First Strike (5 page)

The dark figures closest to Jade—the ones who had shouted to Mr Chang—opened fire. But they weren't shooting at Jade, Rich, Chance and Mr Chang. They were firing into the woodland, driving back the pursuing rebels.

The truck was still approaching. Its remaining headlight exploded and the windscreen shattered. It slewed off the road.

“This way!” Mr Chang shouted, leading them across the road and into the trees on the other side.

“Keep running,” Chance yelled. “There's a clearing in a few hundred metres.”

“Who are these people?” Jade gasped, looking at the dark figures running with them.

They were dressed in black—not uniforms, but jeans and jerseys. Their faces were smeared with dark camouflage paint.

“My brother-in-law and his friends,” Mr Chang called back to her as they ran.

“But how did they know…”

Jade broke off as she felt a small hand grab her own. She looked down to see Yoshi grinning up at her. His face was also smeared black and he was wearing a dark jersey several sizes too large for him.

“Oh,” said Jade. “Right. Hi, Yoshi. And thanks!”

“Nice one!” Rich exclaimed, and slapped the small boy on the back—almost knocking him over. But Yoshi just laughed.

They kept running. They could see torch lights behind them and flashes from gun muzzles. Bullets hammered into the ground and the trunks of the trees. One of the black-clad figures gave a yell and pitched forwards. Immediately he was grabbed by two of his friends. One hoisted him on to his shoulder and they kept going, returning fire as they went.

From above came the sound of an engine. A searchlight cut through the night, lighting up the woodland. It seemed to hover a short distance ahead of them.

“Helicopter!” Chance shouted.

They burst out of the woods into a wide clearing. The helicopter was just landing in front of them.

“It's not big enough for all of us,” Jade yelled above the sound of the rotors.

“We will hold off the rebels until you are gone,” Mr Chang shouted back. “Don't worry about us. We know these woods and can vanish into them like that.” The snap of his fingers was lost in the noise.

The black-clad fighters had taken up position round the clearing and were firing back into the woodland.

“Time for you to go!” Mr Chang shouted. He shook hands with Chance, then with Rich and Jade.

“Will Yoshi be OK?” Jade asked.

As she spoke, a rebel in camouflage uniform broke from the woods off to one side. Somehow he had got through Mr Chang's cordon. He brought up his gun, aiming at the helicopter.

But before he could fire, a small, dark figure slammed into him. There was a whirl of arms and the gun went flying. The rebel landed on his back, and lay still.

“I think he'll be fine, Jade,” said Rich as Yoshi ran back towards them.

Yoshi stopped in front of them, and bowed. Rich and
Jade quickly bowed back. Chance reached out and shook Yoshi's hand. Then he turned to Mr Chang and said something to him. But Jade didn't hear above the gunfire and the helicopter.

A man had jumped down from the helicopter and was waving for them to hurry up. It was Dex Halford—a colleague of their father's that Jade and Rich knew well. They'd been in some pretty tight situations together. Despite being invalided out of the SAS when he lost a leg below the knee, Halford was still a tough professional.

“Come on!” Chance shouted. “Let's not keep the taxi waiting.”

They ran for the helicopter, ducking low to avoid the whirling rotor blades. Halford helped them inside.

“Good to see you.”

Chance leaned over to say something to Halford, speaking close to his ear. Halford shook his head.

“What is it?” Rich asked.

The helicopter was beginning to lift. Jade waved to Mr Chang and Yoshi through the open door.

“Why are they waiting there?” she wondered. “Why don't they get under cover like everyone else?”

Halford was still talking urgently to Chance, hand on his shoulder. Now it was Chance's turn to shake his head.
Then he turned to Rich and Jade. “Enjoy the White House!” he yelled above the growing noise of the engines. “If I'm not back in time, Dex can take you!”

“What?!” Jade shouted back.

“Unfinished business.”

“What do you mean?” Rich demanded. “You're coming with us.”

The helicopter was three metres off the ground and rising.

