White Gold (7 page)

Uffington, Oxfordshire

As he drove the car out through the village and down winding country lanes, Dan thought about what he’d learned so far. Sarah was right – Peter must have stumbled across something during his research that he hadn’t yet published but which had endangered his life.

Hopefully there would be a clue amongst all the papers he’d sent – if Dan could work out what they meant. Whoever was trying to stop his discovery getting out into the public domain was deadly serious about it too, first killing Peter then destroying his house to ensure any incriminating evidence wasn’t discovered. Dan still doubted the police explanation the explosion was caused by a gas leak; in fact he doubted whether the police believed it themselves.

A lacklustre sky flicked through the tree-lined lane and Dan lifted his foot off the accelerator as he passed over wet leaves. Not far to go now, if his memory served him correctly.

The road turned sharply and began to rise up a slight incline. Dan changed the gears down and the car surged forward. He winced as the wheels clipped a pothole, the winter frosts carving out more and more of the fragile bitumen with each snowstorm.

As the road levelled out, he could see for miles over the Oxfordshire landscape, the outline of a white horse carved into a chalk hillside, and the bare trees flickering past as he picked up speed. Wind turbines turned lazily on another hill in the distance. He saw a signpost for the next village and slowed down. Harry’s cottage soon appeared on the right-hand side of the road.

Dan pulled the car up to the kerb a few hundred metres from the house and stepped out. The cottage sat on a narrow lane, with a low hedge on the opposite side of the road leading to a barren field tapering down to a river. He walked over to a wooden gate leading into the field and peered over, shivering, an icy wind biting at his ears. Pulling up the collar of his jacket, he squinted at the forlorn landscape through the light rain, the grey sky sucking the colour out of the day.

He sniffed in the cold air and glanced down the lane towards the house. A two-storey cottage with white walls, it had a thatched roof and two tall chimneys, smoke appearing from one of them. He wondered how this was going to turn out. He hadn’t seen Harry in over six years now. He felt awkward about turning up out of the blue, but Sarah was right – who better to ask for help?

Harry Kent, scientist, ex-college lecturer and fellow adventurer. He smiled. He had grown up listening to his father and Harry recounting their exploits around the world – travelling to far-flung places for the university, mining companies and private investors. He smiled at the memories and wondered why he hadn’t returned for so long. He hadn’t seen Harry since they’d crossed paths at Dan’s father’s funeral. Both Harry and Dan’s father had still been angry at Dan for what they felt was throwing his education and future away by joining the army. Dan could never explain to them he just wanted an adventure he could call his own.

I got that all right
, he thought.

He turned and walked up the lane towards the house. The cottage hid behind a low stone wall, which itself was beginning to disappear under overgrown ivy. A wooden gate hung precariously on one rusty hinge. Glancing up, he spotted movement in the garden.

‘Harry?’

A head, obscured by a Panama-style hat, bobbed up above a ragged rhododendron bush at the sound of his voice. Its owner glanced briefly over the shrub, ducked down again and quickly scurried to the side of the cottage. Dan heard a door slam shut.

‘Damn.’

He wandered over to the garden gate. Opening it carefully in case it disintegrated, he walked up the garden path. He stepped around the uneven pavers that threatened to trip him, and made his way to the front door, then grasped the ornate door knocker. He knocked once, hoping for a response. He knocked again, a little harder, and then stepped back, catching a glimpse of movement in the window to the right of the door.

An enormous ginger cat had leapt up to investigate the visitor and now sat on the window sill, yellow eyes glaring at him while it occasionally contemplated a front paw with disdain. Dan stepped over and tapped on the glass in front of the cat, which took a swipe at his fingers, banging the window pane as it did so.

‘Hello, tiger – do you think you could let me in?’

Suddenly an arm swept the cat off its perch and a face glared through the window at him. Dan grinned and the face disappeared. Seconds later, the front door swept open.

A tall man, with thinning white hair and bushy eyebrows above piercing green eyes, stood on the threshold glaring at him.

‘Leave the bloody cat alone, you’re a bad enough influence as it is with everyone else you meet for goodness sake!’

‘Hi, Harry – does that mean I can come in?’

The stocky figure turned without answering.

Dan closed the door behind him. ‘I need your help Harry.’

Harry glared at him. ‘You always did.’ He stomped off along the hallway, Dan following until they reached a large kitchen.

‘I suppose you’ll want a drink’ – it was a statement, not a question.

Dan shrugged. ‘Only if you are.’

