blond-haired man removed a suction cup sporting wires from one of the pockets on his shirt and stuck it to the door. Placing a small speaker in his ear he listened for a second.
“All clear,” the man said. “Get ready.”
“One question,” Choi said. “What is your name?”
“John Taft,” the man said, peering through the glass in the door. “My name is John Taft.”
Opening the door, he led Choi outside.
CHAPTER 4
Although the remoteness of the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility afforded it a natural defense against infiltration, the Chinese had taken no chances. The grounds were peppered with buried motion detectors, and detailed radar scanned the grounds for anything out of place. Trained guard dogs patrolled the perimeter on regular intervals and the fence was electrified to an intensity that caused it to hum as if a series of hornets’ nests lay just to the other side.
Taft glanced down at his watch.
“This is going to get hairy,” he whispered to Choi.
“What do …” Choi began to say.
Twenty miles to the southwest, along an ancient but still active fault line, the last of a series of carefully measured explosive charges Taft had set in place ignited. An earthen dike along the Qargan River blew, flooding the ugly scar in the land with millions of gallons of water. The plates in the earth bordering the fault line, loosened by the explosions and now lubricated by the water, shifted.
With help from man the forces deep in the earth were unleashed.
At that instant the ground began to shake lightly. The tremors increased their intensity until undulating waves shook the building Taft and Choi stood alongside.
And then, like a series of giant Christmas lights run amok, the electrical transformers at the corners of the facility exploded with blinding blue flashes and the grounds were plunged into darkness and chaos.
Taft was slipping on a pair of goggles as the ground first shook. He stared out on the darkness through a comforting green glow.
“I guess what they say is true,” he said as he reached out to a trembling Choi. “It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature.”
Tugging at Choi’s shoulder, he motioned for him to follow. One hundred yards north of the building that housed Choi’s cell the pair paused and crouched in a ditch.
“I’m sure they have an emergency generator, so watch for a spotlight any second,” Taft said.
As if Taft had willed it, a beam of light bobbled on the ground, then began to sweep the grounds.
“When the light sweeps east in a few seconds, you’re going to follow me to the fence,” Taft said.
Choi watched the searchlight begin its swing to the east. The spotlight passed over the top of the ditch and continued on its path. Taft grabbed Choi’s arm, yanking him easily to his feet.
“Now,” Taft whispered, pulling the scientist along by his arm.
At the edge of the fence Taft spit on the wires. Finding it dead, he motioned to Choi. “Go under, I’m right behind you.”
Choi squirmed into the depression Taft had dug through the sand under the fence on the way into the compound. He watched from the other side as Taft picked up an electric jammer hung on the fence. Designed to temporarily defeat the motion sensors on his way into the facility, the box had served its crude purpose.
Quickly collecting several tumbleweeds from the ground, he slipped into the hole, covering the entrance behind. Taft climbed out the other side just as the light began to sweep back to where they crouched.
“Quick, follow me,” Taft whispered.
He grabbed Choi by his jacket and pushed him into a washed-out gully several feet away. Taft hit the ground seconds before the light swept across them. He sat upright just as soon as the light passed overhead.
“So far so good. The quake was designed to give us some time to undertake our escape,” Taft noted as an aftershock rippled through the earth. “With their electronics systems barely functioning, it should be some
“All clear,” the man said. “Get ready.”
“One question,” Choi said. “What is your name?”
“John Taft,” the man said, peering through the glass in the door. “My name is John Taft.”
Opening the door, he led Choi outside.
CHAPTER 4
Although the remoteness of the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility afforded it a natural defense against infiltration, the Chinese had taken no chances. The grounds were peppered with buried motion detectors, and detailed radar scanned the grounds for anything out of place. Trained guard dogs patrolled the perimeter on regular intervals and the fence was electrified to an intensity that caused it to hum as if a series of hornets’ nests lay just to the other side.
Taft glanced down at his watch.
“This is going to get hairy,” he whispered to Choi.
“What do …” Choi began to say.
Twenty miles to the southwest, along an ancient but still active fault line, the last of a series of carefully measured explosive charges Taft had set in place ignited. An earthen dike along the Qargan River blew, flooding the ugly scar in the land with millions of gallons of water. The plates in the earth bordering the fault line, loosened by the explosions and now lubricated by the water, shifted.
With help from man the forces deep in the earth were unleashed.
At that instant the ground began to shake lightly. The tremors increased their intensity until undulating waves shook the building Taft and Choi stood alongside.
And then, like a series of giant Christmas lights run amok, the electrical transformers at the corners of the facility exploded with blinding blue flashes and the grounds were plunged into darkness and chaos.
Taft was slipping on a pair of goggles as the ground first shook. He stared out on the darkness through a comforting green glow.
“I guess what they say is true,” he said as he reached out to a trembling Choi. “It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature.”
Tugging at Choi’s shoulder, he motioned for him to follow. One hundred yards north of the building that housed Choi’s cell the pair paused and crouched in a ditch.
“I’m sure they have an emergency generator, so watch for a spotlight any second,” Taft said.
As if Taft had willed it, a beam of light bobbled on the ground, then began to sweep the grounds.
“When the light sweeps east in a few seconds, you’re going to follow me to the fence,” Taft said.
Choi watched the searchlight begin its swing to the east. The spotlight passed over the top of the ditch and continued on its path. Taft grabbed Choi’s arm, yanking him easily to his feet.
“Now,” Taft whispered, pulling the scientist along by his arm.
At the edge of the fence Taft spit on the wires. Finding it dead, he motioned to Choi. “Go under, I’m right behind you.”
Choi squirmed into the depression Taft had dug through the sand under the fence on the way into the compound. He watched from the other side as Taft picked up an electric jammer hung on the fence. Designed to temporarily defeat the motion sensors on his way into the facility, the box had served its crude purpose.
Quickly collecting several tumbleweeds from the ground, he slipped into the hole, covering the entrance behind. Taft climbed out the other side just as the light began to sweep back to where they crouched.
“Quick, follow me,” Taft whispered.
He grabbed Choi by his jacket and pushed him into a washed-out gully several feet away. Taft hit the ground seconds before the light swept across them. He sat upright just as soon as the light passed overhead.
“So far so good. The quake was designed to give us some time to undertake our escape,” Taft noted as an aftershock rippled through the earth. “With their electronics systems barely functioning, it should be some
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