The Midas Legacy (Wilde/Chase 12) (44 page)

‘What about you?’ Nina asked their translator, who had not armed himself. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ock,’ he replied, finally finding the courage to look her in the eye. Some of the other prisoners were regarding her with expressions that went beyond simple curiosity. It took a moment to realise why: they were staring at her hair. North Korean propaganda posters, she knew, sometimes demonised Americans as red-headed, freckled thugs.

‘Will you help us?’ When he hesitated again, she continued: ‘You’re the only one who can speak English – we need you to talk to the others.’

‘I . . . I do not know,’ he stammered. ‘My wife, she is here also, on another floor.’ His eyes flicked upwards. ‘If I help you, they will kill me – and they will kill her!’

‘They were going to kill you anyway,’ Eddie pointed out as he examined the red crates.

‘Yes, but . . .’ The strain of trying to resolve the dilemma made him tremble.

‘Ock,’ Nina said softly. ‘We’ll do everything we can to help you, and to find your wife. I’m not a soldier, but Eddie is. A very good one. If anyone can get all of us out of here, he can.’

‘So long as we don’t stand around here all day with our thumbs up our arses,’ the Yorkshireman added.

‘He’s also a very
rude
one,’ she said, glaring at him. But he had a point. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. Are you coming with us?’

Ock finally whispered an answer. ‘Yes. I will help you.’

‘Thank you.’ She looked at the reluctant prisoners. ‘Try to get as many of them to come with us as you can, then tell the ones with guns to do what Eddie tells them.’

‘Did any of the guards in here smoke?’ Eddie asked, opening one of the wooden boxes.

‘Did they smoke?’ echoed Nina uncertainly. ‘Why?’

He lifted out something that could have come straight from a cartoon: a stick of dynamite wrapped in red paper with a fuse hanging limply from one end. ‘So I can light these!’

Ock gawped at him, then pointed at the guard impaled by the pickaxe. ‘Him.’

‘Get his lighter, or matches, whatever.’ Eddie stuffed several sticks into his pockets, along with a couple of longer coils of fuse, then returned to the tunnel. From somewhere in the distance he heard a thudding drumroll: the sound of rifles firing in unison. ‘Those
fuckers
,’ he said, realising what it meant. ‘There must be other workers on this floor – they’re killing them! We’ve got to move
now
, before they trap us down here.’

Nina scurried to the dead soldier, digging gingerly through his pockets and pulling out a crumpled book of matches. ‘Got them.’

‘Great – let’s go.’ He started down the tunnel at a rapid jog, moving alongside the conveyor so he could use it as cover if anyone appeared ahead. Nina ran to catch up, followed by the armed prisoners. Ock had a hurried discussion with the other workers, then the group – with varying degrees of reluctance – came after them.

The tunnel met with another a couple of hundred yards ahead, a larger passage slicing across its end at an angle. The conveyor stopped at another belt, dropping the last few pieces of broken rock that had been loaded before Bok’s announcement on to its still-laden counterpart.

That was not the route concerning Eddie, though; rather a smaller side passage that appeared to link the two main shafts. ‘Hold on,’ he said as he approached it, signalling those behind to slow. He stared intently at the darkened opening, and saw flickers of light washing along its walls from within. ‘Shit! Someone’s coming. Nina, give me those matches!’

She handed him the matchbook. ‘You’re going to use
dynamite
?’

‘If we run out of bullets, we’re fucked.’ He pulled out one of the sticks, then struck a match. ‘None of those soldiers back there had spare mags. The Norks probably can’t afford ’em.’

‘That’s great, Wile E., but it won’t matter if you bring the roof down on us!’

But he had already lit the fuse. ‘Everyone down!’ he snapped. Nina hurriedly ducked behind the conveyor, Ock yelping a translation to the prisoners before joining her in cover.

Eddie ran to the passage, holding the sputtering explosive in one hand. He peeked around the corner – and saw the silhouettes of several soldiers advancing on him, one holding a torch.

The beam snapped up and locked on to his face—

Eddie jerked back as bullets smacked against the wall, stone chips stinging his head. He flung the dynamite around the corner, then dived to the floor and covered his ears. Shouts of panic came from the passage, followed by a scuffle of footsteps as some of the soldiers turned and fled, while another made a desperate scramble to tear out the fuse.

He failed.

A piercing
bang
came from the tunnel, followed by a surge of flying dust and grit and body parts. Deeper booms shook the floor as part of the ceiling collapsed, crushing what remained of the soldiers into oblivion.

