Black Gold (7 page)

Neil Hearst looked out of his window as the city wound down for the day. He had just printed out an e-mail on that day's progress on the clean-up. All positives – locals still co-operative, spill now contained and stabilized, beaches washed down, collection and removal of oil due to begin the next day. Hearst looked out at the sea. It was still a pure glittering blue, as if nothing had happened. Willemstad was quite a few miles up the coast from where the tanker had grounded and it was untouched.

Crashing the tanker had been a risky strategy, but the leak from the drill site had nearly given away too much too soon. And now the damage had been contained. In a few years' time, once everyone had adjusted, few people would complain. Especially when the new wells were producing.

Tubular Bells.
Hearst saw on the screen who was calling. He steeled himself. Although the tanker was out of sight, it seemed he wouldn't be able to put it out of his mind for long. 'Yes, Simon?'

'What happened to the bomb? He was supposed to put the bomb on board.'

'He did.'

'Well, why is the ship still there? I saw it on the news this evening and it's beginning to make my eyes hurt. What went wrong?'

'The bomb did go off. But it hardly did anything.'

'Why?'

Hearst's voice rose angrily. 'I don't know why. Maybe the powder got damp.'

'Don't take that tone with me. You told me the tanker was highly unstable. Likely to go up at any minute. But you can't seem to make it go off even by putting a
bomb
in it!'

'The diver must have put it in the wrong place,' said Hearst limply.

'Well, never mind about that now. You know we've got something far more important to worry about. You'd better not mess up tonight.'

Hearst's voice was flinty. 'We won't mess up, don't you worry.'

Normally used for cricket, the stadium in Willemstad had been converted into a massive auditorium. The pitch had been laid with a wooden floor to turn it into a huge dance area. At the scoreboard end was a large stage, surrounded by a stack of black speakers and tall poles with lighting rigs. The scoreboard itself had been covered with an enormous screen, which played a video from one of the event's sponsors, illuminating the shadowy items on the stage – a sprawling drum kit, spindly microphone stands, guitars propped upright, keyboards on slender black frames, the black wedges of sound monitors. A band's kit, ready for the performers.

Amber and Li moved purposefully down the steps to ground level. Alex, Danny, Carl and Lynn followed.

'Do we really want to dance?' said Carl. 'I'm a scientist. I don't dance.'

'Yeah,' agreed Alex. 'I've got two left feet.'

Li turned and glared at them. 'Yes, we
do
want to dance.' She and Amber continued marching downwards, on a mission.

A murmur of excitement went up around the stadium. A row of people in white boiler suits were walking onto the stage, forming a line at the front. Some were wearing gas masks; others had black smears on their faces. Many carried placards:
LIFE NOT OIL; STOP THIS BLACK DEATH; STOP THE KILLING; ECOLOGY IS OUR LIVES.
They were immediately joined by men in black jeans and T-shirts, the word
SECURITY
printed across their backs.

'Could get nasty,' said Amber quietly to Li. The gas masks looked sinister. A flash made her look around. Behind them, Lynn was snapping away with a digital camera.

They turned back and watched the stage intently. One of the security men was talking to the ringleader. The protestor was nodding his head, the hose wobbling up and down, but his posture didn't look threatening.

Alex whispered to the two girls. 'I don't think this is going to get violent. They look like they want to co-operate.'

His instinct was right. The protestors leaned their placards up against the front of the stage and dispersed into the crowd. Danny hoisted Lynn onto his broad shoulders so she could snap the empty stage with the protest messages showing. The security guards began to remove the placards and a pair of burly men in suits appeared to inspect the stage. They moved stiffly, as though their jackets were tight.

There was something very familiar about that, thought Amber. She nudged her two friends. 'They're wearing body armour.'

'Must be some bigwigs here tonight,' said Li.

'I know that guy!' exclaimed Alex. 'The one on the left with the crewcut. He was in the Regiment with my dad.'

Li looked incredulous. 'What's the SAS doing here?'

'He's not in the Regiment any more,' said Alex. 'He left to do personal security, guarding VIPs.'

'I wonder who he's with,' said Amber. 'One of the bands?'

'Hey, Alex,' grinned Li, 'go and talk to him – get us a backstage pass.'

She was joking but Alex took her seriously. 'Li, the point of people like him is to keep people like you away.'

'Rats,' smiled Li. 'It was worth a try.'

Danny lowered Lynn to the ground. Once down, she pressed a speed dial key on her phone. 'Hi, Ray, I'm at the concert and I've got some pics of some protestors. I can e-mail them tonight.'

