SKELETON GOLD: Scorpion (James Pace novels Book 3)

by Andy Lucas

  The clear water felt refreshingly cool against their sweaty skins. They had taken one of the small launches about half a mile off the stern before entering the water, falling backwards from the edge of the launch in the time-honoured fashion.

  Hammond stroked down strongly towards the sandy seabed below, conscious of an accompanying presence next to him. Three minutes later, both men were at a depth of eighty-five feet, standing on the bottom of the sea, beaming at each other. Their full face masks had built-in radios, which they switched to a closed system, just between the two of them.

  ‘I don’t know why I never took this up before,’ said Pace, turning slowly on the spot and marvelling at the two hundred foot visibility all around. Not that there was actually much to see. It was quite anticlimactic because all there was to see was empty water and sand. No fish, no coral, no weed, just a barren landscape daily scrubbed clean by strong currents below and often tempestuous weather above.

  It was the perfect place to practise and the two men ran through a few simple exercises so that Pace grew accustomed to adjusting his buoyancy vest, rising and descending to different depths under control without ever kicking a flipper. Hammond kept a close eye on their air reserves so they could spend the right time at safety stops.

  An hour after entering the water, they surfaced next to the launch, clambered in and pulled off their gear, allowing the beating sun to dry them almost immediately.

  The ship still lay at anchor and they motored back within a few minutes, where two crewmen hoisted the launch aboard using an electric winch, with Pace and Hammond still sitting inside. Once back on board, the two men headed for the stern deck, where Sarah had lunch laid out and was waiting, dressed in a white cotton summer dress, strapless and riding just above the knee.

  Sarah poured them each a chilled glass of Peroni beer and they all sat, eating hungrily for the best part of ten minutes, allowing the warm, offshore breeze to calm their minds. She was the first to break the reverie.

  ‘My father rang again while you two were off playing.’

  Pace was immediately interested. Putting down a half-eaten sandwich. ‘What did he have to say for himself? Is he demanding the return of his favourite company accountant?’

  ‘Hardly,’ quipped Hammond drily, then turning to Sarah. ‘Hopefully not?’

  ‘No, you’re alright,’ she laughed. ‘He knew you would come down here. Knowing my father, he probably planned it all along but wanted it to seem like it was your idea.’

  ‘Just in case something went wrong,’ suggested Pace, winking.

  ‘So now I’m predictable…and expendable. Great.’

  ‘So what did he say?’ Pace got back to the matter at hand.

  ‘Oh, just that he has waved the bait of McEntire interest in a visit and has already had a call from ARC’s press office with a suggested visit for tomorrow, at noon.’

  ‘Fast work,’ said Hammond. ‘Pretty hard to hide anything suspicious at such short notice. They sound clean,’ he stated.

  ‘Or they might be a professional outfit who don’t advertise their dubious side to visitors. I can’t imagine there will ever be anything obvious on show. After all, they will be subject to industry inspections and trade visits. If there is something untoward going on, we’ll have to do a little…er….digging when we get there.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ replied Sarah, biting into her own sandwich.

  ‘So we go, at noon. Sarah, you will be our ace in the hole. It will be down to you to wow everyone and hopefully Max and I can find a moment to slip away and see what’s under the surface.’ Sarah nodded and smiled, unwilling to speak with her mouth full.

  ‘How are we getting there?’ asked Hammond suddenly, refreshing their glasses.

  ‘The facility has its own dockyard and apparently they have some kind of launch they will be sending for us. Our captain has orders to sail towards the plant overnight, which is about seventy miles from here. We will be there just after dawn, at an easy cruise.’

  ‘Chauffeur service. I like it,’ said Hammond.

  ‘They will be keen to keep one of their key business partners sweet,’ agreed Pace. ‘I don’t doubt they will be less than pleased if they do have something to hide and we get caught snooping. Business loyalties probably won’t count for much if that happens,’ he grinned.

  ‘Why should we get caught? With Sarah dressed to kill for the men and dazzling the women with her intellect, nobody will ever know we’ve wandered off.’

