White Gold

The copyright of this book belongs to Rachel Amphlett

No reproduction without permission

The names, characters and events in this book are used fictitiously.

Any similarity to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental

ISBN: 978-0-646-55814-1

For the
real
Harry

PRE-ORDER BEFORE MARCH 24, 2015 FOR ONLY $0.99

How far would you go to protect a secret?

How far would you go to expose a lie?

Will Fletcher seems to have it all – perfect job, perfect life. Then in one act of extreme violence, his world is turned upside down.

A bungled assassination attempt on a London street uncovers a disturbing conspiracy fuelled by organised crime and political ambition. Now, Will finds himself on the run, pursued by a dangerous enemy who will stop at nothing to protect his employer’s past.

The only way to stop the chain of events is to follow a trail of clues that lead to the heart of British politics.

With the date for the UK General Election only days away and the killers closing in, Will is running out of time to deliver his own version of vigilante justice and expose the corruption. As the web of lies and deceit unravels, Will knows the answer’s out there.

All he has to do is look closer.

Everyone has secrets. Everyone lies.

eBook: 978-0-9922685-5-8

Paperback: 978-0-9922685-4-1

JANUARY 2009

Somewhere in Iraq

Dan Taylor pulled at the padded vest, reached underneath it, and flicked another shirt button open.

Sweat poured down his face as the armoured vehicle bucked and swayed along the pot-holed road towards their target. He turned to the man seated beside him. He had to shout to be heard over the roar of the engine. ‘Who called it in, Terry?’

The other man shrugged. ‘Some woman walked up to one of the patrols – said her boy had seen a couple of blokes running away from the house opposite and it looked like they’d buried something in the road there.’

Dan nodded, lowered his gaze to his feet and sat, trance-like, waiting for the vehicle to arrive at their destination. He shuffled, trying to work the cramp out of his legs in the tight, confined space. The man opposite kicked his foot. Dan looked up and took the proffered chewing gum with a grunt of thanks.

‘Cheers, H.’

Not that a stomach ulcer is a major cause of concern right now
, he thought. He pulled at the strap under his chin which held his helmet in place. He felt a headache materialising, the helmet squeezing his skull in the heat.

The armoured vehicle continued to power along the dirt road between dilapidated houses. Most bore battle scars – bullet holes, missing roof tiles. In some places, rubble and twisted metal were the only clues where buildings had once stood.

Dan closed his eyes and let his body move with the twists and turns the vehicle made along the road. The tiredness and exhaustion consumed him. Three months added onto an already extended tour in the desert, the team were struggling to keep their wits about them. Every day, more explosive devices were being detonated by the unit. Just as they safely disposed of one bomb, another two were discovered, lying in wait for them.

Dan opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. They’d been out of the compound for six hours straight, driving from one emergency to another. He tilted his head back, stretching his neck muscles.

A shout from the front seat made him jump. ‘Hang on!’

The vehicle veered around a sharp left-hand bend and the road widened out. Dust whipped across the road as small pebbles spat out from under the wheels of the vehicle. They’d left behind the suburban sprawl of the rocket-shelled town. The houses left standing along the road stood sentinel as the vehicle followed in the day-old tracks of a supply convoy. The main road in and out of the town was a popular target for terrorists. The armoured vehicle accelerated, swinging left and right to dodge the larger craters and pot-holes.

The men sitting on the back panel seats held on to straps hanging from the ceiling of the vehicle and swayed with the motion.

‘Dicko, could your driving possibly get any worse?’ yelled H.

Dan didn’t hear the reply but from the grin across H’s face, he could tell it wasn’t polite. Dicko had once told him he’d been a courier driver in London before signing up – Dan often wondered how temporary that career would have been if Dicko hadn’t suddenly decided on a change of direction. He felt the vehicle slow to a crawl. Dicko spun the wheel and stopped.

A voice called back to them from the passenger seat. ‘Everybody out!’ David Ludlow, a young ambitious captain, shouted over his shoulder. ‘Dan, Mitch – you’re on the robot.’

Dan waited while H leaned over to the back of the wagon and released the door. The team crawled out into the glaring heat. Dust devils whipped up small clouds of dirt and grit. Dan stretched his large frame, and then walked to the passenger door. He leaned against the vehicle while David radioed in their position from the GPS coordinates.

The scenery had all started looking the same after a couple of months into the tour. Dust, sand, dust, and more dust. A burst of static was followed by a faint confirmation from their base.

David replaced the radio and turned to Dan. ‘Let’s do it.’