‘Hmm. I’ll bet.’

Dan looked around the cluttered kitchen. The Panama hat sat discarded on a hook on the back door. Geranium cuttings in small pots covered the surfaces, in varying forms of growth while dishes remained stacked in the kitchen sink. A couple of empty beer cans hung precariously close to the edge of a pine table. The cat prowled around the floor, weaving in between his legs.

Harry opened a cupboard, reached up and closed the door, placing a large bottle of gin on the counter. ‘I reckon if you need help, then we’d better start off with something strong – knowing you, I’ll probably need it.’

Dan stood out of the way while Harry organised glasses, ice and tonic water. ‘Right,’ he said, handing Dan a glass, ‘Let’s sit in the front room and you can explain yourself. How the hell did you find me anyway?’

‘Sarah told me.’ Dan followed Harry out of the kitchen, the cat following them.

Harry led the way down the hallway into a small lounge area where a fire burned in a small grate. The cat trotted into the room ahead of them and made her way over to a large cushion next to the fireplace, glared at Dan then turned around three times before curling up on her bed.

Harry motioned Dan to a chair and picked up a poker iron to stoke the fire. As the flames roared into life, he picked out a small log from the wood pile and stacked it gently in the grate. He turned back to Dan.

‘How is she holding up since Peter’s body was found?’

‘Not too good after someone successfully blew up Peter’s house right in front of her.’

Harry paused halfway to his chair. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, I know. God knows what he got himself involved with this time.’ Dan took a sip of the drink. ‘She’s upset, obviously – and angry. I don’t think the police are taking her seriously.’ Dan sat down with a grunt and looked at Harry. ‘How are you keeping?’

The older man sighed, shifting in his chair. ‘Oh, you know, the garden keeps me busy. The grandchildren visit occasionally, although less now they’re growing up and creating lives of their own.’

‘Do you miss the teaching?’

‘Not to reprobates like you, no,’ Harry chuckled. ‘Of course I do – that, and being out in the field.’ He paused, contemplating his drink. ‘How long is it since you left the army?’

‘Just under three years.’

‘Done anything with yourself since?’

Dan glared at Harry, then softened his gaze. ‘No, not really. I don’t really know what to do. I’ve done a couple of feasibility studies overseas, travelled a bit in between jobs. It took me a while to get over, well, you know.’

Harry nodded, contemplating his drink. ‘I can only imagine. What on earth made you decide to join up and go into bomb disposal anyway? You had a promising career ahead of you in geology.’

Dan shrugged. ‘I don’t know – I guess since I was a teenager I’d just been on this pre-ordained track. You know, follow Dad’s footsteps – get a geology degree then get out in the field working in mineral exploration. After graduation, I just felt there would be more exciting things to do while I was still young.’ He took a sip of his drink.

Harry looked over at him. ‘Most people at that age would have thought a round-the-world trip and a spot of bungee jumping would suffice.’

‘Yeah, well in hindsight that probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea either. But at the time, I wanted to get involved and help.’

Harry shuffled in his seat. ‘I have a sneaking suspicion you didn’t come here today to talk about old times. What’s on your mind?’

‘I’ve been looking through Peter’s research notes and something keeps cropping up in them. What can you tell me about white gold powder?’

Harry contemplated his drink, turning the glass in his hand. ‘Why?’

‘Because I think that’s why Peter’s been killed.’

Harry took a swig of his drink, swallowed and put the glass down on the table. ‘What do you know about super-conducted precious metals?’

Dan shrugged. ‘Not being a chemistry expert, very little. From what I can work out from Peter’s notes, super-conducted metals are already used in car manufacturing but from a commercial perspective, that’s about it. Any search on the internet seems to point towards health tonics and strange spiritual claims rather than anything industrial.’

Harry nodded. ‘Several interested parties have already lodged claims with patent offices around the world. That includes government agencies. Covertly, everyone’s trying to come up with a way of being able to commercially produce white gold powder – or any other super-conducted precious metal – at a viable cost.’

‘What are they planning on using it for?’ Dan pulled out a piece of crumpled paper and a pen, and began to write notes.

‘That depends on who you ask. Some say aerospace companies, especially those which have big defence contracts with governments, are trying to produce the next super-jet – this stuff has enormous potential for travelling faster than anything we’ve seen so far because somehow, once produced, it supposedly defies gravity,’ Harry paused. ‘I see your method of taking notes hasn’t improved since I taught you.’

Dan scowled. ‘Is there going to be an exam on this?’ He paused. ‘No? Okay – carry on.’

