Three Lives Down (A Dan Taylor thriller)

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘I mean it. Stay out of sight until I get back. I’ll be back Friday night, okay?’

  ‘If I’m going to stay cooped up here until then, you’d better bring Chinese takeaway when you turn up,’ she grumbled.

  ***

  Early the next morning, Dan left the motel and pointed the car in the direction of the project office.

  A bulky man wearing a navy blue uniform of trousers and polo shirt with the company’s insignia emblazoned across the left pocket emerged from a temporary office to the right of the security gate, his colleague peering out through the window, a clipboard in his hand.

  Dan buzzed down the window and held up his EPG security pass. ‘Morning. I believe you’re expecting me. Dan Taylor.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Taylor,’ said the man. He peered at the pass before handing it back and pointing towards the project office on the other side of the gate. ‘Park your car to the left of the office, and then go through the main entrance there. There’ll be a quick induction for you to complete before our site manager will collect you.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  The project team moved efficiently, and within the hour, Dan was sitting in the office of Bill Dawson, the site manager.

  ‘So, how did the local community feel about there being a stock of isotope being kept on site?’ he asked. ‘I can’t imagine all those people with placards outside were too keen.’

  Dawson shuffled in his seat. ‘They don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Listen, we only have to set out in our Environmental Impact Statement that we’ll use industry standard techniques to do the drilling,’ Dawson said. ‘There’s no legislative requirement for us to have Material Data Sheets for the stuff on record.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the same worldwide – they’ve been doing fracking like this in the United States and Australia for years.’

  ‘Is that legal?’

  ‘Of course. What you’ve got to realise though is that it’s normal to omit it from the data sheets provided to the public, so they don’t freak out about radioactive materials. Fracking’s already controversial.’ He leaned back in his chair.

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘Not at all. As long as we agree to follow the manufacturer’s product guidelines to the letter, we’re covered.’

  ‘Except that someone didn’t follow the guidelines, did they? One of your engineers decided to take the whole stock of isotope out to the drill site, instead of the required amount for testing.’

  Dawson cleared his throat. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘How much is missing?’

  ‘All of it.’

  ‘Volume?’

  Dawson sighed. ‘There were six refills in the case that was stolen.’

  Dan ran through some rough calculations in his head, his heart lurching in his chest as the implications of what he was hearing began to surface.

  He stood and jerked his head towards the door.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You’d better show me the drill rig and where those men were murdered.’

  CHAPTER 14

  Malikov gripped the hand rest set into the leather interior of the car door as Krupin swung the vehicle in a sharp right turn off the main road.

  They’d left before dawn, after Krupin confirmed with the security detail that the street outside the apartment had been checked for any unwanted witnesses.

  The UK’s security services were spending more and more time and effort chasing extremists rather than keeping an eye on other threats to national security of late, but it paid to be cautious.

  Upon reaching Hendon, Krupin had pulled the car behind a row of houses, the separate garage block for the properties creating a concrete screen from prying eyes in the early morning light as he’d removed the licence plates and replaced them with a different set.

  He would repeat the exercise before they returned to the city.

  If they returned.

  Malikov set his jaw as the vehicle’s suspension bounced and jolted over the potholed asphalt that led away from the main road.

  It had been months since he’d travelled to the property.

  Krupin had phoned ahead the night before to ensure the necessary arrangements were taken care of; a full investigation to check on unwanted activity near the perimeter of the surrounding land proved fruitless, as had a sweep of their communication systems. The security cameras only alerted the guards to the wildlife, nothing more.

  They were ready for Malikov and his guests.

  The Georgian house provided perfect seclusion for Malikov’s needs, and it gave him great satisfaction to thumb his nose at the landed gentry who had bankrupted themselves trying to stop the old building from going to wrack and ruin.

  It had been the same all over the country for the past ten years or more; English aristocrats suddenly finding their old ways of life were well and truly extinct following the global financial crisis, and their only option to save face was to sell to Russian oligarchs and Saudi investors who then used the properties only sparingly, because they could afford to.

  Malikov had seized upon the chance to purchase the house, especially after his ex-wife had taken up with the very class of people he despised so much.

  Whatever the new Russian regime thought of him, he was still a Communist at heart.

  He was simply a very opportunistic one, and ruthless at that.

  After a couple of miles, Krupin braked and turned the car to the left, through wrought iron gates that swung shut automatically in the vehicle’s wake, the car’s tyres crunching over speckled gravel that covered the driveway.

  Unknown to his neighbours, Malikov had installed a state-of-the-art camera system upon moving in. The cameras were positioned along the length of the lane from the main road to the front gates of the house, which was manned on a twenty-four-hour basis from the security hub in the old servants’ quarters.

  His men patrolled the perimeter of the property from the small woodland that swept along the boundary with the farm to the north of his land, all the way to the front gates and the two paddocks that the car now drove past.

  It was more secure than his apartment in the city could ever be, and perfect for his current requirements.

