Hassad shook his head. ‘Back there, the mine just goes deeper and deeper underground.’
‘It’s burning up over there.’
‘It’s the only way,’ Hassad snapped. ‘Otherwise, we die down here.’
He took a couple of paces forwards. The exit was made from an old metal fame, with a wooden door inside it. There was a padlock, but it didn’t look very strong. Hassad pushed his shoulder against it, then stepped back a couple of metres and charged the door. It snapped free on impact. The padlock broke away, and the rusty hinges collapsed, sending the door crashing to the ground. Porter followed Hassad through. Katie was still clinging to his back, wheezing heavily as a fresh blast of smoke hit them in the face. He was looking into a long thin room, maybe thirty metres deep by five across. A burst of heat hit him in the face. At the far end, he could see the lift that led down to the level below, but it was smashed to pieces and twisted beyond recognition. Flames were licking up from that level, creating the waves of heat that had hit him in the face. Behind the lift shaft, there was a thick, broad channel, reaching down into the mine, and above up to the night sky. Porter reckoned that must have been where the bunker-busting missile came in: its hardened, titanium nose would have pierced the ground, and then bored its way easily through the levels of the mine, before exploding viciously deep underground. Bunker-busters were designed to take out the reinforced concrete layers that protected nuclear or biological weapons: it was no surprise that it had shredded the mine like a carving knife through a sandwich.
Not many countries have access to bunker-busting technology, thought Porter.
But the British do. And the Israelis.
‘This way, quick,’ yelled Hassad. ‘We haven’t much time.’
Porter now saw he was pointing towards a corridor that led away from the main room.
Porter glanced around. The area near the lift where they had come in last night was clearly impassable. The missile had left a pile of burning debris. Even the rock looked redhot: touch it and it would set fire to you instantly. The timbers along the room had ignited and burnt, and the floor was now a smouldering mess of ash and embers. There was no way they could cross it. But the corridor Hassad was pointing to looked OK. If I can trust him, thought Porter.
Checking that Katie was secure on his back, Porter started to run across the open space towards the corridor. He could feel great waves of raw heat from the lift, and a couple more explosions rocked through the mine in quick succession. The ash and embers on the floor were burning into his feet: running as fast as he could, he could feel it singeing the soles of his trainers. The ground was vibrating all around him, and the walls were shaking. Another explosion, and then a vicious fountain of sparks shot upwards from the lift shaft like a display of fireworks. This mine can’t take much more punishment, Porter reflected grimly. Any moment now, the whole place is going to blow.
Hassad had already turned into the corridor. Porter ran after him. The tunnel was long and thin, twisting up and down through the rock. It was held in place by a series of wooden timbers, many of which were already burning. The heat was searing, like stepping straight into a microwave. Porter could feel the sweat dripping off his skin, and on his back, Katie was coughing viciously, the flannel across her face doing little to control the heavy fumes from the fires all around them.
They covered ten, twenty, then thirty metres. Porter wasn’t sure how much more he could take. The temperature was rising all the time. His head was throbbing and his vision was starting to blur: beyond a certain point, he knew that men just dropped from heat exhaustion.
‘We can’t make it much further,’ he shouted to Hassad.
‘Just another ten metres.’
Porter pressed on. He could see the tunnel opening up ahead. There was a wooden structure up in front of them, with flames already licking around it, and beyond that a rickety wooden staircase that had not yet caught fire. Behind him, the heat was growing more intense by the second, and he’d already heard the sound of rocks crashing to the ground. As they burnt, the timbers could no longer support the weight of the roof. It was groaning, threatening to collapse at any moment. Ignoring Katie’s cough, he pushed on harder, picking up the pace. There might only be seconds left before the whole place collapses, he told himself. Each step could well be the last one.
The wooden entrance was now covered in flames, and for a moment Porter paused. There was no way through, not without risking setting fire to yourself. Already, Hassad had ripped the shirt from his back. He was using it to beat back the flames, creating a space large enough for a single man. ‘Take her through,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll follow on behind.’
Porter threw himself past Hassad, and towards the staircase. It stretched up for ten steps or so.
Suddenly he heard a scream.
Hassad.
He was shouting something in Arabic.
Porter looked round.
Part of the wall had come away. Hassad was lying flat on the ground, a heavy timber pinning down his leg and his groin. Flames were licking along the wood, getting closer all the time. He tried to lever himself up so that he could push the timber away, but it was no use. He was trapped, and from the look on his face he knew it. Any moment now, he was going to die.
‘Help me,’ he shouted.
Porter rested Katie on the staircase. The flames hadn’t reached this far yet, but sparks were spitting all over the place, and the heat was intense so it might not be long before the steps went up as well. ‘You going to be OK?’
She nodded. ‘I …’
The words ended in another fit of coughing.
‘Just stay right there,’ said Porter. ‘Don’t try to move.’
He turned and ran back towards where Hassad was lying on the ground. The timber wasn’t that heavy — no more than a hundred pounds — but it was hot. More than half of it was alight now, and the sparks were spitting into Hassad’s leg. Porter grabbed it with both hands, and started to heave it away.
Then he paused. He looked straight at Hassad.
‘This is the second time I’ve saved your life,’ he said.
Hassad glanced towards him.
‘This time I want something in return,’ said Porter. ‘You have to help me get Katie out of here, and across the border.’
‘Just release me,’ shouted Hassad.
The flames were getting closer all the time. A couple of sparks spat on his clothes, singeing his skin. Porter could feel his own face burning up, and his cheeks reddening.
He lowered the burning timber just a fraction, so that it was still pinning Hassad down. ‘Give me your word.’
‘I’ll get her to the border, I swear it,’ screamed Hassad.
With a heave of his shoulders, Porter hoisted the timber up into the air, and tossed it clean away from Hassad’s legs. He reached down a hand, and grabbed hold of the man, pulling him up to his feet. ‘Then let’s get the fuck out of here,’ he said. ‘Before the whole bloody place collapses on top of us.’
TWENTY-THREE
Their way was blocked by what looked to Porter like no more than an old and rusty manhole cover. Unhooking the AK-47 still strapped to his back, and flipping the gun around, Porter smashed its butt into the disc, pushing it open. His hands grabbed the sides of the hole and he pulled himself up with one swift movement. He glanced anxiously around to see if anyone could see him, but the way was clear. Instantly, he plunged his hands back into the mine. ‘Grab hold of these,’ he shouted.
Katie was just below him, and had enough of her wits about her to grip on to Porter’s wrists. He pulled her sharply upwards, dragging her out onto the land. Hassad followed on swiftly behind them. ‘What do we do now?’ said Porter, his voice breathless.