INCARNATION (66 page)

He stepped down from the chair and crossed to Nabila. His eyes made what they could of her, of her emaciated body, tanned skin and torn clothes.

‘You should take a bath, Doctor,’ he said. ‘It is unfitting for a doctor to be dirty. To smell. To offend.’

He reached out a hand and ran its back along her cheek and down to her neck. David stiffened. His hand slipped into his pocket and his fingers tightened around the handle of the makeshift knife.

Chang Zhangyi turned quickly, as though he’d sensed the threat. He looked at David, noting his posture.

‘In spite of all that,’ he said, ‘I understand perfectly. I would sleep with her myself if I didn’t think it would degrade me to do so.’

David bit back the retort that came so readily to his tongue, and the urge he had to hit the man harder than he’d ever been hit in his life.

‘I thought you’d brought us here in order to show us round the sites.’

‘Of course.’ He looked at his wristwatch. ‘We can talk about these matters later.’

He snapped his fingers, and two guards appeared.

‘
Women zou ba
!’ he said, holding the door open.

Buggies were waiting for them, little red ones that would go almost as fast as they wanted.

At first there seemed to be nothing but the endless corridors and the closed doors that appeared at regular intervals. But slowly each level opened out, and Chaofe Ling appeared to them for the first time in all its complexity as a city. Level 3, which was restricted to high officials, was laid out like a small town, with a piazza, gardens, fountains, even small trees and lawns. Exactly where the water came from to supply the needs of a place this size, David could not begin to guess.

They made their way from level to level, like a procession of grandees passing through a principality. To David, it was more reminiscent of Dante’s Inferno, and the slow descent through the degrees of hell. When they walked about, Chang Zhangyi would take up the rear. He seemed as delighted by the glories of Chaofe Ling as though he was seeing them for the first time. Time and again, he would exclaim his pleasure out loud, or clap hands at what seemed inappropriate moments, or sigh or laugh or mutter that something could have been done with more taste. By the time they got to the third level, he had started to get on David’s nerves.

On Level 4, they had built a small university, where any of the workers in Chaofe Ling could study for a degree or continue earlier studies. Inevitably, most of the courses were in scientific subjects; but Chang Zhangyi explained that they also offered modules in literature, calligraphy, fine art, and music.

‘We have a young man who may one day become a master of music,’ Chang Zhangyi said. ‘When he finishes work here, I shall send him to the temple of Baiyun Si, to study under the Master Ah Shuji. His instrument is the zheng. Perhaps we shall go to hear him one day.’

He turned to Nabila.

‘And what about you, Doctor? Do you know anything about music? Or just what you Uighurs use in your dances?’

‘I’m not much of a musician, thank you. But I do enjoy the songs of Cui Jian.’

Chang Zhangyi pretended not to have heard. Cui was a popular singer whose lyrics castigated the government and called for reform.

On Level 6 they were shown round a supermarket so large admission was by timed ticket only. Men and women walked round it as though hypnotized. David noticed food items on the shelves that had been imported from Europe and the United States. Chaofe Ling’s inmates did not go short of provisions.

When they came out of the low temperature environment of the supermarket, the heat at this level was immediately more noticeable.

‘How is everything brought here?’ David asked. ‘There aren’t any roads, there’s no airstrip, no helicopter pad

‘Nothing has ever come here on the surface,’ Chang Zhangyi replied. ‘Not even the materials for building the city. We built a tunnel between Lop Nor and the site selected for Chaofe Ling. An enormous tunnel, larger than the one that connects your country to France. We used it to bring in raw materials, equipment - all the supplies we needed, and we built Chaofe Ling up from the bottom.’

‘Most impressive.’

‘It’s the world’s biggest engineering project. It’s just a pity we can’t tell the rest of the world what we’ve achieved.’ He hesitated. ‘Would you like to see the tunnel, Laing Shiansheng?’

David nodded. In spite of himself, he was knocked out by the sheer scale and organization of the complex.

Chang Zhangyi led them down a very long corridor at the end of which stood a metal-plated door. He stubbed out his cigarette in a tall ashtray beside the door, inserted a key, and let them through into a small foyer. The door closed and locked itself automatically behind them. In front of them was a second door with a glass front.

