"Quick, follow me," Taft whispered.
He grabbed Choi by his jacket and pushed him into a washed-out gully several feet away. Taft hit the ground seconds before the light swept across them. He sat upright just as soon as the light passed overhead.
"So far so good. The quake was designed to give us some time to undertake our escape," Taft noted as an aftershock rippled through the earth. "With their electronics systems barely functioning, it should be some time before they think to check on you." Choi watched in stunned silence as Taft quickly withdrew a global positioning system, or GPS, from his pack. He scanned the numbers, checking their exact location. Staring briefly at a plastic-covered map, Taft next glanced at the small compass on his wristwatch, then stuffed the GPS and map back in the pack.
"This way," he said quietly to Choi.
Choi struggled to keep pace with Taft, who made his way quickly down the gully. After a twenty-minute jog, Taft stopped and checked their location once again. Glancing at the moon, he took a northern fork of the gully. Two hundred yards later, the pair sighted the Shule River. The river was flooded with recent rains and the muddy water surged quickly past. Taft stopped and took his bearings again. After staring around for a second, he walked a few feet to the left then reached beneath a pile of brush at the water's edge and removed a metal folding shovel.
"Eureka," Taft said quietly.
Choi watched in amazement as Taft unfolded the shovel and began quickly digging in the sand of the river-bank. After removing two feet of sand overburden, Taft uncovered a four-foot-by-six-foot wooden crate. He dragged the box out of the hole and pried open the top with the shovel. Moving quickly now, he removed a package from the box and tossed it on the ground. Next he pulled a nylon cord lanyard. With a loud hiss a black rubber raft began to inflate. When the raft was partially inflated he pulled a strip running down the center. This released a catalyst into die bottom compartment, and he waited as the chemicals mixed and the floor became rigid.
"So far so good," Taft said, as he dug farther into the crate and removed a compact four-stroke outboard motor and an auxiliary fuel tank.
Taft looked at Choi, then into the box. "You want a cold beer?" Seeing the look of shock on Choi's face, Taft smiled. "Just having fun with you, pal," he said quietly.
Moving rapidly, Taft dragged the raft into the water. Wading in, he attached the motor to the stern, then placed the extra fuel tank in the rear. Taft climbed back onto the shore and threw the wooden crate in the hole and shoveled sand over the top. After smoothing the sand with the shovel, he brushed over the area with a tree limb to blend it in with the surrounding shoreline. Hoisting the shovel to his shoulder like an ax, he turned to the thoroughly stunned Choi. "How do you feel about boat rides?"
"They're okay," Choi stammered, still somewhat in shock.
"Good. Climb in," Taft said, wading in the river. Then he tossed the shovel inside and pulled the stem farther into the current.
"You ride in front," he said to Choi.
Choi settled into the bow as Taft, dripping water, climbed over the side at the stern. He settled into the seat and pulled the rope start for the motor. Firing on the first pull, it quietly settled into a low rumble.
Taft flicked the reverse gear on the motor body and backed the raft into the current. As the force of the current flipped the bow around and downstream, he flipped the gear box into forward and began to steer the raft downstream. In a matter of three minutes' time the raft was approaching speeds of thirty miles an hour.
Wrapping his arm around the tiller, Taft pushed a series of buttons on his watch again. When he finished, he throttled the outboard to full speed. The wind from the raft shooting downstream was whipping Choi's hair as he turned in his bow seat and glanced back at Taft. The American was staring straight downriver. A dull glow was emanating from his icy blue eyes as he steered the raft carefully through the narrow rock canyons. Although Choi could not hear over the muffled roar of the engine and the sound of the water slapping against the hull, Taft's lips were pursed.
It appeared he was whistling.
CHAPTER 5
In the nerve center of the Qinghai facility it was absolute chaos. The portable radios carried by the guards were powered by batteries, so they could still communicate with each other, but the power surge that occurred when the transformers exploded had fried the main radio terminal. Those in command were having a tough time making their wishes heard.
It was nearly an hour before the guards could be organized.
One hour and twenty minutes after the explosion, as Taft and Choi were speeding down the Shule River in the outboard-powered raft, a guard finally made his way to Choi's cell.
"Zhou, wake up," the relief guard, Ping Chowluk, said, shaking the lifeless guard who lay on the concrete.
Rolling Zhou to his back caused the dead guard's head to flop to one side. Ping noticed the purple bruise on the side of Zhou's face where his blood had settled after death. Zhou's tongue was thrust through his teeth in a death grimace. The body was already cooling.
When Ping approached Choi's cell, he found the door slightly ajar. He pushed it open and peered inside.
The cell was empty. Choi was nowhere to be seen.
Running down the hall, Ping swooped his hand down and picked up a piece of paper. He dashed up the stairs leading outside and sprinted across the courtyard to the main security office for the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility. Bursting inside the office, he shouted to Hu Jimn, the officer in charge.
"Zhou is dead," Ping said, panting from the run, "and Choi has escaped."
"That bastard," Jimn grunted. "The power surge from the earthquake must have unlocked his cell door. Let's just hope he didn't get far."
Jimn rolled his chair across the tile floor to the back-up communications radio and began to issue orders into a microphone. "All guards outside. Begin a sweep of the fence perimeter, we have a missing prisoner." Jimn then switched channels and spoke again.
"Chang!" he shouted into the microphone.
Jimn's second-in-command, Chang Yibo, answered instantly. "Yes sir."
"Where are you right now?"
"Enrichment facility one," Yibo said into his hand-held radio.
"Go to the barracks and wake all the off-duty guards. I want you to divide the men into groups of two to search all the buildings from top to bottom," Jimn shouted.
"What are we looking for?" Yibo asked.
"The scientist Choi has escaped," Jimn said.
"Do you think he's still on the property?" Yibo asked.
"We have no way of knowing until we search," Jimn said loudly. Turning back to Ping, he asked, "Did you notice anything unusual in Choi's cell?"
"Only this, but it was in the hallway outside," Ping said. He handed Jimn the British five-pound note he had picked up from the hallway outside the cell.
"Odd," Jimn said quietly as he pocketed the note. Then he returned to radioing instructions to the search teams.
Half of the buildings at the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility had been searched when one of the guards walking the fence perimeter radioed Jimn that he had found a hole scooped out under the outer fence.
"Do you see tracks?" Jimn asked.
"Yes sir," the guard quickly replied.
Jimn ran from the security office, arriving at the hole in a matter of minutes.
"There were tumbleweeds placed over the opening. Our dog dug them out," the guard told Jimn.
Jimn slipped under the fence and followed the footprints for a few yards to the east. Shining his flashlight on the larger footprints, he examined the sole markings carefully.