INCARNATION (67 page)

She knelt in front of him, looking up at his face. For most of her life she had hated this man.

‘Colonel, I don’t know if you are aware of exactly who I am.’

‘On the contrary, I know you very well. Your father was always a thorn in my flesh.’

‘In that case, you’ll know that I had a sixteen-year-old sister, a sister called Rabbia. Does that name ring any bells?’

‘Of course it does. She was a lovely little thing. It was a pity she chose to kill herself.’

‘Did you rape her?’

‘Of course not. I slept with her several times. She enjoyed every moment. She could have been my mistress if she’d allowed herself.’

‘Do you remember how she died?’

‘She stabbed herself. Thirty times, with a knife of the Baoan. She went on stabbing until she pierced her heart. As I said, a tragedy.’

‘This’, Nabila said, taking the sliver of mirror glass from her pocket, ‘is not a Baoan knife. It comes from a cheap mirror in David’s quarters upstairs.’

For the first time, Chang Zhangyi had no answer. His skin went white. He thought she was mad enough to do anything with the knife. Her whole family had been mad: he’d have done better if he’d had them shot. It did no good to pay heed to the religious scruples of minorities.

She bent forward and unzipped his trousers, bringing out a small and frightened penis.

‘Please,’ Chang Zhangyi said. ‘Don’t do something so stupid. Leave me unharmed and it will go in your favour. But if you hurt me ...’

She laughed.

‘I don’t think anybody in this room gives a damn about what happens to your precious penis. Except me. It matters to me that my sister had to go through so much suffering merely to give a few moments’ pleasure to this thing. Was it even worth it for you, I wonder?’

Chang Zhangyi did not answer. He had started to tremble. His eyes were bolted on the makeshift knife with which she threatened to mutilate him.

She held up the knife, then snapped it in half, then in half again. She tossed the bits at his feet, then spat into his lap.

David got up and pulled one of the technicians over to the console.

‘Punch in the code to finalize the trigger setting.’

The frightened man shook his head. A little courage now, and his fortitude might be rewarded. Give in, and Chang Zhangyi would be sure to have him eaten whole.

David extracted his knife and held it in front of the man’s throat. He knew he had no time to play with. Without the code, the whole thing was a waste of time. Without the code, Urumchi would join Kashgar, and the Allied forces in the Gulf would face total destruction.

The man shook his head a second time. David drew the blade hard across his artery. Blood spurted out, smearing the console like a libation. He pushed the man to the floor, strode over to the corner, and picked out a second. He untied his hands and placed him in front of the console.

‘Please key in the code, and be sure to do it accurately.’

This time, there was no hesitation. The code was entered, an acknowledgement message flashed on the screen. David turned the key to lock in the computer instructions, and slipped it in his pocket.

‘I’ve set the trigger to detonate all warheads at this level. I don’t know what the effect will be, but I believe it will stop your trade with Iraq, and I’m sure it will leave a hole in the ground where Chaofe Ling is currently standing. I’m sorry if this clashes with any plans you may have had, but there’s not much I can do about that. The detonation is set to take place in twenty minutes. I wouldn’t bother struggling with your restraints, if I were you. Even if you do get free, I’ve got the key.’

Chang Zhangyi, momentarily emboldenedby his reprieve, flared at him.

‘You’re a total idiot. The minute you set foot outside this sector, you’ll be shot down and the key will be brought back here. You’re only making things worse

‘Oh, shut up,’ said David. He took Nabila’s arm and they went to the door.

‘Anyone coming?’

She squinted through the porthole.

‘Over to the right,’ she said. They’re still outside the transparent dome.’

They opened the door and dashed outside, locking it firmly behind them with Chang Zhangyi’s private key.

T
he wind rushed in hard from the north, blustering down from the high mountains of the Tien Shan, working its way into the desert like a stain in still water. Its fingers played with the sand, lifting it and tossing it down again. As yet, it had little strength, but it was coming, no doubt of it.

Chang Zhangyi’s helicopter sat on a flat patch of ground near the concealed entrance to Chaofe Ling. The pilot sat in the rear, where the seats were more comfortable, legs up on the seat opposite, headphones on his head. He was listening to a bootleg copy of an old Rolling Stones album, trying desperately to sing along to words he did not understand.

