The Midas Legacy (Wilde/Chase 12)

by Andy McDermott

  A clunk of metal against metal behind him added a third, equally fatal outcome. The soldier had just thrown his grenade.

  Nowhere to go – except out.

  He flung open the driver’s door – and leapt on to the other transporter, catching the bull bars running across its flat front. The unstable TEL rolled like a ship on heavy seas as it entered the turn, the missile straining against its support arms.

  The Englishman’s former ride continued onwards . . .

  Over the edge of the road.

  Engine roaring, the massive vehicle hurtled into the void. The grenade exploded, tearing off half the cab’s roof – then the missile was thrown free as the truck hit the steep slope, smashing into the trees.

  It was indeed fully fuelled.

  A monstrous explosion ripped through the woods, engulfing the hillside in flames. A blazing mushroom cloud rolled into the dark sky.

  Eddie clung to the transporter’s nose, heart racing at his narrow escape – only to see astonished, then angry faces looking back at him through the windscreen.

  Hunched in the cradle beneath the rising missile, Nina hadn’t seen the other transporter go over the cliff – but she certainly heard, and felt, its destruction. She raised her head as the deafening roar faded behind her.

  The soldier had dropped flat to shield himself from his grenade detonation. Now he lifted his head and saw her. His gun was empty, but he still had a knife, which he drew as he rose and advanced.

  The missile was now almost forty-five degrees from the horizontal. The microlight’s wing rattled and flapped, still caught on the clamp holding the rocket. No hiding places; Nina’s only escape route was to climb around the weapon itself. She ducked under the hydraulic arm and sidestepped back along the transporter’s flank.

  The soldier followed, wielding the knife.

  The driver shouted commands to the other man in the cab, who grabbed his rifle and leaned out of the window, trying to curl his gun arm around the transporter’s front.

  Eddie flattened himself against the bull bars as a bullet cracked past him. The soldier stretched further out. The Yorkshireman hurriedly climbed sideways. There was a gap in the middle of the hefty metal bumper to accommodate a winch. He dropped into the space as another round whipped by. A third shot clanged against the bumper just above him. He tried to squeeze deeper into the recess, a protruding lever jabbing painfully against his chest—

  It moved – and the winch whirred, a hefty hook lowering on a heavy-duty steel cable. It hit the road and was immediately snatched backwards to bang noisily against the cab’s underside. Eddie considered replicating a famous stunt from Raiders of the Lost Ark by grabbing the cable and letting himself be dragged along beneath the transporter, but instantly dismissed the idea as suicide; on the curving road, he would be crushed by the massive wheels.

  Instead he shoved the lever back to the stop position before taking hold of the winch assembly itself and dangling from it. His position was precarious in the extreme, but he was as shielded as he could possibly be from the soldier’s bullets.

  As if to make the point, another round ricocheted off the bumper above him. The North Korean shouted angrily, then withdrew.

  Eddie was about to pull himself back up when he heard a bang. The soldier had climbed out on to the cab’s ladder-like steps, slamming the door behind him so he could reach the truck’s front . . . for a clear shot.

  A long dangling line from the microlight’s wrecked wing flicked at Nina’s face. She ducked away from it, continuing towards the transporter’s rear. The rocket rattled and squealed against its restraints above her.

  Her wounded arm was slowing her. The Korean soldier closed in, thrusting the knife. She tried to dodge – but the blade slashed the back of her shoulder.

  She screamed, almost losing her grip. The soldier smiled, the headlights of the jeep approaching from behind revealing dirty, crooked teeth. He waved the knife at her, taunting, enjoying the moment before he got the rare privilege of killing a foreign spy . . .

  The hanging line slapped against the back of his head. Startled by the unexpected touch, he jerked around to see if someone was behind him. Nobody there. He looked back—

  Nina seized the line and snapped it like a lasso to loop it around his throat.

  The man let out a choked yelp as she pulled it as hard as she could, swinging the wing outwards from the clamp above. It caught the slipstream – and broke free.

