“Roger that.”
Top branches snapped and bent under the vicious down blast of the Hind at full thrust. Birds scattered wildly among the cloud of torn branches and green leaves ripped from their host. Donovan kept the belly of the Hind as close as possible to the green canopy that undulated beneath him. The sub must have transmitted developments by now. There was a fighter base at Wonsan. The lower he kept, the harder it would be for them to spot him in the ground clutter. As if on cue, the E2C Hawkeye confirmed his fears.
“Hawk one. Be advised Home Plate, bogies inbound your position. Bogies are thirty klicks out, two hundred knot closure. Come to new heading one one zero on feet wet. The alert five aircraft has been scrambled.”
“Roger Coach. Acknowledge bogies inbound. Abort the alert five aircraft. Repeat, abort the alert five aircraft. We have two nukes set to go off in about…” He checked the console chronometer, “…six minutes.”
“Uh, Home Plate. Did you say nukes?”
“Copy that. There are two nuclear devices set to detonate in six minutes. You guys had better power down your dish.”
“Roger that, Coach out.”
A slate beach flashed under Donovan. The expanse of the Indian Ocean lay before him. He turned on his Hot Brick, just in case any of the NK flyboys did manage to get a fix on him, and he pushed the Hind down to the water.
“Home Plate, feet wet, coming to one one zero.”
Chun waited in the shadows. The transport with the warheads was behind him. He could see the front of it if he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. He knew that the warheads were set to explode. The five hundred kilos of high explosive would be more than enough to settle all accounts. Not even the Americans would be crazy enough to set off the weapons themselves. The truck was the ultimate lure for Sung. There were no more sounds of battle. Chung had seen Donovan’s Hind set down in the smoke. He had felt the power released into the craft as it surged away to the distant horizon. No, now that things were silent, Sung would seek out his prize.
The scuff and pad of uncertain footsteps glinted mechanically off the dank alley walls. Chun stared at the side of the transport truck. He could see the top half of the warheads resting in their opened cargo containers. The one closest to the front of the truck had its innards exposed. The footsteps paused. Chun held his breath. He wanted surprise to be on his side.
Sung, his face haggard and cut in several places, walked across the front of Chun’s alley. He turned and looked directly at Chun, but his light-dazzled eyes passed right over his former superior. Satisfied that the alley held no danger for him, Sung turned back to the flat deck. Chun heard the sharp intake of breath when Sung saw the warhead timers counting down. He turned to run.
Chun moved out of the darkness, blocking Sung’s escape, his gun aimed at the square of Sung’s chest. “Rather a fitting going away present, don’t you think?”
Sung whirled around. “You! How?”
“I am happy to see you too.” Chun motioned Sung to the back corner of the flat deck with his gun. “Things did not turn out quite as planned, did they Comrade Sung?” He shrugged. “Well, that is usually the way of these things, isn’t it?” Chun glanced at one of the weapon’s timers. It had just passed through three minutes. “Hard to see one’s life ticking away from you.” Chun pointed to the warheads. “And you went through so much to secure these toys. Was the power worth it? Was the betrayal?”
Sung’s face screwed up in a grimace of pure hatred. “You are the fool, Chung. You are the one who betrayed us. You should have just gone for reeducation and let things run their course.”
“So a man of vision like yourself could run things?” Chun shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so comrade. I don’t think so at all.” He shot another glance at the warhead chronograph beside him. “Two minutes left to live. Who would have thought the Americans would actually arm these things?”
“We could run.” Sung was desperate.
“There is nowhere to run, I prefer to face my end. But worry not. You will not be seeing the culmination of your efforts, your betrayal. You have caused me great pains, Comrade. It is time I reciprocated.” The Tokarev cracked twice.
Sung sat down hard on his tailbone, his ability to stand removed along with his kneecaps. Chun walked over and placed the barrel of the pistol over Sung’s heart. Chun’s eyes were cold pieces of flint. “I am sure worse has fallen upon others you dealt with.”
Sung looked up. “I only….” This time the shot was muffled. Sung fell on his side, his last word frozen on his lips. Chun straightened up and tossed the pistol onto Sung’s crumpled form. It had fulfilled its part of the bargain. He pulled out his beaten pack of French cigarettes. There was only one left. He grunted in amusement. “And so it ends.” He put the rough black paper of the Galois to his lips and drew it out of the pack. He threw the rubbish at Sung’s feet and hunted for a match. Behind him, the readout on Gayle’s warhead hit zero, two seconds before its partner.
The docks of Chanjon disappeared in the silent, searing white ball of Einstein’s nightmare. Buildings vaporized, their mass consumed by an expanding atomic maelstrom hungry for energy. Those not consumed were struck by the pressure wave. The shock wall of force blew structures into chunks of superheated radioactive debris. This gargantuan wreckage, suspended within a wall of flame, tore outward through the remainder of the town. Every tree and piece of vegetation within a five kilometer radius was shredded and burned by the hellish vortex. As the mushroom cloud rose on its poisonous column, the process began to reverse itself. Debris and fire was sucked back in by the violence of ascension.
40KM SOUTH OF CHANJON
Donovan was prepared when the sky above his head turned brilliant white. The Peninsula had done its job and created an umbra of shadow. He just had time to get a good grip on his flight-stick and collective controls before the shockwave ripped over them. The sudden increase of air pressure above them caused loss of lift in the rotor blades. The Hind plunged nose down towards the water. In the cargo compartment, any gear not secured shot to the ceiling. Donovan twisted his cyclic to full collective. Forward speed dropped rapidly as the blades fought to bite down and not forward. The cockpit filled with the din of warning buzzers and his control panel lit up like a Christmas tree as the engine struggled with all it had. Donovan remembered that Soviet engines had a terrible habit of failing just when you needed them the most. Gray green water filled his entire view. The roller coaster ride bottomed out ten feet from the ocean waves. The Hind pitched and swayed like a cork in a bathtub as turbulent eddies of air snaked around them, but it held its altitude.
Donovan keyed the intercom. “Everything okay back there?”
Sean groaned as he pushed kit bags off his legs and chest. Vomit spattered everything. “Still here, I think, or heaven is really into Soviet hardware.”
Yevgeny pulled himself painfully off the deck. He pointed an accusing finger at his fellow officer. “Vasilly, you were behind the good Captain with the turn of your key.”
Gayle nodded. “I thought the blast was too small.”
Sean looked at both of them like they were mad. “Too small? Too fucking small? You just vanished a city and you think the blast was too small.” He pulled himself back upright on his jump seat, his face sullen. “Bunch of fucking nutters, that’s what you are.”
In the cockpit, Donovan smiled to himself. The turbulence had died down as fast as it had been upon them. Behind them, the remains of Chanjon rained down on the coastline. Thank God he didn’t have to explain any of this to the powers above. For once, he was glad to be the support element.