Rhonda knows human exposure to weapons-grade uranium-235 radiation will cause health problems, but it becomes really dangerous when it’s inhaled. One lungful means a litany of ongoing medical issues, cancer and kidney failure being the tip of the iceberg. More concentrated exposure will kill an adult within a week. That’s the reason it’s one of the rarest and most heavily protected materials on the planet. Governments built fortresses to safeguard it on Earth, but not in orbit. In orbit the Russians had discarded a graveyard of satellites brimming with the stuff — at least 1300 kilograms at last count.
‘What do you want that satellite for?’
‘So the nuclear material within it can be dispersed at a designated target.’
His comment is so matter-of-fact that it takes a moment for Rhonda to register its gravity. The Frenchman is planning some kind of attack and that old Russian satellite is his weapon of mass destruction. She shudders to contemplate the damage it could inflict. The RORSAT’s radioactive cargo had the potential to kill thousands of people and make a large area uninhabitable, like Chernobyl or Fukushima Daiichi, for generations to come, with disastrous, long-term health consequences for any survivors.
Involuntarily her jaw clenches. As far as Rhonda is concerned she is responsible. Atlantis is her ship and all of this happened on her watch so it is her duty to put it right.
‘So what’s the designated target?’
The Frenchman doesn’t look at her. ‘All will become apparent in the fullness of time.’
24
The black Tiger streaks across the orange horizon.
‘Where in hell is it?’ Dirk can’t locate the Loach and it’s pissing him off. After removing its rear hatch from the handgrip on the Tiger’s windscreen, a job that had taken the better part of fifteen minutes, they hadn’t been able to find the yellow chopper again.
Dirk checks the scope in the Tiger’s instrument panel but nothing shows up. ‘How did we miss it?’
In front of him Big Bird tries to remain upbeat: ‘It’s not a surprise. This state is six times bigger than Great Britain —’
‘It’s not a state, it’s the Northern Territory.’
‘State, territory. English is my third language, give me a break.’
Dirk knows they should speak German but he doesn’t want to because, apart from Henri’s directive for the multinational crew to use English, he had long ago realised that if he spoke English with a mid-Atlantic accent people were less likely to recognise him than if he spoke German. Of course he doesn’t tell Big Bird this. He’d never told anyone the truth about his past, not even Henri, and he wants to keep it that way. The German feels that in their business, anonymity is essential. The less people know about you and your previous lives, the less that could be used against you down the track.
That’s why he must find Judd Bell. Not only is Dirk sure the astronaut has worked out that the shuttle is going to land out here and will relay that information to the wider world, he’s also sure he will tell that world he is one of the Atlantis hijackers when he does. Dirk treasures the life he has built since he cut down the oak and will not give it up without a fight.
Big Bird’s voice rattles in his headset. ‘We’re low on fuel, need to head back.’
Dirk knows he should have dealt with Judd Bell when they first met on the launch pad but he hesitated in the low light, didn’t want to accidentally put a bullet through the Jacolby woman. So the astronaut escaped into the elevator and lived. Then Dirk missed him a further, what, how many times? Christ, it didn’t bear thinking about. The problem is, he wants to eliminate the astronaut personally, without involving the crew, but now he has no choice but to enlist help.
‘All right, take us back.’
Big Bird pulls the Tiger into a steep bank as Dirk slides a satellite phone out his jacket pocket, flips out the antenna, dials and pushes it as close to his right ear as his helmet permits. The phone rings then is answered by a distant male voice: ‘Yes.’
‘It’s Dirk. Can you hear me?’
‘Just.’
‘Okay, listen carefully.’
25
In a swirl of dust the Loach lands close to a long, single-storey building. Adjacent is a dish antenna that measures about 20 metres in diameter. The last of the sunset illuminates both structures, the building’s paint faded and cracked, the dish stained with bronze streaks of rust. Welcome to the Kinabara Dish Complex.
Judd’s heart thumps with excitement as he slides out of the chopper and jog-runs to the building’s entrance. He hears something behind him and glances back. The Australian and the dog follow. Corey carries his lucky bucket.
‘Need water. Dog’s thirsty.’
Judd nods, turns back to the building as a tall man in his mid-forties steps out of the entrance, torch in hand. He approaches. ‘G’day, Doug Michaels.’
Judd extends a hand and they shake. ‘Judd Bell, NASA.’
‘Got word you were on the way. Thought you’d be here earlier.’
‘We were — waylaid. Is there a satellite phone here?’
‘Sure.’
‘Fantastic.’
It takes a moment before Doug realises Judd wants to use it right now. ‘Well, let’s get it for you then.’
Judd nods, starts towards the building, gestures to Corey. ‘Also, we need some water.’
‘No problem.’ Doug holds out his hand for the bucket.
Corey doesn’t want to give it to him. ‘I can get it.’
‘Only authorised personnel allowed inside. Sorry.’
Corey won’t pass it over. Judd stops walking, sighs. ‘It’s his lucky — bucket. I — ummm.’ He doesn’t know how to explain it any better than that. He turns to Corey. ‘Just give it to him.’
Corey reluctantly hands it over. Doug takes it and turns to Judd. ‘Let’s get you that phone.’
‘Yes.’ They move towards the building.
Corey watches them go. ‘I’ll just wait here then.’ He turns, wanders back to the Loach, Spike in tow. ‘It was like Mandy was embarrassed by us.’
Spike barks.
‘Okay, by me.’ He points at the chopper. ‘Get in. We’re not staying long.’
Doug leads Judd down the dark hallway. ‘Lucky bucket?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where’d you find him?’
‘He found me.’
Doug’s torch plays across the green linoleum floor. It looks like the stuff Judd’s father used to keep under his Alfa Romeo to stop the dripping oil from staining the cement garage floor. ‘No lights?’
‘Plenty of lights, not enough bulbs. Place was decommissioned in the early nineties. I should’ve thought to bring some.’ He shakes his head at the oversight. ‘We were in a bit of a rush to get here.’
‘Been here long?’
‘About six hours. Gotta say I was surprised when I heard. Didn’t think it was possible to steal a shuttle.’
‘Neither did I.’
They turn a corner and Doug props at a doorway, looks into a large room. The only light inside glows from a computer screen. An old one. Green monochrome illuminates a young woman’s sharp features.
‘Any joy?’
She shakes her head but her eyes don’t leave the screen. ‘This dish will not move. The track must be seized. Looks like we’ll need to go out there and help it along if we’re going to realign it. And this computer — Alzheimer’s patients have more memory.’ The woman looks up from the screen, sees Judd. ‘Oh, hey. Finally got here, huh?’