The Midas Legacy (Wilde/Chase 12) (40 page)

‘Ay up,’ said Eddie. He was carrying a large bouquet of flowers. ‘You’re looking . . . all right.’

Olivia sighed. ‘Damned with faint praise. But thank you anyway. Both of you. If not for you, I’d be . . .’ She glanced at Macy, who was taking more of an interest in the monitoring equipment beside the bed than its occupant. ‘I wouldn’t be here,’ she finished. ‘You have my eternal gratitude.’

Eddie nodded, then presented her with the flowers. ‘These’ll brighten up the place,’ he said, regarding the starkly decorated room.

‘Thank you. But there’s someone here who does that much better than any number of carnations.’ She strained to sit up to see Macy.

‘Hey, no need to do that,’ said Nina, seeing that the bed had a remote control. She pushed the button to raise Olivia higher. ‘Macy, come here. I want you to meet someone.’ She perched her daughter on the edge of the bed.

Macy peered at the elderly woman. ‘You’re the lady who came to our house.’ A quizzical look. ‘Your hair’s different.’

The tight bun Olivia had worn before was now hanging in loose strands, hairstyling a low priority for the medics. ‘Yes, I am. And yes, it is.’

‘Macy, this is Olivia,’ said Nina. ‘She’s your great-grandma! That means that she’s my grandma. Say hello to her.’

‘Hello,’ said Macy politely, holding out a hand.

Olivia gently squeezed it in her palm. ‘Hello, Macy. I’m very, very happy to meet you.’ She gave the young girl the broadest smile she had managed in a while.

Her great-granddaughter returned it. ‘Are you very old?’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, laughing. ‘Ah, children. I’d forgotten how direct they can be.’

‘They’re fun, aren’t they?’ said Nina with a grin.

‘They are. Oh, I wish I’d met you at this age . . .’ Olivia’s eyes became wistful for a moment, then she looked back at her visitors. ‘But at least I know you now. I shouldn’t regret what I didn’t have, but be thankful for what I
do
have.’

Nina nodded. ‘Good words to live by.’

‘Can I smell your flowers?’ Macy cut in. ‘They’re very pretty.’

‘Of course you can,’ replied Olivia, passing the bouquet to her.

‘What do you say, Macy?’ Nina prompted.

‘Thank you, Great-Gamma!’ Macy cried, hopping from the bed and scurrying to a chair to examine her gift.

The old lady smiled after her, then became serious as she addressed the couple again. ‘Is there any word on Fenrir or the Crucible?’

‘Yeah, and none of it’s good,’ Eddie told her.

‘We just came from the UN,’ Nina elaborated. ‘It looks like he delivered the Crucible to North Korea.’

Olivia’s face fell. ‘Where is he now?’

‘China, apparently. Where he’s going to go from there, I have no idea, but I imagine he’s got something planned.’

‘I have absolutely no doubt about that. Fenrir always thinks three steps ahead.’ She paused, regarding Nina with curiosity. ‘Laura used to get exactly the same look when there was a problem preying on her mind. There’s something else, isn’t there?’

‘You could say that,’ Eddie rumbled.

Nina nodded. ‘Yeah. They – by which I mean the UN and the State Department – want us to go to North Korea to find out if they really are using the Crucible to make plutonium for H-bombs.’

‘They want
you
to go?’ Olivia exclaimed. ‘Why you?’

‘Because we’re the only people the Koreans might accept as willing to sell the small Crucible. If we offer to deliver it in person, we might be able to confirm what they’re doing, so action can be taken to stop it.’

‘Action of the
wheee, boom
kind,’ added Eddie, miming a bomb being dropped and exploding.

Olivia nodded. ‘Fenrir told you how to profit from the Crucible, so it’s not beyond the bounds of plausibility that you might want to cash in.’ She caught her granddaughter’s disapproval. ‘Since they don’t know you personally and know that you never would, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Nina echoed. ‘It’s all academic, though. Because there’s no way we’re going.’

Eddie reacted with mild surprise. ‘Thought we were going to think about it first.’

‘What? Oh come on, Eddie. You can’t possibly
want
to go.’

‘God, no. But it’s not just about what
we
want, is it? Some fat dictator with hair like Dilbert’s boss’ll be able to crank out nukes like Volkswagens if the Crucible does what Fenrir said. That’s not a good thing.’