He glanced out of the window and saw that the sand was starting to lift. Frowning, he glanced at his watch. Chang Zhangyi wouldn’t be back for half an hour at least. But once he did turn up, he’d want to be flown to Urumchi. That was all very well, thought the pilot; but what if there was a fully-fledged sandstorm by then?

Then he forgot about Chang Zhangyi. He wondered instead what it would be like to see Mick and Keef in concert before they got too old. One thing was sure. they weren’t going to be performing in China in the near future.

T
he moment they came through the door of the black dome, they were spotted. Huang Zhengmei and her team of security guards were only about fifty yards from the doorway that led in and out of the larger dome.

‘There’s no point in even trying to get out that way,’ Nabila said.

‘I don’t think we’ll need to.’

He turned and led the way as fast as possible to another section of the wall, making a short-cut that left their pursuers some way behind.

‘Let’s see if this works,’ said David, raising the submachine-gun. There was no time for punching out a circle of carefully placed holes. He just set the firing mechanism on "automatic" and pulled back on the trigger. The gun did everything for him, ripping a gash in the side of the dome big enough to climb through.

By now, the distance between them and their pursuers had shrunk perceptibly. Nabila crawled through the gap, followed by David. A burst of machine-gun fire greeted their exit. The bullets went high. Huang Zhengmei and her merry men skidded to a halt and knelt facing their intended victims.

‘Throw away your weapons, and put your hands behind your heads,’ she called. Her voice echoed around the great empty space. Down at the tunnel, heads turned. On a gantry high above the train, someone dropped a spanner.

‘When I shout,’ David whispered to Nabila, ‘throw yourself flat.’

He reached into his pocket and drew out a gas grenade, one of two he’d taken from Chang Zhangyi’s bodyguards.

‘Drop your weapons! Do it now!’ Without amplification, Huang Zhengmei’s voice came to them as a thin, inglorious thing. She was reluctant to shoot, given the possible consequences of a stray bullet.

‘Drop the gun, Nabila,’ David whispered. ‘But be ready to pick it up again quickly.’

The gun clattered to the ground. Within the dome, technicians rushed forward to see what was going on. They pressed their faces against the glass, like children outside a sweet shop; pale, worried faces snatched from a dream of absolute security.

‘Now you, Mr Laing. Be sensible.’

David seemed to hesitate. Then, as though reaching a hard decision, he threw his gun to the ground, at the same time shouting ‘Now!’

He pulled the pin, drew back his hand, and threw the grenade hard in the direction of their attackers. Nabila, seeing David still standing, had not yet thrown herself down. As the grenade landed, some of the guards started firing at random. David grabbed Nabila and pulled her down. The firing continued for another few seconds, then the gas took hold.

Guns fell to the ground in a series of dull crashes. Then there was silence that lasted only moments until the sound of coughing and choking started to grow and grow.

‘Hurry, Nabila! They’ll be free of the gas any minute. As soon as one of them uses his brains.’ David leapt to his feet, picking up his submachine-gun as he did so.

When he turned, he noticed that Nabila was still on the floor.

‘Nabila? Darling, are you all right?’

For a heart-stopping moment, she did not move or reply. David felt his heart turn like a plummeting bird. He bent down.

‘Nabila? Are you all right, love?’

She opened her eyes.

‘I’ve ... been ... hit.’

'Thank God for that.’

‘What?’

‘You’re still alive. Where did it hit you?’

‘My chest ... I think. Turn ... me over.’

Fearing the worst, he turned her over. Behind him, someone kicked the gas grenade out of reach.

Blood had already pooled on the floor. Tearing her shirt open, he located two bullet-holes above her right breast. There were two exit wounds just below her shoulder at the back.

‘I don’t think you’re badly hurt,’ he said, not having the slightest idea whether it was true or not. ‘If you can hold on, we’ll be out of here in a few minutes. But we’ve got to get going before they reorganize.’

He looked up. One of the guards, still spluttering, was picking up his gun. David took out the second grenade and threw it straight into the pack of guards, enveloping them in a second wave of coughing and choking and blinded eyes.

