Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

The TELs were approaching its mouth, travelling in a convoy with several jeeps, another two-ton truck like the bullet-ravaged one nearby, and the 4x4 in which he and Nina had been brought to Facility 17. As he watched, one of the jeeps veered off sharply and skidded to a halt, its occupants jumping out. Even at this distance, Eddie could tell from his clothing that one was an officer rather than a regular soldier.

Bok.

The echoes of massed gunfire from the runway’s far end had alerted Bok that something was wrong. He ordered his driver to swing out of the convoy and stop.

The other vehicles all slowed in response. ‘Bok!’ barked Kang over the walkie-talkie. ‘What’s happening?’

The security chief got out and stared back down the tunnel. In the distance, he saw figures spilling from one side of the blockhouse — and dead soldiers on the ground. ‘Some of the prisoners have escaped! They’ve—’ One person stood out clearly, even from this distance. Red hair. ‘The American woman, she’s still alive!’ he cried in disbelief.

Kang’s voice turned even colder than usual. ‘None of them get out. Do you understand?’

Bok stiffened at the understated but clear threat. That Wilde and her husband had survived in the first place was already a black mark for him; his rank and privileged background would not help him if he failed to prevent them from escaping the facility. ‘They’ll be dead when you reach the airbase, sir,’ he replied.

‘It had better not take that long, Bok.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The major shouted hurried orders into the radio. Three more jeeps pulled over to form a barricade across the runway, the soldiers jumping out and aiming their rifles down the tunnel. The rest of the convoy accelerated again, clearing the mountainside and rumbling away into the night.

Bok clipped the radio back to his belt, trying to conceal his worry, then looked around. At this range, without telescopic sights, his men’s Type 58 rifles would be all but useless, but there were other weapons nearby that could do the job. Flanking the runway just outside the tunnel entrance were the two minigun turrets, intended to repel invaders trying to enter Facility 17… but also able to turn through a hundred and eighty degrees to prevent anyone from leaving it.

‘The guns!’ he shouted. ‘Man the guns — point them into the facility.’ Two men ran for one, while he and a soldier from his jeep started for the other. ‘No one gets out of there alive!’

Eddie saw the North Korean troops head for the turrets. ‘Shit! Everyone get back, get into cover!’ He pushed Nina around the corner as he withdrew, but several prisoners had already raced past him on to the runway. Without Ock to translate, they didn’t understand his warning — and by the time they realised for themselves, it was too late.

The miniguns opened fire with chainsaw snarls, sending twin streams of bullets down the runway, tracers giving them the appearance of laser beams. The gunners swept them across the end of the hangar, fifty rounds impacting every second. Concrete splintered under the onslaught, lines of death homing in on the running figures—

The miniguns only used standard 7.62-millimetre ammunition, allowing them to draw upon North Korea’s vast reserves of Kalashnikov-compatible rounds, but fired at such a fearsome rate that the result was like being struck by cannon shells. The first man to be hit literally disintegrated , his body blasted into a bloody spray. The woman beside him screamed as her arm was ripped off at the elbow, but her agony lasted only a moment before the gunfire cut her in half.

The other escapees tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to hide. More fell, exploding into bloodied shreds. A few managed to get behind the truck, but it did not save them. The minigun streams tore its bodywork into shrapnel, tearing apart the men and women cowering behind it before its fuel tank exploded, scattering blazing wreckage all around.

The gunners focused their attention on the spot where the fugitives had emerged. Eddie and Nina fled as the corner of the cavern wall shattered behind them, blasted apart by the six-barrelled weapons—

Sudden silence as the miniguns ceased firing. ‘What happened?’ Nina gasped. ‘Why’ve they stopped?’

Eddie signalled for everyone to stay put, then moved back through the haze of dust to risk a brief peek around the bullet-gnawed corner. Both turrets still pointed down the runway. ‘Run out of targets. Probably worried about wasting ammo, too — if those miniguns are like American ones, they can fire over three thousand rounds per minute.’

‘So what can we do?’

‘There’s no way we’ll get past ’em,’ he replied, grim-faced. ‘We—’

Ock pushed past him, now holding a rifle. ‘We kill them,’ he growled. ‘We kill them!’

Eddie dragged him back. ‘No, don’t!’ cried Nina. ‘They’ll kill you !’

‘I do not care! She is dead, she is dead !’ A despairing wave at his wife’s body. ‘I have nothing left!’

‘You’d be dead before you got twenty feet,’ Eddie told him. ‘You’ll die for nothing! Would your wife want that?’

The question shook Ock. ‘No, she…’ He slumped. ‘No. But what can we do? We are trapped!’

Eddie looked back into the cavernous underground factory. His gaze fell upon the ranks of vehicles near the cargo elevator. ‘Come on,’ he said, hurrying to one.

‘You want to float out of here?’ Nina asked incredulously. ‘In that?’ Even with its military modifications, the four-seater hovercraft seemed almost toy-like.

‘I want to see how thick this armour is.’ He examined the wedge of plating covering the craft’s nose. ‘Everyone get back!’ He waved for the others to retreat, then raised his gun and fired a single shot. The round banged off the armour and screamed away into the depths of the hangar. The drab camouflage paint spalled away around the impact point to reveal dull grey metal beneath, but the surface itself had only a slight dent.

‘What was that for?’ Nina asked.

‘Miniguns use regular rifle ammo,’ he replied. ‘And a rifle round hardly scratched this.’ He knocked on the armour. ‘Looks like Chobham, or summat similar. They’ll have built these to charge through the demilitarised zone — the South Koreans won’t be able to hurt ’em with regular weapons until they’re already over the border.’

‘At which point they can just shoot them in the back as they go past,’ Nina pointed out, indicating the hovercraft’s open, unprotected body behind the plating. ‘And they’ll do the same to us if we try to get out in these!’

‘I wasn’t thinking of getting out in ’em.’ A glance at another vehicle, one of the microlight aircraft. ‘We’ve got to take out those turrets first, and I think I know how…’ He turned to look across the runway. Some of the giant fuel tanks were visible beyond the blockhouse. ‘Ock!’ he called. ‘Tell everyone I need help with some hover bovver!’

Bok stared intently down the runway. The dust from the miniguns’ assault had settled, nothing moving at the tunnel’s far end except the flames licking in the wrecked truck. He had glimpsed someone looking out around the corner, but they retreated before the guns could be brought to bear.

He was about to raise his radio to order some of the men along the barricade to move into the tunnel when a low growl reached him from the depths of the mountain. ‘They’ve started an engine,’ he announced instead. ‘They must be making a run for it. Whatever they’re driving, I don’t want it to reach the exit.’

Acknowledgements crackled through the ether. The man operating the turret pointed the minigun at the bullet-riddled corner. Bok watched as the distant engine roared, eagerly awaiting its appearance.