‘No,’ she protested, ‘but as you’re so fond of saying, we don’t work for the UN any more. It’s not our problem. And you stopped being a soldier a long time ago. You’re a
dad
now. You want to risk leaving Macy on her own?’ Their daughter looked up from the flowers in alarm.

‘It’s okay, love, don’t worry,’ Eddie said to her, before glowering at his wife. ‘See, that’s why we need to talk about this properly,
in private
.’

‘I don’t think there’s anything to discuss,’ Nina replied, bristling.

‘Before you get any deeper into an argument, may I offer some advice?’ said Olivia quietly. ‘From a historical perspective.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that while you’re both old enough to remember the Cold War, neither of you can really appreciate what it was like at its height.’

‘What’s the Cold War got to do with anything?’ asked Eddie.

‘Everything. I’m talking about what it was like to live under the constant threat of nuclear armageddon. It was a frightening time, especially in the 1960s and ’70s. When Laura was growing up,’ she added, giving Nina a look laden with meaning. ‘An anxious, fearful time, because there was nothing you could do about it. Unless you were willing to live in a concrete bunker in some godforsaken desert wilderness, money couldn’t offer you any protection. And if there’s one thing parents should always do for their children, it’s try to protect them.’

Nina lowered her voice so as not to scare her daughter. ‘Our ending up in some North Korean hellhole, or worse, is hardly going to protect Macy.’

‘There’s a bigger picture to consider, Nina. It’s not just your child, it’s everyone else’s children too. We’re living in dangerous times, just as dangerous as the Cold War – and more unstable. Fenrir giving a megalomaniacal madman a way to mass-produce nuclear weapons is not going to help matters. North Korea already has rockets; they’ll be able to target hydrogen bombs on Seoul, Tokyo, Honolulu, San Francisco . . . maybe even further afield. And who’s to say he won’t start selling them to other countries, or terrorists? That threat, that
fear
, isn’t something I want to live through again – and I certainly wouldn’t wish it upon anybody’s children.’ She gazed at Macy, who was counting the petals on a flower.

Eddie looked thoughtful. ‘Me neither. I remember when I was a kid, twelve or thirteen, I was on my way to school when an air-raid siren started up. I thought it was the four-minute warning! Never did find out what it was, but it scared the’ – a glance at his daughter – ‘poop out of me. Thought everyone I knew was about to get nuked! It was probably one of the reasons I ended up joining the army. At least that way I’d actually be fighting against it in some way.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Nina.

‘Hadn’t thought about it until now. But I don’t want Macy to
have
to fight against it. The world’s got enough bad stuff going on already without adding this.’ His face became as grim as she had ever seen it. ‘Especially when we’ve got a chance to stop it.’

‘You really
do
think we should go, don’t you?’ she said, dismayed.

‘It’s not that I want to, believe me. But that guy from the State Department was right that we’re the only people who could offer them the second Crucible and be believed.’

‘
Might
be believed. It’s a big difference.’

‘It’s that or nothing. And we know the Crucible works with a particle accelerator, ’cause we saw it in Greece. If they’ve built one already . . .’

‘Oh God.’ Nina turned away from him, heavy-hearted.

Macy immediately picked up on her expression and crossed the room to her. ‘What’s wrong, Mommy?’

‘We . . . might have to go away again, Macy.’ It took an almost physical effort to force out the words.

The little girl was distraught. ‘But you only just came home!’

‘I know, honey. I know. We’re still thinking about it; we haven’t decided for sure yet.’ Even as she spoke, though, she knew with an increasingly leaden sense of inevitability that the choice had already been made. ‘But we’ll be as quick as we can. I’m sure Holly will look after you. You like Holly, don’t you?’

Tears were forming in Macy’s eyes. ‘Yes, but she isn’t you! You keep going away! I don’t
want
you to go away!’

Nina felt a tear run down her own cheek. She smiled sadly and hugged her daughter. ‘I love you, Macy.’

Eddie joined her. ‘I love you too. We both do. And we’ll be back before you know it, okay?’

‘Why do you have to go?’ Macy cried.

‘Because nobody else can,’ said Nina, kissing her.

‘But that’s not fair!’

