White Gold (12 page)

The caller dialled a sixteen digit number then put the mobile to his ear and heard the tell-tale ring tone of a foreign exchange.

He walked briskly through the park as he waited for the call to be answered. He looked up as a fruit bat swooped low over his head then watched as it flew, screeching, into the trees. The lights from the city shone through the trees in places near the boundary of the gardens. He walked deeper into the park, away from the light and disappeared into the shadows near the river, following a concrete bike track which swept around the park and past the university campus.

As he walked, he turned his head and looked around to check if he’d been followed. Finally, the phone connected.

‘Philippa Price.’

‘Pip, it’s me,’ the caller said. ‘Is this line secure?’

‘It is.’

‘We’ve got company.’

Silence at the other end.

The caller waited for Philippa to speak and began to pace along the pathway circling the gardens. He stopped and stepped off the path as a lone cyclist pedalled past him. Looking back to check his progress, the caller continued to walk.

Eventually, Philippa spoke. ‘How much does she know?’

‘Not she, they,’ corrected the caller. ‘And they’re making good progress.’

‘Who’s helping her?’

The caller chuckled. ‘Tell David it’s an old friend of his. He’ll work it out if you can’t.’ He smiled to himself, knowing Philippa would make sure she found out before telling their boss.

The caller could hear Philippa’s breathing over the line. Calm, calculating. ‘Does she have the lecture notes?’

‘Yes. And photos. And stuff her ex-husband didn’t want the public eye to see. It’s explosive stuff, Pip. I wouldn’t want to see her publishing any of it.’

‘What are their plans?’

‘Right now, they’ve located a shipping container which left Brisbane for Singapore. I reckon they’ll be on a plane there within the next couple of days to try to find out what’s in it.’

‘A shipping container?’

‘Uh-huh. Do you think that’s what Delaney’s using?’

Silence. Then, ‘Maybe. Can you find out anything to confirm that?’

‘I can try.’

‘Will you follow them to Singapore?’

‘Not unless David says so. It might make them suspicious.’

‘True.’ Silence again.

The caller stopped, glanced around him, then sat on a park bench. His eyes ached. He rubbed them with his free hand and yawned. He slouched, trying to get comfortable against the rough surface of the seat. ‘How much closer are you getting?’

He could hear a sigh at the end of the phone line before Philippa spoke. ‘It feels like we’re getting nowhere fast. At the moment, I’m going through mergers and acquisitions to find out what gold mine interests Delaney has. We can’t find out what he’s really up to though. We think it’s something to do with when the white gold powder is turned back into metallic gold – some sort of atomic reaction.’

‘Like a dirty bomb?’

‘Yeah, something like that. David’s trying to get information from the other agencies here but of course, chances are they’re playing around with the stuff themselves so they’re not exactly being helpful at the moment.’

‘I’ll bet.’

‘Listen, I’m going to have to go – we’ve got a briefing with the Minister in half an hour I’m supposed to be preparing for. Was there anything else you needed?’

‘Not at the moment. Look out for them in Singapore in a couple of days. I’ll phone you if I find out anything else.’

‘Okay, take care Mitch.’

The elevator car rose through the building. Dan cast his eyes sideways at the mirrored walls and noticed how tired they both looked. He could feel the adrenaline through his veins, keeping him fired up in spite of the exhaustion. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so energised, so focused. As the elevator ground to a halt, Sarah brought out her swipe card and waved it at him.

‘Nightcap at mine?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. ‘If your expense account can afford the mini-bar prices here, then you can definitely count me in.’

He followed her down the hallway and waited while she unlocked the door to her room.

She flicked on the light and dumped her bag next to the television. ‘I’m too excited to sleep anyway,’ she explained. ‘I feel like we’re finally getting somewhere at last. Get yourself a drink – I want to change out of this dress.’ She closed the bathroom door behind her.

Dan walked over to the refrigerator and turned back, holding two beers. Twisting the lids off, he handed one of them to Sarah as she emerged from the bathroom dressed in jeans and t-shirt. They clinked their beer bottles together and grinned at each other.

Sarah turned and picked up her bag. Pulling out her mobile phone, she reached over and picked up her laptop. ‘Might as well take a closer look at those documents I photographed,’ she said. She sat down on the bed and switched on the laptop.

Dan slumped on the small two-seater sofa, his legs hanging over the end. He swung them lazily while he sipped his beer and held up the manifest to the light to read it again.

Sarah took a swig from her bottle of beer, waiting for the laptop to finish its start-up routine. She reached behind her and pushed the pillow further up her back. Curling her legs under her, she sat back and sighed as she flipped through the pictures as they downloaded from her phone. ‘I took some pictures of some invoices,’ she explained. ‘It looks like they’re for small amounts of chemicals. Will that help?’

Dan looked up briefly from the manifest, and then continued reading. ‘I’m not sure – Harry reckons you’d need a ton of equipment to manufacture it – I think we’re missing something on that one.’

Sarah continued to flick through the images they’d downloaded, carefully looking at each one as it appeared on the screen. ‘I might have something here. Letters to government ministers. Here and back in the UK. Looks like Delaney’s been a bit busy lobbying them to support mining industries rather than the environmentalists. I wonder if he…’

They both jumped as the phone on the small desk began to ring.

Dan looked at Sarah. ‘Did you give anyone this number?’

She shook her head. ‘Should we answer it?’

Dan walked over to the phone, his hand hovering above it. He turned to Sarah. ‘You answer it.’

He stepped away, waving her over to the phone. ‘Quickly.’

Sarah stumbled across the room. ‘Why me?’

‘Because you’re a known entity with friends in this city – I’m not. Whoever is phoning might not know about my existence yet – I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Okay – pass me that notepad and a pen would you? If this is anything important, I don’t want to forget anything.’

She picked up the receiver. ‘H-hello?’

A chuckle permeated the line. ‘Well, well. You are there after all. For a minute there, I thought you were going to ignore me.’

Sarah clutched the receiver. ‘Who is this?’

‘You’re not much of a journalist if you can’t work that out for yourself.’

Sarah heard a sigh, as if the caller was sitting himself down for a long chat.

He then continued. ‘Now, I’m only going to say this once because you’re an intelligent woman and will probably take good advice when it’s given.’

‘Save the flattery,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘What the hell do you want?’

Again, the chuckle. ‘Okay, if you won’t be civil, then I’ll get to the point.’

‘At last,’ said Sarah.

‘What are you doing next Wednesday?’ The caller paused, waiting for a response.

‘Next Wednesday? Why? What’s happening next Wednesday?’ asked Sarah, snatching the notepad and pen Dan waved at her.

‘I presume, as a journalist, you’re writing all this down?’ asked the caller.

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I hate repeating myself.’

‘Go on,’ urged Sarah.

‘Write this down – two o’clock, next Wednesday. Place called ‘Pinaroo’ on Albany Creek Road.’

Sarah did as she was told.

‘What’s there?’ she asked, as she held up the notepad for Dan to read. He shook his head, not knowing the answer.

‘It’s a crematorium,’ said the caller. ‘You wouldn’t want to be late for Hayley’s funeral, would you?’

The phone went dead as Sarah dropped the receiver, covering her mouth with her hands.

‘What is it? What did he say?’ urged Dan, grabbing hold of Sarah and turning her towards him.

She shook her head in response, unable to answer. She shrugged off his grip from her shoulders and ran to the bathroom. He began to follow her, and then stopped as the sound of her vomiting reached him. He spun round in the room, running his hand through his hair, feeling utterly helpless and unsure what to do. What the hell had just happened?

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 if 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.’