Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

heavy heart. Yet before he could speak, an unfamiliar voice shouted

from somewhere in the dark jungle of laboratory equipment behind them:

"Hullo the house! Hullo! White flag and truce!"

Gadi jerked his rifle toward the sound.

Hauer spun to face the darkness, but he saw nothing.

"Call off your dog, Stern! That's a British accent!"

"That doesn't make me feel any better!" Stern retorted.

"All right, Gadi," he said finally. "Stand down."

After the young Israeli lowered his weapon, a sandyhaired man of medium

height rose from beneath a soapstone lab table. He was wearing tattered

commando gear, and his left hand held a well-oiled MP-5

submachine gun. "Hullo," he said. "In a bit of a pinch, are we?"

"Who the devil are you?" General Steyn croaked.

"How did you get in?" asked Hauer. "That's the question."

"Name's Burton, sport. Ex-major in the British Army, too long a story

to tell."

"Have the shields been lowered?" Stern asked, afraid that the Libyans

might already have penetrated into the inner complex.

"Don't know about any shields. I came in through a bunker.

There's tunnels running to every one of 'em and they all intersect right

here."

Are you serious?" Hauer cried. "The Arabs didn't see you?"

""Those camel bumpers? Not bloody likely."

"But what's past the bunkers? Is there any way to get truly out of

here? Away from this place?"

"It just so happens," said Burton, "that I've got my own personal jet

and pilot waiting outside."

Hauer's mouth fell open.

Hans and Ilse ran to the Englishman. "We've got to get out of here!"

Ilse cried. "Now! The Arabs will break through any minute!"

"Boarding in five minutes," Burton said jauntily. "One carry-on bag per

person, please."

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

General Steyn threw his good arm over Hauer's shoulder, believing that

Burton's revelation of an escape route had resolved de facto all the

argument that had gone before Ilse barely had time to snatch up Hess's

black briefcase before Hans pulled her across the room toward the

Englishman. Dr.

Sabri also moved cautiously in that direction.

Yet Stern and Gadi did not move. They stood with their backs against

the gleaming steel storage vault, staring watchfully at the excited

group gathering around the British mercenary. Hauer laid his hand on

General Steyn's pistol.

He understood only too well what was passing through the minds of the

Israelis.

"Gadi," Stern said sharply.

With his rifle braced on his hip, the young Israeli marched past Hauer,

grabbed Dr. Sabri by the sleeve and pulled him back to where the three

bombs waited on their carts. He kicked the Libyan behind the knee,

dropping him to the floor, then shoved him down over the bomb in the

middle of the cart.

"Open it," Stern commanded.

"Wh-what?" the Libyan stammered.

"Open the weapon!"

"I need tools."

Gadi swung his rifle around on Smuts.

"We don't keep any down here," Smuts lied.

Gadi fired a slug into the wall beside the Afrikaner's head.

Smuts didn't flinch, but after a face-saving moment he stepped over to a

drawer and pulled out a metal tool kit. He carried it to the Libyan,

then returned to Hess's side.

General Steyn watched all this in disbelief. "What are you doing now,

Jonas? Our problem is solved! As soon as take off, I can radio the air

force from this man's plane Stern looked up from where Dr. Sabri worked

on the bomb. "This changes only two things," he said quietly.

"First, you people now have a chance to get clear. And second, Hess can

go with you."

Pieter Smuts stiffened.

Stern touched Gadi's sleeve. "Hess is your responsibility.

You'll take him out with the others."

The young Israeli's face wilted like a little boy's, then it hardened to

stone. "I shall stay behind, Uncle," he said solemnly.

"You should be the one who takes Hess to Israel."

Stern shook his head impatiently. "You-2' "I say there," Burton cut in.

"You're not talking about setting off these bombs. I've seen enough

conventional weapons to know an unconventional one when I see it. Even

if we manage to get airborne, the blast wave from one of those would

knock us right out of the sky."

Stern crouch&d beside Dr. Sabri, who had just gotten the cover plate

off the bomb's arming system. "What's the minimum safe distance for the

aircraft that delivers this weapon?"

Dr. Sabri looked up at Stern with wild eyes. "There's no way to know!

If the explosion breaks through the surface ...

Five ... perhaps six kilometers?"

Stern rose to his feet. "If you all leave now," he said loudly, "you

should be able to reach minimum safe distance before the Libyans break

through the shields. I suggest you get moving."

Hauer jabbed a finger toward the bomb cart. "Stern, that dung must have

some kind of timing mechanism. Why not set it for thirty minutes and

get out with the rest of us?"

Gadi's face lit up. "Uncle, that's it!"

Stern shook his head. "In fifteen minutes the Libyans will be inside

this room. They're almost certain to have someone with them who would

know how to stop the timer." Stern pulled Dr. Sabri to his feet.

"What kind of detonator does this weapon have? Is there a timing

mechanism?"

"A timer, yes! But not the kind you imagine. This is an air-burst

weapon. It's meant to be exploded above ground.

Once armed, its clock begins at a preprogrammed atmospheric pressure

level."

"How long does the clock run?"

"This one is set for twelve seconds. But I could set it for much

longer!"

Gadi jammed the barrel of his R5 into the terrified Libyan's stomach.

"How do we know he's telling us the truth about the detonator? What if

you stay behind and the bomb doesn't explode?

You'll have thrown your life away for nothing!"

Stern turned to Sabri. "Show me how the detonator works.

Be quick!"

While the Libyan bent, over the bomb casing, Hauer stepped up to Stern.

"Do you want to throw your life away, Stern? You have a real

alternative now. General Steyn is right-the South African air force can

easily shoot down the Libyans when they try to leave the country."

Stern smiled wryly. "And if someone in the South African air force

doesn't want to shoot them down?"

"Sir?" said Dr. Sabri, looking up from the weapon.

Hauer looked down. In the Libyan's hands, held as gingerly as if they

were coiled vipers, were four tricolored wires that led from a small

aperture in the bomb casing. Two exposed copper wire ends glinted in

the fluorescent light.

"Touch these together," Dr. Sabri said hoarsely, "and the bomb will

think it has reached the preprogrammed altitude.

The timing mechanism will run its course, and the detonator will

explode. A few nanoseconds later, nuclear fission will be initiated."

There was dead silence in the room.

"Must the wires remain connected during the timer's entire run?"

Stern asked.

The Libyan nodded.

Before anyone could stop him, Stern seized the two wires, wrapped them

together, and closed them in his fist.

Ilse screamed.

Alan Burton dived under a soapstone lab table, as if it could somehow

protect him from a nudlear blast. Hauer and Gadi froze, mesmerized by

Stern's insane act. But no one reacted with the abject terror of Dr.

Sabri. Shrieking wildly, the Libyan grabbed Stern's wrists and tried

desperately to separate the two wires. But despite the great age