‘That’s only a bit less insane! But it worked, I suppose.’
‘And we’re both still alive.’ She stood, helping him to his feet. ‘The explosion took out the road behind us, so nobody can follow.’
Eddie looked across the valley. The SUV, troop truck and last remaining TEL were distant sparks in the blackness as they approached the airbase. ‘There’s only one way we can go, though — down there.’
‘I know.’ Nina sighed grimly. ‘Great. So we’ve got another kamikaze mission, then?’
‘The first one’s always the hardest,’ he said with a wry, tired grin. ‘The next one’s a doddle.’ He faced the transporter again. ‘It won’t be safe to drive like that. How did you lift the crane?’
‘There’s a control panel at the back.’
‘Okay, do the opposite of whatever you did and bring it back down again. I’ll get it ready to go.’ He collected the rifle, then they went to the two ends of the TEL.
Without the huge weight of the missile upon them, the erector arms lowered considerably faster than they had risen. One had been buckled by the falling rocket, preventing it from returning to its bed. ‘That’ll have to do,’ Eddie called to Nina as it ground against the transporter’s side. She shut it down, then ran to join him as he put the truck back into gear and revved the engine. ‘You ready?’
She looked down at the airfield. The remnants of Kang’s convoy had arrived at the great white cross of the Antonov, ready to load the last missile aboard the giant aircraft. A nod, with a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘Let’s finish this.’
45
Colonel Kang watched with angry impatience as the transporter backed towards the Antonov. The enormous Russian cargo aircraft had opened the clamshell rear doors beneath its tail and lowered a ramp to the runway, but the TEL was not preparing to drive inside. Instead, it was positioning itself beneath the rails running the length of the cavernous hold’s ceiling so the missile could be winched up and transferred to a waiting cradle. So huge was the An-124 that it could easily accommodate all three rockets with plenty of room to spare for the ancillary equipment that was also going to their Saudi buyers… but this one would be making the trip alone. A second explosion from the mountain had told the Korean that another missile had been destroyed.
The Arabs wouldn’t be happy about that, but as Mikkelsson had pointed out, the Hwasong-15s themselves were the least valuable and most easily replaced part of the weapon system. The most valuable parts were being loaded aboard right now, Captain Sek and his men taking the trio of warheads and their plutonium cores to the front of the hold. The soldiers would travel with them to Saudi Arabia to ensure that the nuclear materials arrived as agreed — and also to guard them with their lives in case the Russian aircrew had been co-opted by the CIA, or simply decided to hold the bombs ransom. Trust of outsiders was a rare thing in North Korea.
Kang had decided to take the flight himself. Part of his reasoning was to oversee the transfer personally and make sure nothing else went wrong. A second part was his desire to stay away from his superiors in Pyongyang for as long as possible; the obliteration of Facility 17 by foreign spies was a failure that could lead to an instant execution — or, if he had displeased the Supreme Commander sufficiently, a prolonged and agonising one. At the very least, successfully transferring the surviving missile and all three warheads to the Saudis, and returning with their payment, might keep him alive.
The third part of the cargo was being loaded by a forklift. Two wooden crates contained some of Mikkelsson’s gold bars. ‘Now, you will keep them safe, won’t you?’ asked the Icelander from beside him.
‘Of course,’ Kang replied. ‘As safe as if they were my own.’
Mikkelsson gave him a small smile. ‘I am glad we were able to reach an agreement.’ He was holding the small Crucible. A close examination of the dense crystal had reassured him that there was nothing that could be used to track its location, while the undoubtedly bugged carrying case had been discarded. ‘If you wish, I will arrange for an associate of mine to meet you in Saudi Arabia. He can take care of any financial transactions you may wish to make. For a modest percentage.’
The colonel nodded. ‘That would be very helpful, yes. And… a Swiss bank account?’
‘He can assist you with that too.’
‘Good. Good.’ Kang glanced across at the small jet that the ashen-faced Sarah was boarding. A pair of soldiers strained to lift a box holding more gold bars aboard. ‘Your wife,’ he said, more out of a sense of obligation to his benefactor than any particular interest in her well-being. ‘Will she be all right? The news about your daughter…’
‘Sarah will be fine,’ Mikkelsson replied. ‘In time. As will I.’ His jaw muscles tightened with restrained emotion.
‘My condolences,’ said the Korean dispassionately. He turned back to the Antonov. Several chains had been attached to the missile, the aircraft’s internal hoist lifting it from the TEL. He was about to order the Russians to speed up the process when his driver called to him from the nearby SUV. ‘What is it?’
‘Colonel, an urgent message from the airfield’s perimeter guards,’ the man replied.
‘I will let you take care of it,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘I assume we have clearance to leave?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Kang told him with a dismissive wave.
‘Then I shall bid you goodbye. Thank you, Colonel. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.’ The tall blond man headed to the jet.
Kang took the radio handset. ‘What is it?’
‘Sir,’ said the soldier at the other end of the line, ‘a missile transporter is coming down the mountain road.’
‘What?’ Surely it had been destroyed?
‘It’s about a kilometre away. What do you want us to do?’
‘Does it still have a missile aboard?’
A pause, then: ‘No, sir. It’s coming very quickly, though.’
An unpleasant realisation struck Kang, echoing his own desire to avoid facing his superiors. If his men were still in control of the transporter, the last thing they would do after allowing their cargo to be destroyed was rush to tell him. ‘Under no circumstances are you to let that vehicle through the perimeter!’ he snapped. ‘Use all means necessary to stop it. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly, sir,’ came the reply.
Kang tossed the handset back into the SUV and hurried to the Antonov. ‘Get this thing aboard, now! Move faster!’
The loadmaster overseeing the operation was Russian. He might not have understood Korean, but the officer’s urgency was clear. ‘What is rush?’ he asked in halting English.
‘We are under attack!’ Kang growled in kind. ‘We must leave, fast. Tell the pilot to start the engines. We go when the missile is aboard!’
‘No, no,’ said the loadmaster, shaking his head. ‘Missile has to be secured, yes? Cargo strapped down. All safety checks, pre-flight checks, you know? Take twenty minute, thirty minute.’
The colonel drew his sidearm and pushed the muzzle into the other man’s stomach. ‘We go when the missile is aboard,’ he repeated.
The Russian went pale. ‘Okay…’ he said slowly. ‘Three minute?’
The transporter thundered down the road, sweeping around the last of the hillside’s curves on to the relatively flat ground leading to the airbase. Without the missile’s weight, the TEL was considerably more responsive, though it would never break any speed records.
It was still not fast enough for Eddie’s liking, either. ‘Shit! They’ve got the fucking thing loaded,’ he said. Beyond the perimeter fence he could see the runway, the Antonov at its far end. Even from this distance, it was clear that the missile was no longer on the transporter.