  ‘Yes, your performance will be key,’ agreed Pace slyly. ‘Better make it good.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised. ‘If you do slip away, you can just pretend to be lost, looking for a bathroom or something.’

  ‘Very original. Do we have any information on the visit? Who do we report to when we get there?’

  ‘And are they providing us with lunch?’ added Hammond, happily grabbing a fresh sandwich. The swim had sharpened his appetite to the point that he was wondering if sandwiches and salad would be enough to satisfy him.

  Sarah pointed to a thin paper folder on the chair next to her. Picking it up, she handed it to Hammond. ‘It’s all in there. Names, details and even a menu for you, Max.’

  Hammond was more interested in eating than reading so Pace took the folder from him and quickly scanned the contents of the paper, still warm from the printer.

  ‘We will be meeting the CEO. Impressive.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ asked Hammond, not really caring.

  ‘Don’t be sexist, Max,’ chided Pace. ‘This is a lady. Someone by the name of Josephine Roche.’

  ‘Ah, I will just charm her with my smile and everything will fall nicely into place,’ Max shot back. ‘The old Hammond charm never fails.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better give Baker a call now,’ laughed Pace. Baker, the security supremo at the McEntire Corporation and ex-special forces soldier, had saved both their lives in the recent escapade in South America.

  ‘Nothing will go wrong,’ Max predicted. ‘We won’t need Baker’s special set of skills this time. A little light-fingered espionage is all that’s required.’

  ‘When you two spies have finished,’ interrupted Sarah, ‘I think we need to get a plan together.’

  So they did. By the time the following day dawned, clear and bright, each of them had a keen understanding of their role. Confidence came from good planning and their confidence was high. Sea Otter dropped anchor three miles offshore and waited. The distant desalination plant was clearly visible, albeit too far away for detailed inspection with the naked eye.

  The launch appeared on the horizon at a little after ten; an absolutely gorgeous fifty-foot ocean cruiser that looked like it could have slept half a dozen in luxury itself. It was far from the functional boat they had been expecting. With tinted Perspex windows and a gleaming, rakish, white-painted fibreglass hull, her two inboard engines could power her along comfortably at thirty-five knots, if needed.

  A crew of six men welcomed them aboard and they were soon heading towards the coastline, at a sedate ten knots. They were ushered onto an open rear deck and offered a cool glass of champagne, which none took. Instead they opted for fruit juice; it was too early and they all needed to be thinking clearly.

  The cruiser pulled into a small, concrete-walled harbour, twenty minutes later, tying up to the single wooden jetty. Built slightly away from the main plant, two neatly-uniformed armed guards were waiting in a new Jeep Grand Cherokee to whisk them the couple of miles to their destination. The roadway, also purpose-built, hugged the coast and offered amazing views of the ocean, sparkling and iridescent beneath the morning sun.

  The plant was an impressive sight too but Pace hardly noticed. In his mind he was rehearsing the job ahead, step by step. He didn’t think that anyone would dare to harm them but the discovery of the corpse might prove him wrong. He knew they had to be careful but he was also fairly sure that ARC might be completely legitimate.

  Hammond was casually perusing the layout an
d surroundings, clocking security towers and the ten-feet high, chain-link perimeter fencing from behind the protection of mirrored sunglasses. To his experienced eye, security was far too extreme for a typical commercial site. Instantly, he grew more alert.

  Sarah looked stunning in a short, white tennis dress. Tightly fitted but sporty by design, it clung in all the right places and allowed her to wear a pair of matching tennis shoes without looking odd. She wore her hair tied back in a ponytail and oozed sensuality without trying. The male staff on the launch had struggled dismally to keep their eyes off her.

  The car pulled into a delightfully cool underground car park and they were escorted up in a large lift, red-carpeted, and deposited at an empty reception area. Their guards departed and they waited alone for a few minutes before a nearby door opened and a young woman stepped out to greet them, smiling broadly in an attempt to disguise her frustration. She had so much work to be getting on with, the last thing she needed was to babysit visitors and run a site tour. But this was the McEntire Corporation and they were far too important to ignore. Business was business.

