Twelve Hours To Destiny (16 page)

The guard saluted, gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. Then they were out on the straight stretch of road and Tao had his foot hard down on the accelerator. The needle on the speedometer crept up swiftly. Leaning forward in his seat, Carradine scanned the road ahead for some sign of Ts’ai Luan and the others. They had left the heavy truck half a mile back on one of the narrow side roads. He fervently hoped that the others had gone back to it, would be ready to move out immediately.

*

They came upon the truck less than ten minutes later. Tao had driven like a crazy man once they had turned off the main road, the car jarring from side to side, threatening to skid and overturn at every corner.

Carradine had the door of the car opened before it had come to a sliding halt. Swiftly, he leapt out, ran to the truck. “Let’s get out of here!” he yelled hoarsely. “There’s no time to lose. That atomic reactor back there is going to go at any minute.”

He tore the door open, climbed inside, aware of Ts’ai Luan’s startled face as she helped the others into the back of the truck. Gratefully, he realised that Tai Fan had seen them coming for the engine was already running. Good man! There was not a second wasted. Tai Fan did not even turn his head to look at him, but got the truck going. The road ahead of them twisted into a wicked S-bend, plunged down through huge boulders into a narrow valley and then began a long, twisting climb. Tai Fan took the a-bend, in Carradine’s estimation, much too fast, went into a skid. But somehow, even on the rough, treacherous surface he managed to come out of it.

They took the rising stretch of road at speed, the engine whining in protest. Tai Fan must have been pushing it to the absolute limit, Carradine thought. Pray God that it didn’t pack in now or it would be the end for all of them. He sat tautly on the edge of the seat, aware of the sweat on his head and back. What was the radius of an atomic explosion? Two miles? Five? Maybe even as much as ten? Certainly there could be danger even outside of this critical distance. Even if they did succeed in getting outside of the area of the blast, there was still the radioactivity to take into account; that invisible, penetrating radiation that could kill just as surely as the tremendous blast.

And so the race against time went on. Tai Fan drove on the brakes and gears. But the good road was running out swiftly. They crossed a narrow bridge crossing a gaping ravine, swung around the lee of a huge overhang. On the broad dashboard, the dial to the far right gave warning that the engine was overheating badly. The needle was already hovering just above the red danger segment. Twisting in his seat, Carradine glanced into the mirror. They were high in the hills now. Maybe the great bulk of them, closing in on their tail, would prove to be a sufficient shield against the blast. Behind them, it was going dark. These hills had hidden the sun and most of the lower slopes were in deep shadow. For a moment, he thought of those men back there, doomed and unknowing men except for the two technicians who might still possibly be alive. His mind seemed oddly detached. Once again, he could see in his mind’s eye that wide, gleaming chamber below the ground, with the white, tiled walls and the rows of glittering dials all around, with the nuclear reactor a short distance away, building up to the explosion point while the high-ranking officers stood around outside, waiting for a tiny, gleaming star to climb above the eastern horizon and travel slowly and with a silent majesty across the clear sky, lit by the light of the setting sun and...

The sky behind them was suddenly lit as though by a second sun. Carradine saw the glare in the side mirror, shut his eyes instinctively. Boiling hundreds of feet into the evening sky, the glowing fireball surged upward, partly hidden by the hills as the tremendous detonation obliterated the laboratory site, tearing a great radioactive crater in the ground of the valley.

Some moments later, the blast and shock waves, staggering even at that distance and reflected by the hills, reached them. The truck swayed, slid sideways for almost ten yards, threatened to go over on to its side. Tai Fan fought desperately with the spinning wheel, grasping it in his huge hands, wrestling it with all of the strength in his arms. There was a look of shock, numbed surprise on his face. Desperately, he braked. Carradine flung out a hand, grabbed hold of the window ledge, held on until his fingers were numb with the pressure he was exerting. The thunder clap of the explosion was so loud that the eardrums only heard it for a second and then refused to register it any longer. The blast of air swept along the road, funnelled by the hills on either side. When things finally righted themselves, Carradine sat stunned for a long moment, scarcely able to comprehend the fact that they were still alive. Slowly, he lifted his head, unhooked his fingers from the window. Tai Fan stared at him dazedly, his face muscles slack with shock.

Opening the door, Carradine stepped down, held on to the side of the truck as his legs shook like those of a sick man, his knees bending of their own accord. Swaying, he made his way to the back of the truck. The girl’s face stared at him, lips parted, eyes wide.

“That’s the end of them,” he said dully. His ears popped painfully and his voice seemed to come from a far distance, droning strangely inside his head as the vibrations were carried through the bones of his skull to his brain rather than heard through his ears.

The girl, he saw, was not looking directly at him, but over his shoulder. He turned slowly, eyes narrowed. A quiver of fear bit deeply at his stomach and he felt on the point of vomiting. The terrible shape of that familiar mushroom cloud dominated the scene. Boiling outward as though in slow motion, it climbed high into the evening heavens, awe-inspiring and frightening.

“Oh God,” he muttered and it was more of a prayer than an oath. The girl leaned forward a little. Her hand fumbled for his and she held it tightly. He saw that her lower lip was trembling, that she seemed on the point of losing that tremendous self-control which had brought her through so much these past few days. He squeezed her hand, forced a weak smile. “Try to forget it if you can,” he said. “There was nothing else that could be done. At least, they all died without knowing anything.” He did not add that these were the men who were wanting to dominate all of China, eventually the whole of the free world. As he made his way back to the front of the truck and swung himself up beside Tai Fan, he knew that this moment was something he would never forget. He had been forced to do a lot of dirty things in his career simply because the people he was dedicated to fight employed the same kind of tactics and one could not fight them with kid gloves. But this was altogether different. Maybe someday in the future, he consoled himself, he would be able to look back on this day and convince himself that what he had done had been the best, for the good of mankind as a whole. But at that particular moment, all he wanted to do was crawl away somewhere in the rocks, ask God to forgive him, and be violently sick.