John Chance smiled at his children. He nodded at Dex Halford, and leaped from the open door down to the ground receding below. He rolled like a paratrooper and was back on his feet. He turned to wave just once, then he was running for cover with Yoshi and Mr Chang as the rebel soldiers burst out of the woodland, guns blazing.

The helicopter search light went off, and it turned in the darkness. Keeping low to avoid being detected by radar, it headed for the nearest border.

“Sometimes,” Jade told Rich, “I could kill him.”

He nodded. “Let's hope no one beats us to it.”

The Davison Hotel in Washington DC was a stark contrast to the accommodation in Wiengwei. Rich and Jade each had their own suite of rooms, with a connecting
door between them. Halford had another suite across the corridor.

Although he'd managed to get some sleep on the flight, Rich was tired. He had a shower, then collapsed into bed. When he was woken by the sound of his bedside phone, he was surprised to see he'd been asleep for several hours. They had arrived in the early morning, and it was now past lunch time.

He grabbed the phone, expecting it to be the hotel manager welcoming him and telling him how good the place was. Instead Rich heard a voice he recognised.

“Hi there, sleepyhead. Your sister and Mr Halford are wondering if you're up to a quick tour of the sights.”

Chuck White was waiting with Halford and Jade in the hotel lobby. He was a big, broad-shouldered man and Rich knew he was in the Secret Service team that protected the US President. Rich didn't think he'd ever seen Chuck White out of a suit or uniform. Now he was wearing jeans and a casual jacket.

“Got today off,” he told Rich, shaking his hand warmly. “Thought I'd offer to be your tour guide, if you're up to it. Been to Washington before?”

Despite living in the USA for years with their mum, Rich and Jade had only been to Washington DC once
before, and that was years ago. They gratefully accepted the offer of a tour.

“Is Kate Hunter joining us?” Jade wondered.

They'd got to know both Chuck and Kate just recently, and even been stranded in the deserts of Iraq together.

Rich was disappointed when Chuck shook his head. “She's out of town, I'm afraid. Taking care of a little business in New York State.” Chuck clapped his hands together. “So, where do you guys want to start? Lincoln Memorial? Smithsonian? We even have an International Spy Museum down near Chinatown.”

“No, thanks,” Halford told him. “We're on holiday. No spying allowed.”

In the conference room of a rather less expensive hotel in upstate New York, a meeting was taking place.

A dozen men and several women sat round a large conference table that was peppered with cigarette burns and stained with coffee rings. They waited with a mixture of nervousness and excitement for the man who had just come into the room to speak.

He was average height, with very ordinary short brown hair. His face was the sort that people immediately forgot as soon as they looked away. He had no distinctive
features at all, except for his voice.

When he spoke it was a sound somewhere between a croak and a whisper. Everyone in the room leaned forward slightly, eager to catch every word he said. His voice was quiet, commanding and frightening.

“I lied,” the man said, standing at the head of the conference table. He waited for his words to sink in. “Now that Tom has collected all your cell phones, and we're about to get on the bus, I can tell you what's really going on.”

The man leaned forward, knuckles pressing down on the table. “We all know that the new cold war has already started. And if we don't heat it up, the Chinese sure as hell will. They've already started by holding our airmen without trial. Hell, they won't even admit they've got them.”

There were murmurs of agreement here. Susie, who'd been in the National Guard, thumped the table.

The man waited for quiet before he continued: “There's no longer just one superpower in the world. And if we don't stamp down hard, and fast, the Chinese will be ahead of us. We're deep in a recession. We're losing jobs, companies, manufacturing capabilities, resources. America is bleeding to death, and no one in Washington
gives a damn. They won't even lift a finger to get our boys back. That tells you everything.”

He looked around, pleased to see the attentive faces. The men were nodding. The woman at the back of the room with the long, dark hair was watching him carefully. She looked impressed, and he liked that. She'd only been with them a few weeks, but she'd come highly recommended.

