Third World War (52 page)

The roar of the Osprey engines created a cloud of dust from the massive 38-foot rotor blades, giving Campbell the cover he needed to run to the embassy building. The searchlight swept from side to side. Campbell pressed himself against the wall of the embassy, moving as far as possible into the building's shadow.

'Campbell?'

He turned. Mary Newman was sitting on the ground, ringed by marine guards. An armoured vehicle crawled towards them, knocking over the flagpole. The Stars and Stripes floated down, draping itself over the back. Just behind it, the embassy wall gave way and another armoured vehicle, covered in white concrete dust and other debris, appeared.

'Get back,' shouted Campbell.

The Osprey's weapons system opened up with a speed that surprised even Campbell. A ball of flame erupted against the lead armoured vehicle. Simultaneously, the vehicle which had broken through the wall was stopped. Four more air-to-surface missiles destroyed those outside the gates, while machine-gun fire cut down Chinese troops moving into the compound. As the Osprey turned, it dropped a flare to illuminate the terrain, then an air-burst canister of thick pink smoke, through which Campbell and Newman were to run.

Campbell grabbed hold of Newman's arm and pushed them both flat against the wall. She held his wrist so tightly that he felt her fingernails dig into his flesh. On the other side of the compound there was a mortar explosion. The Osprey was seventy-five feet off the ground and descending. Campbell ran, pulling Newman with him. He smelt burning. Another mortar. Then a third into the embassy itself.

It was too dangerous for the Osprey to land. It was as low as it could get. The back ramp was down. The winch cable swung back and forth, blown in the gale of the Osprey's intense rotor downwash. Campbell jumped and caught it. Newman stumbled towards him, and tripped. Campbell took her in his arms and lifted her into the harness.

Then a hand clasped him from behind, pulling him back. A Chinese soldier clung to Campbell's elbow with one hand and waved a pistol at him with the other. Campbell recognized the type. He was the man you sent out to kill, who did it well and enjoyed it, a good soldier, but slightly mad.

'Take her up,' said Campbell to the pilot. He let go of Newman, swinging in the harness. As the aircraft lifted, the soldier gained confidence. The orders must have been to take Campbell alive. He thrust the barrel of his gun into Campbell's chest.

Other soldiers were running towards him. Campbell took a hard look at his captor, then yelled out and knocked the soldier's gun up. Campbell fell to the ground, groped, plucked out the Browning, fired three shots into the soldier's head and neck and stumbled to his feet.

Machine-gun fire from the embassy building covered him from the pursuing Chinese soldiers. A smoke canister burst overhead and he heard the Osprey's rotor blades again. He jumped and caught the winch cable, clipping it on to his belt just as the pilot jerked him off the ground. Campbell crawled inside and suddenly, amid the judder of the fuselage and the noise of the engine, he felt warm and safe.

He lay back, feeling the surge of extra speed as the pilot tilted the rotors to fixed wing.

'You OK?' asked Newman, leaning over him. Due to the engine noise he could only read her lips.

'I'm fine,' he panted. He pushed himself up, unhooked two headsets and showed her how to fit one on.

'Pakistan launched again on India, and India has retaliated,' she said, looking not at Campbell but out of the window at the scenes below. 'Japan has hit Pyongyang with 20 kilotons,' she said. 'We're attacking across the DMZ into the north.'

Campbell, next to her, put his face to the window, too, and saw fires burning below. The higher they got, the more Chinese troops were in sight, converging on the centre of Beijing. The embassy was surrounded. How long did those inside have left to live?

The Osprey, built to carry twenty-four troops, appeared cruelly empty.

****

63*

****

Washington, DC, USA*

'They're clear,' announced Kozerski, pulling off his telephone headset and wiping perspiration from his brow.

'Thank God,' said West. To have lost Mary Newman to a Chinese mob would have been too much for him to bear. That he had sent her there in the first place had filled him with guilt. He should have guessed that China was cracking, that Jamie Song had lost his grip. West drained the cup of water in front of him and turned to the screen at the end of the table.

Pierce had persuaded West to move down to the situation room in the basement, where the imagery was clearer and communications more reliable. West had taken a seat next to Patton, who had joined them, along with Caroline Brock.

Kozerski stayed at the back of the room with the internal White House communications links. The directors of the CIA, FBI, NSA and other agencies remained in their offices. Half a dozen military and intelligence officers were around the table. The Vice-President was working from a secure location outside Washington. Marine One was on standby at the White House should evacuation be needed, with Air Force One fully crewed and fuelled ready for immediate take-off. National Guard fighter aircraft patrolled the skies over America's major cities.

Patton had ordered the arrest of twenty-eight Koreans suspected of sympathies with the North. Seven Korean associations were under surveillance and surrounded by police and National Guard. Smallpox vaccine had been sent to centres around the United States, with stockpiles distributed to mobile vaccination vehicles. The television and radio networks were running with the holocaust in India and Pakistan and the pending war with North Korea. There had been some incidents of panic buying at supermarkets and a brisk trade in gas masks. But Tom Patton had taken the decision to maintain normality as much as possible. Borders and airports remained open.

'Five minutes to target,' said Pierce, pointing to the images of B-1 and B-52 bombers which had flown in from Hawaii and US bases on the West Coast. He turned to a screen at the side of the table where a single image had been constructed with data from ground-penetrating radar, high-frequency seismic tests, magnetic mapping and thermal infrared imagery.