'I suppose a photographer is always on duty,' said Amber to Danny.

'It's her friend on the picture desk at the
Amigoe.'
The
Amigoe
was the daily newspaper for the whole of the Antilles group of islands. 'Lynn carries her camera everywhere. She's had quite a few scoops just by being in the right place at the right time.'

There was a thump from the speakers and a whine of feedback. The sound system was on. The screen that had been showing videos now began running through the logos of the event's sponsors. The bodyguards had left, satisfied that the protestors hadn't planted anything. Ten thousand people, gathered on the dance floor or in the tiered seating, now became quiet with anticipation and looked towards the stage. One or two shouted or whistled. The show was about to start.

One of the sponsor logos remained on the screen – the red flash of ArBonCo. It provoked a few jeers. Then a figure walked out of the shadows and onto the stage, stopping at the lead singer's microphone. His clothes didn't say 'rock 'n' roll' or 'reggae'; they said 'office' – he was in his sixties, with white hair. A caption on the screen behind him gave his name: Bill Bowman, President of ArBonCo Oil. Three security guards stood behind him, including the two men they had seen checking the stage.

The hush from the audience took on an intense quality, like a stare. Resentful murmurs started to flit through the crowd like a breeze through a forest.

'I bet his fan club isn't here tonight,' muttered Carl.

'I'm surprised he has the guts to show his face,' said Danny.

Bowman's voice boomed out through the microphone. 'Ladies and gentlemen. First let me say how devastated, personally, I am by the tragedy that struck us on Monday. Tonight's festival has been months in preparation, the event of the year, anticipated by thousands. It seems so cruel that when it finally comes we find ourselves in such a dreadful crisis. I do not underestimate the impact—'

The air erupted. There was a bright flash that drew everyone's attention. And a sound, which the crowd only identified afterwards as their ears began ringing – a rat-a-tat like a machine gun, followed by a whistling like a firework but much, much louder. Alex, Li and Amber were suddenly surrounded by a mass of pushing elbows, screaming mouths, frightened eyes.

Then they heard something else. Two unmistakable cracks.

Someone was shooting.

Alpha Force's training took over. Amber grabbed Danny. Alex grabbed Carl. Li took Lynn. They pulled them to the ground.

Alex looked up at a row of heads. Everyone had taken cover. He made eye contact with one worried face, then another. Over their heads he could see the stage, where two bodyguards were hustling Bowman away, their bodies close to him, as if in a rugby scrum, protecting him. Another bodyguard lay on the ground. He'd taken the bullet intended for Bowman.

Far away, people were running. Suddenly there were more shots. Different this time, thought Alex. The security guards must be chasing the shooter.

There was a flash beside them. Lynn had lifted her camera above her head to take a picture. Li, Alex and Amber all had the same thought – they admired Lynn's dedication but a flashgun might startle jumpy bodyguards into shooting at them. Luckily Lynn couldn't take any more. Looking at the display, she cursed softly. Her battery was dead.

All this took only a few seconds. Then the crowd seemed to wake from their stunned state and the screaming started. People were scrambling to their feet, trying to run, kicking those who were still on the ground. Children were terrified, turning from one adult to the next for guidance, but the adults were panicking too.

A woman tried to run through Amber as though she wasn't there. Amber stood up and blocked her way. 'Get down!' she shouted. The woman stopped, shocked, then did as Amber said.

Li was trying to calm the people near her. 'Stay down. Keep still and you'll be safe. You are not the target, it's that guy who was on the stage.' Her voice was strong and certain. She reached out and tried to touch as many of them as possible, so they would feel she was speaking to them personally. One by one, people stopped trying to run. One by one, they dropped down.

Carl, Danny and Lynn were on the ground. They watched Alex calm a group near him. His voice was assured. 'Keep your head down and you'll be fine.' They were grateful that someone knew what to do.

Others near them took confidence. They kneeled or crouched, kept their heads low, held onto friends for reassurance. They calmed others near them, encouraged them to do the same. The message to stay still was travelling outwards from their little group like ripples in a lake.

Lynn suddenly realized how different it could have been. She held her camera up to get a picture of the huge dance floor with its hushed audience, then remembered she had run out of battery power. Pity; it would have made an excellent picture for the story – the heroes of the evening. If the three teenagers hadn't done what they had, the crowd could have panicked and people possibly been crushed to death. Li, Amber and Alex had quite possibly averted a disaster.

Paramedics rushed onto the stage with a stretcher and lifted the wounded bodyguard. Alex quickly looked at the other people near him. Hearing someone screaming in real pain might be enough to break the spell. But no, everyone was quiet. He relaxed. Imagine having to take a bullet as part of your job, he thought.