Harry chuckled. ‘Imagine what you could do with this knowledge in the public sector. No-one’s done anything about the future of air travel since Concorde was grounded.’

Dan reached over and flicked through Peter’s notes. ‘He says here some people believe it has spiritual powers and there are companies selling this stuff already though.’

‘Well, I don’t know about the spiritual claims – I’m only a scientist. And they’re only producing it in small quantities.’ Harry considered the contents of his glass. ‘No – you need to be looking for someone who’s already mining gold and has easy access to this stuff – not to mention a lot of money to throw at such a project. It would have to be in a remote location as well, to be able to keep it secret. That has to narrow the search down.’

Dan paused from his note-taking. ‘Is it just the expense that’s holding people back?’

Harry shook his head. ‘Not always. They’re dealing with a very unstable substance. I’ve heard of at least one big accident in the United States which has put production back by years. Then you’ve got governments trying to claim the technology for themselves. What else have you found in those notes?’

Dan passed the bundle over to Harry. ‘I’m still learning at the moment – why don’t you take a look and see what you think?’

Harry picked up some of Peter’s notes and began to flick through them. ‘The other thing of course is, this stuff has the potential to solve the world’s fuel problems. Once created, it’s clean, doesn’t pollute and after the technology is perfected, you’ve got another potential supply through volcanic ash, not just precious metals. You’re going to have to consider the possibility of coal, oil and gas companies trying to block the research. Look at what they did to the electric car.’

Dan chewed the end of his pen. ‘How serious do you think those guys could get?’

Harry picked up his glass and peered over it at Dan, then took a sip before speaking. ‘Well, I’m sure Peter would tell you, if he could, they can be extremely serious.’

Dan looked at Harry carefully. ‘You mean, one of those organisations might’ve had something to do with Peter’s death?’

Harry paused to put his glass on the table, the soft clink of ice cubes breaking the short silence. ‘I believe you have to consider that, yes. I think you’re going to have to go through those notes very carefully. And be very wary who knows you’ve got them. Who does know about them anyway?’

Dan picked up the bundle. ‘Only myself and Sarah. I think her journalistic instincts have kicked back in and she wants to do some of her own research to try to make some sense of Peter’s death.’

Harry grunted. ‘Then I would strongly suggest you tell her from me to watch her step. Both of you need to watch your backs if you’re going to investigate this.’

Dan nodded. ‘We will.’ He peered into his drink as if it would provide the answers. He gave up and took a sip instead. He glanced up at a low cry from Harry. ‘What?’

‘Look at this!’ Harry held up a sheet of paper, several diagrams haphazardly scribbled across the page.

‘Sorry, I don’t get it,’ said Dan. ‘You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve looked at that.’

Harry grinned. ‘It’s not what you’re looking at,’ he said. ‘It’s
how
you’re looking at it. Come over here.’

Dan stood up and crossed the room.

‘Here,’ instructed Harry.

Dan crouched down next to Harry’s armchair and stared at the familiar notebook page in Harry’s hand. ‘What am I looking for?’ he frowned.

‘This,’ said Harry. He tilted the page until the glow from the fireplace illuminated it from behind.

Dan grabbed the page and held it still. ‘You’re a genius, Harry.’

In the light of the fire, the imprint of another note could be seen. Invisible to the eye when the page was held flat, it jumped out once silhouetted from behind.

‘Can you read it?’ asked Harry.

‘Looks something like the letter D. Maybe an E. Is that a C? Christ, his writing’s bad. Then there’s some numbers. Six. One. Seven. Three?’

Dan sat back on his heels. ‘What the hell does that mean?’

Harry glanced down at the page and tilted it towards the firelight. ‘There’s a plus sign in front of the six.’

They looked at each other. Then spoke simultaneously.

‘It’s a phone number!’

‘Where’s your phone book?’ asked Dan.

‘Hallway.’

Dan jumped up and ran from the room. He saw a small table next to the front door and pulled the phone book out from one of the shelves. He walked quickly back to the room, desperately flicking the pages.

‘Found it?’ asked Harry.

Dan shook his head and kept turning the pages. He growled in frustration.

‘Dan – slow down,’ said Harry. ‘Just start at the beginning and work methodically.’

Dan perched on the arm of his chair. He turned one page at a time, running his finger down the country listings. He flipped the next page – and there it was.

He walked over to Harry and showed him.

Harry looked at the number, then up at Dan.

‘Looks like you’re going to Brisbane.’