White Gold

by David Barker

  “Everybody except you.”

  “Whatever happened there, not last forever. I started using it to deliver people to the promised land. Maybe the Lord sent a plague to help me. Like he sent to Egyptians in holy book. But one day I found one of the missing villagers, washed up on shore. In a raft he must have built to try escape. He had been dead long time. But his body still had a suit and breathing mask on. What you call in English? Haz-Mat? It had some markings on it.” Abdi looked up at his captor.

  “And?”

  “You want to know what really happened in that village, you go check out ESCO.”

  1 See Chapters 2, 6, and 12 in Blue Gold.

  PART TWO

  He took his vorpal sword in hand Long time the manxome foe he sought

  CHAPTER 13

  Arctic Circle, Norwegian-Swedish border

  Captain Hamilton and three of the crew from The Endeavour were given diplomatic immunity passing through the border into Sweden. The guard had looked up and frowned when he saw the group wearing biking leathers. An unusual choice for visiting dignitaries but the clearance checked out. The E10 ran from the port of Narvik in Norway right through to Kiruna in Sweden. A route that had been used for over a hundred years, bringing iron ore out of the ground and onto the sea. The diplomatic cover that was extended to Hamilton had been the Norwegian government’s way of saying thank you for saving the Carbon Capture and Storage facility. Now the captain had another assignment: to investigate ESCO.

  Jember Abdi’s testament had been confirmed. The CIA had shared the information with the British in accordance with the UKUSA Five Eyes agreement. The Brits had bio-chem experts who were closer to Turkey and able to go in there at once. As well as a dead assassin, a mass grave had been uncovered. Three dozen corpses. Men and women. Young and old. Some with soil beneath their fingernails. All had traces of a new strain of Ebola. The same variety that had been used up on Moon Lab One. So, the testing ground for this foul weapon had been found. Would the possible link to ESCO hold true as well?

  ESCO was a well-respected Swedish company. Operations all over the world. And unusual operations at that. But everything seemed to be above board. Financial accounts were logged, taxes paid. Even the occasional interview on the global news channels from its owner, Mattias Larsson.

  Sim Atkins had been desperate to head straight to Sweden and beat the truth out of Larsson. Wardle was having none of it. Not least because first, they needed some proof of a link to the Ebola incident. Second, because if it really was ESCO that was behind the attempt to kill off the Moon base, they in turn probably knew all about Sim helping to thwart that plan. Turning up at their headquarters in Kiruna would be like tattooing a target on your backside during the hunting season.

  Captain Hamilton had chosen a Swedish member of his crew to bring along as well as petty officer Simpson and his medical officer. The Swede, Jansson, looked up at the brown mountain peaks on either side of the road. “I remember when you could cross-country ski up there, even in summer. Now. Even at this altitude, no snow.” He shook his head slowly. The four electric motorbikes accelerated away in silence. The long, thin Torneträsk lake kept them company for over fifty kilometres along the left-hand side of the E10. A glorious sight with the mountains reflected in its still waters. Hamilton did not allow himself to dwell on the pleasures of such frivolous things. He had a serious task ahead.

  Kiruna is one of the newest towns on the planet. When it was realised twenty years ago that the huge iron ore mine had caused irreversible subsidence in the old town, the difficult decision to start again had been made. As Captain Hamilton drove into the centre of the new settlement, every building except three were sparkling examples of modern architecture. The bikes passed the old red church and its distinctive wooden bell tower in their new location as the team drove towards the town centre.

  Hamilton and his crew parked their bikes outside a large hotel, opposite the other building that had been saved from the old town: the Stadshus. The captain looked up at the square metal tower sticking out of the top of the city hall, like a giant robot pointing a finger skywards. On each side of the tower, a golden clock face halfway up, resembling a signet ring on the giant’s knuckle.

  The brand-new hotel exuded an air of luxury as soon as the team walked in through the grand glass doors. First, there was the heavy weave of the carpet beneath their feet. Second, the opulent crystal lights that hung from a high ceiling. Third, the disapproving look of the receptionist as soon as she saw the biker clothes and heavy paniers.

  “May I help you, sir?” The receptionist’s English accent was perfect. She smiled without seeming to use any of the muscles on her face.

  “My friends and I need your best suite, for the week.”

  The woman started using her face muscles. “Why of course, sir. We’d be delighted to have you stay. The Queen Charlotte is on the top floor, with fine views across the countryside. May I take a swipe of your watch?”

  The captain pressed his wrist band against the device and started filling in a form. He hesitated, trying to remember the details that Overseas Division had come up with as his cover. He let the rest of the team carry the kit bags as they were escorted to the suite. After they had been shown the spacious suite and left alone, Simpson turned to the captain.

  “This must cost an arm and leg.”

  “Have to create the right impression, Simpson. If I’m going to pretend to need ESCO’s services, they must think I’m a high roller.”

  “Probably best to ditch the leathers then, sir.”

  “Only the truly wealthy can get away with wearing what they like. It helps round out my legend. Eccentric businessman.”

