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?’
Oxford, England
Sarah turned to Dan and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. ‘What the hell are we doing here?’
Dan locked the car and walked on ahead of her before turning on to the track leading to the River Cherwell. Looking around at the stalactite-like ice on the trees, he sighed. ‘I miss Peter as well, Sarah. I just thought if we came here, I might be inspired – that’s all. I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell the authorities what he really knew while he still had the chance. I mean, it’s a lonely place to die here, isn’t it?’ He shrugged and turned, stomping off into the trees, away from the path, careful not to slip on the ice-covered puddles.
Sarah lowered her head and blew into her jacket, desperately trying to create some sort of warmth. Despite her boots and warm socks, she could feel her toes slowly turning to ice. She raised her head and squinted at the bright sunlight streaking through the empty trees and began to follow Dan, her footsteps crunching on the ice-strewn undergrowth. She stamped her feet as she walked, trying to get the circulation flowing through her veins again.
Dan had stopped a few metres ahead of her and was standing, staring up at the tree branches, lost in thought.
Sarah slowed as she approached him, then stopped. ‘What now?’
Dan lowered his gaze and looked at her, almost startled to see her there. ‘Sorry – lost in thought.’ He scuffed at the frozen earth at his feet before speaking again. ‘Did Peter ever mention being contacted by anyone from my old army unit?’
Sarah frowned. ‘No. Well, not that he mentioned to me – why? Why on earth would someone contact Peter about you?’
Dan grunted to himself and continued walking.
Sarah threw her arms up in exasperation, and then followed. ‘I’m sorry – that came out wrong. Wait.’ She jogged to catch up with him and grabbed hold of his sleeve. ‘Wait.’
Dan stopped and turned. ‘It’s okay – I know. Why would someone I used to work with want to speak with Peter? But someone did – I’m sure of it.’ He ran his hand through his hair.
Sarah folded her arms. ‘Okay – there’s something you’re not telling me. Out with it.’
Dan grinned. ‘Is that how you journalists approach potential interviewees?’
Sarah shoved him, hard. Dan slipped on the frozen path and grabbed a sapling to steady himself.
‘Hey – watch it!’
‘Stop changing the subject – what do you know?’
Dan took hold of her hand and pulled her over to a large fallen log. Brushing the frost off the surface, he sat down, gesturing for Sarah to join him. As she sat down, he turned to her.
‘I met with David Ludlow when we got back here last week.’
She stared at him. ‘Was that wise?’
He smiled. ‘I didn’t think so at the time, but let’s face it – who else is going to help us?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘He thinks one of the guys in our team we thought was killed in Iraq actually survived.’
Sarah’s breath was reflected in the winter air as she exhaled deeply and considered the consequences.
Dan looked around the icy woodland. ‘If he’s right, I think we might have found a motive – at least from the bomb-maker’s point of view.’
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes flickered as she took in the scenery around the clearing while she processed the information. Finally she spoke. ‘Why on earth did you go there, Dan? To Iraq, I mean. It just seems so unlike you.’
Dan smiled. ‘I just had to get away, do something a bit more meaningful than just do what everyone expected me to do. I suppose it was my own sort of rebellion. A bit later in life perhaps, but I don’t regret it.’
Sarah glanced over at him. ‘What about the recurring nightmares?’
‘How did you know?’
Sarah reached out and took hold of his hand, noting it was much warmer than hers, despite the freezing temperatures. ‘I could hear you crying out in your sleep again last night. Sorry.’
Dan squeezed her hand before letting his slip out of her hold. ‘It’s okay.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘Are you cold enough yet?’
Sarah smiled. ‘Bloody freezing.’
He grinned and held out his hand. ‘Come on – let’s find a pub with a nice open fire.’
Sarah stood up and brushed off the back of her jeans. ‘That has to be the best idea you’ve had all day.’
***
Sarah looked up as Dan walked over from the bar, a drink in each hand. Approaching the table, he put a wine glass down in front of Sarah.
‘There you go – mulled wine. That should thaw you out.’
Sarah held the glass in both hands, warming her fingers. ‘Oh, that’s great – bliss,’ she breathed.
Dan grinned, sitting down on the cushioned bench seat next to her. ‘You’re such a wimp.’
‘I know. But I’m happy being a wimp.’ She took a sip, the cinnamon flavours mixing with the red wine, warming her from the inside. She loosened her scarf and put it with her gloves on the seat. She glanced at the window, condensation running down it while outside, the sun ducked behind ominous clouds. She sighed. ‘I can’t help feeling we’re being manipulated.’
Dan took a swig from his pint before putting the glass down on the table. ‘I know. I had a good talk with David �
� almost friendly really. The problem is, he’s spent so long playing the political game, it’s hard to know if he’s being honest or not.’
Sarah leaned back, stretched out and tapped her foot along with the pub’s sound system gently playing in the background. ‘I don’t want to give up now, Dan. I know you’ll just say it’s my journalism background but it’s more than that – I feel like I owe it to Pete. And myself.’
Dan nodded. ‘I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’ He squeezed her hand.
Sarah felt herself instinctively pulling back from his grasp, then relaxed.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
She smiled to herself. ‘Just that I think we need to keep going. We have to stop this guy. I know we’re completely out of our depth but I’ve got this gut feeling we’re on the right track. We can’t give up now.’
London, England
Dan gestured to Sarah to follow him through the door, walked over to David’s desk and pulled out a seat for her. Sarah stood at the threshold, and cocked an eyebrow at Dan before stepping towards him. As she approached the desk, Dan made the formal introductions. Sarah held David’s proffered hand briefly and then sat down. Dan shut the office door, pulled out a chair next to Sarah’s and gestured to David to begin.
David held Sarah’s gaze and slid a sheet of paper across the desk to her. ‘Before we begin, I’m going to have to ask you to sign this.’
Sarah glanced down at the document. ‘Official Secrets Act?’ She slid the document back towards David and stood up. ‘I don’t think so, thanks.’
‘Sit down.’
She looked down at Dan. ‘What?’
‘Sit down – and sign it.’
‘Wh…’
‘Just do it – please.’
He nodded at her. It’s okay.
Sarah sat down and began reading the document.
‘It’s a formality,’ explained David. ‘I just need to be able to control what you tell the general public. Before, during and after the event. The last thing we need is mass hysteria. You can sign it now and continue to be part of this investigation, or I can have you imprisoned until after this is over. It’s up to you.’
White Gold: (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 19