Выбрать главу

Chin-Hwa nodded, and followed the government worker out of the room and along a succession of corridors that all seemed identical. In all the time he had been coming here, Chin-Hwa had never managed to learn his way around. Sometimes he wondered if the place had been built like that on purpose.

Finally the government worker stopped outside another door and knocked respectfully before opening it.

'The scientist,' he announced to whoever was waiting inside. He stepped aside and allowed Chin-Hwa to enter.

There were four people in the room, the same four Chin-Hwa met with every time he came here. They wore suits that marked them out as high-ranking government men, but Chin-Hwa had immediately recognized them from their pictures in the newspaper when they had first met. The most important of them — the man to whom they all seemed to defer — sat at the head of the table. Behind him was a large picture.

Everybody in North Korea recognized the man in that picture. Kim Il Sung — president until his death in 1994, when his son Kim Jong Il succeeded him as leader and declared his father Eternal President of the Republic. His picture hung at every train station and in every school; there were more than 800 statues of the Eternal President scattered around the country. Not knowing who he was would be unthinkable.

The leader of the government group nodded cursorily at Chin-Hwa. 'Sit down,' he instructed. Chin-Hwa took his place at the table. 'The Vortex device will be delivered the day after tomorrow, as discussed,' the leader informed the assembled group.

The other three government officials nodded in satisfaction; Chin-Hwa did his best not to let dismay show in his face.

The leader turned to one of the officials. 'We are sure that the British government knows nothing of what is happening?'

The official nodded. 'The British scientists developing the device work in secret, and the military personnel at the RAF camp are ignorant of their activities, with the exception of a handful of renegade officers who have a serious financial incentive to keep the research private.'

'Good,' the leader replied. He turned to Chin-Hwa. 'And you,' he said abruptly. 'You are sure that once the weapon is in our hands, you will be able to examine it and copy its design?'

Chin-Hwa's lips went thin. He had never made such a claim, but he knew that to suggest he couldn't do this was to sign his own death warrant. 'I am sure,' he replied quietly.

'Good,' the leader replied. 'I can now inform you of the president's wishes. Before Vortex is delivered to us here, he wishes to establish that it will be operational. He has instructed that it be tested on a major Western city.'

Chin-Hwa's eyes narrowed. He looked around the room for any sign of concern on the faces of the assembled officials, but he saw none. It was hardly surprising, of course — they all knew the implications of questioning the president's wisdom. But in a moment of recklessness, Chin-Hwa felt he could not let the silence that followed go unbroken. He coughed. 'May I ask,' he said, his head bowed humbly, 'what the president's target is?'

The leader looked at him impassively, as though wondering whether or not to allow that piece of information to be relayed. Finally he spoke.

'London,' he said. 'And when we have established that it works, there will be strikes against New York, Los Angeles and Madrid.'

His words seemed to echo around the room as they sank in.

Chin-Hwa knew he should not speak, but he couldn't help it. 'And, respectfully, the president is aware of what Vortex can do? He is aware of its capabilities? Of the devastation it can cause? Of the lives that will be lost?'

There was a horrible silence. The leader blinked.

'You question the wisdom of his excellency the president?'

Chin-Hwa bowed his head again. 'No,' he muttered. 'No, of course not.'

The leader nodded. 'Good,' he said shortly. 'You may leave us now.'

Chin-Hwa scraped his chair back and stood up. He bowed awkwardly to the officials, then left the room, desperately wanting to be out of there as quickly as possible, but not daring to move with anything other than a measured, calm slowness.

The Korean officials watched in frosty silence as the bumbling scientist left the room. Even after he closed the door behind him they remained quiet for a moment.

'Was it wise to tell him of our plans?' the first official said finally.

'It was necessary,' the leader replied. 'When we make our first strike against London, people will hear of it. It is not a good idea that it should be a surprise to him.' He turned to a second official. 'Are you sure he can be trusted?' he asked.

'We have no reason to believe otherwise,' the official replied. 'He is being closely watched, and does not appear to have mentioned Vortex to anyone.' The official smiled coldly. 'He will do anything to keep his mother safe, it seems.'

'Be that as it may,' the leader responded, 'there is no room for error.' He turned to look at the picture on the wall. 'The Eternal President would never have approved of his son's unwise decision to weaken our military capabilities. It is essential that the Vortex device is delivered to us if we are to be successful in our coup against the government. I want the surveillance on the scientist doubled. If he so much as thinks about jeopardizing our plans, I want him arrested. He can do his work just as easily from a prison cell as a laboratory. Are my instructions clear?'

The three officials nodded. 'They are clear,' they said in unison.

Chapter Eight

As the morning wore on, the mist dispersed. In one way that was good — it meant that it was easier to trail Joseph at a safe distance. But in another way it made things more difficult. As he had done ever since they had seen him, Joseph kept stopping and looking around: each time he did this, they had to stop and take cover behind a tree. But he never saw them, and after a while they found that they could be a little less wary. Joseph didn't seem to know what was going on around him.

After about an hour of following him, they reached the other side of the woods. Joseph stepped out from under the canopy of the trees, his eyes blinking in the sudden bright sunshine. Ben and Annie edged quietly towards the boundary of the trees and, doing their best to remain hidden, peered out. The sky was blue now, with only a few cotton-wool clouds floating high above. But it was not the sky that was grabbing their attention; it was what was on the ground.

In front of them was a road. It was not a new road, and it didn't look as if it had been used for many years. Potholes covered the surface, and the top dressing was loose and gravel-strewn. Beyond the road was a collection of concrete huts. Some of them were crumbling, others weren't; a few looked as if they had been utterly destroyed. But those that were still standing all had marks of discolouration from years of exposure to rain and the elements. These were old huts, and they covered a large area.

And somewhere in the middle of the huts, there was a tank.

Joseph had stopped by the side of the road. He was standing still, just staring at what he had stumbled across. Ben and Annie watched in silence as he stepped forward, tripping slightly on one of the potholes in the road as he crossed but managing to stay upright. As he entered the little commune of huts, he brushed his hand against the concrete, all the while looking around him in a kind of wonder. He was too far away for them to hear, but Ben could see from the movement of his lips when he occasionally turned in their direction that he was still muttering to himself — perhaps a bit more furiously now.

When he came to the tank, he appeared not even to notice it. Instead he leaned against the green metal of the huge armoured vehicle, facing back towards the woods, his eyes darting around as he continued to look at all the concrete huts. Ben hid behind a huge tree trunk and took his binoculars out of his rucksack, then surreptitiously looked through them to watch Joseph. 'He seems a bit calmer now,' he told Annie, observing that the old man seemed to be breathing deeply in a way that suggested he was trying to take control of himself. He put the binoculars down. 'I wonder what that tank's doing there in the middle of nowhere.'