  The wing acted like a braking parachute. The soldier was about to hack the line with his knife when he was abruptly yanked from the transporter by his neck. He landed in front of the jeep, taking the 4x4’s solid metal bumper to his face with a gruesome smack.

  Nina regained her hold and climbed back on to the cradle. The missile juddered alarmingly above her, rivets straining and tearing—

  The TEL lurched sideways. There was a nauseating moment as it teetered on the brink, then wallowed back upright. With the rocket drawing ever closer to the vertical, the transporter was now massively top-heavy . . . and threatening to tip over at any second.

  The driver realised the danger and stamped on the brake pedal. Kang had ordered the convoy not to stop out of fear of American saboteurs, but the threat of the transporter capsizing was infinitely more tangible. The speedometer needle plunged.

  The sudden deceleration swung Eddie outwards from his cover. One hand lost its grip on the winch. The other held, but he twisted uncontrollably as he dropped back, the jutting lever hitting his ribs.

  He cried out, looking up – to see the soldier lean around the cab and take aim.

  Nina had been thrown off her feet as the TEL braked, sliding forward and hitting the hydraulic ram. She grabbed it to save herself from falling over the side, only to face a new threat. The jeep started to overtake the transporter as it went around a right-hand bend, the passengers bringing up their rifles. With the missile elevated, they were free to shoot without the risk of hitting it—

  More rivets tore free with gunshot snaps, panels buckling as the rocket ground against the clamp – then with a screech of shearing metal the claws broke apart . . .

  And the weapon toppled like a felled tree.

  Nina screamed—

  The missile clashed against the erector arm above her as the TEL turned, rolling over it – on to the jeep.

  The 4x4 and the men inside were pounded into the road as the missile landed on top of them. It rolled crazily back across the road behind the transporter, tumbling over the edge into the trees below. The fuel tanks burst open, kerosene and chemical-laced nitric acid splashing together—

  Another colossal fireball lit up the night as the missile blew apart. The blast shredded trees into splinters and tore a crater out of the hillside, a stretch of road a hundred feet long sliding into the inferno in the transporter’s wake.

  The rocket’s fall threw the already unstable TEL wildly off balance, slamming the soldier clinging to its front against the cab. He dropped his rifle, the Type 58 bouncing along the road – then the transporter lurched violently back upright. The Korean was flung into the blazing forest. Toppling trees smashed down on top of him.

  The driver’s foot was still jammed on the brake. The reeling transporter skidded, slewing sideways before juddering to a halt just short of another bend.

  The lurch finally cost Eddie his hold on the winch. He fell, landing hard and bowling towards the drop—

  He caught a white marker stone, stopping with his legs hanging over the precipice. Aching, winded, he lay still for several seconds as his dizziness subsided.

  The crackle of burning trees and the thrum of the transporter’s idling engine masked another sound until it was almost upon him. He looked up at a crunch of grit – to see a pair of combat boots just a few feet away.

  One of them swung at him—

&
nbsp; He jerked up an arm to protect his head. The kick caught his elbow with punishing force, knocking him backwards over the edge. He clawed at the dirty ground, fingers closing around a stone embedded in the earth just before he fell.

  The TEL’s driver loomed over him, silhouetted by the truck’s lights. He had a pistol in one hand, but although he could have simply shot the defenceless Englishman, he had a more sadistic fate in mind.

  His foot came down upon Eddie’s knuckles.

  Eddie gasped at the pain, the driver shifting ever more weight on to his hand. Then suddenly it was gone, but he knew the relief was just the briefest prelude before the man’s boot stamped down again—

  ‘Hey! Drop it!’

  The shout came from behind the soldier. Nina had jumped from the transporter and retrieved the rifle, aiming it at the Korean.

  The man whirled—

  She shot him before he could even raise his gun. He fell past Eddie and disappeared down the hillside below.

  ‘Eddie!’ Nina ran to him, dropping the gun and pulling him up. ‘Oh God, oh my God! I thought I’d lost you.’ She held him tightly, tears running down her cheeks with the sudden release of emotion. ‘Idiot! Jumping from a plane . . .’