'This is a private lift,’ Chang Zhangyi explained. ‘It’s used by the Director of Chaofe Ling, General Wen Shunzhang, by myself, and half a dozen other senior cadres.’

Only one guard could get in with them: the other would have to wait till they sent the lift back up.

It took only seconds to make the rest of the descent. The door opened on to another foyer, identical to the first. A second door slid open, and they stepped out on to the shiny black floor of Level 7.

They could hardly take it all in at first. The scale of the whole enterprise was vast, unobscured here by walls or doors or corridors. The ceiling climbed up far above their heads, and was filled with bright lights, like an over-active sky.

The centre of the space was taken up by a large circular pool half the size of Texas, its water made purple by batteries of lights deep underneath. Ripples passed back and forwards across the surface, driven by some concealed mechanism.

To one side of the pool stood a huge silver sphere with steps leading up to a small entrance near the top. Off to the other side was an enormous glass dome in which sat a small black dome. Right ahead of them was the tunnel. It seemed like a gigantic mouth, stretched wide open and ready to swallow all that came within spitting distance. A large black locomotive with closed wagons sat half-in and half-out of the tunnel entrance. On the platform, a . row of open trucks led to the wagons, and David had no doubt that the slim shiny objects stacked on them were warheads.

‘About an hour or so, and we’re ready to go,’ said Chang Zhangyi. ‘The last warheads are in the dome at present, running through some final checks. That won’t be possible when they get to Iraq, so we have to be sure they’re ready to go the minute they leave here. The better use Saddam makes of them, the more likely other regimes will be to pay for their own.’

‘Does that mean there’s a risk of one of them exploding while they’re en route?’ David asked.

‘Not really. They can only be triggered in two ways ... either by a signal sent directly from the control room down there’ - he pointed at the little black dome - ‘or by an altimeter which is pre-set to trigger them once they drop to a certain height.’

David let his eyes wander across the vista. Not without honesty, he said, ‘You’re streets ahead of us. I’m biting my teeth off just looking at all this. Do you think I could have a look at the control room?’

Chang Zhangyi seemed hesitant, then nodded. ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘You’ve seen almost everything else.’

They found four little buggies nearby and drove silently to the dome. Up close, it seemed enormous.

Chang Zhangyi used a key to let them inside. Everywhere, technicians were bustling about in the carefully controlled atmosphere.

‘When these warheads leave, there will be more to build,’ said Chang Zhangyi. ‘This country needs a large number for its own use. And we’re about to start work on our new project.’

‘What’s that?’

Chang Zhangyi smiled.

‘Oh, I don’t think I should tell you that. What I’m showing you now is nothing you don’t already know about. If I tell you what’s coming, it could seriously compromise your freedom if you choose to accept the Hui Hou’s offer.'

They went inside the control room. Everything was bathed in a ghastly green glow. At panels on every side, technicians sat reading computer screens, keying in information, twiddling dials, and carrying out complex calculations on hand-held keypads. There was no sense of urgency, just a steady hum of controlled activity.

‘Why so many?’ asked David. ‘Surely you aren’t still carrying out tests.’

Chang Zhangyi raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. The light gave his skin a faint green tinge.

‘Surely you don’t think we sit about here idly?’ he said. ‘We’re always looking to introduce new refinements. In this case, to the triggering mechanism. In the past, we’ve experienced problems when climatic conditions have created false atmospheric pressures. As a result, the warheads have detonated too high or too low. It’s only happened a few times, but it is an irritant. Now, if we use a more reliable feedback mechanism, we can issue the detonation command from here.’

‘You’re carrying out a test this evening?’

‘Of course. The Iraqis insisted on a random test of one of their warheads. Their people picked one out a couple of hours ago. It won’t be long.’

David felt a long shiver trickle down his spine.

‘Where?’ he asked.

Chang Zhangyi sniffed.

‘Urumchi. In half an hour. You’re just in time to watch.’

The door opened and the second guard rejoined them. David looked at Nabila. She was rigid with anger and trepidation.

Chang Zhangyi pulled them over to one of the control panels.