They showed the network of tunnels in the border area with clear outlines of the military hardware inside - long-range artillery, including the 170mm guns and 240mm rockets which could hit Seoul, and fighter aircraft positioned on underground runways for take-off. Under camouflaged cover were outdated military hovercraft, once designed to cross the DMZ without setting off landmines. But now their capability was questionable. Further underground thousands of men were in formation to pour into the South.

'Our aim is to defeat them in detail,' said Pierce. 'That means we kill or bury every soldier and every piece of equipment along the 151 miles of the DMZ. We're also deploying NBC detectors along the whole sector. They are self-propelling miniature unmanned vehicles which will stay airborne for twenty-four hours. Within five minutes of being activated they will detect any known nuclear, biological or chemical threat. Some are equipped with 360-degree cameras which will give added detail of the effect of the strikes. In other words, we should know within an hour under what conditions our troops will be crossing into North Korea.'

But as he glanced back at the radar images of the fleet of bombers flying at 630 miles an hour across the Sea of Japan, Pierce's expression turned into a look of horror. He put his finger to his headset. 'Repeat, for Christ's sake. Just say that again.'

All eyes were on Pierce as he reaffirmed what he had been told. 'Car bombs in Seoul,' he whispered. 'Wait--'

'Put it on the goddamn open speaker,' ordered West.

Kozerski flipped the switch. There was a crackle of static, then a crossed line, as Pierce locked on to the channel from the office of the chairman of the joint chiefs at the Pentagon.

'. . . at Itaewon, the US embassy, Chong-kak station. All car bombs. Gunman at Seoul International Airport, indiscriminate shooting in the departure lounge--'

'How the hell did they get the weapons in there?' muttered West.

'Mr President, explosions on two airliners on the ground. Please hold, Mr President--'

'Three minutes to target,' said another voice across the line.

'Holy shit,' whispered Kozerski. 'Look at that.'

On the side-screen, the blurred but recognizable images of heavy artillery turned and shifted position - but not enough for it to clear the cave. In another image, North Korean troops were pouring south through one of the tunnels. The hovercraft were breaking cover and being watched by the cameras of the Global Hawks.

'Is that artillery going to work?' asked West.

'Not where they are,' said Pierce.

'Maybe,' said Kozerski, his eyes on the new images from a Global Hawk camera. A cloud of smoke from a soundless explosion appeared from the side of the mountain.

'They've cut a firing angle into the rock,' said Pierce.

'Artillery launch,' said the voice from the Pentagon.

'Surface-to-air missile on the airport perimeter,' said another voice, as Pierce listened across two channels.

'170mm. Second shell. No, third. Fourth. 170mm and 152mm. Seoul is in range.'

'Confirmed hit in civilian airliner . . . SAM--'

'What the hell's it flying for?'

'Seoul International Airport is a write-off. Pictures? Yes. The networks are showing them live, now.'

'North Korean troops are through the tunnels.'

'Thirty seconds to strike.'

Kozerski's voice broke through. 'Mr President, the Chinese ambassador is on the line. He has been instructed to tell us that his government will consider an attack on North Korea as an act of war against China.'

'He's too late,' said West bluntly.

At the end of the table Tom Patton put down his telephone receiver and grasped Caroline Brock's hand. She looked up at him. She was tired. Very tired. Her hair fell over her face. They had been working round the clock in the White House, and nothing needed to be said between them. Caroline pushed back her hair, stood up and put on her coat.

'Mr President,' said Patton. 'Suicide bombing in Times Square. Variola major is detected.'

****

64*

****

New York, NY, USA*

By the time Caroline Brock's helicopter was over Manhattan, the area of the bombing at 44th Street and Broadway had been cordoned off into a central area and an outer ring. Hazardous materials rescuers were working inside the cordon. Some of the critically injured were taken to a biohazard tent erected directly outside the entrance of the Helmsley Hotel on 42nd Street. There they were treated and tested. The hotel was being evacuated and turned into a quarantine hospital.

Those with minor injuries were led to the outer ring of the cordon where their wounds were examined. They had to discard their clothes. Stainless steel shower stalls were being set up for decontaminating hazard suits, equipment and people. Survivors and evacuees were showering and registering, then, after being vaccinated, they were allowed to leave.

Traffic between Fifth and Eighth avenues and between 39th and 46th streets was stopped and drivers were told to leave their vehicles so they could be decontaminated. They themselves had to line up to shower and leave their clothes to be incinerated.

Lines of Manhattan office workers, dressed uniformly in blue cotton pyjamas, wrapped in grey blankets and wearing green plastic sandals, filed out between the cars along pre-arranged routes, heading south and north along Broadway and east and west along 46th and 40th streets. On the way, they were vaccinated.

All health officials wore biohazard suits, their sleeves marked with the yellow three-lobed flower indicating danger. Those inside the cordon worked wearing breathing apparatus. As the situation came more under control, firemen and police ensured that people got undressed, showered, and were vaccinated and their clothes collected for disposal before they left their buildings. Then, floor by floor, the great buildings of Times Square were closed down, each room checked, swept and sealed with red and white plastic tape.

From the air, the carnage around the area of the bombing looked like a trap, dangerous and eerily different from the rest of Manhattan. Yet that too was changing by the second. As news spread, so the mood transformed.

Caroline brought the respirator over her head, clipped it down and pulled on her gloves. A secret service agent sealed the cuffs with tape. The pilot kept the helicopter steady in the strong winds that whipped around the buildings, making any landing in high-rise Manhattan difficult.