  Eddie managed a strained laugh as he hugged her. ‘Yeah, okay, it could’ve gone better. But you weren’t exactly Mrs Sensible either.’ He looked over her shoulder at the TEL, the empty crane now fully elevated. Beyond it, the night sky was aglow with the light of the burning forest. ‘Why did you raise the missile? That’s insane!’

  ‘It was an accident! I was trying to lower those jacks to stop the truck.’

  ‘That’s only a bit less insane! But it worked, I suppose.’

  ‘And we’re both still alive.’ She stood, helping him to his feet. ‘The explosion took out the road behind us, so nobody can follow.’

  Eddie looked across the valley. The SUV, troop truck and last remaining TEL were distant sparks in the blackness as they approached the airbase. ‘There’s only one way we can go, though – down there.’

  ‘I know.’ Nina sighed grimly. ‘Great. So we’ve got another kamikaze mission, then?’

  ‘The first one’s always the hardest,’ he said with a wry, tired grin. ‘The next one’s a doddle.’ He faced the transporter again. ‘It won’t be safe to drive like that. How did you lift the crane?’

  ‘There’s a control panel at the back.’

  ‘Okay, do the opposite of whatever you did and bring it back down again. I’ll get it ready to go.’ He collected the rifle, then they went to the two ends of the TEL.

  Without the huge weight of the missile upon them, the erector arms lowered considerably faster than they had risen. One had been buckled by the falling rocket, preventing it from returning to its bed. ‘That’ll have to do,’ Eddie called to Nina as it ground against the transporter’s side. She shut it down, then ran to join him as he put the truck back into gear and revved the engine. ‘You ready?’

  She looked down at the airfield. The remnants of Kang’s convoy had arrived at the great white cross of the Antonov, ready to load the last missile aboard the giant aircraft. A nod, with a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘Let’s finish this.’

  45

  Colonel Kang watched with angry impatience as the transporter backed towards the Antonov. The enormous Russian cargo aircraft had opened the clamshell rear doors beneath its tail and lowered a ramp to the runway, but the TEL was not preparing to drive inside. Instead, it was positioning itself beneath the rails running the length of the cavernous hold’s ceiling so the missile could be winched up and transferred to a waiting cradle. So huge was the An-124 that it could easily accommodate all three rockets with plenty of room to spare for the ancillary equipment that was also going to their Saudi buyers . . . but this one would be making the trip alone. A second explosion from the mountain had told the Korean that another missile had been destroyed.

  The Arabs wouldn’t be happy about that, but as Mikkelsson had pointed out, the Hwasong-15s themselves were the least valuable and most easily replaced part of the weapon system. The most valuable parts were being loaded aboard right now, Captain Sek and his men taking the trio of warheads and their plutonium cores to the front of the hold. The soldiers would travel with them to Saudi Arabia to ensure that the nuclear materials arrived as agreed – and also to guard them with their lives in case the Russian aircrew had been co-opted by the CIA, or simply decided to hold the bombs ransom. Trust of outsiders was a rare thing in North Korea.

  Kang had decided to take the flight himself. Part of his reasoning was to oversee the transfer personally and make sure nothing else went wrong. A second part was his desire to stay away from his superiors in Pyongyang for as long as possible; the obliteration of Facility 17 by foreign spies was a failure that could lead to an instant execution – or, if he had displeased the Supreme Commander sufficiently, a prolonged and agonising one. At the very least, successfully transferring the surviving missile and all three warheads to the Saudis, and returning with their payment, might keep him alive.

  The third part of the cargo was being loaded by a forklift. Two wooden crates contained some of Mikkelsson’s gold bars. ‘Now, you will keep them safe, won’t you?’ asked the Icelander from beside him.

  ‘Of course,’ Kang replied. ‘As safe as if they were my own.’