Even so, the man didn't trust her. Until they proved themselves, really proved themselves, he trusted no one. It was a philosophy that had kept him alive and out of prison. But even without that, there was something about the woman that made him uneasy. He'd definitely be keeping a close eye on her in the hours ahead…

“The fight back starts here, and it starts now. You know that,” the man went on. “But like I said—I lied. We've been training for weeks now for this mission. And you think our target is that weak-brained Senator O'Donnaldson-Smythe. Hell, even his name screams ‘liberal', don't it? Yet he backs China against the freedom fighters in Wiengwei, the heroic rebels who've been so supportive of our cause, our fight against the Red Death.”

“So, if it ain't the Senator…?” Hank from Tennessee asked.

“Nope, not the Senator. He can have his little party tomorrow in peace and quiet and never know how close he came to being a hostage in his own home. We have a new target, ladies and gentlemen. The floor plans and schematics you've all learned are not the Senator's house. They're not quite the place we're really going either, in case that gave things away. I have new ones for you to look at now, but you'll find they're actually very similar. We've been planning this for a while. And now we're going after a bigger, even more dangerous fish, my friends.”

Jefferson Kent straightened up and folded his arms. He looked round the table, making eye contact with everyone in turn. Especially the woman at the back.

When the tension was so thick you could cut it, Jefferson Kent told them what they were going to do. What they'd
really
been training for. And he was pleased to see that even the dark-haired woman's eyes widened and her face paled with shock.

The huge lorries of the Chinese army convoy looked like tiny toys as they snaked their way along the narrow, twisting road through the valley.

It had taken Chance and Mr Chang a whole day to find the warheads. Mr Chang had left Yoshi with his sister, before he and Chance checked each of the several possible routes back to safer Chinese territory. Now they watched through binoculars from the top of one of the high cliffs overlooking the road.

“Not far now,” said Mr Chang. “Another few hours and they will be out of the more dangerous areas where the rebels still operate, and back in safer Chinese territory.”

“I hope they aren't getting complacent because of that,” Chance told him.

“They look well guarded.”

There were trucks full of Chinese troops between the three large lorries. What the lorries carried was hidden under huge tarpaulins stretched over their cargo, but Chance was sure it had to be the warheads. What else could it be—the size and the number was about right, and the heavy guard contingent meant it was important. The fact it was material heading out of Wiengwei and away from the conflict zone was another indication. Most Chinese military supplies were being brought
into
the war zone.

“So what do we do now?” Mr Chang asked.

“We watch. Make sure they make it home. With luck we won't have to do any more than that.”

Mr Chang nodded. “We should move on.”

They headed back to Mr Chang's car, parked far back from the edge of the cliff so as to be well out of sight from below. There was a narrow track along the cliff top. Further on, according to Mr Chang's map, it zig-zagged down to meet the road at the valley floor. But the track was too narrow and too steep for the military vehicles. Chance hoped it wouldn't turn out to be too narrow or steep for the car. If it started—they should have left it running, he thought.

The engine protested, but caught on the third attempt. The car belched black exhaust fumes into the afternoon, before lurching unevenly along the rough track.

The explosion was so powerful it shook the car. Mr Chang braked hard and the car skidded to a halt in a cloud of pale dust.

Chance was out of the vehicle even before it had stopped. He ran to the edge of the cliff, dropping to the ground as he neared the edge. Then he crawled the last few metres and peered over, down into the valley.

The lead truck was on fire and strips of canvas floated down through the air. The road was blocked with the charred, burning shell of the vehicle. Men were shouting, running. The flatbed lorry at the back of the convoy was trying to reverse, its trailer slewing across the road.

“Landmine?” Mr Chang asked, joining Chance.

Chance shook his head. “No crater. And the main damage is at the top of the truck. Rocket-propelled grenade more likely.”

“Which means the rebels are here.”

Chance pointed across the valley. There was a flash from behind one of the bushes that grew sparsely on the steep banks. “You got those binoculars handy?”

“Surely they will detonate the warheads if they destroy the trucks,” said Mr Chang. “We should get away from here, fast.”

Chance shook his head. “The warheads will survive the explosions and fire. They need to be primed and activated to go off. Which is good news because I doubt if your car can outrun a nuclear explosion!”