  ‘Welcome to our facility,’ she spoke in soft tones that were in complete contrast to her physical appearance. Standing nearly six feet tall, with shoulder-length copper hair falling in gentle, natural curls, the delicate features of her face were housed on a head that sat atop a veritable mountain of muscle. A keen body-builder for over two decades, Fiona Chambers weighed in at nearly two hundred pounds and had developed a physique that could put many heavyweight male boxing champions to shame. She wore a beautifully tailored business suit, in dark purple, with a simple white blouse and patent black high-heeled shoes. There was only a hint of makeup.

  She walked towards them, extending her hand, moving with a fluid grace that belied her size. ‘My name is Fiona Chambers. I am Miss Roche’s PA.’

  They all introduced themselves in turn, shaking her hand, and making positive comments about their first impressions. Fiona nodded, listening politely.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to this visit at such short notice,’ said Pace evenly. ‘We were in the area and the chance to see our technology in action was just too good to pass up.’

  ‘I’m sure it was,’ agreed Fiona flatly. She really had better things to be doing. ‘When you are ready, we can begin the tour.’

  ‘Ready when you are,’ said Hammond, smiling. ‘Lead the way, Miss Chambers.’ She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, so he took a chance that she was still single.

  Two hours later the tour came to an end where it had begun. Pace had to remind himself several times that they were here on a spying mission. The complex was truly impressive, spread over several buildings on the sprawling site. For all her reservations, Fiona knew the complex well, including the rudiments of technology behind the process, and turned out to be an engaging guide. Pace actually finished the tour understanding a great deal more about desalination than he thought possible.

  It was a little after noon by then and they were all ready for lunch and a cool drink. Fiona escorted them down a rabbit-warren of corridors and passageways until they arrived at a gorgeous, oak-panelled conference room. A long mahogany table took centre stage, flanked by a dozen sumptuously padded, red leather antique chairs. Numerous large windows offered a stunning view of the ocean, seemingly benign beneath a crystal sky.

  ‘If you will be seated, lunch will be served shortly,’ explained Fiona. She had run out of time to waste with her corporate visitors and needed to get back to work. ‘I have other appointments, unfortunately,’ she soothed, ‘so I won’t be joining you, I’m afraid. After lunch, Miss Roche will see you briefly before the launch returns you to your ship.’

  ‘Thank you for your time,’ said Pace. ‘Sorry you can’t stay for lunch.’ Just as he saw Fiona’s lips begin to curl upwards in a weak smile, he added, ‘You must be extremely busy out here, in the middle of nowhere. It must cram your diary to overflowing.’ Pace spoke every word in a level tone, underlined with his own smile to offset the blatant jibe.

  ‘Even out here, business goes on,’ Fiona snapped icily. ‘Enjoy your lunch everyone.’ Then she was gone.

  ‘You do have a way with women,’ Hammond chuckled. ‘I thought she was going to flip, and getting her angry probably is not a good idea.’

  ‘I just wanted to push her buttons a little and see what happened,’ explained Pace, sighing. ‘The tour was good and the plant does what it’s supposed to. The business is clearly legitimate.’

  ‘But we haven’t looked around yet?’ protested Sarah quietly.

  ‘And we’re not going to,’ replied Pace. ‘I don’t mind snooping around if there’s some chance of successfully getting away with it. This place is water-tight. We’d be discovered in seconds.’

  Hammond was inclined to agree with Pace. The tour was informative in more ways than one. The plant was even more heavily patrolled inside, by a sizeable, well-armed security force and there were cameras dotted everywhere.

  ‘There are a lot of cameras around,’ agreed Sarah. ‘But we knew there’d be some risk.’

  ‘Look.’ said Pace seriously, lowering his voice as half a dozen white-smocked waiting staff suddenly filled the room and began placing silver trays of delicious food on the table. Almost whispering. ‘This is not just a desalination plant, it can’t be. There are enough automatic weapons here to shame a small army and those guards aren’t local boys. And why is the CEO of such a company slumming it in a desalination plant, however fancy?’’