  Jansson was looking out of the window. “Hey, look guys. You can see the spaceport from here.” Out beyond the edge of town, a giant clamshell building sat at one end of a runway that stretched beyond their field of vision. Virgin Galactic’s first spaceport in New Mexico had been such a success that a second one had been commissioned. Built quite recently, according to Jansson. Ticket prices had come down but were still way out of most people’s league. New Kiruna was a base for visiting the Ice Hotel (‘Open 365 days of the year!’ as the pamphlet in the lobby had said), for going on Northern Light safaris and now for visiting space. No wonder the town could support a five-star hotel.

  “This IRF, the Institute for Space Physics, that’s near here isn’t it?” asked Hamilton.

  Jansson nodded.

  “And it checks out? Nothing suspicious? No links to ESCO?”

  The doctor spoke up. “Government run. They mostly study the ionosphere and magnetosphere. A lot of the early analysis of the Great Flux was done here. Highly respected.”

  “Yeah, well so is ESCO. If you believe their shiny brochure,” said Simpson.

  ESCO offered bespoke security arrangements, covering clients wherever they go in the world against all threats, be they kidnapping, terrorism, theft or cyber-attacks. The company’s fees made their services viable only for ultra-high net-worth individuals or corporations. And there seemed to be plenty of paying customers if the rumours of Mattias Larsson’s wealth were to be believed.

  “I think you might have to seriously bling yourself up, sir, for this one.”

  The phone call was made, the story was fabricated and the appointment was scheduled for the next day. The captain spent the evening wandering around the new town, visiting bars with the rest of team, keeping ears open for any gossip about ESCO and eyes peeled for any possible staff that might want a drink bought and lips loosened.

  “Course, when I was a student up here, it was all Carlsberg and juniper schnapps,” said Jansson as he finished a bottle of very expensive Nigerian beer. They were seated around a carved wooden table, with three plates of tapas interspersed between the drinks.

  “If you’re going to keep on moaning about how everything used to be so much better, you can piss off back to The Endeavour, right now. It’s getting on my tits,” said the captain. He stared at J
ansson for a moment and then looked across at Simpson. “No offence, course.”

  Simpson did not respond. She was intently watching a young blonde man weave through the crowded bar to a table near the back wall. He sat down on his own and tapped something into his bracelet.

  “Not sure he’s your type,” said Hamilton.

  Simpson’s gaze shifted back to the people around her table, and she blushed slightly. “Shut up. I think he’s ESCO. Sure I saw him tuck away a lanyard as he came in the front entrance. Thought I caught their logo on it. Could’ve been mistaken.”

  “Worth checking out.” The captain handed her a €100 note. “In case your womanly charms aren’t enough on their own.” He winked.

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed the money.

  “In my day,” started Jansson. And then stopped as he saw the captain stare at him. “My turn to buy a round, yes?”

  The alcohol kept flowing and the volume for the music cranking out of the bar’s sound system kept rising. Simpson finally squeezed back through the crowd to join their table and flopped into her chair.

  “Jeez that was hard work.” She looked at Jansson. “Not natural talkers, you Vikings, are you?” Turning to the captain, she said “He finally admitted to working at ESCO. But whenever I asked him about what he did there, he clammed up and started looking around the room. ‘We’re not supposed to discuss anything’ was all he would say.”

  “Shame. OK. We stick to the plan. Jansson and Simpson you look after Bill tomorrow, while me and the doc take the appointment.” He finished his beer and slammed the glass down. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  Simpson paused. “Think I might stick around for a bit longer,” she said looking over at her new blonde friend.

  Captain Hamilton and the doctor took a taxi to ESCO headquarters. Eccentricity was one thing, but biking leathers were more likely to get searched. The captain’s business suit conveyed an aura of respectability. The taxi took them back along the E10 road and pulled off opposite the Kiirunavaara peak that signified the hub of the iron ore mine. A peak that had gradually been shaved lower as the mining operation followed the seam down into one side of the mountain. Hamilton had read up about it earlier. The mine was still producing millions of tonnes every year and had reserves that would easily last into the next century. Clouds of steam billowed out from the processing plant near the top of the hill, until the arctic wind tugged, fractured and finally dispersed them to invisibility.

  The taxi drove between crumbling houses in the deserted old town. Some buildings had merely lost roof tiles and layers of paint to the weather of a dozen winters. Others had succumbed to the subsidence, dented and askew on their plots like bouncy castles that had lost their air. As the car approached the centre of town, the way was blocked by a fortified gateway. Two armed guards and heavy barriers were the obvious deterrents to anybody wanting to crash the party. But the captain could see additional posts that would rise out of the ground at the touch of a button and a rolled-up stinger ready to deploy. A tall metal fence stretched off to either side of the gateway, following the path of an old street.

  The man on the gate checked the captain’s details and waved the car through to the main reception inside the complex. Once past the fence, the captain could see some people making use of a firing range, letting off rounds from automatic pistols, scrambling through ruined houses. The reception building had clearly not been part of the old town. Highly polished silver metal beams melded with wooden panels and smoky glass to create a shape that resembled the Kiirunavaara.

