by Chris Ryan
'Forgive me,' Lucian replied waspishly, 'but there aren't many old men who have my intellect. And if you think I'm going to let my lunatic brother — or you two, for that matter — get in the way of my creation, I'm afraid you are sadly mistaken.' His eyes flicked briefly out of the window. 'RAF Spadeadam,' he said almost thoughtfully. 'They have a motto. Si vis pacem, para bellum. Normally I don't find that military types have much to say of any interest, but in this instance, I have to make a grudging exception. I take it you do not understand what it means.'
Ben stared flatly at him, unwilling to admit that he was right. But just as the old man started to open his mouth again, Annie spoke.
'If you wish for peace,' she said clearly, 'prepare for war.'
Lucian looked at her in surprise. 'Very good,' he murmured.
'The thing is,' Annie replied with a confidence that surprised Ben, given their situation, 'that you're the one who's got it wrong.
You're the one who doesn't understand it.'
'I hardly think so.'
'Of course you don't. Because you're blinded by your arrogance and your belief in your so-called intelligence.'
'Shut up,' Lucian replied.
'Or what?'
Annie raged. 'You're going to shoot me? I hardly think so, if you're going to all this trouble to cover your tracks. So you might as well listen to me. Preparing for war is one thing; developing weapons that will harm innocent people — even children — is another. And if you reckon that giving Vortex to oppressive regimes is a sure-fire way to stop a nuclear war, then you're even more misguided than I thought. Our armies and our governments do a pretty good job of that without any unasked-for help from you. You think you're cleverer than everyone else, but you're not. You're arrogant and greedy, and even we can see that.'
By the time she had finished her tirade, Annie was almost breathless. Ben studied Lucian's face intently, fearfully looking for signs that his cousin might have pushed him over the edge. But there were none. He remained stony-faced, as if he hadn't even heard her accusations.
'Drive quicker,' he said blandly to the soldier next to him. 'We haven't got much time.'
The vehicle started to speed up, and as it did so, Ben became aware of the sickness of anticipation that was churning in his stomach.
It could have been five minutes later or it could have been an hour — time suddenly seemed to have little meaning — when the truck started to slow down. Ben looked through the window and peered out into the darkness. He thought he could see huts in the distance, much like the ones that had been on the practice range the previous day, but as he squinted his eyes he could see that this was a much larger range. As the truck came to a halt, Lucian told them to get out; Ben and Annie did as they were told, and were instructed to walk across the field in amongst the huts and the rubble. There were other things there too: the blown-out carcasses of old cars, a tank like the one they had seen before. Ben couldn't concentrate on them too much, though — he was too acutely aware of the guns being pointed at them as Lucian and the soldier walked behind.
As they walked, the darkness oozed into the cold grey of dawn, and as if from nowhere Ben became aware of the dawn chorus filling the air with its deafening throng. When he had heard that sound only a couple of days before, it had filled him with excitement and wonder; now, though, it seemed ominous, as though it were foretelling something. Something bad.
Eventually they approached a hut in the middle of the practice range. It looked as though it had been newly built, and was constructed of rough, untreated timber — clearly this was not a structure that anyone expected to be there for a long time. On the door was a heavy metal padlock. 'You have the key?' Lucian asked the soldier.
He didn't reply; he simply stepped up to the hut, laid his rifle against the side and unlocked the padlock. 'Get in,' he growled.
Nervously, Ben and Annie walked through the door. It was dark inside, but by the weak light that spilled in, Ben could see Joseph there. He was sitting in the corner, trembling, his hair dishevelled and his face bruised. He didn't seem to register their arrival. Annie rushed towards him and touched her hand lightly to his beaten face; even then it was as if they weren't there.
Lucian spoke from the doorway. 'You seem to know something about the RAF, my girl,' he commented, 'so perhaps you would like some idea of what is about to happen. In about twenty minutes there will be a flyover by an A Ten Tankbuster aircraft. You've heard of the Tankbuster, I take it?'