Amber had seen him too. 'Is that your dad's friend?'

'No,' said Alex. 'He's gone with Bowman.'

It looked like the security guards had gone out of the stadium in pursuit of the shooter. They were probably all safe to move now – but if this wasn't handled well, there might be another panic.

A voice came over the speakers. 'Ladies and gentlemen . . . this is the front of house manager. We . . .' The voice faltered as though he wasn't quite sure what to say next. 'We apologize for the interruption to tonight's programme. We will reschedule for a later date. The police are on their way and they have asked if you would remain in your seats as they will need statements. If you're on the dance-floor area would you please sit down. Do not try to leave the building. Thank you.'

A sound rose from the stadium as several thousand people shuffled and shifted, trying to get comfortable. They started to talk again – and to the three friends it felt like normality was returning. But on the floor of the stage where Bowman had been standing was a red, sticky pool: the bodyguard's blood.

Lynn had put another battery in her camera and was reviewing her pictures. One was particularly interesting – a shot of three security guards chasing a fourth man up the steps of the stands. 'Darn, it's blurred,' she sighed.

'I bet nobody else has got it,' said Danny, folding his long legs into a cross-legged position. 'You'll make the front page.' He looked nervously up at the exit in the picture. 'Let's just hope he doesn't come back.'

Alex was looking in that direction too. 'I think the shooter's long gone.'

'Well, thanks for an exciting evening,' said Li as Danny pulled up near the medical centre. 'We must go out with you guys again.' She slid open the door of the navy blue dive school people carrier and got out.

Amber and Alex followed her.

'Give our regards to Paulo and Hex,' said Danny.

'Thanks for the ride,' said Alex, sliding the door closed.

As Danny's tail lights dwindled away down the road they relaxed. Only now did they feel they could really talk about what had happened.

'I can't say I'm surprised someone took a shot at ArBonCo,' said Li.

'But an assassin?' queried Alex. 'This is getting a bit extreme.'

'People are upset,' said Amber. 'It's what they do. Wait till we tell the others.'

The night staff were on duty. As they pushed open the door, the nurse on reception recognized them and directed them to a room.

Hex and Paulo had finished their decompression treatment for the evening and had been moved to a private room. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, still in their white T-shirts and boxer shorts, playing a card game.

Hex looked up. 'Hi,' he said, putting some cards down on the pile in front of him.

Paulo cursed quietly in Spanish and prepared to put his cards down in reply.

'Had a nice evening?' said Li.

'Mm,' said Hex, but he was more interested in watching Paulo. The big Argentinian was still thinking about his next move. Without looking up he asked, 'Did you catch the assassin?'

His remark took the wind right out of Amber's sails. 'How did you know what happened?'

'We were listening to the broadcast of the concert on the internet,' said Hex. 'Then I looked it up on Reuters.' He reached for his palmtop on the bed and handed it to Alex. It was a short report, with little detail.

Amber peered over Alex's shoulder as he read. 'Does it say what happened to Bowman?'

Alex finished reading and passed her the palmtop. 'Just that his security chief got him away.'

Amber skimmed the report. It didn't add much to what they already knew.

Alex sat down on the bed. 'It looked like a professional job. The explosions beforehand, designed to distract the crowd. Do you remember that whistling noise?'

Li and Amber hadn't thought about it, but now they remembered. 'Yes.'

'My dad calls them flash-bangs. They're really distinctive – the loud bangs, then a whistle. It's designed to disorientate you. While you're trying to work out what's happened, something else can be going on that you're not looking at.'

Li leaned over Paulo, plucked a card from his hand and put it down.

'Hey,' protested Paulo.

Hex stared at the card. 'You dirty rat. You had that all the time.' He threw down the rest of his hand.

Li ruffled Paulo's hair triumphantly.

'Thanks,' said Paulo, grinning up at her.

Li plonked herself down on the floor next to him. 'So he was a professional. But something doesn't add up. He missed.'

'He didn't miss,' said Alex. 'A bodyguard got in the way. And then he'd probably missed his chance. The chief of security was too good to let him get a second shot. The assassin was good too, though; he'd planned his escape route and he got away.'

'Would ecologists hire a professional killer?' said Hex.

Amber sat down and gathered the cards together. 'It doesn't have to be all of them. It only takes one.'

'This is turning dirty,' said Li. 'How bad can it get?'

'It's got bad already,' said Hex. 'We heard a few interesting things too from Andy, that guy in decompression.'