Even covered, Eddie’s ears were still ringing from the detonation. ‘That’s another bloody step closer to needing a hearing aid,’ he complained, returning to the others. ‘We need to keep moving.’ They set off again, the Koreans glancing down the wrecked tunnel with expressions that suggested hope was rising within them for the first time in years.

They reached the main intersection. Eddie waved for caution as he went to the corner and checked the new tunnel, but the only movement was the ceaseless trundling of the second conveyor belt. The power cables ran along the roof. ‘Does this go to the way out?’ he asked.

Ock peered nervously past him. ‘To the lift that takes rocks to the surface, yes.’

‘If it takes rocks up, it can bring soldiers down,’ Eddie warned, signalling for everyone to follow him along the tunnel.

41

It took the fugitives a few minutes to reach the tunnel’s end. Two other conveyors ran into the chamber beyond from adjoining passages, their termini choked with mounds of rubble. The reason it had not been cleared was instantly apparent: all the slave workers had been shot, bloodied corpses littering the floor.

‘Bastards,’ Eddie growled. He surveyed the area, but the soldiers who had committed the murders were gone. ‘The guards must’ve evacuated.’

‘Yeah, but they’re coming back!’ Nina said in alarm. A large elevator shaft was cut into the room’s side – and the cables within were moving.

‘Everyone with a gun, with me!’ Eddie shouted, running towards it. The armed prisoners followed as Ock relayed the command.

‘What are we doing?’ asked Nina.

‘If anyone gets out of that lift, we’re screwed, so we make sure
no one
gets out of that lift!’ He looked up the shaft, seeing the descending car less than a hundred feet above.

‘How?’

‘You ever heard of anyone wearing bulletproof
shoes
?’ He opened the elevator’s wide gate as the large rectangular platform came towards them. It would only be seconds before it dropped below ceiling level and the soldiers aboard would be able to see out—

Eddie pointed his gun straight up and pulled the trigger, stitching a weaving line of bullet holes into the elevator’s underside. Nina followed suit, the Korean prisoners joining in. Splinters rained down on them as the wooden platform was perforated by a storm of metal. The cacophony was deafening, but even over the thunder of the guns they heard screams from above – which were cut off as the onslaught continued.

Magazines ran dry. The shooters pulled back as the elevator reached floor level – and continued past it, the soldier operating it slumped dead over the controls. ‘Oh bollocks!’ Eddie gasped, jumping down on to the platform and navigating the two dozen or so bullet-torn bodies to drag the man off and shove the large brass lever to the neutral position. The elevator stopped with a squealing jolt. He pushed it the other way to bring it back up, stopping with another clash from the cables. A couple of corpses flopped out grotesquely. ‘Basement!’ the Yorkshireman announced. ‘Perfume, stationery and garden tools. Going up!’

‘That’s great,’ said Nina, stepping with trepidation over the lacerated soldiers, ‘but now we’re out of ammo.’

Eddie tossed away his empty rifle and replaced it with a slightly bloodied one from the lift’s deceased passengers. ‘North Korea really is an arms supplier!’ The floor was riddled with holes, but the wood still seemed intact enough to take everyone’s weight. He kicked out more bodies to make sure, then waved everyone on to the platform. ‘All aboard!’

The prisoners stepped on to the elevator, some reacting with fear or revulsion at the dead men before the hope of freedom took over. Eddie operated the lever. A whine of motors somewhere high above, the cables singing, then it began its ascent.

‘They’re probably waiting for us at the top,’ said Nina, peering up the shaft. Patches of light marked the levels above.

‘I dunno,’ her husband replied. ‘How long is it since they gave the evac order? Ten minutes, twenty? If it was a radiation alarm, that’ll have encouraged everyone to get their arses outside pretty damn quick.’

‘It was radiation,’ Ock confirmed. ‘First they gave the order for soldiers and technicians to get out. Then Bok said to kill the prisoners. The elevators could not take everyone fast enough.’

‘This place is like an underground
Titanic
,’ Nina muttered.

To her surprise, Ock almost smiled. ‘
Titanic
. It is a good movie.’

‘You’ve seen it?’

‘On a DVD, smuggled from China. I watched it with my wife.’ The smile disappeared. ‘I hope she . . .’

‘We’ll try and find her,’ Eddie assured him. ‘But you’re right, Nina – this place is like the
Titanic
. ’Cause it’s gonna go down.’

‘How?’ she asked. ‘I forgot to pack my iceberg.’

‘Remember where they were building the missiles, on the top level? They were making fuel for ’em too. And I just happen to know,’ a sly smile, ‘that North Korea uses kerosene and some stuff called red fuming nitric acid for fuel in its Scud knock-offs. If they come into contact with each other . . .’ He spread his hands apart to mime an explosion.

