White Gold (23 page)

Dan and David turned and ran along the deck towards the gangway on the stern. Dan looked up. From the steps he could see the car weaving its way through the dock complex. He heard a screech of tyres as it slammed through a barricade and turned towards the city.

David was already using the radio to speak to the helicopter pilot. ‘Two incoming. Get us up as fast as you can.’

Dan leapt into the seat next to Sarah and fastened his belt. He glanced at her. Her face was white. He leaned over and squeezed her hand. ‘Getting all of this noted down?’

She opened her mouth to say something, and then turned as David jumped in next to the pilot.

‘Go, go!’ he yelled. ‘Get after him!’

The helicopter lurched into the air, fast.

Dan watched out the window as the helicopter banked away from the river and began to follow the car as it took one of the main arterial roads into the city, travelling fast. He heard David talking on the radio, telling someone on the other end to get the police to stay away from the car.

Dan could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. His nightmares forgotten, he began to try to work out how Terry could have designed the bomb and what he would see if he got the chance. He looked at his watch, and then leaned forward. He tapped David on the shoulder and shouted to be heard over the engine.

‘This isn’t going to work! You need to get me on the ground so I can follow him by road.’

David turned to the pilot. ‘Get us down there. Now!’

The pilot nodded. Dan looked down at the city below. He just had to get to the vehicle before Terry detonated it.

He felt the pressure in his ears change as the helicopter began to quickly descend. He looked out the window. The helicopter was hovering over a public car park, the pilot seeking out a clearing in between cars and street lighting.

Dan held his breath. The pilot couldn’t tell if there were power lines or telephone cables beneath them – they were just going to have to take a chance.

‘Hurry!’ shouted David. ‘Get this thing on the ground, or we’re going to lose the car!’

Dan winced as Sarah’s fingers dug nervously into his thigh. He lifted her hand off and held onto it, ignoring her nails biting into his flesh.

He glanced out the window again. To the right of the car park was a supermarket, its bright lights illuminating the silhouettes of startled shoppers staring up in amazement at the helicopter.

As the aircraft landed, Dan climbed out, slammed the door shut behind him and ducked instinctively from the down-draught of the rotors. He walked around the helicopter and opened the other passenger door.

‘Are you coming?’ he shouted at Sarah.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, nodded, then unclipped her belt. Grabbing her bag, she climbed out of the helicopter. David already stood on the bitumen.

Dan turned to him. ‘Mind if we leave you?’

David pushed him in the back. ‘Get going – we’ll follow as closely as we can and see what we can do about making sure you don’t get pulled over on the way.’

‘But you won’t know what we’ll be driving!’ said Sarah.

David grinned as he climbed back into the helicopter. ‘I reckon I’d spot his erratic driving anywhere, don’t worry. We’ll find you.’

Dan watched the aircraft lift back into the air, then grabbed Sarah by the wrist and ran across the car park. He pulled her towards the lines of parked cars.

‘Come on, run!’ he urged. They raced to the entrance of the parking area. Dan swerved and changed direction as he spotted a shopper putting overloaded bags onto the back seat of a sports saloon. As he drew near, Dan pulled out the gun.

‘Keys!’ he yelled at the shocked man, who threw the keys at Dan and raised his hands in the air in one fluid motion.

Dan pushed Sarah into the car, and then ran round to the driver’s side. Starting the engine, he gunned it, grinned at Sarah and reversed out of the parking bay. Changing gear and hauling the steering wheel round at the same time, he spun the car so it pointed towards the car park exit and floored the accelerator.

There was an audible crash from the back seat as vegetables and tin cans of food tumbled to the floor of the car.

Sarah’s hands shook as she tried to fasten her seatbelt. Dan glanced over at her, a confused look on his face.

She shrugged. ‘I believe David about your driving.’

Dan braked hard and Sarah was thrown forward into her seatbelt. ‘Jeez,’ she gasped, as she reached down to ease the tension against her chest and stomach. ‘That’s going to leave a dent.’

‘Missed him though,’ Dan pointed, then put his foot down on the accelerator again. Sarah looked back over her shoulder as they took off, a security guard madly waving his arms in their wake.

He wrenched the wheel round hard and stomped on the brake. The gearbox whined in protest as he crashed through the gears, downshifted, then guided the car round the corner and accelerated hard down the street.

Sarah hung onto her seat, knuckles white as she slid across the car. ‘We’re losing him!’ she yelled.

