INCARNATION

by Daniel Easterman

  ‘About an hour or so, and we’re ready to go,’ said Chang Zhangyi. ‘The last warheads are in the dome at present, running through some final checks. That won’t be possible when they get to Iraq, so we have to be sure they’re ready to go the minute they leave here. The better use Saddam makes of them, the more likely other regimes will be to pay for their own.’

  ‘Does that mean there’s a risk of one of them exploding while they’re en route?’ David asked.

  ‘Not really. They can only be triggered in two ways ... either by a signal sent directly from the control room down there’ - he pointed at the little black dome - ‘or by an altimeter which is pre-set to trigger them once they drop to a certain height.’

  David let his eyes wander across the vista. Not without honesty, he said, ‘You’re streets ahead of us. I’m biting my teeth off just looking at all this. Do you think I could have a look at the control room?’

  Chang Zhangyi seemed hesitant, then nodded. ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘You’ve seen almost everything else.’

  They found four little buggies nearby and drove silently to the dome. Up close, it seemed enormous.

  Chang Zhangyi used a key to let them inside. Everywhere, technicians were bustling about in the carefully controlled atmosphere.

  ‘When these warheads leave, there will be more to build,’ said Chang Zhangyi. ‘This country needs a large number for its own use. And we’re about to start work on our new project.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Chang Zhangyi smiled.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think I should tell you that. What I’m showing you now is nothing you don’t already know about. If I tell you what’s coming, it could seriously compromise your freedom if you choose to accept the Hui Hou’s offer.'

  They went inside the control room. Everything was bathed in a ghastly green glow. At panels on every side, technicians sat reading computer screens, keying in information, twiddling dials, and carrying out complex calculations on hand-held keypads. There was no sense of urgency, just a steady hum of controlled activity.

  ‘Why so many?’ asked David. ‘Surely you aren’t still carrying out tests.’

  Chang Zhangyi raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. The light gave his skin a faint green tinge.

  ‘Surely you don’t think we sit about here idly?’ he said. ‘We’re always looking to introduce new refinements. In this case, to the triggering mechanism. In the past, we’ve experienced problems when climatic conditions have created false atmospheric pressures. As a result, the warheads have detonated too high or too low. It’s only happened a few times, but it is an irritant. Now, if we use a more reliable feedback mechanism, we can issue the detonation command from here.’

  ‘You’re carrying out a test this evening?’

  ‘Of course. The Iraqis insisted on a random test of one of their warheads. Their people picked one out a couple of hours ago. It won’t be long.’

  David felt a long shiver trickle down his spine.

  ‘Where?’ he asked.

  Chang Zhangyi sniffed.

  ‘Urumchi. In half an hour. You’re just in time to watch.’

  The door opened and the second guard rejoined them. David looked at Nabila. She was rigid with anger and trepidation.

  Chang Zhangyi pulled them over to one of the control panels.

  ‘This is the main panel,’ he said. ‘Once we get final barometric readings, we place the correct settings in the firing computer. Once they’ve been correctly transmitted to the warhead itself, they’re locked in. A radio signal sends the trigger command at precisely the right moment - and Urumchi becomes a prime site on the new business itinerary of Asia. I never liked it much anyway, did you?’

  ‘And the people of Urumchi? Will they just end up like their relatives in Kashgar? Like the people we saw you mow down in the Shaanshi Mosque Square?’ Nabila could not contain herself. She had friends in Urumchi, relatives, workmates, memories. She had found love there for the second and last time in her life.

  ‘They’ll be martyrs to the cause of international understanding,’ answered Chang Zhangyi. ‘And to the coming Iraqi victory in the Gulf.’

  ‘Actually, they won’t,’ said David, leaning forward to bring the blade of mirror glass to rest hard on top of Chang Zhangyi’s carotid artery.