The elevator rose through the next level, which had also been evacuated. ‘You want to
blow up
the base?’

‘Saves someone else doing it, doesn’t it? Seeing as they really were using it to make nukes.’

‘The nukes,’ Nina echoed. ‘Damn it, they’re probably on their way out of here already!’

‘Yeah, along with Mikkelsson. And his money, and his gold,
and
probably the bloody Crucible too – the small one, anyway. Hopefully the big one got buried when the particle accelerator blew up.’

‘Great. They can just start the whole process all over again. We’ve got to stop him.’

‘Let’s worry about getting out of here alive first, eh?’ He looked towards the approaching top of the shaft. ‘Okay, this is it. Anybody wearing a stupid big hat with a red star on it, shoot ’em!’ He waited for Ock to pass on his instructions, then asked him: ‘You sure you don’t want a gun? Doesn’t look like these twats have exactly been treating you well.’ He indicated the lurid bruise on the Korean’s face.

Ock bowed his head. ‘No, I . . . I am not a soldier like you.’

‘I haven’t been a soldier for a long time now. Doesn’t stop me from protecting myself. Or people who need it.’

‘No, no. I cannot. I just . . . I just want to find my wife and go home.’

Eddie and Nina traded downbeat looks: the chances of Ock’s wife still being alive were vanishingly small. But they said nothing, instead watching the upper gate draw closer. ‘Everyone get ready,’ said the Yorkshireman, readying his gun. The action told the others what to do without the need for a translation. He took hold of the control lever. ‘And . . . now!’

He slammed it to the stop position, one of the unarmed workers throwing open the gate. Everyone rushed out.

Half a dozen soldiers stood by a truck at the end of the runway. Only a couple had time to react to the unexpected new arrivals before the prisoners opened fire, bullets tearing them apart. More rounds ripped into the truck’s cab, blood from the driver’s head splashing the splintering windscreen.

Another couple of soldiers were standing near the blockhouse. Both fell to sharp bursts from Eddie’s rifle. He checked the area. Nobody else in sight.

Nobody
alive
. There were large piles of rubble that had been brought up from below but not loaded for disposal. As before, the reason was appallingly clear. More workers lay still and bloodied amongst the debris, twisted in the frozen agonies of death.

Ock let out a keening cry, staring in horror at one of the bodies. He ran to the motionless woman and fell to his knees. Nina felt a deep dread. ‘Is she . . . your wife?’

The quivering man’s eyes filled with tears. He had to choke back sobs before being able to speak. ‘Yes . . .’

She regarded the dead woman with an almost overpowering sadness, knowing she would feel just as lost in the same situation. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

He tried to reply, but couldn’t form the words. All he managed was a moan as he bent lower until his face almost touched the floor, gripping his wife’s still hand. The other prisoners looked on with sympathy, some offering whispered condolences. Finally a word in Korean escaped his lips – spoken not with grief, but with anger. He jerked back upright and repeated it in an enraged scream as tears rolled down his face.

Eddie looked on sorrowfully, then noticed something in the huge hangar beyond. Or rather, the
absence
of something. ‘Shit!’ The three missile transporters were gone – along with their cargo. But he could still hear the echoing roar of powerful diesel engines. With some of the prisoners following, he ran to the runway. The sound grew louder. He peered cautiously around the corner to look down the main tunnel.

The TELs were approaching its mouth, travelling in a convoy with several jeeps, another two-ton truck like the bullet-ravaged one nearby, and the 4x4 in which he and Nina had been brought to Facility 17. As he watched, one of the jeeps veered off sharply and skidded to a halt, its occupants jumping out. Even at this distance, Eddie could tell from his clothing that one was an officer rather than a regular soldier.

Bok.

The echoes of massed gunfire from the runway’s far end had alerted Bok that something was wrong. He ordered his driver to swing out of the convoy and stop.

The other vehicles all slowed in response. ‘Bok!’ barked Kang over the walkie-talkie. ‘What’s happening?’

The security chief got out and stared back down the tunnel. In the distance, he saw figures spilling from one side of the blockhouse – and dead soldiers on the ground. ‘Some of the prisoners have escaped! They’ve—’ One person stood out clearly, even from this distance. Red hair. ‘The American woman, she’s still alive!’ he cried in disbelief.

Kang’s voice turned even colder than usual. ‘None of them get out. Do you understand?’

