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Back A Shadow Intelligence Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Oliver Harris
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. TWENTY-NINE
  32. THIRTY
  33. THIRTY-ONE
  34. THIRTY-TWO
  35. THIRTY-THREE
  36. THIRTY-FOUR
  37. THIRTY-FIVE
  38. THIRTY-SIX
  39. THIRTY-SEVEN
  40. THIRTY-EIGHT
  41. THIRTY-NINE
  42. FORTY
  43. FORTY-ONE
  44. FORTY-TWO
  45. FORTY-THREE
  46. FORTY-FOUR
  47. FORTY-FIVE
  48. FORTY-SIX
  49. FORTY-SEVEN
  50. FORTY-EIGHT
  51. FORTY-NINE
  52. FIFTY
  53. FIFTY-ONE
  54. FIFTY-TWO
  55. FIFTY-THREE
  56. FIFTY-FOUR
  57. FIFTY-FIVE
  58. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It was another fifteen minutes stumbling through trees before the gradient afforded a view. Floodlights lit a flattened square of compacted mud half a mile across, cleared for a drill pad. Bright yellow diggers looked small beside it. Security guards patrolled with sniffer dogs. To the east was a pit large enough to bury a five-storey building. Pipes and cables waited to be laid, stacked beside two holding tanks bearing the Saracen logo. Around the edges, unlit, you could see the ruins of the old mine: a mountain of grey waste, the rusting towers of the extraction plant. A new road ran from the site to a complex of temporary buildings, port-acabins with gleaming black GL5 patrol vehicles beside them.

The level of development suggested there was something special about this site. I didn’t have time or warmth to search for it now. I headed back towards my car, hit a problem.

Five men stood around it, the Russians and Serbs, quiet now, scanning the surroundings with their weapons up as one of them radioed details. The boot was open, more men approaching through the trees. I stepped back.

Their own patrol vehicle was parked a few metres away, closer to me than it was to them: a light cargo truck, mud-coloured canvas over its flat bed. No one had stayed with it. I took a few steps closer to the truck, saw keys in the ignition. One of the men looked up. I climbed into the vehicle as he raised his gun. They all turned in my direction. I prayed that it accelerated fast.

‘Hey!’

I turned the key, slid low. Bullets pinged off the front engine. I began to drive, straight at them at first, which caused some temporary disruption and blinded them with the headlights, then I dragged down the oversized steering wheel and circled away. Shifting gears was a fight, but the horsepower felt good.

Once on the road I floored the accelerator. I took turnings when I could, lost but glad to put several miles between myself and the Russians. Twenty minutes later I was still so focused on threats behind that I didn’t see the Toyota Cruiser speeding towards me, less than a second from a head-on collision.

FORTY-FOUR

They reacted slower, which meant I was the one who steered off-road. I crashed into trees, wrenching the wheel, managing to avoid one trunk, slamming into the next. I almost broke my ribs on the steering wheel, came to a stop. The wheels were stuck.