  ‘The guards aren’t amateurs, you’re right,’ agreed Hammond. ‘Serious looking faces and totally focused on their job.’

  ‘Mercenaries?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘I’d say so.’

  ‘Not again,’ she groaned. ‘Guns for hire? I thought we’d seen the last of those.’

  ‘Get used to it, Sarah,’ said Hammond. ‘You now know as much as any of us about the real nature of the McEntire Corporation. Coming up against armed resistance comes with the territory, I’m afraid.’ He smiled wanly. ‘That’s just how it is.’

  Lunch was amazing. The food was of the highest quality, all manner of delicately steamed seafood, served with rice and vegetables. Platters of appetising pastries and an impressive selection of chilled wines were deposited before the waiting staff withdrew.

  ‘Let’s not waste such offerings,’ said Hammond, tucking in to sea bass and squid, nodding his approval.

  Pace only picked at his plate, his mind churning over what he’d seen and trying to link the various threads together. On the face of it there was no evidence that the facility was involved in the death of their mystery corpse. The armed men were professional but maybe that was necessary out here. After all, the plant represented a sizeable investment that needed to be protected. Perhaps there were threats out there in the desert that necessitated such tight security, he didn’t know, but his gut instinct told him that all that firepower had a more sinister purpose.

  After lunch was over, the table was cleared and their two armed escorts from earlier reappeared to inform them that Miss Roche would be down shortly. They were to make themselves comfortable until then.

  Josephine Roche swept into the room ten minutes later, wearing an expensively cut, two-piece black business trouser suit and plain, low-heeled silver shoes. The neck of her suit jacket plunged down, exposing a modest cleavage. Her entrance lit up the room in an instant.

  Hammond was immediately struck by her beauty but also by a real presence that entered with her. Purposeful, poised, graceful, she moved like a panther. Instinctively, Hammond recognised her as dangerous. Josephine wore a welcoming smile and shook her head, smiling more broadly, as all three started to rise from their chairs.

  ‘No, no. Please, sit. You are my guests and very welcome.’ Her voice was melodic and Sarah found her own heart fluttering unexpectedly at the sound. She shook hands with their host and was at a loss to understand the flush that coursed through her, so much so that she lowered her eyes a little, hoping th
e effect wouldn’t show.

  Josephine completely missed the effect she’d just had and instead focused on Pace. Here was a man of character, she could tell. He met her gaze coolly and shook her hand with firm politeness.

  ‘Miss Roche. It is so good of you to see us at such short notice.’ Their eyes met, and held, as they sized each other up. Unlike Hammond, Pace saw something more than female guile behind her eyes, in contrast to the welcome on her lips. It was fleeting; a passing sense of foreboding, of cold calculation. ‘Your facility is very impressive.’

  ‘Thanks largely to McEntire technology,’ she replied, a little perturbed at the detachment of his reaction. ‘Did you enjoy lunch?’

  ‘It was very generous of you.’

  ‘I know that Fiona will have given you a detailed tour, but is there anything else you need to see, or ask, before you leave?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Hammond. ‘The tour covered everything we needed to see, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Roche,’ agreed Sarah. Having regained her composure, she was determined to involve herself in the conversation. ‘My father takes a keen interest in how our technology is used.’

  ‘That is good to hear,’ Josephine replied sweetly.

  ‘I have a question,’ said Pace innocently.

  ‘Please ask it.’

  ‘This facility is huge and must have taken a great deal of money to build.’

  ‘Yes. It was a large investment for my company, Mr Pace.’

  ‘James, please.’

  ‘James. What do you want to know?’

  ‘I understand that the coastline here is protected by law, as is much of Namibia’s interior. A huge swathe of this country carries the status of an internationally-recognised game reserve and some parts are even seen as areas of special scientific interest. How, may I ask, did you get permission to build here?’

  ‘Not all of the land is protected,’ Josephine replied. ‘This part was leased from a private owner and the necessary permissions were granted, at the highest level I might add, because of the good work that we do. The government needs to strike a balance between protecting wildlife and making sure the people have enough clean water to drink.’