“A good point,” Mr Chang conceded, handing Chance the binoculars.

The other side of the valley was suddenly alive with flashes of gunfire. Chinese soldiers dived for better cover. Several were hit in the first volleys and fell to the ground. Chance could hear the commander shouting orders as the Chinese soldiers returned fire. But the rebels were well dug in, and the convoy was a sitting target.

The lorry in the middle of the convoy lurched forwards, smashing into the burning remains of the lead truck. For a moment it looked as though the flatbed lorry would push the truck aside and clear a path for the convoy to escape.

But then there was a streak of flame from high on the side of the valley.

“Incoming,” Chance muttered.

The missile hit the side of the cab and the whole front
of the flatbed lorry exploded into fragments. The blast twisted the trailer round and tipped it on its side. There was no way the convoy could advance now.

Then a second later, the truck at the back of the convoy exploded. The remaining lorries and a number of soldiers were trapped between the burning vehicles.

“Tell me,” said Chance to Mr Chang, “have you ever heard of the Seventh Cavalry?”

“Anything to do with Custer's Last Stand?” Mr Chang asked.

“That's the one. We'd better see what we can do to help.”

They ran back to Mr Chang's car. The engine was still running, and Chance got into the driver's seat. Mr Chang frowned, but said nothing.

As the car pulled away, Mr Chang asked, “Why didn't they destroy all the vehicles?”

“They need to keep one flatbed lorry intact to drive a warhead or two away. The Chinese commander will have called in air support. They're on a schedule now and they're running out of time. They have an hour if they're lucky.”

“So, we have to slow them down until help arrives.”

“Exactly.”

“How do we do that? What's the plan?”

Chance was concentrating on the road as they raced along the narrow track. “Ask me in an hour.”

Ahead, the track turned and dipped over the edge of the cliff. It was a point where vehicles needed to slow and edge cautiously down the steep slope.

Chance changed down a gear, then floored the accelerator.

The car leaped forward, the sound of its engine deepening. The track disappeared from view for a moment as the car left the ground. Then it slammed down, and the track was twisting ahead of them. Chance spun the wheel, slewing the car into the first tight bend, then back the other way into the next hairpin.

They were bouncing and sliding. The car missed one of the bends completely and careered on down the slope to rejoin the track at the next tight turn. Dislodged stones and rocks scattered and rolled ahead of them. A bullet cracked into the windscreen as they approached the convoy—though whether it had been fired by the Chinese troops or the rebels it was impossible to tell.

The glass crazed, and Chance shoved it away with the flat of his hand, knocking a large hole in the windshield. The car finally skidded to a halt beside the burning cab of the front flatbed lorry. It stalled.

Chance's door was jammed shut, bent out of shape where it had skimmed the side of the lorry. He clambered quickly across and out the other side, following Mr Chang.

“Tell them to hold their position,” Chance yelled at Mr Chang. “Tell them they just have to hold out till help arrives. Keep under cover and hold off the rebels.”

One of the Chinese soldiers was shouting back at them. The man dashed across to the shelter of the wrecked lorry.

“He says he's in charge and wants to know who we are,” Mr Chang told Chance.

“Tell him we were just passing and thought they could use some help.”

Mr Chang spoke to the commander, who stared back at him for a moment in disbelief. Then he laughed, and spoke rapidly in reply.

“He doesn't believe me, but he says he can tell we aren't rebels because we have a sense of humour.”

“Guess he won't have us shot then.”

The commander laughed again as Mr Chang translated. But his humour did not last. The rebels were coming down the valley side, picking their way closer, running from one area of cover to the next.

“We have to stop them getting the warheads,” Chance shouted above the increasing gunfire. “Just one of them is enough to devastate a major city.”

Mr Chang shook his head as he passed that on and the commander replied. “He says that even though we are worryingly well-informed about his cargo, we must think he is stupid. They knew a long time ago the rebels were after the warheads, and prepared for the eventuality.”