‘I know. I know.’ She and Eddie continued to embrace the little girl, then unwillingly withdrew. ‘Better get it over with,’ Nina told her husband. She took out her phone. ‘Oswald,’ she said, once she had been put through to Seretse. ‘It’s Nina.’ A long, deep breath. ‘We’ll do it.’

37

North Korea

The view from the jet’s windows as it crossed the border from China into the so-called Hermit Kingdom revealed a striking contrast. Along the northern bank of the winding Yalu River sprawled numerous Chinese towns and cities, lights blazing in the night. To its south, though, was almost a wilderness, what settlements there were far smaller and more dimly lit than their counterparts across the water. The blackness was so empty that it could be mistaken for open ocean, only the occasional smudges of illumination breaking the illusion.

Eddie peered down at the isolated country below. ‘They must’ve forgotten to pay their electricity bill.’

‘Eddie,’ Nina cautioned quietly. The mission briefing by MacNeer and a coterie of State Department and CIA advisers before they left the United States had warned that not only would the trio of stony-faced North Korean ‘guides’ ostensibly accompanying them to translate and assist really be spying on everything they said and did, but also that the plane – and any other vehicle they travelled in – would be bugged.

The Yorkshireman was unconcerned, however. ‘What? There’s so few light bulbs, it looks like Norfolk down there.’

‘I assume if I were British I’d find that hilarious.’

‘If you were British, you’d say words like “mum” and “herb” properly.’

She gave a mocking snort, covering her nervousness as she noticed one of their minders seemingly taking a mental note of their conversation. To distract him, she asked a question. ‘How long before we land?’

Another of the guides glanced at his watch. ‘In twenty-five minutes, approximately.’ The Koreans spoke reasonably good English, but strongly accented.

‘Good. It’s been a long trip,’ said Eddie. They had flown from New York to China by commercial airline, being picked up by the North Korean plane for the last leg of the journey. ‘And the service hasn’t exactly been first class,’ he added in a fake whisper to his wife. ‘They didn’t even offer us a bag of peanuts.’ The nearest guide frowned slightly.

North Korea was a small country: at its narrowest point, less than two hundred miles separated the Chinese border from the heavily fortified demilitarised zone that lay between the Democratic People’s Republic and the vastly wealthier South Korea. Before long, the aircraft entered its final approach. Below was a large military airbase, the first brightly lit place they had seen since crossing the Yalu. A long, wide runway slashed across the landscape. The plane touched down on it, soon coming to a stop.

One of the guides opened the hatch and lowered the stairs. Nina and Eddie stood; another translator moved as if to take their single item of baggage, but the redhead quickly collected it. ‘Thanks, but I’ll carry that,’ she told him, lifting the padded plastic case containing the small Crucible.

Cold air hit them as they stepped on to the concrete. North Korea was nowhere near as frigid as Iceland, but there was still a bitter chill to the wind. To the new arrivals’ relief, a car was waiting for them, a large Chinese-built SUV. Eddie was not looking at the vehicle, however, but at something beyond it. ‘Bloody hell. That’s a
big
-arse plane.’

‘You’re not kidding,’ Nina agreed. Looming over its surroundings, so huge that its tail rose higher than the roof of even the largest hangar, was a Russian Antonov An-124 cargo aircraft. Built for the Soviet military, this one had been transferred to private hands, an air freight company’s name emblazoned on its side in Cyrillic lettering. It was slightly shorter than a Boeing 747, but much more bulky; practically the entire length of its swollen fuselage was a cavernous cargo hold, built to swallow trucks, helicopters, even tanks. ‘Wonder what that’s doing here?’

‘Maybe it’s carrying all the gold we asked for.’ They shared wry grins as their minders ushered them into the car.

The SUV set off, heading away from the runway towards a checkpoint in a high fence. Several guards were on duty, one shining a flashlight suspiciously over the vehicle’s occupants before waving to a comrade to let it through. They started up a winding road into the darkened hills beyond. Nina gave her husband a concerned look when she realised there were no safety barriers, only white-painted stone markers warning of the steep drop into the densely forested valley below. The surface had been asphalted, but it was broken and potholed, giving them a very bumpy ride.

They passed under a double line of electricity pylons, doing so again several minutes later as the twisting road doubled back upon itself. ‘Something up here needs a lot of juice,’ she whispered.