Bok stiffened at the understated but clear threat. That Wilde and her husband had survived in the first place was already a black mark for him; his rank and privileged background would not help him if he failed to prevent them from escaping the facility. ‘They’ll be dead when you reach the airbase, sir,’ he replied.

‘It had better not take that long, Bok.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The major shouted hurried orders into the radio. Three more jeeps pulled over to form a barricade across the runway, the soldiers jumping out and aiming their rifles down the tunnel. The rest of the convoy accelerated again, clearing the mountainside and rumbling away into the night.

Bok clipped the radio back to his belt, trying to conceal his worry, then looked around. At this range, without telescopic sights, his men’s Type 58 rifles would be all but useless, but there were other weapons nearby that could do the job. Flanking the runway just outside the tunnel entrance were the two minigun turrets, intended to repel invaders trying to enter Facility 17 . . . but also able to turn through a hundred and eighty degrees to prevent anyone from
leaving
it.

‘The guns!’ he shouted. ‘Man the guns – point them into the facility.’ Two men ran for one, while he and a soldier from his jeep started for the other. ‘No one gets out of there alive!’

Eddie saw the North Korean troops head for the turrets. ‘Shit! Everyone get back, get into cover!’ He pushed Nina around the corner as he withdrew, but several prisoners had already raced past him on to the runway. Without Ock to translate, they didn’t understand his warning – and by the time they realised for themselves, it was too late.

The miniguns opened fire with chainsaw snarls, sending twin streams of bullets down the runway, tracers giving them the appearance of laser beams. The gunners swept them across the end of the hangar, fifty rounds impacting every second. Concrete splintered under the onslaught, lines of death homing in on the running figures—

The miniguns only used standard 7.62-millimetre ammunition, allowing them to draw upon North Korea’s vast reserves of Kalashnikov-compatible rounds, but fired at such a fearsome rate that the result was like being struck by cannon shells. The first man to be hit literally
disintegrated
, his body blasted into a bloody spray. The woman beside him screamed as her arm was ripped off at the elbow, but her agony lasted only a moment before the gunfire cut her in half.

The other escapees tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to hide. More fell, exploding into bloodied shreds. A few managed to get behind the truck, but it did not save them. The minigun streams tore its bodywork into shrapnel, tearing apart the men and women cowering behind it before its fuel tank exploded, scattering blazing wreckage all around.

The gunners focused their attention on the spot where the fugitives had emerged. Eddie and Nina fled as the corner of the cavern wall shattered behind them, blasted apart by the six-barrelled weapons—

Sudden silence as the miniguns ceased firing. ‘What happened?’ Nina gasped. ‘Why’ve they stopped?’

Eddie signalled for everyone to stay put, then moved back through the haze of dust to risk a brief peek around the bullet-gnawed corner. Both turrets still pointed down the runway. ‘Run out of targets. Probably worried about wasting ammo, too – if those miniguns are like American ones, they can fire over three thousand rounds per minute.’

‘So what can we do?’

‘There’s no way we’ll get past ’em,’ he replied, grim-faced. ‘We—’

Ock pushed past him, now holding a rifle. ‘We kill them,’ he growled. ‘We kill them!’

Eddie dragged him back. ‘No, don’t!’ cried Nina. ‘They’ll kill
you
!’

‘I do not care! She is dead, she is
dead
!’ A despairing wave at his wife’s body. ‘I have nothing left!’

‘You’d be dead before you got twenty feet,’ Eddie told him. ‘You’ll die for nothing! Would your wife want that?’

The question shook Ock. ‘No, she . . .’ He slumped. ‘No. But what can we do? We are trapped!’

Eddie looked back into the cavernous underground factory. His gaze fell upon the ranks of vehicles near the cargo elevator. ‘Come on,’ he said, hurrying to one.

‘You want to
float
out of here?’ Nina asked incredulously. ‘In that?’ Even with its military modifications, the four-seater hovercraft seemed almost toy-like.

‘I want to see how thick this armour is.’ He examined the wedge of plating covering the craft’s nose. ‘Everyone get back!’ He waved for the others to retreat, then raised his gun and fired a single shot. The round banged off the armour and screamed away into the depths of the hangar. The drab camouflage paint spalled away around the impact point to reveal dull grey metal beneath, but the surface itself had only a slight dent.

‘What was that for?’ Nina asked.

‘Miniguns use regular rifle ammo,’ he replied. ‘And a rifle round hardly scratched this.’ He knocked on the armour. ‘Looks like Chobham, or summat similar. They’ll have built these to charge through the demilitarised zone – the South Koreans won’t be able to hurt ’em with regular weapons until they’re already over the border.’