Black Gold

Mike Rollin’s second book, ‘Black Gold,’ is scheduled to be published in early 2008. This fascinating mystery novel has the most intriguing ending that the reader will remember for a lifetime.

Preface

I sit here at my desk, at the ripe old age of sixteen and a half. As I look out of the open windows of my bedroom I am reminded of how much has been packed into such a short time, and indeed how fortunate I am to be sitting here, in this vast Yorkshire mansion in the North of England.

It is a rare hot summer day; the view is one that has stirred many a literary scholar to wax lyrical. Reminding me of one such; William Blake 1804, whose poem turned hymn, ‘Jerusalem,’ was sung at my school’s morning assembly on many rousing occasions:

‘I will not cease from mental fight. Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand. Til we have built Jerusalem. In England’s green and pleasant land’

As far as the eye can see is natures woven patchwork quilt of multi colored fields, the birds; they too are singing their appreciation, and much like we humans, they’re pushing to the back of their minds, the extremes which this same view will surely reflect, in just a few short months.

As I look down into the courtyard below, and across from the stable block, the doors to the garages are open. There I see the front of my latest trophy, a 1936 model Mercedes Benz convertible, the deep red bonnet, gleaming as it is caught by the rays of the afternoon sun. Tied to the front bumper bar is a white plate bearing an equally bright red letter ‘L’, reminding me that next week, I have the daunting task, of taking my driving test!

On the desk in front of me; is possibly the most important letter of my life to date? It bears the credentials of the Bursar of Oxford University, confirming the commencement of my further education at this most revered seat of learning.

I have not always lived in this kind of luxury. The mansion is the property of a wealthy mill owner; my guardian, mentor, and great friend, Harold White. I share the home with Harold and his son David, along with the household staff.

A grunting noise from behind me interrupts my train of thought, as my closest canine friend, Titch, is disturbed in his sleep by a summer fly buzzing around his ear. He turns over noisily on my bed. As I walk over and sit next to him, I hear a tractor in the distant fields, as the unique smell of new mown hay wafts through the room, taking me back over the recent past months. I relax back on the pillow, my hand resting on Titch’s head.

A butterfly flutters towards the open window, pausing but for a brief moment, then it moves on. I’m reminded of Harold’s wisdom, when he’d said that there are no rehearsals in life, when a moment passes, it’s gone for ever, so each should be relished, as one savors a fine cognac, only memories remain; they too will fade with time.

I feel my eyelids begin to get a little heavier; as I drift off into a welcome siesta, where vivid dreams take over from my thoughts:

THE INTRODUCTION

There was much feverish activity around the delivery room at the Salvation Army mother’s home in The Royal Borough of Hackney at London’s East End. The busy nursing staff prepared themselves to witness the greatest miracle, another new life was about to enter this harsh world.

A senior midwife held aloft a minute figure, smartly slapping the rump in the time honored fashion.

Instantly this latest male addition to the poorest area of the capital began to yell and scream, heralding his arrival to all, at the same time clearing the vital passages to his lungs.

Quickly bathed then wrapped tightly in a blanket he lay on his side as yet unable to focus his eyes on this new world.

Had he been able to do so, he would have witnessed the saddened downcast faces of the medical staff. For just as he had taken his first breath, so the mother who’d brought him into this world, had taken her last.

This young orphan’s eyes were eventually to see quite a number of foster homes, before finally being sent to the north of the country, where he was taken into the home of more permanent guardians.

We follow the earlier life of this very fortunate young boy Matt. Maybe he’d had a less lucky start in life than most? He is taken in by good people, given a name; family love, guidance and a good education. Born inquisitive with a very imaginative nature, this bright young lad becomes involved in a whole series of unbelievable, gripping circumstances.

Black Gold is set near to and sometimes deep down a Yorkshire coalmine during the last few years of World War II. Matt eventually finds himself in the midst of foreign agents, intrigue, espionage, government agents and even murder. This daunting experience takes him and his cohorts half way across Europe before the mystery is finally solved. But not before producing a real shocking twist in the tail!

Though still in his last year at school, and later at university, Matt goes on to become quite the young detective, getting involved in many more thrilling and exciting mysteries.

The Coalmine

Water was pouring down from above. I remember looking up towards my only avenue of escape; I could see nothing but a wall of rocks. I began somewhat frantically at first, to pull rocks from the escape side, throwing them behind from where I’d just climbed. Twenty or thirty more of them slid down there. I hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface; despair filled my mind and distorted my judgment, it prefaced my every thought.

I know that I should try not to panic, and attempt to keep calm, but I’m scared and I think that I’m going to die.

Fine sand started to trickle from above, like an hour glass. Time’s running out? At first a mere sprinkling of dust, and then two small pieces of rock fell as a prelude, then much larger ones began to crash down next to me.

Suddenly with a roar reminiscent of a prehistoric monster the whole world seemed to come down on top of me. I felt a searing pain in my left arm, a blow to my head, as if I’d been hit by a steam hammer then, just like that day on the football field, nothing, just a floating, fluffy blackness!

I regained my senses sometime later. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious, or even if I had been.

There followed an hour or so of abject loneliness, sheer terror; a feeling of involuntary submission, hopeless defeat.

At first it was like a nightmare, I wasn’t sure whether it was real or just a dream. If real, then I was both blinded and paralyzed, for I could neither see nor move.

Slowly I began to remember what had happened and where I was. The stale rancid air hung heavily, the total darkness was indescribable, as though you could reach out and actually touch it; and everything felt so final. I was actually buried alive. Apart from the sound of dripping water, the silence was deafening.

I blinked my eyes tentatively, the only part of me that I could move. God, I was blind, for if my lids were actually working, then shut or open, I saw nothing.

Then as I tried to move; slowly my fingers began to operate, my toes too, I pulled with my right arm which slowly came free, my left arm was now giving me a great deal of pain, still trapped, as indeed were both of my legs…….

Author's Signed and dated edition
(only available on this website / pre-production price)
(approx. 357-pages, hardcover, cloth cover binding
w/gold foil printing and ribbon page marker)
$19.95