  Mikkelsson gave him a small smile. ‘I am glad we were able to reach an agreement.’ He was holding the small Crucible. A close examination of the dense crystal had reassured him that there was nothing that could be used to track its location, while the undoubtedly bugged carrying case had been discarded. ‘If you wish, I will arrange for an associate of mine to meet you in Saudi Arabia. He can take care of any financial transactions you may wish to make. For a modest percentage.’

  The colonel nodded. ‘That would be very helpful, yes. And . . . a Swiss bank account?’

  ‘He can assist you with that too.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ Kang glanced across at the small jet that the ashen-faced Sarah was boarding. A pair of soldiers strained to lift a box holding more gold bars aboard. ‘Your wife,’ he said, more out of a sense of obligation to his benefactor than any particular interest in her well-being. ‘Will she be all right? The news about your daughter . . .’

  ‘Sarah will be fine,’ Mikkelsson replied. ‘In time. As will I.’ His jaw muscles tightened with restrained emotion.

  ‘My condolences,’ said the Korean dispassionately. He turned back to the Antonov. Several chains had been attached to the missile, the aircraft’s internal hoist lifting it from the TEL. He was about to order the Russians to speed up the process when his driver called to him from the nearby SUV. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Colonel, an urgent message from the airfield’s perimeter guards,’ the man replied.

  ‘I will let you take care of it,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘I assume we have clearance to leave?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Kang told him with a dismissive wave.

  ‘Then I shall bid you goodbye. Thank you, Colonel. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.’ The tall blond man headed to the jet.

  Kang took the radio handset. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sir,’ said the soldier at the other end of the line, ‘a missile transporter is coming down the mountain road.’

  ‘What?’ Surely it had been destroyed?

  ‘It’s about a kilometre away. What do you want us to do?’

  ‘Does it still have a missile aboard?’

  A pause, then: ‘No, sir. It’s coming very quickly, though.’

  An unpleasant realisation struck Kang, echoing his own desire to avoid facing his superiors. If his men were still in control of the transporter, the last thing they would do after allowing their cargo to be destroyed was rush to tell him. ‘Under no circumstances are you to let that vehicle through the perime
ter!’ he snapped. ‘Use all means necessary to stop it. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir,’ came the reply.

  Kang tossed the handset back into the SUV and hurried to the Antonov. ‘Get this thing aboard, now! Move faster!’

  The loadmaster overseeing the operation was Russian. He might not have understood Korean, but the officer’s urgency was clear. ‘What is rush?’ he asked in halting English.

  ‘We are under attack!’ Kang growled in kind. ‘We must leave, fast. Tell the pilot to start the engines. We go when the missile is aboard!’

  ‘No, no,’ said the loadmaster, shaking his head. ‘Missile has to be secured, yes? Cargo strapped down. All safety checks, pre-flight checks, you know? Take twenty minute, thirty minute.’

  The colonel drew his sidearm and pushed the muzzle into the other man’s stomach. ‘We go when the missile is aboard,’ he repeated.

  The Russian went pale. ‘Okay . . .’ he said slowly. ‘Three minute?’

  The transporter thundered down the road, sweeping around the last of the hillside’s curves on to the relatively flat ground leading to the airbase. Without the missile’s weight, the TEL was considerably more responsive, though it would never break any speed records.

  It was still not fast enough for Eddie’s liking, either. ‘Shit! They’ve got the fucking thing loaded,’ he said. Beyond the perimeter fence he could see the runway, the Antonov at its far end. Even from this distance, it was clear that the missile was no longer on the transporter.

  ‘Look!’ said Nina. Flashing lights on the runway turned out to belong to the jet that had brought them to North Korea as it accelerated to take-off speed. Seconds later it was airborne, banking hard to turn north. ‘Dammit! There goes our ride.’

  ‘I wasn’t really expecting they’d give us a lift home,’ said Eddie before returning his focus to the rapidly approaching checkpoint. ‘Oh, bollocks.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The unwelcoming committee!’ Armed men were dragging concrete blocks in front of the gate, a dazzling searchlight turning towards the TEL.