
She swept past him.
‘Sarah – don’t go – it’s not safe!’ Dan commanded, reaching out to grab her arm.
‘Fuck you,’ she hissed, shrugging off his grip.
He turned and punched the wall in frustration. He felt the rush of air as Sarah stormed out of the room, and closed his eyes as she slammed the door behind her. He rubbed his hand over his face in disbelief, angry with himself. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, blinking hard.
‘Dammit,’ he breathed. ‘Fuck.’
He kicked the end of the hotel bed, sending splinters flying over the cheap carpet, and then slumped down on the soft mattress, running his hand through his hair.
Dan nearly gave himself whiplash as the phone rang, making him jump. He stood up, pulling the mobile out of his pocket.
‘Hello?’
The caller sniffed hard.
‘Sarah?’
‘You bastard. You complete and utter inconsiderate idiot…’
He held the phone away from his ear, letting the tirade finish before taking a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ choked Sarah, ‘Do you have any idea?’
He closed his eyes. ‘I screwed up.’
‘You certainly did.’
Dan began to pace the room. ‘Sarah, I need you to come back here. We need to move on – it’s getting too dangerous. Delaney has worked out who you are – that has to be why Hayley was killed. It’s a warning to us…’
A sharp knock on the motel room door interrupted him. Dan threw the door open. Sarah stood in the hallway, the phone in her hand.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Finished?’
She nodded.
‘Feel better?’ He stood aside as she stalked past him into the apartment.
‘Asshole.’
He smiled. At least they were back on familiar territory.
London, England
Dressed in a grey trouser suit, Philippa strode across the open-plan office, the carpet doing little to silence her step as she hurried to one of the glass-panelled rooms at the rear of the large open space, glancing at the documents in her hand.
She stepped sideways to avoid a harried secretary before approaching the office on the right and peering through the glass wall. The room was in darkness, the light from a presentation on the opposite wall illuminating the rapt faces of the occupants. She straightened, knocked once and stepped into the room, flicking on the lights to a chorus of protests.
‘Hey!
‘Philippa! Turn off the lights!’
Philippa ignored them and strode across to the meeting room table and began to hand out copies of the documents to each delegate.
Closing the presentation, David Ludlow stood and reached over the boardroom-style table for the sheaf of papers Philippa was waving at him. ‘What have you got?’
Philippa pulled out a spare chair and sat down, pulling herself closer to the table with her heels and folded her arms. ‘An old friend of yours just resurfaced.’
David sat down and began to flick through the documents. Following his cue, the four delegates in the room began to read the papers in front of them while Philippa studied David’s face for any trace of emotion.
David threw his copy on the table, clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.
One of the delegates, a young man fresh out of university with a teenager’s acne problem stopped reading and looked first at Philippa, then David, confused. ‘Sorry, sir, but what exactly are we looking at?’
David chuckled, lowering his hands. ‘Steve, what we have here is a way to get close to Delaney – without actually getting involved.’
Philippa nodded. ‘As well as having military training, this guy also has a geology background so once he realises what white gold powder is capable of, I reckon he’ll help us do whatever it takes to stop Delaney.’
David stood up and motioned to the four analysts sitting round the table. ‘We’ll continue this meeting tomorrow morning. Have your reports updated to include the latest facts, run the scenarios again and give me a one-page summary before you leave tonight.’
He turned to Philippa as he opened the door. ‘Find out what Dan Taylor has been up to since leaving the army three years ago. I want everything.’
***
Philippa knocked on David’s office door and walked in. David sat at his desk, his phone to his ear. He motioned to Philippa to sit in the chair opposite him. As she waited for David to finish his call, Philippa cast her eyes around the room. Framed commendations jostled for position with photographs on one wall – pictures of David during his varied military career – in the jungle, in the desert, Belize, Iraq, Cyprus and a few unidentified locations in between.
And then after. The bravery award, the recruitment out of the army and a side-step into the secret services and a reputation built quickly on fast results with minimum fuss.
Philippa wondered how many politicians’ careers would be left in shreds i
f David was ever cornered or compromised by his superiors. She glanced round as David slammed the phone down.
‘Problem?’