‘This is the main panel,’ he said. ‘Once we get final barometric readings, we place the correct settings in the firing computer. Once they’ve been correctly transmitted to the warhead itself, they’re locked in. A radio signal sends the trigger command at precisely the right moment - and Urumchi becomes a prime site on the new business itinerary of Asia. I never liked it much anyway, did you?’

‘And the people of Urumchi? Will they just end up like their relatives in Kashgar? Like the people we saw you mow down in the Shaanshi Mosque Square?’ Nabila could not contain herself. She had friends in Urumchi, relatives, workmates, memories. She had found love there for the second and last time in her life.

‘They’ll be martyrs to the cause of international understanding,’ answered Chang Zhangyi. ‘And to the coming Iraqi victory in the Gulf.’

‘Actually, they won’t,’ said David, leaning forward to bring the blade of mirror glass to rest hard on top of Chang Zhangyi’s carotid artery.

Nabila had tied her knots well. Huang Zhengmei had almost been defeated by them. Then, at almost the last moment, she had rolled across the floor and found another sliver of broken glass stuck in the carpet. Close up, it was not really a sliver at all, more a shaving, but it served - with much gritting of teeth and furrowing of the brow - to cut through one of the strands that bound her wrists. The rest unravelled easily.

She pulled out her phone and punched in an emergency number.

‘This is Huang Zhengmei. Where is Colonel Chang Zhangyi? ... I see. Are the two intruders with him? ... Very well. Send ten men and have them meet me at the main entrance to Level 7. In five minutes. And make sure they’re armed. Give them submachine-guns: this is an emergency.’

T
hey sat huddled in a corner on the floor, fifteen technicians and the two guards, scared as rabbits. The guards, trained to kill, had caved in when Chang Zhangyi had ordered them to hand over their weapons. One of them glared at David, the other at Nabila, as though sizing them up to go with a dish of hot noodles and sauce.

Chang Zhangyi just sat on the chair where David had put him, smiling broadly and tut-tutting from time to time, as though this were all a game. Two of the technicians had reluctantly supplied belts which fastened together into a long strap that now held Chang Zhangyi tightly to the chair. Another technician had provided a pair of smelly socks; tied together, they made a tight bond for Chang Zhangyi’s wrists.

David and Nabila had a submachine-gun apiece. While David examined the main console, Nabila tied up the two guards.

‘I don’t see why you’re even wasting your time,’ Chang Zhangyi said. He seemed quite relaxed, confident in his perfect realm. ‘I can accept you’re upset, but I can not accept your logic. You’re at the foot of the biggest military complex in the world. You’ve seen some of it. There’s no way you can get out. Even if you did, you’d be hunted down. All that’s out there is desert, just like before. You won’t even…’

David turned from the console and appealed to Nabila.

‘Keep him quiet, will you, dear? I want to concentrate on what I’m doing.’

To loud protests, Nabila set about gagging the colonel. She didn’t know what David was planning to do, but if he could delay or abort the test over Urumchi, that alone would make these last minutes worthwhile.

David clicked his way through file after file on the computer. He knew what he was looking for, but it constantly evaded him.

‘What are you looking for?’ Nabila asked. ‘Is it a text file?’

He nodded.

‘See if the system has something called “Find File” or the near equivalent. Look under the “File” menu if you’re already in a document.’

‘Got it.’

‘Key in some text that should be in your file. Anything, as long as it’s not in a million other files.’

He thought for a moment, then keyed in "Ground Zero". It took about a minute, then three files appeared in the left-hand window of the "Find File" application. He glanced at them and chose the third.

A telephone started ringing. David ignored it.

‘Darling,’ he said, ‘can you see if there’s any sort of window near the door. Check if anyone’s here yet.’

She found a small porthole that gave a wide-angle view over the entrance area. No one as yet.

David was already keying codes into the computer and rolling a row of dials to match the configuration he wanted.

‘Check them for keys,’ he said. ‘Take what they have, and be sure you get all of Chang Zhangyi’s.’

Nabila went round the technicians, and each in turn gave up his key to her. The guards needed help. Chang Zhangyi refused to hand anything to her.