  As the driveway levelled out, the house came into view, its roof dominated by four large chimneys, while the old turning circle for a horse and carriage at the front was bordered by mature magnolia and rhododendron bushes.

  The house was three storeys high. A visitor would assume the front rooms were bedrooms, given the net curtains and soft drapes visible from the ground, however Krupin had insisted that the front rooms be given over to Malikov’s security detail, and the oligarch had acquiesced.

  The angle of the windows from the rooms gave the guards a broad vista across Malikov’s land and more than adequate coverage of the surrounding countryside.

  The car swept into the turning circle, and Krupin brought it to a smooth standstill at the front door.

  Malikov waited until Krupin climbed from the driver’s seat and opened the back door for him and then climbed from the car and stretched, inhaling the fresh air as he gazed out across the landscape.

  A light breeze caught his hair, lifting it from his collar, and he noted the first hint of autumn in the wind.

  Krupin squinted into the distance, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. ‘It’s a perfect day, Vasili,’ he said and then dropped his hand and walked to the back of the car. He lifted two suitcases from it with ease and locked the vehicle before leading the way to the front door. ‘You should go for a walk. It’s been a stressful few days for you.’

  Malikov shrugged, brushed past Krupin, and pushed the front door open. ‘There will be time to rest when we are finished,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ muttered Krupin as he set the cases in the hallway.

  Both men turned at footsteps that drew closer from the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘It is good to
see you, Vasili,’ boomed a voice, before a broad man in jeans and t-shirt appeared, his thin black hair slicked back over a wide forehead. ‘You’re looking too pale,’ he said as he reached them. ‘I’ll soon put that right.’

  Malikov shook the man’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you, too, Andrei. I’m looking forward to some proper food. Are the guards treating you well?’

  ‘As can be expected,’ said Andrei. A scowl crossed his face. ‘Although I wish they’d stay out of my kitchen.’

  ‘It cannot be avoided,’ said Krupin.

  Andrei shrugged and changed the subject. ‘I presumed you’d both be hungry after your drive, so if you’d like to freshen up, I’ve prepared a lunch for you.’

  ‘Good,’ said Malikov. ‘I’ll be back down in half an hour.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Andrei and then nodded at Krupin and retreated back down the hallway.

  Krupin followed up the staircase carrying both suitcases, wielding them as if they were lightweight shopping bags instead of two weeks’ worth of clothing and other paraphernalia.

  As they approached an open door leading to a master suite, Krupin placed the larger case on the floor.

  ‘I’ll check in with the guards before joining you for lunch,’ he said.

  Malikov nodded. ‘As you wish,’ he said and wheeled his case across the carpeted threshold, closing and locking the door behind him.

  He left the case next to the door and made his way across the expansive master suite to the large window that took up a third of the wall. Facing out over the rear of the property, the room overlooked a large landscaped entertaining area comprising a pool, barbeque area, and a terrace that led to manicured gardens.

  Malikov put his hands on his hips and fought down the rising pressure in his chest.

  He wouldn’t – couldn’t – go back to Russia.

  He’d burned his bridges with his home country too long ago, disobeying orders from the Kremlin.

  If he failed now, the embarrassment to them would be his death sentence.

  He shivered, despite the warmth of the air.

  All the UK-based oligarchs knew what happened to people the Kremlin deemed a threat to its leadership.

  CHAPTER 15

  Dan ignored the cool breeze that whipped across the barren landscape and glared at a lone sheep that had appeared at the top of the hill above the drill rig site, its forlorn bleat carrying across the moor.

  Instead, he reached into the vehicle and pulled a hand-held Geiger counter from the back seat. He zipped up his jacket, slammed the door shut, and stalked after Dawson, who was hurrying towards the drilling equipment.

  His desert boots sank into the thick vegetation under his feet, and he wondered if the farmer that owned the land was making enough from sheep farming or whether he was hoping the potential fracking operation would sustain his agricultural business.

  He inhaled deep breaths of the fresh air, glad to be out of the city and back in the countryside.

  ‘How long was it before the bodies were discovered?’ he asked as he caught up with Dawson.

  ‘A few hours. They were due to come off shift at six o’clock. When they didn’t show up, our project administrator phoned through to the security office here.’

  ‘And the security men were the ones to find them?’

  ‘Yes. They radioed the police from here before phoning the project office and reporting it to us.’

  Dan turned and surveyed the field behind the vehicle.

  The security gate was at least half a mile away. A rough track had been etched through the meadow by the wheels of the project vehicles, their regular route taking them around a curve at the base of the hill. It meant the team were out of sight of the security office as they worked.

  Dan frowned. ‘I’m surprised the guys in the security office didn’t hear the gunshots.’

  ‘Easy,’ explained Dawson. ‘They were inside with the radio on.’

  ‘I suppose that makes sense. Must be pretty monotonous for them, being posted out here.’

  ‘They gave full statements to the police.’

  ‘I’m sure they did. Do they still work here?’