He shook his head. ‘No – he’s just further along than I gave him credit for. That reporter friend of his obviously does a good job.’
Philippa frowned, her natural competitiveness surfacing, briefly, before being locked away again. She changed the subject. ‘I’ve found out what your friend has been up to for the past three years.’ She tossed a thin manila file onto David’s desk.
He picked it up and tested its weight, before looking up at her. ‘I presume the answer is ‘not much’?’
Philippa rolled her eyes. ‘Talk about a lost cause.’ She pushed back the chair and stretched out her legs. ‘After being discharged from the army, it looks like he went back into mineral exploration. Just as a hired hand, mind – nothing permanent.’
She watched as David flicked through the file contents. She continued to recite the potted history from memory. ‘In between geology assignments, he seems to have floated around the globe. Worked in a bar in Marsaxlokk in Malta for four months, then as a cook for a Greek island tour company. Seems to have been fired from most jobs he’s had over the past couple of years. I’ve found evidence of his passport being used in Canada, Brazil, Argentina, New Zealand – pretty much anywhere that has a mining industry…’
David shook his head in wonderment. ‘He seems to go off the rails after every geology job,’ he said as he flipped through the documents. ‘Some things don’t change – he’s still trying to get out from under his father’s shadow,’ he murmured.
Philippa frowned. ‘What’s all that about?’
David shrugged. ‘His father was a well-known minerals expert. Spent most of Dan’s childhood travelling the world for mining companies. He was responsible for some of the biggest mineral deposit finds in the nineteen seventies and made an absolute fortune. I remember Dan saying once he felt like he could never get out from under his father’s shadow. Shame really – reading this, they both seem to have the same sense of adventure.’
He threw the file down on his desk.
‘So, what’s the next step – follow them?’ asked Philippa.
David nodded. ‘You and I are going to Singapore – I want to monitor him more closely. Plus, I don’t want him pushing Delaney too hard. We need to find out if Delaney has in fact managed to create some sort of weapon from this stuff, before jumping in.’
Philippa watched David closely before speaking, then chose her words carefully. ‘We do need to take control of whatever he’s created too,’ she said. ‘There’s no point letting it be destroyed for the sake of it. The technology would be… useful.’
‘Our priority is to find it and prevent it being used against us,’ David corrected her. ‘If, and only if, those two factors have been taken care of to my satisfaction, will I start to worry about the technology behind it.’
Philippa shrugged as David stood up and wandered over to the wall of photographs. He pulled one of them off the wall, and stared at the four men grinning, standing next to their Warrior armoured vehicle in the middle of a barren desert landscape, the breeze ruffling their shirt sleeves. David had his arm round the shoulders of another man, the pair of them laughing at the photographer, pointing to something out of the camera’s view.
Philippa joined him and stared at the photograph. ‘Do you think he’ll do it?’
David sighed, then carefully set the frame back on its picture hook. ‘I think he will once he realises what the odds are against us. He’s incredibly loyal. He’s never let his mates down before, despite what he thinks.’
Philippa stepped away and gathered up her notebook from the desk. ‘I’d better go and make sure our flights get booked then.’
Singapore
The check-in formalities complete, Dan and Sarah put their bags in the hotel room and decided the balcony was the best place to spend the humid evening, with an occasional raid to the room’s mini bar facilities.
They sat at a small table, Dan with his chair wedged in a corner between the balcony and the room, and gradually worked through Peter’s notes and the prints of the photos Sarah had taken in Delaney’s study.
Dan rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘Some of this stuff is incredible. You just don’t realise how much influence industry has over politics, do you?’
Sarah nodded. ‘I know. I never know whether to be angry or depressed about it. The thing is, Peter was right – it very rarely gets reported. I mean, look at this,’ she said, holding up a newspaper clipping. ‘Here’s a report on how the major oil and gas players have used lobby groups to plan protest marches against US environmental policy changes – by using scare tactics threatening the loss of jobs in the industry if any emissions trading scheme was implemented.’ She threw the article down in disgust. ‘No wonder the public has lost interest.’
‘Yeah, but if these people are willing to kill to prevent people like Peter drawing it to the public interest, maybe they should be taking notice,’ added Dan.
‘Do you really believe that?’ Sarah put down the document she was holding.