‘It’s ... no use,‘ wheezed Nabila. Her breath was coming hard as wisps of gas reached her. ‘For God’s sake, David ... just leave me here ... and get out. You’ve ... got Maddie to think about.’

‘Stop blethering. I’m going nowhere without you. You’re my only reason for wanting to get out of this place at all. Now, press this hard against the wound, and keep pressing till further notice.’ He ripped off his shirt and handed it to her.

Slinging his gun over one shoulder, he picked up Nabila’s in his left hand and pulled her to her feet with the right. She staggered, and for a moment he thought she was going to faint.

‘Don’t give up on me now. We can still do this. Believe me.’

Behind them there came a shout. One of the technicians had found a case full of little white masks, the sort they used when handling powders or working in a toxic environment. He started distributing them to the guards, who were still spluttering loudly, and stumbling about in their desperate efforts to escape the all-pervasive gas.

The shout came again. It was Huang Zhengmei. She was standing off to one side, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to ignore the effects the gas had had on her. The mask prevented fresh gas getting to her lungs, but it did not remove what was there already.

‘Give yourselves up. Reinforcements are already on the way. There’s no way out for you: you’re only making things harder for yourselves.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ David fired from the hip at her: one bullet struck her in the arm, another in the hip.

‘Time to get out of here,’ said David. He led Nabila as fast as she could walk, helping her to the lift by which they’d entered the bottom level. The doors closed behind them with a satisfying clunk. Nabila groaned and slumped heavily to the floor.

David scanned the buttons and pressed one marked "Exit to Ground Level".

The lift shuddered and began to rise at speed. Nabila had started coughing. Above her head, little lights flashed. They arrived at Level 1, and without warning the lift slammed to a halt.

‘Attention!’ came a woman’s voice from a small speaker set next to the row of buttons. ‘You may not proceed to Ground Level without formal clearance.’

David bent down to Nabila.

‘I don’t think my accent’s good enough for this,’ he whispered. ‘Do you think ... can you pretend to be Huang Zhengmei?’

She blinked painfully, struggling to keep from losing consciousness.

‘Help me get up,’ she said.

He pulled her up by the elbow and helped her stand facing the little grille.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded. He pushed a red button that seemed to operate the intercom.

‘Listen to me ... This is Huang Zhengmei. I have to get ... to Ground Level right away. Colonel Chang Zhangyi is with me. We have to get to his helicopter now.’

There was a brief silence, then the woman’s voice returned, apologetic this time.

‘Major Huang, my apologies. I didn’t know it was you. Please wait while I unlock your lift.’

A few moments passed, then the lift shook into life again. David glanced at his watch. Eight minutes left. The ascent to Ground Level seemed interminable. Level 1 lay two hundred feet beneath the surface, with only a handful of lift shafts joining it to the ground. Chaofe Ling had been built to withstand a nuclear strike from above, not from below.

The intercom crackled into life again.

‘Green lift? Can you hear me? We have to take you down again. Huang Zhengmei has just been in touch with Control. She is in Level 7 and says you are an impostor. Prepare to be taken down again.’

Nabila lay on the floor, barely moving. David felt total despair sweep through him like glass. He thought despairingly of his father, of the hours he’d spent giving him his first lessons in Chinese, his voice speaking the language with practised ease. And he thought of Chang Zhangyi, running the colonel’s voice through his head, his intonations, his inflections, his drawn-out vowels. He pressed the communications button. ‘
Wo shi Chang Zhangyi
. Stop this nonsense at once. The woman with me is Huang Zhengmei. You heard her yourself. The woman on Level 7 is a Uighur and an impostor. If I was down there, she’d have brought me to the phone herself, but she hasn’t. She and her companion have created a block in the tunnel. I have a helicopter ready to fly to Lop Nor in order to clear the tunnel from that end.’

He looked at his watch. Six minutes. The blast would drive up the lift shaft and tear them to pieces.

‘I’m not sure if I can ...'

‘Listen to me very carefully indeed,’ David said. ‘If you do not get me to the surface within the next few seconds, I shall see to it personally that you are whipped senseless before being shot.’