Dan walked to the back of the vehicle. A breeze off the desert swept the sweat from his face. He held up his hand to shield his deep blue eyes from the sun’s glare and stared down the road ahead of him. A thick haze clung to the afternoon horizon. On the left, further down the road, two burnt-out cars had been pushed out of the way and over to the side, to not to slow yesterday’s supply convoy. Dan blinked and pushed his sunglasses tighter to his face. He turned to help Mitch unload the bomb disposal robot from the wagon.

A small machine, supported on large tracked wheels with two claws at the front and a camera mounted onto the top, the robot enabled the team to get closer to the suspected IED without endangering their own lives.

While the other man went to gauge the terrain, Dan reached into the back of the wagon and pulled out a reinforced case. He opened it, and then unfolded a small laptop and joystick controls. He switched on the computer and was soon relaying commands to the robot on the floor.

It twitched on its tracks, the cable attached to the back of the camera playing out as the robot began to roll away, relaying live pictures back to the computer.

Dan looked up and saw Mitch walking back towards him. ‘All clear?’

Mitch nodded. ‘Terry’s gone to take a look around that house over there, just to make sure no-one sticks their heads out while we do this. There’re hardly any buildings around, which helps. H says there’s not enough cover for snipers.’

Dan looked where Mitch was pointing. The house stood on the left side of the track – mud and bricks, with a low stone wall which hemmed in a goat and some chickens. An old couple stared at them from a front doorway. He watched as Terry approached the building, shouted to the old lady in the doorway and gestured to her they should move away.

Dan turned as David called out commands. ‘Dicko, H – make sure this area is cleared. One-fifty metre boundary. Take a look at those dunes on the perimeter. Keep your eyes open.’

Dan watched as the two men left the sheltered side of the vehicle and strode out into the bright sunshine, their heads swivelling from side to side as they scanned the landscape for any threats to the team. David kept watch from the rear of the vehicle, his eyes flickering over the small crowd of people staring at them from the opposite end of the road.

Dan jumped as Mitch slapped him on the back.

‘Come on posh boy, stop daydreaming. Let’s go play with a bomb.’

Dan shook his head and smirked. After two years working together, Mitch still took the piss out of his Oxfordshire accent. ‘Better still, send the robot. It’s too hot for the suit today.’

He glanced down the road and stopped. ‘Christ – where did
he
come from?’

Mitch looked up to where Dan pointed.

A young boy had appeared from the side of one of the houses to their right, about fifty metres away. The boy pedalled happily towards the road on a small beat-up green tricycle. He smiled and waved at Dicko and H as they approached. Unaware of the danger he was in, the boy began chattering loudly to them as he cycled faster into the middle of the road.

The two soldiers ran to him, oblivious of their own safety, and waved their hands at him to tell him to stop.

Dan could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he watched H bend down to talk to the boy. He couldn’t have been more than three years old. Dan watched, his throat dry, as the child was sent running back in exactly the same direction he’d cycled from.

As he got to the house, a woman snatched him up in her arms and scolded him. A man held his hand up in thanks. Dicko and H waved at him, indicating the family should go inside and shelter, before they continued their patrol, walking past the discarded tricycle and away towards the dunes.

Dan swallowed and wiped the sweat from his eyes. He breathed out slowly, trying to stop his voice from wavering. ‘Where did the report say the IED was?’

Mitch stood next to Dan and pointed. Dan ignored the fact he could see the other man’s hand shaking. They’d both been scared for the kid. ‘Check out the tyre to the left of the road, about eighty metres away. Got it?’

Dan nodded.

‘Okay – now look to the right of it. You can see where the surface has been dug up and replaced. It’s just a pile of dirt with a bit of debris around it, yeah?’

‘Yeah, okay – I see it.’

Dan moved closer to the laptop and took hold of the small joystick between his finger and thumb. He glanced up at the screen, checked the camera was working properly, and then sent the robot rolling down the road towards its target.

As the robot bumped over the rough surface, Dan moved the camera left and right, testing the camera angles and making sure the picture on the laptop was clear. The last thing he needed was a dodgy signal, especially if he was going to have to use the robot to cut any wires to timing devices.

He looked across at Mitch who was standing at the side of the armoured vehicle, watching the robot as it trundled over the rough terrain.

‘How are they doing?’

Mitch’s gaze changed slightly, taking in the road and H and Dicko walking up over the sand dunes. ‘Looks okay. As long as they keep that perimeter, they’ll be fine.’ He clicked his radio microphone. ‘How’s it going you two?’

Dan heard a burst of static over Mitch’s earpiece and kept his eyes on the computer screen.