  “May I ask what your needs are, Professor?” asked Precious Osundare. She had greeted Hamilton and his colleague in reception and explained the services offered by ESCO once they were sat around a conference table. Somebody had already come to take their order for drinks as glowing testaments from previous clients played on the wall behind Precious.

  Hamilton wished that Overseas Division had not given him such an honorific. He preferred appearing more stupid than he really was, not the other way around. That kept people off guard.

  “You don’t seem very well protected for somebody concerned about their safety,” continued Precious. She clicked a button on the desk in front of her and an image of Captain Hamilton appeared on the wall. The image was like an X-ray in colour, showing a skeleton, the metal of the Captain’s belt buckle, his wrist bracelet and the rims of the fake glasses he was wearing.

  “How dare you!” he said.

  “Sorry Professor, but we have to check all our visitors for guns. And it does at least demonstrate some of the technology at our disposal.”

  The captain shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not in danger yet. But soon. When my invention is revealed to the world. Then I’ll make many enemies.”

  “I see. And may I enquire about this invention?” asked Precious.

  Hamilton shook his head. “Strictly confidential for another five weeks.”

  “Anything that might affect our security brief?”

  “I’ll need cover for all regions of the world. But before we go into those details, can I ask to see the facilities here?”

  As they were escorted down some stairs into a huge open plan hall, it became clear that the majority of the headquarters was underground.

  “We had to dig out a lot of unstable sub-soil. Pin it, prop it. Seemed easier to build down than up after all that work. Except for the practice grounds, of course.”

  “Seems like you could train an army here,” said Hamilton, watching Precious’s face carefully.

  “Or members of a secret service,” she replied.

  Hamilton’s smile froze for a moment as Precious showed them into a large room filled with screens and desks. The largest screens on the far wall showed a series of news channels and scrolling tab feeds from around the world. A map tracked the split between day and night across the planet. Seated at desks, staff were watching smaller screens that seemed to have live video feeds. Glimpses of people in business meetings, at home eating, in the back of limousines. With a client name, time and location superimposed on each scene.

  “This is our hub for monitoring each of our client’s welfare. If a story breaks, our systems analyse the news and alert the guards protecting any of our clients affected. We also inform our corporate clients in case they need to adjust their operations or alert their staff.”

  “Impressive,” said Hamilton. As they left the room, his wrist bracelet beeped. A message scrolled across. ‘They’ve killed Bill.’ He stopped walking. The hawk-like drone the captain had designed was called Bill. It had been used on many previous missions. “Shit.”

  “Sorry?” Precious turned and waited for the captain to catch up.

  “Oh, just some bad news about one of the experiments that my team were trying out this morning.”

  “So disappointing when you can’t validate your hypothesis, isn’t it?” said Precious with a smile that seemed more playful than sympathetic. “Shall we?” She beckoned them down another set of stairs and led them through to a viewing gallery. On the other side of a long window several people, wearing goggles and white coats, tinkered with test tubes and microscopes. Others were controlling little robots inside a sealed chamber as chemicals were mixed and compounds created.

  Hamilton stared through the glass, watching the people work without really paying attention. He was trying to process the message from Simpson and Jansson. The attempt to use Bill and its nano-bots to infiltrate the headquarters had failed. And Precious’s last statement… If she knew who they were already, why hadn’t they been imprisoned? Or worse. Would they be allowed to leave at the end of this tour?

  The doctor asked about the work that was going on in the lab.

  “Trialling improved antidotes for every known toxin and developing anti-biotics that can still defeat the super bugs. Like I said earlier, we protect our clients against all possible attacks.”

  Hamilton made a mental note of where this facility was, within the overall complex. Hav
ing descended two levels, turned corners along a series of corridors, it was quite hard to visualize. He wondered if that was deliberate.

  There was another room filled with designs for gadgets. One technician was working on a miniature re-breather that Captain Hamilton was especially keen to see. He used his engineering background to ask some detailed questions. But the worker just apologized and said that she was not allowed to answer any technical queries.

  They returned to the conference room via a lift. By now, Hamilton was sweating, wondering when the snake sitting opposite him would strike. But Precious just smiled and asked what he thought of their facilities.

  “Rather impressive. You and the team seem very knowledgeable, ready for anything.”

  “Most protection work is about preventing an attack in the first place. And for that we spend a lot of time getting to know our clients – their friends and their enemies.”

  Hamilton stood up. “Well, this has been great. My assistant here will be in touch to sort out the paper work. Will I ever get to meet Mr Larsson?”

  “I can’t promise anything. He’s such a private person.” Precious shook her head. “He’ll go to any lengths to stay out of the spotlight.”

  As they walked back to the reception desk, Hamilton fiddled with his cufflinks. He kept scanning the corridor ahead to see if some guards would appear to take him away. At least he had one gadget of his own that might enhance a bid for freedom. The doctor caught his eye, looking down at the cufflinks and nodded by the tiniest tilt of his head. Every muscle in Hamilton’s body felt tight as they left the building. Two armed guards patrolled the area in front of the entrance, but were looking away from the captain. A car pulled up and Precious opened the door for the captain.