Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

The hovercraft came into view. ‘There it is — quick, quick!’ the major snapped, waving for his gunner to lock on. By the time he found his target, it had already turned on to the runway and started towards them, rapidly gaining speed. ‘ Fire! ’

The buzzing rasp of the miniguns and the stuttering bark of the soldiers’ rifles was drowned out by the thunderous clanging of bullets off the hovercraft’s frontal armour. Ock cried out in terror, before realising that he was still alive… and still moving, the tunnel walls rolling past at an increasing pace.

He squinted into one of the narrow slits in the plating. Paint flecks whipping through it stung his face, but he still made out the line of jeeps, and the gun emplacements on each side.

Bok was in one of them. He knew that an explosion at the runway’s centre had the best chance of clearing the way for the prisoners to escape — but the thought of the man who had ordered his wife’s murder made him veer angrily to the right instead, aiming straight for the turret.

More bullets pounded the armour like a hail of hammers. Fibreglass cracked behind him, the propeller’s hooped cowling splintering. His turn had exposed the rear of his craft to the other minigun, and it would only get worse the closer he got to the tunnel mouth.

The gun—

He turned the handle to swing the PK towards the left side of the entrance — then pulled its trigger control.

The noise was almost deafening, broken links from the ammo belt showering down on his head as the machine gun roared. The pounding of bullets against the hovercraft’s prow abruptly halved as the minigunner dropped behind sandbags. Another look ahead. Bok’s turret was right in front of him. The flame from its Gatling gun grew brighter, the storm of lead hitting with greater force as he closed in.

The hovercraft shuddered with each impact. Ock glanced back at the two barrels. Fumes trailed from the drum of nitric acid, the kerosene beside it slopping and splashing almost to the open top. He swung the machine gun back across and pulled the trigger again, sending a snarling burst of bullets at his target. The strobing flame briefly cut out as the gunner ducked, then returned with even more fearsome intensity.

The other minigun locked back on — and this time caused more than superficial damage. One of the rudders shredded, its supports shearing away. The hovercraft slewed around. Ock tried to counter it, but the vehicle was now even harder to control, swinging away from the turret.

He cursed, struggling to straighten out. More rounds hammered the armour — which started to warp and buckle under the relentless assault. One of the jeeps came into view through the slits. He was running out of both room to manoeuvre and time. Finally regaining control, he aimed the hovercraft at the vehicle with a defiant roar—

Bok clenched a fist in triumph as a chunk of armour blew off the hovercraft, only for the gesture to freeze in surprise as he saw something in the rear of its passenger compartment.

Barrels, one of them leaving a wispy trail of what looked like smoke…

Not smoke. Vapour .

The fugitive had come from the rocket fuel stores. His mind made the connection—

‘ Run! ’ he screamed in horrified realisation, scrambling over the circle of sandbags surrounding the turret even though he knew he was doomed. The gunner looked around at him in surprise. ‘Get out of here, run!’

The hovercraft’s main propeller was torn apart by the withering gunfire, shedding blades — but it was too late to stop it.

Ock howled as the hovercraft ploughed into the jeep. The barrels flew forward, their contents sluicing out…

And mixing.

The spontaneous ignition of the two chemicals was instant — and devastating.

Both vehicles disintegrated in a colossal ball of fire.

The explosion vaporised everything within fifty feet and tore a crater in the concrete. The soldiers further away were no better off, the shock wave flipping the other jeeps in flames across the runway and pulverising bones and organs.

Even at the end of the tunnel, the noise of the detonation was overpowering. ‘Christ on a bike!’ said Eddie, wincing. He looked down the runway. The vehicles that had made up the barricade were scattered like unwanted toys, crumpled and burning. Both gun emplacements had been flattened. ‘I knew that stuff was dangerous, but I didn’t realise how dangerous.’

Nina regarded the smoking crater sadly. ‘Oh God. Ock…’

‘He didn’t die for nothing,’ Eddie assured her. He turned to the prisoners, who were staring in shock at the destruction. ‘This is your chance — go, go!’ When nobody responded immediately, he switched to communicating by gesture, shooing them away. ‘ Vamos , go on, get out! Leg it!’ They finally got the message and hurried towards freedom.

‘What about us?’ Nina asked.

He looked back at the microlight. ‘We need to get that thing ready to fly, then I’ll rig the rocket fuel tanks to blow.’

They ran to the little plane, Nina eyeing it dubiously. ‘How long will that take?’

Eddie took out the dynamite and fuses. ‘Hopefully not as long as it takes for the Norks to send more men back to get us!’

Colonel Kang turned sharply in his seat at the sound of a powerful explosion higher up the mountain. A fiery glow was visible through the trees. ‘Bok!’ he snapped into the radio. ‘Bok, report! What was that?’

No answer came. ‘Rocket fuel,’ said Mikkelsson from the rear seat. ‘That is the only thing that could cause such a blast. It must be Wilde and Chase.’

The numbed Sarah looked around at him. ‘They… they’re still alive?’

‘They will not be for long,’ Kang growled, switching channels. ‘This is Kang! Send squads from the evacuation muster point back to the base. The spies have escaped, with the aid of criminals — find them and destroy them!’

Eddie and Nina moved the microlight on to the runway. ‘Okay,’ said the Englishman, taking hold of the trailing edge of one of the pusher propeller’s blades, ‘hope I can do this without chopping any fingers off!’ He checked that Nina was holding down the starter button, then sharply shoved the blade down, jerking his hands clear as the engine clattered into life. The prop buzzed up to speed, a snap of displaced air stinging his fingertips — and the plane immediately began to roll along the concrete. ‘Whoa, whoa! Pull back the throttle!’

‘It is pulled back!’ Nina protested as she jogged alongside it. Even at minimum revs, the propeller was still spinning fast enough to push the lightweight aircraft along.

‘Hit the kill switch!’ She pushed another button. The engine spluttered and cut out. The propeller abruptly stopped, the microlight trundling to a halt. ‘Okay, that’s not ideal,’ he said, catching up. There was nothing to hand that might serve as chocks for the wheels. ‘I’ll have to start it right before take-off.’

‘ After you light the fuses?’ Nina said unhappily. He had already rigged the tanks with explosives, using the full lengths of both coils.

‘Yeah, I know. Help me move it back over there so I won’t have to run as far.’

They wheeled the little plane to the runway’s end. The microlight was basic in the extreme, the tandem seats bolted to a simple tubular frame coated in something resembling Teflon, presumably a radar-absorbing substance; Kang had claimed that the tiny craft had stealth capabilities. From outside, the faceted front bodywork shielding the pilot appeared quite high-tech, but beneath it was revealed as nothing more than wooden panels painted with the same material. ‘Yeah, this fills me with confidence,’ Nina said, holding up a safety belt — a simple lap strap of the kind found on airliners.