*

In the cold and grey light of dawn, the coast looked depressing. There was a thick sea mist curling around the out-thrusting headland and obscuring most of the sea. Carradine could hear it booming on the beach some distance below, although he could scarcely see it. Ten feet away, he could just make out the narrow trail, little more than an animal track which led down the cliffs to the narrow stretch of beach. Ts’ai Luan had gone down fifteen minutes before, telling him to stay there until she got back. He had wanted to go with the girl in case of trouble, but she had told him there was little danger.

One thing however, once they had reached the tiny village some three miles to the north Canton—they had taken side roads to avoid driving through the city—he had insisted that the girl should accompany him and Chao Lin to Hong Kong, overruling her protests that now their work was finished it was her duty to remain in China, to gather further vital information for transmission to London whenever the opportunity arose.

He made his way slowly back to where Chao Lin sat with his back resting against the dripping rocks. The other said softly: “You are still thinking of what happened, Mr. Carradine? If you will take the advice of an old man, put it out of your head. You did only what you had to do. If you had not succeeded, the possible consequences could have been disastrous for the world. The lives of a score of men are nothing compared with the millions that may have been slaughtered if Kao Fi Min’s weapon had proved a success. Now, with his death and the destruction, not only of the weapon itself, but of the papers and designs, it will take them many years to construct another.”

“I suppose you are right, Chao Lin.” Carradine gave a brief nod. He rubbed his shoulders where they had been battered and bruised during the long drive down through the hills and out to the almost deserted village where he had said farewell to Tai Fan and the others.

“I know I am right. Power is a good thing provided that it rests in the hands of the right people. In the wrong hands it can be a double-edged weapon, a sort which cuts the man who wields it as well as the victim.”

There was a faint sound behind them. Carradine turned swiftly, his hand dropping towards his gun, eyes peering into the writhing tendrils of the sea mist which swirled about him. A moment later, a rock bounced down the slope and then Ts’ai Luan materialised out of the mist. She nodded her head as Carradine glanced at her with an expression of mute interrogation. “The boat is still there,” she said breathlessly. “Even if anyone saw it these past two days they will not have worried over much. There are usually a lot of them off the coast, fishing or diving.”

“Then let’s get down to it,” he said sharply. “I won’t feel safe until we reach Hong Kong.”

He went over to Chao Lin. “You’ll never make it down that cliff in your condition,” he said quietly. “I’ll carry you down.”

“The path is very treacherous,” said the girl. “You must stay very close to me, watch where I put my feet. The slightest wrong move could send you to the bottom.”

Carefully, Carradine hoisted the older man across his shoulders in a fireman’s lift, followed the girl down the dangerously narrow path. It seemed a lifetime since he had climbed it with her only a few short days before. Now in the mist clinging coldly about him, the journey was even more of a nightmare than before. In front of him, Ts’ai Luan was a vaguely seen shape, sometimes vanishing almost completely as a trick of the wind thickened the wall of mist between them.

After what seemed an eternity, he saw the pale stretch of sand below him. Then they had reached the tiny boat, moored on the sand. Gently, he lowered Chao Lin into it, climbed on board. Without a word, the girl took the oars and they pulled away from the cliffs, heading out into the greyness which lay over the swelling ocean.

“Are you sure you can find the junk?” he asked after a few moments.

“I think so. It should be anchored around here somewhere.” She rested on the oars and they listened intently. For a moment, Carradine could hear nothing but the muted sound of the surf on the rocks and the gentle slap of the waves against the side of the boat as it bobbed up and down in the swell. Then, from somewhere to starboard, he managed to pick out another sound, the faint grinding of metal on wood.

“The anchor chain running against the hull of the junk,” said the girl in a faint whisper. “It must be.” She reached for the oars, pulled strongly, turning the boat. A minute later, the looming bulk of the junk materialised out of the fog.

The voyage back across the channel was uneventful. Shivering in the cold air, Carradine has sat with his back to the thick mast, knees drawn up to his chest and left the sailing of the junk to the girl. Only the steady flap of the sea disturbed his thoughts. Now that they were virtually safe and there was the chance to think, clearly and logically, he struggled with the clouds of nightmare that were still strong in his mind.

By now, he thought, the entire world would know that another atomic detonation had taken place inside China. The army of delicate recording instruments would have picked up the blasts, would have pinpointed the origin. He half-smiled at the reactions of the scientists and politicians when they finally realised just where the explosion had occurred. There would be a lot of speculation in high places in London and Washington, possibly some guarded statements inside the Soviet Union. He could imagine the look on the Chief’s face when he finally got the news through to him.

*

It was late the following evening. Beyond the barrier, on the tarmac, the plane for London stood gleaming in the sunlight. Already, the first of the passengers were making their way out to it. Carradine had bought himself a ticket shortly after midday, had his passport examined and stamped by a keen-eyed official who had looked at him closely, then handed it back to him with a flourish. He had half-anticipated questions being asked, but there had been nothing like that.

Now there were only a few minutes left. Ts’ai Luan slipped her hand into his. “I suppose you do have to go back so soon,” she said, a note of pleading in her voice. Tears, which he had never seen before, shone in her eyes.

“I’m afraid so.” He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her that he would only be gone for a little while, that he would come back to her and things would be has they had been. But he knew that it would be a lie, that she would know it too.

With a half-angry movement, she wiped the tears away with her hand, then lifted her face to his. He bent, kissed her hungrily, hard, not wanting to let her go. The tannoy crackled, the impersonal voice informed everyone that the plane for London was waiting, that all passengers should now make their way on board.