Mitch guffawed. ‘Dicko reckons he’s actually found a sand dune dirtier than the ones back home in Pembrokeshire. Amazing.’

Dan smiled. ‘Just tell them to watch where they’re walking. It won’t be dog shit that gets them into trouble here.’

Mitch grinned and relayed the message.

Dan slowed the robot as it drew near to the pile of debris in the middle of the road. He took his hand off the joystick and turned to David. ‘I’m ready when you are,’ he called.

David nodded and clicked his own radio microphone. ‘Okay everyone. Here we go. Keep your eyes and ears open.’

Dan peered around the back of the vehicle and saw Dicko and H taking up a defensive position on the sand dune in the distance, their rifles swinging as they panned round, taking in their surroundings. Behind him, David covered his back, glaring at anyone who looked like they were going to approach the vehicle, occasionally shouting to make sure the small crowd stayed back.

Dan took hold of the joystick and began the robot’s final approach. Bringing it to a stop next to the debris, he stopped the machine and used one of its claws to gently lift a discarded piece of blue cloth. He tapped a series of keys on the laptop and the camera angle zoomed into the space underneath the cloth. He held his breath. Underneath the cloth, the telltale signs of an IED were just visible.

Mitch peered over his shoulder. ‘Bastards.’

Dan nodded. ‘There are plenty of them around here.’

‘Can you lift that cloth out of the way?’

‘I can try – it doesn’t look like it’s weighing on the device.’

Dan touched the joystick and gently pushed it forward. The robot’s claw began to lift the material slowly away from the bomb.

‘Lift it straight up,’ said Mitch. ‘You don’t want it dragging across otherwise it could catch on the IED and set it off.’

Dan blinked as sweat ran down his face. He paused, wiping his eyes, trying to stop them stinging and rubbed his hands down the front of his trousers. He took hold of the joystick once more and the robot trundled backwards, carrying the bundle of cloth with it. He waited until the robot was a couple of metres back from the bomb, then hit a series of keys. The robot’s claw opened and the cloth fell to the ground.

‘Okay, now let’s get back in there and see what we’re dealing with,’ said Mitch, as he leaned against the back door of the vehicle and peered at the laptop screen.

Dan steered the robot back up to the bomb. He swung the camera left and right, recording all the angles, then stopped. ‘Here.’ He pointed at the screen. ‘The wires are exposed just there, look.’

Mitch bent down and peered at the relayed image. ‘Can you get to them?’

Dan nodded. ‘I reckon so. Standard configuration.’

Mitch grunted. ‘Yeah, looks like it. Can you get the cutters under it?’

Dan hit a series of keys and the robot’s claw swung into the camera’s view. The pincers snapped together twice and Dan eased them steadily towards a set of three wires. He lowered the claw until its lower edge was touching the dirt road. He stopped, took his finger and thumb off the joystick and wiped his hand on his padded vest. He then rubbed his finger and thumb together, trying to lose the grease, then took hold of the controls once more.

‘Any time today will do,’ murmured Mitch.

‘Fuck off.’

In spite of Dan’s response, he had a lot of respect for the other man. After joining the team following extensive training at Vauxhall Barracks in Oxfordshire, Dan began his first tour in the Middle East and Mitch had spent a lot of time making sure Dan’s training continued.

Dan twitched the robot forward. The claw scraped the dirt as it eased under the bomb’s wiring. He punched a key on the laptop and the picture zoomed in.

‘Child’s play,’ commented Mitch.

Dan glanced sideways at him. ‘Don’t you have to be somewhere?’

Mitch chuckled. ‘No.’

Dan rolled his eyes and then concentrated on the picture in front of him. Despite being annoying, Mitch’s observation had been right. The construction of the IED was deceptively simple. Deadly, but simple. A set of three wires connected the explosives to a trip switch.

‘No sign of a remote detonator,’ he reported.

Mitch slapped him on the back. ‘Good, get on with it then.’ He turned and called to David, relaying the message. David nodded and turned his attention back to the small group of bystanders.

Dan lined up the robot’s claw and began to gently lift the wires apart. He hit another command on the computer, which sent a telescopic tube out from under the robot, a set of wire cutters protruding from the end.

He breathed out slowly and willed his heart rate to calm down. He closed his eyes, replayed in his mind what needed to be done, then opened them, focused and ready.

As he typed in the final sequence of controls, the robot’s claw gently pulled a blue wire away from the other two. When it drew close to the wire cutters, a single keystroke sent a message to the robot and its blades drove through the wire.