Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

But nothing came into view. It sounded as though the vehicle was being driven across the facility behind the blockhouse. ‘They’re up to something! Everyone be ready!’

Ock stood in the hovercraft’s front passenger seat, looking over the armour as Eddie piloted the little vehicle across the factory floor. ‘Right, right!’ the Korean shouted as it drifted towards a stand of machinery on the missile production line. ‘Go right!’

The Englishman flicked the rudder, bringing the hovercraft around in a wide, slithering turn. The narrow viewing slits were practically useless, too low to give him a clear view even when hunched down in the uncomfortable fibreglass seat. ‘Are we clear?’ he asked as the obstacle slid past.

‘Yes, yes! Go forward!’

Eddie straightened out. He had driven similar vehicles before and knew how much of a handful they could be, but the nose-heavy North Korean example was even harder to control. He glanced back, seeing several prisoners following at a run. ‘How much further?’

‘Not far… Stop! Stop, now!’

Eddie closed the throttle. The hovercraft wallowed, skidding along on a residual cushion of air before its Kevlar-toughened rubber skirt deflated. The Korean grabbed the mounted gun to steady himself as the vehicle lurched to a stop. ‘You okay?’ Eddie asked.

Ock’s eyes still betrayed his grief-stricken rage. ‘Yes,’ was his curt reply. ‘What are we doing?’

The Yorkshireman climbed out. Before him were the fuel tanks, ranks of great metal cylinders rising above a rat’s nest of pipework. ‘There should be two different kinds of fuel. One’ll probably be kerosene — or paraffin, it’s called in Britain. The other’ll be a kind of nitric acid.’

Ock surveyed the tanks, spotting warning signs. He pointed at one of the larger vessels. ‘Yes, that is kerosene. And that’ — he turned to indicate a group of smaller, but still capacious, tanks about a hundred feet from the first set — ‘is acid.’ He gave Eddie an odd look. ‘You said you were a soldier, but you know this. Are you a scientist?’

The Englishman laughed. ‘Not even close! I don’t know if Nina’d find that funny or be offended.’

The other prisoners arrived. ‘Okay, we need a barrel of the stuff from those tanks,’ Eddie pointed at the kerosene store, ‘and another barrel from those.’ He turned to indicate the containers of augmented nitric acid as Ock translated his instructions. ‘Fill ’em about two thirds full. But whatever you do, do not fucking spill any . If they mix, if they even touch , they’ll explode — and the more there is, the bigger the explosion.’ Widening eyes told him that the danger had been successfully communicated. ‘It looks like you can drain stuff using those valves, so get a barrel of each and bring ’em back to the hovercraft. Really carefully,’ he added as the group split up.

‘What are you going to do?’ Ock asked.

‘If we load up the hovercraft with the barrels, we can send it down the runway to crash into those jeeps they’ve set up as a barricade. The barrels go flying, the stuff inside mixes — and boom . We’ve got our way out.’

The Korean was sceptical. ‘It is a very big runway.’

‘It’ll be a very big boom. Trust me.’ The metal drums he had seen stacked near the tanks were of a standard fifty-five-gallon size, over two hundred litres. If they were filled as he had asked, the combination of more than seventy gallons of hypergolic fuel and oxidiser would produce an extremely satisfying explosion.

The remaining prisoners, Nina with them, approached pushing one of the microlights. ‘Okay,’ she demanded, ‘why exactly did you want us to bring this?’

‘Because we need a way out of here.’

‘And the half-dozen jeeps back there aren’t suitable because…?’

‘Because A, they’ll never catch up with the missile convoy on that twisty road, and B, there’ll probably be a shitload of troops coming back up the road once they realise what we’ve done.’

‘Which is?’

‘Blow this place to fuck.’ He took out a stick of dynamite, then smiled and nodded towards the fuel tanks. ‘About fifty thousand gallons of rocket fuel ought to do it.’

‘Yeah, it might,’ she said with alarm.

‘And speaking of…’ Eddie watched as three straining men carefully carried a barrel of kerosene towards the hovercraft. A lid had been placed loosely over its top, but he could still hear its contents sloshing about. ‘Put it here,’ he said, pointing at one of the rear seats. Ock relayed the command, the trio carefully lowering it into position.

By the time they were done, the other group had returned from the more distant tanks. The noise from their drum was far more worrying: a frothing hiss as the nitric acid tried to eat through the metal. The lid had been pushed down more firmly to hold in the choking fumes, though one of the prisoners carrying it had a very sickly appearance from accidental exposure while filling the barrel. Eddie directed them to the other rear seat. ‘Careful, really careful,’ he warned as they lowered it. ‘Okay, that’s good.’ There was a rolled-up camouflage tarp in the rear; he used it to wedge the second container in place. ‘Let’s get this thing moving.’

‘Wait, so now what?’ Nina asked. ‘You’re just going to push it out and hope it goes in the right direction? These things steer like cows on ice skates!’

Eddie was about to make a sarcastic reply, but Ock spoke first. ‘I will drive it.’

‘You what?’ said the Englishman. ‘You can’t — you’ll be killed!’

The Korean fixed him with an unwavering look. ‘I do not care. I have lost everything.’ He gestured in the direction of his late wife. ‘I want to kill them. I want to kill Bok ! If I do, you can all get out of here.’

‘There has to be another way,’ Nina said, pleading.

‘No. I must do it. Now, before… before I become afraid.’ He pushed past Eddie to climb into the pilot’s seat.

‘They’ll be shooting at you, so let’s at least give you a chance to shoot back,’ Eddie told him. As well as the tarp, the hovercraft held various other supplies, including an ammunition box. He opened it and pulled out a belt of bullets. The weapon on the pintle was a North Korean copy of a Soviet-era PK machine gun; while Ock was familiarising himself with the vehicle’s controls, he quickly loaded the belt. ‘Okay, that’s about a hundred rounds,’ he said. ‘There’s a lever there to aim it, and,’ he pointed out the mechanical linkage running down from the gun’s trigger to between the front seats, ‘if you pull that? Ock’s gon’ give it to ya.’

Ock nodded, then restarted the engine, the skirt inflating. ‘I am ready,’ he said, testing the rudder pedals. Even with the main propeller only idling, there was enough airflow to nudge the craft’s tail around.

Nina hurriedly retreated from the blades. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

He looked back at her, fearful but also determined. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘My Korean’s a bit rusty, so you’d better tell the others that if this works, they need to run for the outside as soon as the way’s clear,’ said Eddie. Ock did so, then the Yorkshireman held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thank you.’ The Korean shook it before turning back to the controls. ‘Goodbye. I hope you see your home again.’

‘So do I,’ said Nina morosely.

Eddie pulled off both barrel lids, then Ock edged the main fan to full power. The hovercraft moved off, making a sweeping turn towards the tunnel.

The return of the distant engine noise had drawn the attention of the soldiers at the tunnel entrance. ‘They’re coming!’ Bok shouted into his radio. ‘Ready all weapons!’ The men along the vehicular barricade raised their rifles, the two miniguns spinning up their barrels ready to fire.