  Dawson shook his head. ‘They were demobilised the day after the incident.’ He paused and stared off into the distance. ‘Had to sign confidentiality agreements, of course, given the nature of the project.’

  Dan cursed under his breath. If the men had disbanded and signed confidentiality agreements, it’d be highly unlikely he’d be able to talk to them within the timeframe Hugh Porchester had given him.

  ‘Were you here that day?’

  ‘Yeah. I drove up here as soon as they phoned it in. When I got to the main gate, there were already two police cars blocking the way.’ He blinked and looked towards the drilling rig. ‘They asked me to go with them, to see what had happened.’

  ‘Okay. Walk me over to the scene and show me where the bodies were found.’

  ‘Over here.’

  Dan switched on the Geiger counter and followed a few paces behind Dawson, pointing the meter left and right as he progressed towards the drill rig.

  The steady tick of the instrument accompanied his footsteps. His brow creased as the needle began to rise immediately, indicating a residual trace of radiation.

  He glanced up to check their progress, but they were still a hundred metres from the rig itself, and shook his head.

  It didn’t make sense.

  He stopped, the breeze ruffling his hair, and gave the Geiger counter a slap with the heel of his hand before continuing to follow after Dawson.

  The man had reached the drill rig and had turned, a frown on his face.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  Dan held up his hand in reply, his eyes flickering over the meter.

  As he paced forward, the instrument began to click with a greater urgency, the meter continuing its steady rise.

  Dan’s heartbeat began to increase, an idea forming in his head.

  He thumbed over the on/off button and silenced the machine before he reached Dawson and then spoke before the man had a chance to question him.

  ‘So, tell me what happened when you got here,’ he said. ‘What did you see?’

  Dawson swallowed and then raised his hand and pointed at the drill rig. ‘Greg was lying here,’ he said, his voice quavering. ‘I could see straight away why the security guards had called the police rather than an ambulance.’ He stopped talking and shook his head. ‘Sorry – I can’t get it out of my head.’

  ’That’s natural,’ soothed Dan. ‘Take your time.’

  Dawson cleared his throat. ‘There was so much blood – I overheard the police say that he’d taken a shot directly to his lungs, that he’d have been killed straight away. I don’t think he even knew what was going to happen. His eyes…’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘His eyes were open, and he looked surprised. Does that make sense?’

  Dan nodded and waited for Dawson to continue.

  ‘Mark Harvey was found here,’ the project manager said and pointed at an area only a metre away from where they stood. ‘Again, he didn’t stand a chance. I’m not an expert, but it looked like he was shot at close range. Jack was found over there, about eight metres from the drill rig. He was facing away from the rig.’

  ‘Shot in the back as he was running away,’ Dan murmured.

  ‘Yes, that’s what the police said.’

  ‘Poor bastard.’ Dan shook his head. ‘Listen, I’ve got to run some tests and take some notes. Are you okay to wait over by the vehicle? I need to be careful I don’t disturb too much, in case the police want to come back here.’

  ‘Sure, no problem.’

  Dan waited until Dawson had turned and started walking away and then switched on the Geiger counter once more.

  His eyebrows shot up as the meter flew across the display.

  ‘Fuck.’

  He frowned and then walked around the drill rig and towards the area where Jack had been found face down. He glanced at the me
ter. It had dropped slightly from the reading it had given off next to the drill rig.

  ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ Dan murmured. ‘Unless…’

  He spun on his heel, switched off the Geiger counter, and took an arching route back towards the project vehicle, avoiding going too close to the drill rig.

  Dawson was already sitting in the driver’s seat, staring out over the open fields, lost in thought, and jumped when Dan ripped the passenger door open and climbed in.

  ‘You’re going to catch whoever did this, won’t you?’

  Dan looked the man in the eye. ‘I’m going to do my best.’

  ‘Good.’ Dawson sighed. ‘Do you need anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s okay,’ said Dan. ‘Thanks – I’ve seen everything I need to here.’

  They travelled in relative silence back to the project office, and then once Dan had signed out and thanked Dawson for his time, he hurried across to his vehicle and drove it through the gates.

  As he pointed the car towards the motorway, he scrolled through the short contact list in his phone, selected a number, and hit the ‘call’ button on the steering wheel.

  ‘Evans, it’s Dan. We’ve got a problem,’ he said.

  ‘What’s wrong? Did you visit the site?’

  ‘Yeah. Just left.’

  ‘Any indication where the stolen isotope is?’

  ‘No, but that’s the least of our worries.’

  A moment’s silence filled the interior of the car before Evans spoke. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I took a Geiger counter with me, to see if it’d give me any clues.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The meter reading shot through the roof right next to the drill rig.’

  ‘Residual from the density measuring device they were using?’

  ‘No. Too high for that.’

  ‘Then what are you thinking?’

  ‘It’s not a simple case of looking for a stolen isotope any more,’ said Dan. ‘We’ve got a radioactive leak on our hands.’

  CHAPTER 16