'Yeah,' Annie stated. 'I've heard of it.'
'Good. They will be firing depleted uranium shells at around seventy rounds per second. As you probably know, such weapons can be' — he stopped, as though he were choosing his words carefully — 'reasonably destructive.' He looked over at Joseph, narrowing his eyes slightly, and then stepped backwards. 'Lock them in,' he told the soldier.
The door closed in front of him, and in the darkness they could hear the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock; moments later, the engine of the truck started up, and the vehicle drove away.
It was Ben who spoke first. 'Depleted uranium shells?' he asked. 'What are they?'
'You don't want to know.'
'Actually, I do.'
Annie sighed impatiently. 'Depleted uranium is a byproduct of the nuclear power industry. It's very dense, which makes it an effective material for ammunition.'
'Right,' Ben replied, his voice a bit tight. 'And, er, seventy rounds per second. That's quite a lot, isn't it?'
'Yes, Ben. It's quite a lot. If we get hit by those things, chances are they won't even find our bodies.'
Ben took a deep, shaky breath; it was all he could do to stop his limbs from trembling. 'Then we'd better think of a way to get out of here. And fast.'
'I've already tried.' Joseph's voice came weakly from the corner of the hut. 'There's no way out. We're locked in.'
Surprised by the fact that he had suddenly spoken, Ben and Annie spun round to look at him. 'We can't give up now,' Ben stated. 'There must be a way out.' He approached the door and banged against it. It shuddered slightly in its frame. 'It's a cheaply built hut,' he said. He remembered how easily Annie had knocked down the posts on the perimeter fence. 'What do you think?' he asked her. 'Can we break through this wood?'
Annie joined him and she too banged on the door. Once more it rattled. 'I don't know,' she said. 'Maybe if we can pound it enough, but we might not have enough time.'
Ben shrugged. 'Got any better ideas?'
'Not really, no.'
'Then let's do it,' he said urgently. 'Come on, we need to work fast.'
They started to kick against the door, doing their best to aim at the same spot about halfway up each time. Annie's kicks seemed a lot more effective than Ben's — her tae kwon do training allowed her to put the full force of her body into it. For several minutes, they pounded away, their noisy kicks echoing regularly around the hut. The door seemed to rattle increasingly, but after several minutes of solid work, they did not seem to be any closer to breaking it down.
'This is useless,' Ben muttered angrily, wiping sweat from his brow. 'We've got to try harder. Those planes will be here any—'
And as he spoke, he heard them.
The three of them exchanged a nervous look. They all recognized the distant drone, of course. It was the sound of approaching aircraft, and it was getting louder. Without speaking, Ben and Annie resumed their desperate attempt to break the door down: the sound of the planes in the distance made them redouble their efforts.
It grew louder. And louder.
When the first round of shells fell, their reverberations knocked them both off their feet — for a minute, Ben thought it had been a direct hit, but when he realized that they were still in one piece, he pushed himself painfully to his feet to start kicking at the door again.
Annie, however, had beaten him to it. She was standing a couple of metres from the door, a look of intense concentration on her face as she raised her arms in a way that immediately remind
ed Ben of how she had looked when he had walked into her bedroom only a few days ago.
'Stand back,' she said under her breath.
A Tankbuster screamed overhead.
'This is our last chance, Annie,' Ben whispered. 'Make it a good one.'
'I'll do my best.' Another bomb blasted nearby.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and launched herself at the door. With an enormous crack, the wood splintered down the middle.
Ben's eyes widened, and without waiting for any instruction from Annie he started kicking down the splintered wood. It fell away from the door with surprising ease, and within seconds there was a gap through which they could all squeeze.
The two of them looked back at Joseph. He was staring around the hut, as though listening for something he couldn't hear, and he hadn't even seemed to notice that they had broken their way out, so they ran back to him and with all their strength pulled him to his feet, then dragged him towards the door and pushed him through the hole.