‘Do you want to drive?’ Dan yelled back, as he swerved to miss an oncoming truck, the driver gesticulating furiously at them as they tore past.

Dan wrenched the wheel around hard to his left. The tyres shrieked in protest as the car slid across the wet bitumen. He feathered the throttle to bring the vehicle back under control, and then slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car bucked forwards and he straightened it out, blasting past a bewildered cyclist.

‘Can you see him?’ he screamed to Sarah.

She pointed to a car’s tail-lights at the end of the street.

‘There. Going round that corner. Quickly, Dan – we’ll lose him!’

Dan floored the pedal and swung the car round the junction. Turning right, he slid the car forty-five degrees and overtook a white panel van, braking hard as the road turned sharply left and then ran parallel with the Thames.

The black sedan’s tail-lights glinted a few hundred metres in front of them. Dan eased off the accelerator and followed at a distance.

‘Dan?’

Sarah glanced over at him, confused.

‘Aren’t you going to stop him?’

Dan shook his head.

‘I can’t – I don’t know how that bomb is designed to detonate. I need him to get it to its destination in one piece.’

He broke off as his mobile began to ring. He rummaged in his jacket pocket and handed the phone to Sarah.

‘Get that.’

She flipped open the phone.

‘Hello?’ She turned to Dan and mouthed,
it’s David
.

‘David? We’re following him – he just turned on to the Embankment… no, he wants to wait until the car stops – he says it’s too dangerous… okay.’

She hung up and held the phone tight in her hand.

‘David’s got a team about two minutes behind us. They’ll follow at a distance. He’s got a visual on us from the helicopter.’

Dan risked a look out his window and glimpsed the tell-tale lights of a helicopter at low altitude. ‘Good – as long as they keep their distance. I don’t want this guy to get spooked…’

He broke off as the black sedan slewed to the left-hand side of the road. Its brake lights flashed once, then again as it drew to a stop.

‘Shit!’ Dan sped up and overtook the car. ‘Don’t look at it, for Christ’s sake! Let’s just hope he doesn’t know we were following behind him!’ He continued driving along the street until he saw a left-hand turn and steered around the corner. ‘Phone David back – they’re going to have to tell us where Terry is heading now so we can try to get there first – hopefully we can hide before he shows up.’

Sarah opened the phone and began to dial, her hands shaking. She relayed the message and fell silent.

Dan kept the car at a slow speed until Sarah finished the call.

‘David says the car’s heading for a wharf off of Wapping High Street – Philippa’s tracking us and says we can pass him further along here.’ She pointed ahead of him.

‘Okay, just yell out the instructions as we go – and keep your fingers crossed we can beat him to it.’

Brisbane, Australia

Delaney burst through the door to his office, slammed it shut and locked it. His eyes darted around the room. Sweating and out of breath, he forced himself to breathe slowly. It was all falling apart.

Delaney pulled his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and hit redial. He put the phone to his ear, closed his eyes and leaned back against the door. He listened as the same tone-flat recorded message informed him Uli Petrov’s mobile number was no longer available.

He disconnected the call, and then looked up sharply as his desk phone began to ring. He strode across the office and snatched it from its cradle. ‘What?’

He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face as he listened and processed the information. ‘When?’

He leaned against the desk. His heart raced. This couldn’t be happening. ‘Send the report to my private fax line.’

He put the phone down and walked around the desk. Pulling out a drawer, he felt around until he found a small plastic bottle. Pulling it out, he twisted open the lid and shook it until two small white pills fell into his hand. He shoved them in his mouth, swallowed them and threw the bottle back in the drawer. He slammed it shut and turned as the fax machine began to print.

He snatched the single sheet of paper from the machine, read the contents and exhaled loudly.

It was a copy of the latest edition of the
Moscow Times
. Uli Petrov had been found dead in his Krylatskoe mansion, the victim of a burglary gone wrong, the police said. The Kremlin had undertaken to seize control of his oil and gas assets immediately, to secure production over the European winter, and was not expected to relinquish control of the business for the foreseeable future.

Delaney tore up the sheet of paper and threw it in the wastepaper basket in disgust. He picked up his phone and dialled the number for Charles. He eased himself into his chair, breathing heavily.

No answer. Delaney held out the phone at arm’s length and stared at it in disbelief. Where the hell was he?

Delaney reached down and pulled out one of the desk drawers. Tipping the contents out over the Chinese silk rug under his chair, he turned over the empty drawer. A thin manila envelope was stuck to the base of it. Delaney carefully peeled it away and threw the drawer on the floor.