Dan shuffled the notes back into place. ‘Well, if Peter was going around telling everyone about this wonder-fuel that could effectively put the oil, gas and coal industry out of business, then yes.’ He leaned back, propping the chair against the wall. ‘Someone out there is extremely serious about preventing that technology being used and it’s looking more and more like Delaney.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought they were all going on about clean-coal technology being the best compromise.’
‘That’s being pushed through as a quick-fix for climate change,’ said Sarah. ‘Clean coal technology is expensive – not to mention inefficient. Yes, it’ll cut down on carbon emissions but to get the same output as one of the old-style coal power stations, you need to burn up to forty per cent more coal.’
‘That kind of defeats the object for being ‘clean’ then,’ said Dan.
‘Not to mention why the coal producers are rubbing their hands with glee – imagine what the demand for coal will be once this so-called ‘clean’ technology is perfected – especially in places like India and China.’ Sarah put her notebook down. ‘No, the truth is, compared with all the other alternatives, coal is still a cheaper and more reliable fuel to power generation companies.’
‘So, where do you think this white gold powder comes in?’ mused Dan.
Sarah leafed through the research notes. ‘From what I can tell, Peter’s just used that as a reference point – it’s when gold is put through a piece of equipment called a spectroscope at a high temperature. Apparently it can develop a white gold powder that organisations like the defence industry are interested in but also the energy companies – if they can harness that power, we won’t need coal and oil any more.’ She yawned and stretched. ‘Remind me again why we’ve only got one room?’
Dan smiled. ‘Because I’d worry about you if you were somewhere else.’ He stood up and leaned on the balcony and watched the lights across Boat Quay below. ‘You can choose which bed you want though.’
‘Ah, the perfect gentleman, right?’ laughed Sarah.
Dan winked. ‘No, I just knew I was going to lose that argument, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead.’ He walked back to the mini bar and picked up another beer before heading back out to the balcony. ‘Sleep well.’
***
Dust, blood, screaming, the sheer noise…
Dan woke up with a start, sweat beading on his brow. A light was on. He glanced around the room, trying to get his bearings. His heart was racing and he panted like he’d been running. He blinked, and concentrated on the present. And saw Sarah sitting on the edge of his bed.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, blinking in the light of the small bedside lamp.
Sarah smiled, just a little. ‘Nothing – I mean, I’m fine.’ She looked away. ‘You were shouting out in your sleep – it sounded urgent.’
Dan ran his hand over his
eyes and sat up. ‘Sorry – must’ve been dreaming.’
Sarah ran her eyes over the scars criss-crossing over his chest and arms before looking away and speaking again. ‘It sounded more like a nightmare.’
Dan nodded. ‘Same one, at least twice a week.’ He sighed. ‘That’s an improvement though.’
‘Would it help to talk about it?’
Dan shook his head. ‘Twelve months of army shrinks couldn’t fix it so, no, it probably wouldn’t.’
He reached up and touched her cheek, warm, soft. Sarah smiled, never taking her eyes off him. He ran his hand down her shoulder, and then rubbed his thumb gently over a bruise on Sarah’s arm. She winced.
‘Sorry,’ he smiled. ‘I didn’t realise it hurt.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m not as tough as you.’
Dan looked at her, keeping his hold on her wrist. ‘I don’t know – you’re doing pretty well, so far.’
Sarah pulled away, then stood up and crossed the room. She browsed the small bottles lined up next to the kettle and selected two. She unscrewed the metal caps and tossed them into the waste basket. One missed, clipped the edge of the basket and bounced onto the cheap carpet. She ignored it. She turned back to Dan and held up the two small bottles. ‘Brandy or whiskey?’
‘Whiskey.’
She handed him the bottle, then eased herself back onto the end of his bed. Taking a sip of the brandy, almost as if to steady herself, she looked at Dan. ‘I know absolutely nothing about you, do I?’
Dan smiled gently. ‘Just as well. You wouldn’t want dreams like these.’
‘Do you trust anyone?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really. I’ve given up, to be honest. From my experience, it just leads to disappointment.’
Sarah looked away again.
Dan kicked her gently through the sheets. ‘Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way it is.’
White Gold: (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 13
