James Barrington - Foxbat

‘British aircraft over South Korea, this is Hawkeye callsign Alpha Three on Guard, do you read?’

‘Alpha Three, Cobra Two, you’re loud and clear, but we’re a little busy right now.’

‘You’re likely to get a lot busier, buddy. There are twenty-one interceptors heading straight for you out of bandit country. We estimate they’ll be all over you in around ten minutes.’

‘Thanks… I think,’ Richter said. ‘Keep us posted, please, Alpha Three. We’re chasing three cruise missiles right now.’

He risked a quick glance at the HUD. His Harrier was passing ten thousand feet in a near-vertical dive. The Seersucker was in his two o’clock position at about three miles. It was time he stopped descent and turned to intercept. He was going to have to turn left, allowing the missile to fly underneath him, if he was to stand any chance of getting into a firing position. And the problem was that, as soon as he turned, he’d lose sight of the missile. It really was a one-shot option.

Richter checked the position and speed of the HY-2, then his altitude, trying to do the calculations in his head. Seven thousand feet. Six. Five and a half. He took one more glance at his target, another at the rocky terrain directly below him, then pushed the control column over to the left and eased it back slightly. The g-force pinned him into the seat as the Harrier turned hard to port, its rate of descent slowing rapidly.

He pulled the GR9 level at two thousand feet, heading south-east, and looked all around him. There was no sign of the cruise missile, but it had to be somewhere close by. He daren’t turn, because that would bleed off so much speed he’d never then catch it, and he couldn’t slow down for exactly the same reason. He just had to hope that his turn had been accurate enough.

Then he saw it. Around a thousand feet below, passing on his left-hand side about a mile away – and travelling much faster than Richter expected. He turned his Harrier gently to port, aiming for an intercept course, made sure the throttle was fully open, and pushed the control column slightly forward.

He selected the Sidewinder on his port wing and immediately checked that the broken circle appeared in his HUD. The HY-2 was on his left, in the eleven o’clock position, on a more or less constant bearing, so he knew his heading was good.

Without radar, he had to estimate the target’s range by eye alone, but he reckoned that he was about half a mile behind it. And already he could hear the growl of the ‘winder as its infrared seeker began picking up the cruise missile’s exhaust plume.

Then the HY-2 pitched up and began climbing. Richter had expected the cruise missile to stay low until it hit its target. The climb suggested something different, and after a moment he guessed what the North Koreans might have planned.

‘Flash. All callsigns, Cobra Two. My missile’s climbing. It’s possible these could be air-burst nukes.’

‘Viper Two, this one’s doing the same.’

Richter pulled the control column back, starting the Harrier in a steep climb to follow the Seersucker.

In the nose-cone of the HY-2, the radar altimeter recorded an altitude of two thousand metres, and sent a signal to the simple computer – little more than a glorified timing device – that controlled the warhead. It immediately activated the pre-detonation circuit check. The device was designed to explode when it reached a height of six thousand metres, an altitude it would attain in just over eleven seconds.

Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea

The moment the three Seersuckers had vanished, heading for their targets in South Korea, the technicians swarmed out of the hardened shelters and towed away the cruise missile trailers. And, because Pyongyang had made it clear that time was of the essence, in less than a minute the first of the mobile Scud TELs, or Transporter-Erector-Launchers, drove out of one of the shelters and across to the launch pad.

Chiha-ri had been the obvious choice for this phase of the operation. Not only did it host a resident Scud brigade, but it was also the principal technical support headquarters for all of North Korea’s Scud missile units. And, crucially, it was a mere fifty miles north of the Demilitarized Zone, close enough to ensure that their targets south of the DMZ would get the least possible warning of the attack. If the weapons carried by the Seersuckers did their job adequately, there might be no warning at all.

Within five minutes the six Scud launchers were in position and their technicians were making last-minute checks, all of them wearing full NBCD suits and breathing equipment because of the contents of the warheads. Once the weapons were ready, they would be launched without further reference to anyone. The orders from Pyongyang had been most specific.

Cobra Two, over South Korea

The cruise missile’s unexpected manoeuvre had cost Richter ground, and he estimated he was now nearly a mile behind it. And, if his guess had been right, the warhead could detonate at any moment.

The growl in his earphones intensified and then the broken circle in the HUD solidified as the Sidewinder locked on to the target. Richter didn’t wait any longer: he fired the weapon. The solid-propellant rocket motor ignited and it streaked towards the HY-2. Just in case, he selected the starboard Sidewinder and made sure it also locked on.

The HY-2’s radar altimeter sent a further signal to the computer at five thousand metres, and the three-second detonation sequence began. The North Korean technicians had based their calculations on a missile velocity of three hundred and twenty metres a second, actually a little faster than the Seersucker was travelling.

The detonation sequence had less than one second to go when the ‘winder impacted with the rear of the cruise missile. The annular blast fragmentation warhead, containing over twenty pounds of high explosive, then detonated. The blast shattered the rear section of the HY-2, instantly destroying its rocket motor, and less than a tenth of a second later the remaining liquid fuel in its tanks exploded in a massive ball of fire.

The detonation wasn’t powerful enough to destroy the warhead, but that didn’t matter. It ripped the computer to pieces, wrecked the battery and fused the connections. The final signal never reached the nuclear device. Instead, it was torn from its mountings and began tumbling to the ground nearly twenty thousand feet below.

Richter deselected his second Sidewinder, pulled his Harrier into a steep diving turn to keep out of the blast radius and pressed his transmit button.

‘Cobra Two, one Sidewinder expended. Splash one cruise missile. Break, break. Alpha Three, what’s the status of those bogies now?’

‘Still inbound, Cobra Two. No, wait. Now they’re turning back onto north. It looks like they’re in a holding pattern. I’ll keep you advised.’

‘Roger. Break. Cobra Lead – what’s your status?’

‘Standby. Right. Two Sidewinders used and the missile is down. I’m turning away. Break. Viper One, sitrep.’

‘We just—’

But whatever Charlie Forbes was going to say was lost for ever as a colossal explosion tore through the sky.

Office of the Associate Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Langley, Virginia

Richard Muldoon actually ran through the outer office, and barely even paused at the closed door. Walter Hicks looked up in surprise as it slammed open. The two men had got back to Langley only a few minutes earlier.

‘Richard?’

Muldoon slowed to a trot and tossed a couple of photographs onto Hicks’s desk, then leant forward, resting his hands on the edge of the tooled leather.