‘I think this must have been the real Karakhoto,’ David said. ‘These are all ruins.’
‘How do you know they weren’t made like this by the blast?’
‘Because there never was a blast. Not in the sense you mean. They didn’t intend to destroy the buildings, just to kill these poor bastards.’
‘Leaving the buildings intact.’
‘Not exactly. But they may already have a method for getting rid of this stuff.’
‘And what about the place where they make these bombs? Is it underneath here?’
‘It could be. I have to assume they need some form of air conditioning, and that they take in fresh air from up here. If we could find a vent.'
She looked round.
‘If they had vents, they’d never have risked coating them in this stuff. The complex must be further on.’
‘In which direction?’
‘If the link is with Lop Nor, it must be east of here.’
‘Wait here,’ he said.
He left his bergen with her, and went off, carrying only his binoculars. She watched him walk to the nearest ruin and vanish round the other side. A few minutes later, he reappeared on top of the far wall, and she could see him sweeping the ground in front with his glasses.
When he returned, he was sombre.
‘They’re camouflaged,’ he said, ‘but there’s no mistaking them. The first ones are about two miles away. Let’s get over there now. I want to take a reading on the GPS.’
Without dunes to cross, this last stage of their journey took only a short time. Nabila looked back from time to time, seeing again in the ancient city’s disfigurement the fate of her home and everyone in it she loved. David faced forward, determined to see through what he had started.
He knelt down at the first vent and put his ear to it. A dull humming noise rose from unguessable depths.
‘It’s operational,’ he said.
‘Couldn’t your people just parachute in some explosives? You could drop them down these vents. I’ve seen that sort of thing in films.’
He smiled ruefully, but shook his head.
‘Look at it,’ he said, looking out at the field across which vents were scattered. ‘It’s vast, and God knows how deep it is. Explosives would only tickle it. By the time I got to the second vent, they’d have a troop of their best security men up here.’
‘What can you do, then?’
‘Telephone the coordinates back to my base. They already have planes waiting at Dehra Dun in India. They’ll open the place up with two or three passes of carpet bombing, then penetrate the rest with nukes. It’s the only way, Nabila. Believe me.’
‘Dare I ask what’s supposed to happen to us?’
‘We start walking. If we’re very lucky, we’ll be out of range when they drop the bombs. If we’re too slow or they come in sooner, we won’t even know what hit us.’
‘And when do you think they’ll come in?’
‘Tonight,’ he answered, looking up at the sun as it pressed down towards the western horizon. ‘They’ll fly in very high, release very high, and get the hell out before the entire Chinese air force comes on their tails.’
She looked at him, agonized. There seemed to be nowhere in any of this for people.
‘They’re fighting a war,’ he said. ‘In order to stop a war.’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
They spent about an hour calculating the rough dimensions of the complex. When that was done and the GPS reference obtained, all that remained was for David to make his call.
‘Do you trust telephones?’ he asked as he swung up the Mobilfone’s lid.
‘No. What about you?’
He shook his head.
‘What if our problem back there wasn’t the tomb or the sand, but the phone itself?’
‘You can always call out an engineer.’
‘On what?’
‘Your other phone, of course.’
David picked up the receiver and slowly keyed in a number. His hand shook as he did so. He heard the key signals, then a long series of crackles, beeps, and buzzes that suggested he might be in business after all. Then silence. His heart sank. Please, he whispered, not after all this, not after coming so far. Not after what they did to Sam.
‘Welcome to Long Distance Communications,’ intoned a recorded message, a woman’s voice. ‘If you would like to speak to Vauxhall Central, press one. If you would like to speak to West Europe Desk, press two. If you would like to speak to East Europe Desk, press three. If you would like to speak to Africa Desk, press four…’
He sat, nursing the receiver, watching the phone’s LCD display, waiting impatiently to make contact, cursing the absurdities of so-called technological advances that made urgent calls take ten times as long.
‘If you would like to speak to Middle East Desk, press eleven. If you would like to speak to China Desk, press twelve. If you would like David keyed in twelve.
‘Please wait,’ commanded another, older woman, in tones about as maternal as an air-raid siren.
He looked round. It had occurred to him that they might have detectors somewhere on the surface, and that he might even now be making a guest appearance on a bank of security monitors several floors below. ‘Please enter your password and personal ID number.’ He did so. Beeps and warbles received them. It was like playing some dumb computer game.
‘Further identification is required. Please enter your mother’s maiden name.’
He complied, growing more and more frustrated. At this rate, his batteries would run out before he got through. ‘Your father’s middle names.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, hurry up,’ he shouted into the mouthpiece, while beeping in the required information. There was more warbling, then a man’s voice came on the line. For a second, David thought he’d won, then he realized that this too was a recording. Had the word ‘emergency’ totally disappeared from the vocabulary of the British Secret Service, he wondered?
‘This call has been diverted. Please wait while we patch you through to a secure outside line. When you are connected, please speak with confidence.’