“What do you mean?” Chance ducked as a bullet pinged off the broken metal close to his head. “Aren't the warheads on these trucks?”

“Yes,” said Mr Chang, translating. “The warheads are too valuable to abandon unless they have to. But all the nuclear material was all removed and flown back to Beijing weeks ago.”

It was Chance's turn to laugh. “Then what are we waiting for? If these are off the DK 5s we saw, the warheads have a remote trigger. We can set them to think they're about to impact, and they'll explode. If we build in a delay, we can get away and leave the warheads here to detonate when the rebels arrive at the trucks.”

The commander frowned as Mr Chang passed that on. He pulled out a radio and started shouting urgently into it.

“He didn't know that,” Mr Chang told Chance. “He's trying to find an engineer.”

“Who needs an engineer?” said Chance. “Come on!”

Ignoring the shouted protests of the Chinese commander, Chance hauled himself up on to the flatbed trailer. The tarpaulin was scarred and burned, but intact. Chance pulled out a large hunting knife from a holster on his belt and sliced though the heavy material. Then he pushed his way inside.

There was just enough light to see. The warheads were still fitted within the nose cones of the missiles; it was as if they had just been sheared off. Using the tip of his knife, Chance quickly undid a locking screw and eased open an inspection cover. Behind it was a small display screen and a series of switches. They were labelled with Chinese characters.

“Mr Chang!” Chance yelled. “I'm going to need some language help here.”

Chance pointed to switches, asking what they were. Then he began to work.

“It will take forever to set each warhead,” said Mr Chang as Chance closed the final switch in the sequence. The display flashed up ‘180', which became ‘179', then ‘178'.

“Don't need to. One per load will do it.”

“Even so, how long will that take?”

“Now I've worked out the sequence? Shouldn't be more than a couple of minutes.”

The hardest part was getting to the last lorry. The rebels were almost on them. The Chinese commander ordered his men to give Chance covering fire, and he disappeared into the dark space beneath the tarpaulin. A few seconds later he was out again.

“I set that one for less than one minute,” he shouted. “Time to retreat.”

“Well past time,” Mr Chang yelled back as together with the surviving soldiers they ran back towards the remains of the lead vehicles. “I estimate thirty seconds till the first one blows.”

“Better take the car then.”

Chance leaped through the open passenger door of Mr Chang's car, flinging himself across to the driver's seat. The commander was shouting orders to his men, and several of them piled into the back of Chang's car. More clung to the sides and the open back doors. Bullets rattled off the back of the car—catching one of the soldiers who twisted and fell away with a cry.

Chance turned the key in the ignition. The engine
caught first time and roared into life.

“Hey,” said Mr Chang, “I think you fixed it!”

Then the car screeched away. Smaller than the military vehicles, there was just enough room for it to get past the burning remains of the front lorry. Chance accelerated away. In the cracked rear-view mirror he could see the rebels swarming over the flatbeds, waving their guns in triumph.

Then the warheads exploded in sequence. The first one that Chance had set went first. The massive blast set off the others in the same load, and the valley was filled with flame and smoke. Chance could feel the heat of it as the shockwave bounced the car forwards down the valley.

Then the second flatbed lorry exploded. The third went off almost simultaneously and a huge ball of fire filled the sky. Black smoke billowed up, blotting out the valley walls.

The Chinese commander leaned into the car and spoke to Mr Chang.

“He says we can leave him and his men here and they will wait for the air support. He thinks they will find him easily now.”

“He's not wrong,” Chance agreed.

“He says the rebels will not be happy now that, how do
you say it? The birds have flown.”

Chance laughed. “That's true too.”

Then his laughter died away as he remembered what Ralph had said to Rich. “If the birds have flown, they will try for the Football.” He slammed his fists into the steering wheel in anger. “That's what he meant. Of course. And I'm probably too late to stop it now.”

“What are you talking about, my friend?”

“Forget a few disarmed nuclear warheads,” Chance told him. “If the Wiengwei rebels have a plan to get the Football, then the whole world is in danger!”