Legacy

CA Sacha

Description

The wide-ranging plot straddles four continents as the main characters' lives intertwine; driven by love, betrayal, ambition and the desire for a Legacy.Bucephalus is a secret project that will produce the world's first emissions free car using a special fuel and engine, but there is another hidden agenda. China seizes on the opportunity to use Bucephalus to bring America to its knees, for its own ends.Gene Finnegan the automotive giant behind the project persuades the US president to lead a humanitarian programme called Feed Africa, using it to hide the environmental testing his vehicles require.Joseph Montgomery, America's president is desperate to avert a war, become the hero he images himself to be and finally break free from his domineering mother.Josie Ryland knows the truth. Bucephalus is destroying the eco system and the people she loves in southern Africa. Can she stop it from being launched? The stage is set for a showdown with unimaginable consequences.

Sujets

• Political
• Republic of South Africa
• USA
• United States of America
• Inglaterra
• South Africa
• Politics
• États-Unis
• China
• England
• Afrique du Sud

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mars 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800468979
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2021 C. A. Sacha

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

Matador
9 Priory Business Park,
Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
Tel: [phone]
Email: [e-mail]
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks

ISBN 9781800468979

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
This book would not have happened without the following people: Katrin and Richard Laurence, Sam Barnes, Nikhilesh Dasgupta, Chris Curry, Wendy and David Price, Gwyneth Olofsson, Karen Dennison, Denny Denham, Christina Malone and Christine Singleton.
Daniel Blythe read it and suggested there was a kernel of a good story and I should rewrite it. I did twice. It has meant my husband Paul putting up with the loss of his wife for more than a decade.
I’d like to thank all my friends who stuck with it and asked on a regular basis, ‘How’s the book going?’ Well it is here, done, finished.
It wouldn’t have happened without the team at Troubador.
If you like it, tell your friends about Legacy; who knows perhaps one day someone will turn it into a film!
Contents
Prologue

PART ONE: WHEELS SET IN MOTION

1. Bucephalus
2. Lucky
3. Ham Farm
4. Eureka
5. Josie acts
6. Washington meeting
7. Bang, bang
8. Field Study plans
9. Feed Africa
10. State dinner
11. Go home
12. Grey Goose
13. GG42/OO

PART TWO: HOME TO AFRICA

14. Homecoming
15. Waiting for baby
16. Invitation
17. TJ
18. Shindwalla
19. Hello Daddy
20. Jon Maguire

PART THREE: GATHERING EVIDENCE

21. Welcome home
22. Sleeping sickness
23. Coetzer
24. Lesedi
25. Du Toit
26. Final report
27. Pavilion

PART FOUR: ATTACKS ON US SOIL

28. Sunshine Cleaning
29. Moving forward
30. ‘You’re fired!’
31. Martha
32. Tyrell
33. Storm clouds
34. Bid for power
35. Bucephalus
36. Act now “or else”
37. Showtime
Prologue
Light from the window shone across an exquisite vermillion lacquer screen. On it the life-size tiger shimmered, the gold’s intensity reinforcing the sense of living flesh. The powerful creature, rather than leaping forward, lay beside the river intent on licking one of its paws. Looking more closely he saw the embedded jade thorn. He flipped his own talisman; a movement so familiar he barely registered the movement. He looked to the other side of the screen. A large mother-of-pearl horse, its head down, was drinking calmly from the lapis lazuli river, unconcerned by the proximity of the tiger. Above these symbols of good fortune and intelligence swooped iridescent long-tailed birds.
‘Do you remember the story?’ A thin, high voice broke the silence.
He nodded.