‘Maybe they really do have a . . .’ Eddie began, before noticing one of the guides surreptitiously tipping his head towards them. ‘Massive hairdryer,’ he finished. ‘Those things use a load of power.’

‘How would you know?’ his wife said, rubbing his shaved head. The remark proved that their travelling companions were indeed listening in, as one tried to hide a smirk.

The SUV continued its zigzagging ascent. A half-moon lit the landscape, revealing the brooding silhouette of a rocky peak rising above the forest. Eventually the road flattened out, leading them to another checkpoint. The driver’s credentials were checked, the passengers scrutinised by armed men, then finally a radio call was made to confirm that all was in order before they were allowed to pass through.

What awaited Nina and Eddie came as a surprise.

They knew there was a runway built on a plateau halfway up the small mountain, and that one end had been dug into its side – but they hadn’t been prepared for just how deeply it went into the heart of the peak. Lines of bright overhead lights receded into the distance, the runway continuing into the rock for almost as far as it extended in the open.

And the excavations were continuing, even at night. Trucks were bringing rocky debris out of the mountain and dumping it over the side of the plateau, going back underground for more as soon as they had delivered their loads. ‘Must be a
really
massive hairdryer,’ Eddie remarked.

Nina noticed a group of armed soldiers at the dump site; between them she glimpsed men and women in dirty grey clothing picking up rocks that had not gone over the edge. Prisoners? A forced labour detail? What she knew about the brutal North Korean regime, its appalling human rights abuses condemned by the UN in language as strong as diplomacy permitted, suggested that either guess was likely to be correct.

But the SUV swept onwards before she could get a clear look. The driver brought them down the runway, which was considerably narrower than the one at the base below, towards the gaping tunnel mouth. On each side of it were gun emplacements, turrets surrounded by sandbags. ‘Miniguns,’ said Eddie, seeing that the weapons were six-barrelled Gatling guns. ‘One way to put off the Jehovah’s Witnesses.’

‘I guess they really don’t want uninvited visitors,’ Nina replied.

They drove down the long tunnel. What she had thought was a concrete wall at its far end turned out to be a blockhouse, presumably to keep any planes with faulty brakes from careering into the still larger space that widened out beyond it. The SUV pulled up at the broad structure, where a rank of soldiers stood to attention. Two officers waited before them, watching their guests’ arrival.

One of the guides opened the door for Nina and Eddie. ‘Dr Wilde, Mr Chase,’ he said, ‘welcome to People’s Special Engineering Facility Number 17.’ He saluted the officers. ‘This is the base commander, Colonel Kang Sun-il.’

The older of the two men regarded Nina and Eddie disparagingly. Although he was short, not even Nina’s height, he exuded menace, his eyes narrow and almost snake-like in their coldness. ‘Welcome to Democratic People’s Republic of Korea,’ Kang said, sounding anything but cordial.

‘And the facility’s chief of security,’ the translator continued, indicating the younger man beside the commander, ‘Major Bok Jeong-hun.’

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance,’ said Bok with a predatory smile. His English was fluent and confident, even more so than the translators’. He was several inches taller than his commander, the absence of the other soldiers’ tight-faced haggardness suggesting that his upbringing had been relatively privileged.

Unsure of protocol, Nina settled for a modest bow. Eddie gave the two officers a brief bob of his head. ‘We’re both glad to meet you,’ she said. ‘So, shall we get down to business?’

The colonel took a moment to decipher what she had said, prompting the guide to repeat her words in Korean, which in turn drew a snapped rebuke. The translator shrank back, head bowed in craven apology for his presumption. ‘Yes, business,’ Kang said, eyeing her case. ‘You have Crucible?’

‘You have our money?’ Eddie countered, remembering the part they were playing.

‘Ten million dollars American, ten million dollars gold. Yes.’

Nina opened the lid of the case, letting the two men glimpse the crystalline sphere inside. ‘It’s here. The money?’ She was all too aware of the weakness of her position; there was nothing stopping the Koreans from taking the Crucible by force, or shooting the visitors where they stood.

But Kang simply nodded. ‘Come,’ he said, starting around the blockhouse.

Nina surveyed her surroundings as everyone followed. The hulking concrete building was apparently a control tower, a high line of windows looking out along the runway. Below them was a trio of giant portraits: Kim Il-sung, Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un, the three generations of family who had ruled North Korea as absolute dictators since the 1940s. ‘Oh, herro,’ Eddie said quietly, barely hiding a grin.