What the hell was going on? The call should have been dealt with at headquarters, and without this ridiculous delay. An outside line? "Speak with confidence"? Just who were they trying to fool? ‘What’s wrong, love? Can’t you get through?’ He shrugged.
‘I don’t know. Something isn’t right.’ There was a regular UK ringing tone that lasted some minutes. Then a receiver was picked up. ‘Gilchrist. Who is this?’
He remembered Gilchrist, a junior officer who’d passed quickly through the maze of desk politics and become a senior official at the age of thirty-two.
'This is David Laing. How secure is this line?’
‘Absolutely secure, Mr Laing. Your secrets are safe with me.’
‘This particular secret is not for your personal consumption. I want you to access file number CJ4 9PWY X05. Shall I repeat that?’
‘No, I have it. Just a moment.’ There was the sound of a keyboard being tapped. ‘Yes, I have it here. It requires several passwords. I can enter the first three: do you have the others?’ David gave them to him.
‘Fine. I’ll just … Oh, excellent, we’re in. Now, what I have to do?’
‘You will see that I have been given authority to order an air strike on coordinates in western China. I now have those coordinates, and I’m ordering you to press the buttons at your end. You are to contact the PM for authorization. He will issue orders directly to Air Chief Marshal Sir Thomas Wingrove, who will issue the order for the attack. You do not contact anyone else, you do not waste any time. Once the attack has been completed, you will destroy the file. Have you any questions?’
There was a short silence. David wondered if Gilchrist was on his own.
‘Unfortunately, I do, sir.’ His voice came back from a great distance. ‘Do you have a place name for your location?’
‘I’m in a place called Karakhoto. Or, to be more exa
ct, two miles east of it.’
Another silence. This time the line filled with crackling.
‘And the weapons complex?’
‘I’m standing on top of it.’
‘You can vouch for that? I mean, what exactly is it you’ve found?’
‘I’ve found air vents. Hundreds of them, spread over a wide area. And we’ve found a sort of test site a couple of miles away to the west. That’s the old city. They’ve been using political prisoners as guinea pigs there …’
Gilchrist broke in.
‘You’re telling me that so far you’ve found nothing but vents?’
‘Of course I am. This complex is underground. The only things on the surface are vents.’
‘And what exactly do you propose I should do?’
David breathed in hard. All he wanted to do was to take Nabila and walk out of this mad place, find a way out of Sinkiang, fly back to London, and see Maddie. But he knew he could not do that. It could be Maddie’s face they chipped free from a black casing next time. If the devices were delivered to Saddam Hussein…
‘I want you or someone more senior to order the strike as planned. I take it everything’s still in place.’
‘There are still planes at Dehra Dun, yes. But the Indians are getting a little stroppy. The repercussions for them could be serious.’
‘Then use them before the whole thing gets tied up in some pointless diplomatic row.’
‘I’m afraid it isn’t that simple.’
‘It was when I last talked about this. There was full agreement. I take it bombs have not yet been delivered to Hussein?’
‘There have been no reports suggesting that. The man in charge of that end of the operation is someone called Donaldson. Do you know him?’
‘Not well. Look, what are you trying to tell me? That this is all off? That I’ve just risked my life for absolutely nothing? That this complex is to be left alone and allowed to go on building weapons and exporting them so long as nobody gets upset in the Foreign Office?’
‘Calm down, Mr Laing. Calm down and listen. I can’t order a strike until I have positive confirmation that the site you’ve found is the weapons complex we’ve been after. A collection of air-conditioning vents isn’t enough. We need more than that. I’m sure you can see why.’
‘No, I can’t see why. You have the boy’s testimony and Matthew Hyde’s evidence. You know about the Iraqi involvement, and the nature of the weapons they want to import. You’ve got dozens of reports from field agents, You’ve got a defector who’d seen written proof that the site had been built and made operational. And now I’m standing on top of the fucking thing telling you to drop some fucking bombs, because otherwise there are going to be a lot of dead soldiers out there who deserved better than to be sent out in their Noddy suits just to line up for Saddam Fucking Hussein to play games with.’
‘Don’t get beside yourself, Laing. And don’t get above yourself. You’re just the field agent. You don’t make the decisions. Some other poor sod is going to have to push the button and take the consequences if there’s a mistake.’
‘There is no mistake. There is something buried beneath the spot on which I am standing. I can assure you personally that it has not been built as a factory for cute toys, Christmas decorations, or chopsticks. It has been buried and camouflaged for a reason, and if you can’t guess what that reason is, you’ve no right to hold a senior position in Six, much less make decisions that affect real people’s lives.’
‘I’ll accept that you’ve been under strain recently, Mr Laing. But, frankly, I don’t think this attitude is getting you anywhere. I don’t care if you’re standing on the edge of Mount Doom with a ring in your hand, I want some hard evidence that will let me go to the Prime Minister for authorization. Unless you’ve forgotten, he is a simpering pinkie trotting dog with a Foreign Minister who thinks human rights are a fit basis on which to conduct foreign relations. He will need to be convinced.’
‘Precisely how?’
‘You’re the agent on the ground, as you insist on telling me. You get the evidence and we’re in business. Simple as that.’