PART ONE: WHEELS SET IN MOTION
Chapter 1
Bucephalus
Dr Tomas Olofsson watched fixated as the liquid dripped down the pipette into the flask, unaware Professor Li had come into the lab and was standing close behind him.
‘How is it progressing?’ Professor Li asked.
Tomas looked up and stepped to one side. The professor picked up the handwritten notes and gave them a cursory glance, before putting his glasses back into his top pocket.
‘It’s too early to say,’ the black chemist said; his lilting voice had an echo of his Swedish upbringing.
The professor didn’t ask for more details. It wasn’t why he’d come. ‘Good – are you coming to our Christmas party tonight?’
‘No, I need to be here.’
‘Now, now Tomas, I insist. The others will probably go on to a nightclub but you and I,’ his hand firmly resting on Tomas’s forearm, ‘can slip away and celebrate in a more intimate way.’ He leaned in conspiratorially close, his aftershave bridging the gap between them.
Tomas stiffened, staring ahead. Suddenly he swept his arm across the bench, freeing himself from the professor’s grip; shattering glass as the colourless liquid dropped bead by bead onto the floor.
Fastidiously the professor stepped away, his silk handkerchief quickly to his nose. ‘You are an expensive toy,’ he looked amused, ‘your colleagues think I indulge you. But you and I are more alike than you realise.’ The professor turned around and opened the door. Looking down the corridor he called out, ‘Maguire, clean up this mess.’
Tomas pushed past the technician, offering no apology. The professor watched him stride away. He caught sight of the coterie of females by the water cooler; everyone within hearing distance an interested bystander. They melted away with smirking glances. He knew the gossip. Tomas was too attractive to be ignored. It made him a target for their wiles and scheming. Yet he seemed impervious to them. It reassured the professor and gave him hope.
Professor Li ran the research facility at LCC. His laboratory kept Finnegan’s car empire at the forefront of the industry. He worked tirelessly until he was indispensable. Everyone assumed he took Finnegan’s generous package because it paid for his expensive tastes, they even suggested in some way it made it possible for him to swallow Finnegan’s homophobic taunts; what no one knew was Professor Li had a very different reason for working at LCC.
♦
‘What the hell do you want? It’s five o’clock in the morning.’
‘I’m sorry, but this is delicate.’
He’d recognised the caller. ‘Delicate,’ Finnegan repeated the word, making it sound unsavoury.
‘One of my chemists is in trouble with the police. There was a fight and now they want to charge him with an assault.’
‘Why the hell should I care if one of your catamites is in trouble.’ He heard the smothered cough.
‘Dr Olofsson has an idea that will transform your company.’
Finnegan’s attitude changed immediately, ‘How exactly?’
Both men (and for different reasons) were aware of the significance of the next moment. ‘It’s a formula for a new fuel, one that has the potential to deliver an emission-free vehicle.’
Finnegan felt his pulse quicken, his heart thumped, blurring his vision for a moment before clearing. His hand involuntarily went to his chest. He realised the impact such a fuel would have. A world of opportunities opened up; his brain plotting out the critical decisions and investment needed. As the adrenalin coursed through his body he recalled every merger, takeover and accolade. They all seemed like flimflam compared to this. This offered him immortality; the man who changed the world. It would require the utmost secrecy if he was to succeed and make another fortune. He paused, a moment of doubt made him hesitate. He controlled his breathing, recalling the professor’s words – making sure he’d heard the professor correctly, before deciding no one lied to him. They knew what he was capable of.
‘Do whatever is necessary.’
♦
‘Mr Finnegan wants you in his office, immediately.’
Josie Ryland put down the telephone, staring blankly at the computer screen unable to move, before a voice in her head screamed, Don’t keep Finnegan waiting . She entered his private elevator, ironing her clammy hands on her black trousers, hoping her white shirt still looked crisp underneath the boxy business suit jacket.
Eliot, Finnegan’s assistant, looked up. There was no smile. ‘Leave your phone with me.’
Josie placed it on the outstretched hand. The thick twisted coils of Eliot’s gold bracelet reminded her of a shackle. She heard a buzz and Finnegan’s door opened. Josie tried to take in her surroundings; get a sense of the man without appearing overawed. Until now she’d only ever seen photographs of him.
He sat underneath a huge Jasper Johns painting. Its surface rippled with thick lumps and smears of pigment and wax; the iconic image of the stars and stripes leaving no doubt as to Finnegan’s patriotism. Number four on Forbes list of billionaires, Gene Finnegan had the reputation of a high-functioning psychopath, a businessman with a killer instinct. He was seventy-two.
There was no preamble, no attempt to make her feel comfortable. ‘I’ve got a job for you.’
Josie tensed her knees to stop herself from swaying and straightened her spine. It had the effect of pushing her breasts forward. She noticed Finnegan’s pupils react momentarily.
‘It’s a top secret project I’ve named Bucephalus.’
On the outside she tried to appear unfazed by the words. Inside she tried to control the rising nausea. Her mouth was dry. She could feel her philtrum glisten with perspiration. The phrase lingered like the smell of cigarettes.
Finnegan rose and crossed to the green tinted glass window. Her grey eyes, framed by her long black lashes and thick hair, followed him. He stared at the city beneath his feet, a dark, brooding presence that blocked the dazzling light; surrounding his profile were millions of dancing motes. As the air conditioning gave out a blast of cold air, Josie’s imagination conjured up Alexander astride his horse Bucephalus; the hairs on her arms rose. She shivered.
He turned slowly. ‘No one is to know what you are doing.’ The silence that followed underlined the unspoken words, “ or else” . The threat felt tangibl