  Nabila had tied her knots well. Huang Zhengmei had almost been defeated by them. Then, at almost the last moment, she had rolled across the floor and found another sliver of broken glass stuck in the carpet. Close up, it was not really a sliver at all, more a shaving, but it served - with much gritting of teeth and furrowing of the brow - to cut through one of the strands that bound her wrists. The rest unravelled easily.

  She pulled out her phone and punched in an emergency number.

  ‘This is Huang Zhengmei. Where is Colonel Chang Zhangyi? ... I see. Are the two intruders with him? ... Very well. Send ten men and have them meet me at the main entrance to Level 7. In five minutes. And make sure they’re armed. Give them submachine-guns: this is an emergency.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  They sat huddled in a corner on the floor, fifteen technicians and the two guards, scared as rabbits. The guards, trained to kill, had caved in when Chang Zhangyi had ordered them to hand over their weapons. One of them glared at David, the other at Nabila, as though sizing them up to go with a dish of hot noodles and sauce.

  Chang Zhangyi just sat on the chair where David had put him, smiling broadly and tut-tutting from time to time, as though this were all a game. Two of the technicians had reluctantly supplied belts which fastened together into a long strap that now held Chang Zhangyi tightly to the chair. Another technician had provided a pair of smelly socks; tied together, they made a tight bond for Chang Zhangyi’s wrists.

  David and Nabila had a submachine-gun apiece. While David examined the main console, Nabila tied up the two guards.

  ‘I don’t see why you’re even wasting your time,’ Chang Zhangyi said. He seemed quite relaxed, confident in his perfect realm. ‘I can accept you’re upset, but I can not accept your logic. You’re at the foot of the biggest military complex in the world. You’ve seen some of it. There’s no way you can get out. Even if you did, you’d be hunted down. All that’s out there is desert, just like before. You won’t even…’

  David turned from the console and appealed to Nabila.

  ‘Keep him quiet, will you, dear? I want to concentrate on what I’m doing.’

  To loud protests, Nabila set about gagging the colonel. She didn’t know what David was planning to do, but if he could delay or abort the test over Urumchi, that alone would make these last minutes worthwhile.

  David clicked his way through file after file on the computer. He knew what he was looking for, but it constantly evaded him.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Nabila asked. ‘Is it a text file?’

  He nodded.

  ‘See if the system has something called “Find File” or the near equivalent. Look under the “File” menu if you’re already in a document.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Key in some text that should be in your file. Anything, as long as it’s not in a million other files.’

  He thought for a moment, then keyed in "Ground Zero". It took about a minute, then three files appeared in the left-hand window of the "Find File" application. He glanced at them and chose the third.

  A telephone started ringing. David ignored it.

  ‘Darling,’ he said, ‘can you see if there’s any sort of window near the door. Check if anyone’s here yet.’

  She found a small porthole that gave a wide-angle view over the entrance area. No one as yet.

  David was already keying codes into the computer and rolling a row of dials to match the configuration he wanted.

  ‘Check them for keys,’ he said. ‘Take what they have, and be sure you get all of Chang Zhangyi’s.’

  Nabila went round the technicians, and each in turn gave up his key to her. The guards needed help. Chan
g Zhangyi refused to hand anything to her.

  She knelt in front of him, looking up at his face. For most of her life she had hated this man.

  ‘Colonel, I don’t know if you are aware of exactly who I am.’

  ‘On the contrary, I know you very well. Your father was always a thorn in my flesh.’

  ‘In that case, you’ll know that I had a sixteen-year-old sister, a sister called Rabbia. Does that name ring any bells?’

  ‘Of course it does. She was a lovely little thing. It was a pity she chose to kill herself.’

  ‘Did you rape her?’

  ‘Of course not. I slept with her several times. She enjoyed every moment. She could have been my mistress if she’d allowed herself.’

  ‘Do you remember how she died?’

  ‘She stabbed herself. Thirty times, with a knife of the Baoan. She went on stabbing until she pierced her heart. As I said, a tragedy.’