He opened the envelope, looked at the carefully planned schedule, and then at his watch. It still might work. The freighter would have docked at Tilbury on the Thames. Terry would have unloaded the car and be on his way.

Delaney paused. What if Terry and Charles had been apprehended? Was he next?

He crouched down and began to gather the documents on the floor. He placed them in the wastepaper basket and pulled out his lighter. Holding the flame to the edge of the page, he noticed his hand was shaking. Rage, fear, frustration, anger – it boiled up through his veins and consumed him.

He growled – a long, low primeval sound, and then the paper caught fire. He stood up, grabbed the manila envelope and its contents and dropped them into the flames. Spinning round, he walked over to the opposite corner of the office where two filing cabinets stood. He pulled open the drawers, tearing out anything that could be used against him. He glanced over his shoulder at the wastepaper basket, then turned and began to feed the files in his arms to the flames.

He looked at the pages as he fed them one by one into the inferno – the plans, test results, land acquisitions, the covering up of accidents and fatalities as Terry had perfected the weapon.

Delaney stopped and looked at the next file in his hand. Inside was a list of all the politicians and business associates he’d ever bribed through lobbying for his coal enterprises. He smiled to himself, and held onto the file tightly. If his empire was going to be destroyed, then he’d take down a few people with him.

He looked up as he heard a sharp crack and saw the wastepaper basket fall over. The flames began to lick at the rug at his feet. He stepped backwards, alarmed at the speed at which the flames spread across the office, sweeping across his desk. He raised his eyebrows in alarm as he saw the fire burn effortlessly towards the decanter and spirit bottles behind his desk.

Time to leave
.

He strode across the room and slid a bookcase to the right. It revealed the entry to a small private elevator. Delaney held the file of lobbying activity tight to his chest and stepped into the elevator. He turned and pulled the small concertina gate across and hit the button for the underground car park. As he descended, the spirit bottles exploded, sending shards of glass down the elevator shaft.

Delaney ducked, holding the file over his head to shield himself. He snarled as a glass shard embedded itself in the back of his hand. Cursing, he lowered his arm and looked at the damage. Blood poured over the back of his hand and began to drip on the floor of the elevator. He pulled out the glass and flicked it onto the floor, crunching it under the heel of his shoe.

The elevator ground to a halt just as fire alarms began to sound throughout the building. Delaney grabbed the gate and pulled it open. As he stepped out of the elevator, he glanced to his left towards the car park exit. People were walking away from the building but then stopped and pointed upwards at the thick smoke emanating from the remains of Delaney’s office.

He turned and jogged towards his car. He felt in his pockets for the keys and slowed to a brisk walk while he looked through them, selecting the right one. He held it between his teeth, then took the key between his finger and thumb and aimed it at the vehicle.

Nothing happened. He frowned. The alarm system wasn’t on.

He hurried over to the car. As long as he could still get into it, he’d be fine. He’d still be able to get away.

As he approached the vehicle, he could hear sirens in the background. He smiled. The trucks would create enough of a diversion for him to slip away, drive to the house and organise a council of war with the lawyers.
Damage limitation
.

Delaney pulled open the car door, threw the file on the passenger seat and lowered his bulk behind the wheel. He pulled the door shut and held the key to the ignition.

‘Hold it right there.’

Delaney jumped and looked in the rear view mirror at the face peering over the back of his seat at him.

‘You broke into my house!’ spat Delaney.

Mitch grinned back. ‘No – we had an invite, remember?’

Delaney reached for the door handle, kicked the door open, and then ran. A loud, short burst of gunfire broke the silence. Delaney sank to the floor, clutching his leg and growling through gritted teeth.

Mitch got out of the car and walked over to Delaney, his gun in his hand at his side. He crouched down and lowered his face to the other man’s. Delaney glared at him, his skin pale from the pain.

‘You bastard!’

‘That was for Hayley,’ said Mitch. He stood up. ‘And this is for Pete.’

He kicked Delaney hard where the bullet had penetrated.

Delaney screeched, the sound ricocheting off the walls of the car park.

Mitch turned away, held up his hand and waved. A team of agents, dressed in black and carrying assault rifles, appeared from behind various vehicles and walked towards Mitch.

‘Get him bandaged up, then put him on a flight to Canberra,’ he said. He reached into the car and picked up the manila file from the passenger seat. ‘I think we’ve got some mutual friends down there who will want to have a quiet word with him.’