And for a split second they stood perfectly still, taking in the scenes of devastation around them.
It was like a war zone. The noise was deafening; clouds of thick dust surrounded them; planes scorched overhead, firing the depleted uranium shells in what seemed like a completely random way. As soon as they hit the earth they exploded into massive craters, or destroyed huts, blasting them into piles of rubble. Like rabbits in headlights, the three of them stood still, agog at the scenes of destruction. There were twice as many planes as last time, twice as many bombs — and there was nowhere to run and hide. They were in the middle of a huge area of grassland, and the forest they had skirted around was a long way distant.
'What are we going to do?' Annie screamed.
'I don't know!' shouted Ben. He looked desperately around. Ammo was falling as far as he could see — it would take precious minutes they didn't have to run from the field of war and it would be like running into a hailstorm of deadly firepower…
And then his eyes fell upon the tank.
It was about thirty metres away, heavy and imposing; as far as Ben could tell it looked identical to the Chieftain Mark 10 Annie had pointed out yesterday. It was old and spattered in mud, but still looked awesome and threatening, the barrel of its enormous gun pointing belligerently out at a forty-five-degree angle. Maybe they could get some protection inside there, Ben thought to himself; who knows, it might even be operational.
Annie was looking at him, and seemed to know what he was thinking. 'Let's go for it!' she shouted. They each grabbed one of Joseph's arms and hustled him in the direction of the huge armoured vehicle. They were only metres away from the hut when a burst of shells fell directly on top of it, and the whole thing exploded, sending huge, ugly splinters of wood flying that missed them only by a miracle.
They ran even faster towards the tank.
'What are our chances of surviving a direct hit?' Ben yelled at Annie, his voice hoarse from trying to make himself heard above the sound of the planes.
'Not good,' she replied, 'with or without the tank. But at least we'll be protected from shrapnel and flying debris if we get inside.'
'OK. How do we get in?'
'Up the top.'
Annie clambered onto the khaki chassis of the tank while Ben helped Joseph up the side before climbing up himself. His cousin lifted a metal disc hinged onto the turret, and the three of them dropped inside the tank, then closed the top behind them.
The interior of the Chieftain was like nothing Ben had ever seen — a metallic, industrial mess of displays, pedals and levers, wires and buttons. It was dingy — the only light coming through a small peephole in front of him that gave a limited amount of vision. A worn-out padded seat with holes in it was situated in the middle of the tank, in front of the controls, and Ben took his place there. As soon as he sat down, there was a massive explosion nearby: the whole tank seemed to shudder, and the three of them were knocked roughly against the metal walls. Annie cried out in pain, and Ben moved to see that she was OK; Joseph was already there, however; his eyes were suddenly alert again as he held her firm to stop her hurting herself as a result of a second explosion that rocked the tank once more.
'We're no safer in here than we were out there,' Joseph said. 'We need to get away.'
'Too right,' Ben said grimly. He looked at the jumble of mechanical equipment in front of him. They meant nothing.
'There should be a starter button somewhere,' Annie said through clenched teeth.
Ben scoured the controls. Sure enough there was a large, brown button in front of him. He shrugged, took a deep breath, and hit it.
To Ben's total surprise, the noisy engine coughed and spluttered into life. Outside, there was another deafening explosion.
'Drive it!' Annie screamed. 'Get us out of here!'
'I don't know how!'
'The pedals,' she yelled at him. 'One's an accelerator, one's a brake. Steer left and right using those red levers on either side.'
Ben located everything she was talking about. Sure enough, on each side of his seat there was a lever, not unlike the handbrake of a car. He gripped them firmly, peered through the viewing window, and gingerly pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The Chieftain shuddered into movement.
'Faster, Ben. We've got to get out of here.'