  ‘This’, Nabila said, taking the sliver of mirror glass from her pocket, ‘is not a Baoan knife. It comes from a cheap mirror in David’s quarters upstairs.’

  For the first time, Chang Zhangyi had no answer. His skin went white. He thought she was mad enough to do anything with the knife. Her whole family had been mad: he’d have done better if he’d had them shot. It did no good to pay heed to the religious scruples of minorities.

  She bent forward and unzipped his trousers, bringing out a small and frightened penis.

  ‘Please,’ Chang Zhangyi said. ‘Don’t do something so stupid. Leave me unharmed and it will go in your favour. But if you hurt me ...’

  She laughed.

  ‘I don’t think anybody in this room gives a damn about what happens to your precious penis. Except me. It matters to me that my sister had to go through so much suffering merely to give a few moments’ pleasure to this thing. Was it even worth it for you, I wonder?’

  Chang Zhangyi did not answer. He had started to tremble. His eyes were bolted on the makeshift knife with which she threatened to mutilate him.

  She held up the knife, then snapped it in half, then in half again. She tossed the bits at his feet, then spat into his lap.

  David got up and pulled one of the technicians over to the console.

  ‘Punch in the code to finalize the trigger setting.’

  The frightened man shook his head. A little courage now, and his fortitude might be rewarded. Give in, and Chang Zhangyi would be sure to have him eaten whole.

  David extracted his knife and held it in front of the man’s throat. He knew he had no time to play with. Without the code, the whole thing was a waste of time. Without the code, Urumchi would join Kashgar, and the Allied forces in the Gulf would face total destruction.

  The man shook his head a second time. David drew the blade hard across his artery. Blood spurted out, smearing the console like a libation. He pushed the man to the floor, strode over to the corner, and picked out a second. He untied his hands and placed him in front of the console.

  ‘Please key in the code, and be sure to do it accurately.’

  This time, there was no hesitation. The code was entered, an acknowledgement message flashed on the screen. David turned the key to lock in the computer instructions, and slipped it in his pocket.

  ‘I’ve set the trigger to detonate all warheads at this level. I don’t know what the effect will be, but I believe it will stop your trade with Iraq, and I’m sure it will leave a hole in the ground where Chaofe Ling is currently standing. I’m sorry if this clashes with any plans you may have had, but there’s not much I can do about that. The detonation is set to take place in twenty minutes. I wouldn’t bother struggling with your restraints, if I were you. Even if you do get free, I’ve got the key.’

  Chang Zhangyi, momentarily emboldenedby his reprieve, flared at him.

  ‘You’re a total idiot. The minute you set foot outside this sector, you’ll be shot down and the key will be brought back here. You’re only making things worse

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ said David. He took Nabila’s arm and they went to the door.

  ‘Anyone coming?’

  She squinted through the porthole.

  ‘Over to the right,’ she said. They’re still outside the transparent dome.’

  They opened the door and dashed outside, locking it firmly behind them with Chang Zhangyi’s private key.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  The wind rushed in hard from the north, blustering down from the high mountains of the Tien Shan, working its way into the desert like a stain in still water. Its fingers played with the sand, lifting it and tossing it down again. As yet, it had little strength, but it was coming, no doubt of it.

  Chang Zhangyi’s helicopter sat on a flat patch of ground near the concealed entrance to Chaofe Ling. The pilot sat in the rear, where the seats were more comfortable, legs up on the seat opposite, headphones on his head. He was listening to a bootleg copy of an old Rolling Stones album, trying desperately to sing along to words he did not understand.

  He glanced out of the window and saw that the sand was starting to lift. Frowning, he glanced at his watch. Chang Zhangyi wouldn’t be back for half an hour at least. But once he did turn up, he’d want to be flown to Urumchi. That was all very well, thought the pilot; but what if there was a fully-fledged sandstorm by then?

  Then he forgot about Chang Zhangyi. He wondered instead what it would be like to see Mick and Keef in concert before they got too old. One thing was sure. they weren’t going to be performing in China in the near future.

