Black Gold
Conor Flynn steps off the plane at Entebbe and the heat hits him like walking into a wall of wet cloth. He’s six thousand kilometres from Ballymun, carrying fourteen months of forensic accounting in his briefcase and Tadhg O’Shea’s warning in his head: “Don’t be clever out there, Conor. Be careful.”
The oil corridor along Lake Albert is controlled by General Moses Otim — charming, intelligent, and he kills people the way other men file paperwork. Lakelands Energy PLC in the Dublin IFSC routes two hundred thousand dollars a month through Dubai to keep him happy. Conor’s job is to follow the money. His job is not to fall in love.
Sarah Nansubuga is an environmental scientist documenting what the oil extraction is doing to the land and the people. She knows the ground truth that Conor’s spreadsheets can only hint at. She also knows that the men who profit from the black gold don’t tolerate witnesses.
When Conor and Sarah’s paths collide, the investigation and the attraction become inseparable. The oil runs black. The blood runs red. And the conspiracy they’re about to expose has already decided they’re expendable.