‘If I try to get in there, I’ll be a dead man. I promise you that.’
‘You’ve taken plenty of risks so far. Just one more to make it worthwhile.’
David sighed. It was worse than being trapped in a hospital ward where nobody believed you were sane.
‘You’ll need the coordinates,’ he said. ‘In case you decide I’m right after all.’
‘The coordinates? You already gave me them.’
He read a string of numbers down the line.
‘Where the hell did you get them? I’ve only just arrived here, and I know I didn’t give them to you. How could you have them?’
‘That’s …’ For the first time there was hesitation in Gilchrist’s voice. He realized he’d said something he shouldn’t have. ‘That’s classified,’ he murmured, as though his merely saying so would close the matter.
‘I don’t care if it’s a cosy secret between you and the Queen Mother, I think I have a right to know how you got hold of them - and how long you’ve had them. And why the hell I wasn’t given them.’
‘You sound like a petulant schoolboy. Let’s keep this professional. I’ll institute inquiries, and when I’m ready I’ll get back to you.’
‘I’ll get back to you”? What the fuck are you talking about? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m not sitting in some leather-upholstered chair in a chic office overlooking the Thames. I’m in the middle of a fucking desert, I have no food and precious little water. If you don’t intend to blow this stinking fleapit out of the ground, then at least say so and send somebody in to take us out of here.’
‘Us?’
‘I have a companion.’
‘I see. A woman?’
'Yes. Her name is Nabila Muhammadju. She’s a doctor - Uighur medicine.’
‘I shall certainly give some thought to the feasibility of lifting you out. You’re our agent and you’re entitled to that privilege. I’m not sure about the woman. She isn’t our responsibility.’
‘She’s my responsibility. If you want to be an arsehole, just go ahead. But I’m walking out of here with her, and when we get back to London …’
‘Don’t be such a moron. I said I’d look into the matter, and I will certainly raise the issue of the - shall I describe her as a woman or a girl?’
‘Just send a helicopter in. I imagine you can come up with one that has more than room for two?’
David’s finger was poised to terminate the conversation, when Gilchrist came in again, in a different tone.
‘Mr Laing, before we go any further, there is something I have to tell you. Are you still there?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there was no other way. It’s about your wife.’
‘Lizzie?’
‘She was killed in a car crash a few days ago, along with her brother Laurence. In the Lake District, I believe.’
‘Oh, God. Is she ...? When’s the funeral?’
‘It took place yesterday. I understand Sir Anthony took care of it all.’
‘What about Maddie?’
‘Maddie? I don’t ...’
‘My daughter, you idiot.’
‘Please don’t be rude. I’m doing my best here. This isn’t easy for me.’
‘I’m sorry. Is that all you can tell me?’
‘That’s all I know. I can try to find out more. Maybe if you ring later.’
‘You’re forgetting my present circumstances. Since we seem to agree about the coordinates for this place, I want you to make the necessary phone calls to obtain authorization for the air strike. If you can arrange to fly us out as well, I’d be grateful.’
‘I’ll get on to it right away.’
Gilchrist put the receiver down and pressed a button beside the phone to stop recording.
‘How did he take the news about Lizzie?’ A
nthony Farrar strolled over from the sofa on which he had been sitting.
‘I think it came as a bit of a shock.’
‘Of course it did. Could I have the tape, please?’ Gilchrist handed over the cassette on which he’d made the recording of the conversation. It could go back again after a little careful editing.
‘He sounded certain about this weapons complex.’
‘He gets enthusiastic. The whole thing’s nonsense, of course. What he’s stumbled on is a water purification plant. It’s part of a desert reclamation scheme. Now, I’ll just take this and be on my way. I want you to handle all calls from Laing. And I’d prefer it if you said nothing to anyone else at this stage. Let’s see how it develops.’
David pressed the redial button a few times, then dashed down the receiver in a rage.
‘What’s wrong, love?’ Nabila asked. ‘Has something happened?’
He pulled angrily away from her, then halted and came back, and she took him in her arms and held him. Haltingly, he told her the gist of his conversation.
‘And he told you your wife is dead?’
‘Lizzie? Yes, if he’s telling the truth.’
‘What do you want to do?’
He looked around him. It felt as though the world had come to an end, as though he and Nabila were the last human beings to survive in the ruins.
‘I want to get back to Maddie,' he said.
‘All right, that’s what we’ll do. We’ve got enough water to get us to a clean well. We can trap more lizards. All we have to do is head directly north. A hundred miles or so. We could do it in ten days. We could still make it out alive.’
‘And this?’ he asked. ‘My mission. Whatever Gilchrist chooses to think, or pretend to think, it’s still here.’
‘Make a record of the coordinates. Sort it out when you get home. Bypass Gilchrist, go straight to the top. But let’s get out of here before we die.’
‘And you?’ he asked. ‘What will you do? What do you want to do?’
She hesitated. It really wasn’t up to her. What freedom did she have? Her world and all the people in it had been destroyed. She could escape with her life, but what remained for her after that?
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