  The moment they came through the door of the black dome, they were spotted. Huang Zhengmei and her team of security guards were only about fifty yards from the doorway that led in and out of the larger dome.

  ‘There’s no point in even trying to get out that way,’ Nabila said.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll need to.’

  He turned and led the way as fast as possible to another section of the wall, making a short-cut that left their pursuers some way behind.

  ‘Let’s see if this works,’ said David, raising the submachine-gun. There was no time for punching out a circle of carefully placed holes. He just set the firing mechanism on "automatic" and pulled back on the trigger. The gun did everything for him, ripping a gash in the side of the dome big enough to climb through.

  By now, the distance between them and their pursuers had shrunk perceptibly. Nabila crawled through the gap, followed by David. A burst of machine-gun fire greeted their exit. The bullets went high. Huang Zhengmei and her merry men skidded to a halt and knelt facing their intended victims.

  ‘Throw away your weapons, and put your hands behind your heads,’ she called. Her voice echoed around the great empty space. Down at the tunnel, heads turned. On a gantry high above the train, someone dropped a spanner.

  ‘When I shout,’ David whispered to Nabila, ‘throw yourself flat.’

  He reached into his pocket and drew out a gas grenade, one of two he’d taken from Chang Zhangyi’s bodyguards.

  ‘Drop your weapons! Do it now!’ Without amplification, Huang Zhengmei’s voice came to them as a thin, inglorious thing. She was reluctant to shoot, given the possible consequences of a stray bullet.

  ‘Drop the gun, Nabila,’ David whispered. ‘But be ready to pick it up again quickly.’

  The gun clattered to the ground. Within the dome, technicians rushed forward to see what was going on. They pressed their faces against the glass, like children outside a sweet shop; pale, worried faces snatched from a dream of absolute security.

  ‘Now you, Mr Laing. Be sensible.’

  David seemed to hesitate. Then, as though reaching a hard decision, he threw his gun to the ground, at the same time shouting ‘Now!’

  He pulled the pin, drew back his hand, and threw the grenade hard in the direction of their attackers. Nabila, seeing David still standing, had not yet thrown herself down. As the grenade landed, some of the guards started firing at random. David grabbed Nabila and pulled her down. The firing continued
for another few seconds, then the gas took hold.

  Guns fell to the ground in a series of dull crashes. Then there was silence that lasted only moments until the sound of coughing and choking started to grow and grow.

  ‘Hurry, Nabila! They’ll be free of the gas any minute. As soon as one of them uses his brains.’ David leapt to his feet, picking up his submachine-gun as he did so.

  When he turned, he noticed that Nabila was still on the floor.

  ‘Nabila? Darling, are you all right?’

  For a heart-stopping moment, she did not move or reply. David felt his heart turn like a plummeting bird. He bent down.

  ‘Nabila? Are you all right, love?’

  She opened her eyes.

  ‘I’ve ... been ... hit.’

  'Thank God for that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re still alive. Where did it hit you?’

  ‘My chest ... I think. Turn ... me over.’

  Fearing the worst, he turned her over. Behind him, someone kicked the gas grenade out of reach.

  Blood had already pooled on the floor. Tearing her shirt open, he located two bullet-holes above her right breast. There were two exit wounds just below her shoulder at the back.

  ‘I don’t think you’re badly hurt,’ he said, not having the slightest idea whether it was true or not. ‘If you can hold on, we’ll be out of here in a few minutes. But we’ve got to get going before they reorganize.’

  He looked up. One of the guards, still spluttering, was picking up his gun. David took out the second grenade and threw it straight into the pack of guards, enveloping them in a second wave of coughing and choking and blinded eyes.

  ‘It’s ... no use,‘ wheezed Nabila. Her breath was coming hard as wisps of gas reached her. ‘For God’s sake, David ... just leave me here ... and get out. You’ve ... got Maddie to think about.’