Amber, shuffling the cards, suddenly had a thought. 'Oh – are you guys stable?'

'Nice of you to remember to ask,' said Hex sardonically. 'Yeah, fine. All those frightening nasty sensations have gone. That chamber's magic.'

'That poor guy Andy's not in such good shape,' said Paulo. 'They had to put him in a wheelchair to take him back to his bed.'

The others were shocked. Had their friends come that close to serious damage?

'When are you out?' asked Alex.

'Tomorrow,' said Paulo. 'After another examination with Mistress Mara. Now, do you want to know what Andy told us or not?'

Alex, Li and Amber walked back to the dive school. It was a warm night, the air still. Occasionally the sound of a vehicle far away drifted towards them on a gentle breeze.

'A bomb,' said Li. 'Whoever planted it must have been out of their minds. It could have been an inferno.'

'Is is me or is the smell of oil less strong?' said Li.

Amber sniffed the air. 'Perhaps we're getting used to it.'

They took the path down to the beach and soon came to the big wooden jetty that belonged to the dive centre. The moon was high and they could see the
Fathom Sprinter
bobbing gently. The water looked normal in the moonlight; the blackened shore could have been a trick of the light. But as they got closer they saw the small mounds on the beach as the sea brought its constant tide of birds and fish.

'Hey, guys,' said Amber. 'What's that?'

There was an urgent note in her voice. She was pointing to a large object on the blackened beach below. A white hunk of something was lying in the surf, the sea washing in and over it, rolling it gently, then drawing out again. It was large, still – and ghostly white in the moonlight. Alex thought it looked like the tip of a rocket – cone-shaped and smooth – but as they got closer they saw it wasn't metal.

'It's flesh,' said Alex quietly.

Their footsteps crunched as they met the coral beach. They picked their way along carefully to avoid treading on the dead birds and fish. The sea washed in, covered the white object and moved it gently, then withdrew again. Now they could see a pointed head with a black dot of an eye. An open mouth with rows of teeth like shards of shattered glass. A pectoral fin.

'It's a shark,' said Li. 'A bit of a shark.'

Alex switched on the torch on the end of his mobile.

It wasn't even half the shark – just a head, a ragged piece of backbone and one pectoral fin. It must have been big; this part alone was nearly a metre long. The sea came up over their ankles and Amber stepped back as the ripped skeins of the shark's entrails floated towards her like tentacles. The sea retreated, taking dark swirls of blood into the oily water. Down the beach was a trail of mangled flesh as each wave washed more of the dead shark away.

Amber voiced what they were all thinking. 'What on earth did
that
to a shark?'

Alex played his torch over the corpse. 'This is fascinating.'

'You are disgusting,' said Amber.

'No, look. You can see its spine. It's made of cartilage, not bone. It looks like plastic. I'm going to take a picture.' There was a flash. Then he inspected the photo and thumbed away at the buttons.

Li peered over his shoulder. She pulled a face at Amber. 'He's sending it to the others.'

Amber rolled her eyes. 'A nice "get well" card.'

The sea came in and went out again.

Alex was looking at his picture, then at the shark carcass. There was something strange that showed up more clearly on the photo – a big black stain. And something else. He went in closer with the torch. Yes, it was there on the carcass; he just hadn't noticed it in the moonlight.

'Come and look at this.'

The girls looked at Alex. His face was less than twenty centimetres away from the corpse. They stayed firmly where they were.

'Must we?' said Li.

'There's a big black shadow inside its body cavity. It's really weird.'

Li folded her arms, determined not to move. 'It's probably eaten something containing ink. It might even be paint. Some of these sharks are real scavengers.'

Alex looked up. 'This doesn't look like something it's eaten. You've got to actually see it.'

Reluctantly Amber bent over the carcass.

'You have to get really close,' said Alex. He was practically sniffing the flesh.

Amber sighed and crouched down. 'If this is a joke I'm going to rub your nose in it.' Alex moved back to give her room.

She'd expected it to smell bad, but it didn't – it was clean and fresh, like the sea. But she could see why Alex was curious. Embedded into the exposed interior of the skeleton were fragments of metal, twinkling against the glistening flesh. She touched one piece. It was sharp. Definitely metal.

'I know it's weird,' said Alex, 'but that looks like the debris from a bomb blast.'

Li came nearer and Amber moved aside so that she could get a good view. 'There were sharks like this in the tanker,' she said. 'One of them must have found the bomb.'

'That's why it didn't blow up the tanker,' said Amber softly. 'This shark swallowed it and swam away.'