‘Don’t you frickin’
dare
start quoting
Team America
!’ Nina hissed. ‘They’ll probably shoot us just for having watched it.’ But she had to admit that the late Kim Jong-il did indeed closely resemble his puppet counterpart from the satirical comedy.

Noise ahead caught her attention. A large elevator platform bearing several tons of rubble rose from a wide shaft to stop at floor level. More workers in filthy clothes began to unload the lift’s cargo for transfer into a waiting truck. An emaciated man staggered under the weight of a rock, falling to the concrete floor. A soldier rushed up to him and repeatedly slammed his rifle butt against the man’s back, screaming abuse with each strike. None of the other workers dared even look, struggling with their own burdens.

Bok saw Nina’s shock. ‘Criminal elements,’ he said dismissively. ‘They work for the glory of our nation to pay for their crimes.’

‘And what crimes were those?’ Eddie asked, disgusted. The prisoners were a mix of male and female, young and old.

‘Does it matter? They are guilty.’

‘Guilty of not being able to carry a big lump of stone?’ The beaten man collapsed, other soldiers surrounding him to deliver brutal kicks. ‘You’ve got some real tough guys there, going four against one.’

If he had registered Eddie’s sarcasm, Bok chose to ignore it. ‘All the troops protecting this facility are our country’s very best,’ he said proudly. ‘They will fight without fear against any threat, and bring defeat to our enemies. They each proved their unflinching dedication to their duty by executing a criminal with only a bayonet, or their bare hands.’

‘That’s . . . dedicated, yeah,’ said Nina, trying to conceal her horror.

They passed beyond the edge of the runway tunnel into a broad passage along the blockhouse’s wall. Lined up before them were numerous vehicles; mostly jeeps and trucks, though some were more exotic. ‘Hang on, I saw those in a film,’ said Eddie. ‘
Die Another Day
, right?’ He gestured at a group of small four-seater hovercraft – which had undergone extensive modifications. Sloping wedges of armour covered their noses, narrow slits providing the only visibility for their pilots. Large-calibre guns were mounted on pintles at the top of the shields. ‘You’re nicking ideas from crappy James Bond movies? Don’t tell me you’ve got an invisible car an’ all.’

Kang glared at him, but Bok was amused. ‘Yes, there,’ he said, pointing at an empty space.

‘Good one,’ Eddie replied with a humourless smile. His gaze turned to another collection of oddball machinery. ‘And you’ve got some Little Nellies, too.’ These were ultralight aircraft, barely more than powered hang-gliders with oddly shaped bodywork enclosing the tandem seats. The fabric wings and faceted bodies were all a dull charcoal grey. ‘They’re hardly stealth bombers, though.’

Kang clearly understood, but chose to respond in Korean, the translator relaying his words. ‘That is exactly what they are, Mr Chase. They can fly over the demilitarised zone invisible to radar, and drop bombs.’

‘You can’t exactly carry a blockbuster on one of those little things, though.’

‘They can also land commandos behind enemy lines. We do not need to spend billions on one plane for it to be a good weapon.’ The colonel puffed out his chest in smug pride as the group rounded the blockhouse and the depths of the underground space came into full view.

It was an irregularly shaped artificial cavern the size of several football pitches. Hefty pillars were dotted throughout to support the fifty-foot-high ceiling, upon which was an endless grid of harsh lights. It was not the scale of the facility that made Eddie and Nina stop in surprise, though. It was what it was being used to build.

A production line occupied most of the vast space. But it was not making vehicles.

The seemingly random collection of metal pieces at one end gradually took on deadly form as they progressed through the factory. Curved plates became fuel tanks, mating with pumps and pipework and enclosed in cylindrical bodies, all to the percussive accompaniment of rivet guns and the crackle of welding torches. The bell-like nozzles of rocket motors were fitted at one end, conical nosecones at the other. The final results were revealed in all their sinister glory at the end of the line.

Missiles.

A fully completed example hung in a cradle, several white-overalled men inspecting it carefully. Sixty feet long and five in diameter, its two stages were painted a mottled camouflage green. There were no fins or anything else to break up its shape, a harsh, uncompromising digit of death.