Ben pressed harder and the tank accelerated. Just then, however, there was an explosion in front of them. Rubble sprayed everywhere, blocking Ben's vision, and he instinctively pulled hard on the right-hand lever. The tank swerved sharply; Ben released the lever to straighten up, but saw himself driving directly towards a hut. He swerved again, missing the building by a whisker. His heart was in his throat as he straightened up once more. In the distance he could see the forest, so he gritted his teeth and pressed the accelerator down full throttle. The tank sped away from the training field and the sound of the bombs grew marginally fainter.
'That,' Annie shouted, 'was a close shave!'
'I think we're clear,' Ben started to say, but before he could finish, something caught his eye. A small box nestled in among the controls in front of him started flashing red. There were words, and he squinted his eyes to read them.
REMOTE CONTROL GUIDANCE SYSTEM. OPERATIONAL.
He blinked, then pulled on one of the levers; it did nothing. He let go of the accelerator; the tank maintained its speed.
'Annie,' he shouted, unable to hide the panic in his voice. 'I've lost control.'
'What?'
'I can't control it. Look!' He pointed at the flashing warning sign. 'Something else has taken control of the tank. I can't steer. I can't stop.'
'I don't believe it,' Annie yelled.
'We're a moving target! We're being controlled by the RAF for the training exercise! WE'RE A MOVING TARGET!'
And as she spoke, the tank performed a sharp turn. 'We're heading back!' Ben shouted. 'We're heading back to the bombs!'
The roar of the planes and the crash of the explosions grew louder; the ground seemed to tremble.
'Joseph!' Ben shouted. 'You're the scientist. What do we do? How do we get control of the tank again?'
Joseph hauled himself to the front of the tank, but all he could do was stare at the remote control unit. 'I don't know,' he said.
'What do you mean, you don't know?'
'I can't start dismantling it now, Ben.' And as if to confirm what he had just said, the tank was thrown sideways onto one set of wheels, making them tumble around inside. Ben shouted in pain as one of the steering levers dug sharply into his ribs.
'Ben!' Annie called. 'Are you all right?'
'Fine,' Ben growled through gritted teeth. His mind was suddenly clear. The planes were actively targeting them now, but there was no way he was going to give in without a fight. He leaned forward, his body shuddering dramatically from the movement of the tank, and grabbed the box with both hands. He took a deep breath and then, with all his might, tugged on it. The metal dug sharply into the skin of his hands and he
hissed with the pain, but rather than let go he tugged again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, with a great heave, he managed to pull the box away from its fittings. A tangled mess of wires sprouted from the back. 'Pull them,' Joseph shouted. 'Just pull the wires as hard as you can.'
Ben did as the old man said. A shower of sparks briefly illuminated the inside of the tank, but for a minute nothing seemed to be happening. The three of them looked at each other with undisguised fear.
And then the tank started to slow down.
'Quick, Ben,' Annie urged. 'Turn us round again.'
Ben didn't need telling. He slammed his foot on the throttle and yanked the right-hand steering lever. The tank almost seemed to skid as it pulled round in a tight turning circle and sped away from the devastation of the training site. Bombs fell left and right. Left and right. The trio remained silent, praying that none of the planes overhead scored a direct hit, holding their breath, every moment fully expecting to be battered to bits.
Eventually, though, Ben became aware that the noise of the training exercise was behind them, but he didn't slow down. Not yet.
Only when they were well clear did he dare to take his foot off the throttle. The Chieftain ground quickly to a halt, and for a moment they all sat there, listening to the churning sound of the engine turning over, their faces white and their body trembling.
Even above the rumble of the engines, Ben could hear the others' breathing. Heavy. Laboured. But relieved.
'I think we're safe,' Annie gasped.
Ben nodded. 'For now,' he panted. He turned to look at his cousin, and she smiled at him, a bead of sweat trickling down her dirty face.
'Nice driving,' she said.
Chapter Eighteen
How long they sat there, trying to regain their breath and their composure, Ben couldn't have said. It was just a relief to be safe.
Joseph was the first to speak. 'We can't stay here,' he said. 'They will come for us soon. And besides, I need to do something about Vortex.'