The Midas Legacy (Wilde/Chase 12)

by Andy McDermott

  Petra had a different question. ‘For how much?’

  ‘The agreement is for thirty million dollars in hard currency, and sixty million dollars in gold,’ Mikkelsson told the room, as casually as if he were reciting prices on a menu.

  She gasped. ‘Ninety million dollars?’

  ‘Oh, you can add up at least,’ scoffed Spencer, but he was as taken aback as the others.

  ‘Thirty million dollars for each family,’ continued Mikkelsson. ‘If you agree to the deal.’

  Lonmore appeared shell-shocked. ‘That, ah . . . that would more than rebuild the Legacy’s funds. But you really shouldn’t have made a deal without the approval of the rest of us.’

  ‘You were going to make a deal with Trakas,’ said Anastasia.

  ‘I proposed one – but I would still have brought it to a vote before it was finalised.’

  ‘And so shall I,’ Mikkelsson said. ‘This arrangement has been agreed in principle, but it will not go ahead until the other members of the Legacy have cast their votes.’

  ‘Agreed with whom?’ demanded Nina.

  He gave the tiniest shrug of amusement. ‘That does not concern you. As you have made clear, you are not a member of the Midas Legacy.’

  ‘It concerns me in every sense of the word,’ she shot back. ‘The Crucibles aren’t yours to sell – and who’s willing to pay ninety million dollars for them in the first place? Especially when they’re giving you sixty million of it in gold. Who would need to make gold if they’ve already got that much going spare?’

  ‘That’s a very good point,’ said Olivia. ‘I think we need to know all the details before we make any decisions.’

  Lonmore exchanged whispered words with his wife, then nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  Anastasia was angered, Sarah worried, but Mikkelsson merely gave another little shrug. ‘As you wish. The client is a nation state with which I have dealt on a diplomatic level for some time. In the process of doing so, I made personal connections with senior officials. As soon as the prospect of finding the Midas Cave became a reality – even before you left for Nepal, Nina – I approached them in secret. Given what the Crucibles could provide them with, they were eager to accept my proposal in principle.’

  ‘Who was eager to accept?’ said Nina.

  Mikkelsson fixed her with an unblinking stare. ‘North Korea.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence, finally broken by Eddie’s disbelieving ‘What?’

  ‘You made a deal with North Korea?’ said Olivia, equally shocked. ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘Quite the contrary,’ Mikkelsson replied. ‘As I discovered during my negotiation of the nuclear treaty, they have the technical capabilities to make use of the Crucibles, as well as the urgent desire to obtain what they can produce.’

  ‘But they obviously already have gold if they’re willing to pay us in it,’ said Lonmore, confused.

  ‘They are not interested in gold. Well, that is not strictly accurate – like any nation, they maintain reserves, though in their case it is to make purchases on the black market rather than to support their currency. But the Crucibles can be used to produce something far more valuable. Gold is not the only element they can create by nuclear transmutation. They can also make plutonium.’

  Again, the Icelander’s statement was so matter-of-fact that it took a moment to sink in. ‘Plutonium?’ Nina said, horrified. ‘You mean they can use it to make nukes?’

  Mikkelsson nodded. ‘I realised long ago that the same process that creates gold from mercury can also create plutonium – in this case, from uranium. North Korea has plentiful reserves of uranium-238. This is non-fissile, so useless for military purposes, but it can be transmuted into plutonium-239. Doing so in a nuclear breeder reactor would produce large amounts of the unwanted contaminant plutonium-240. The Crucibles, however, would create almost entirely pure plutonium-239: “supergrade” plutonium.’

  ‘You mean weapons-grade,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Exactly. The more pure the plutonium, the smaller the amount needed to create a nuclear weapon. And the smaller the weapon, the easier it is to mount upon a ballistic missile.’

  Nina shook her head, struggling to accept what she was hearing. ‘Did I step into a mirror universe this morning? You’re the UN’s senior nuclear negotiator – your whole job’s supposed to be about stopping countries from building nukes!’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ Mikkelsson replied, still as calm as ever. ‘But I do not wish to get into a political debate.’ His gaze flicked between the members of the other families. ‘First we must put it to a vote.’

  ‘I’d think you were joking, but I know you too well,’ said Lonmore. ‘You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am, yes.’

  ‘This is lunacy,’ said Olivia. ‘Sheer lunacy! Do you know what would happen if you broke a nuclear arms embargo? Ninety million dollars is no use if you spend the rest of your life in jail!’

  ‘I know very well what would happen,’ said Mikkelsson. ‘I helped draft the treaty that set the penalties. But the risks are minimal, and I have contingency plans should the sale be exposed.’ He straightened, setting both hands firmly upon the table to either side of the small Crucible. ‘Now. The vote. My proposal is to sell both Crucibles to North Korea, for a total sum of ninety million US dollars. All in favour?’

  Anastasia and Sarah raised their hands. There was a marked lack of movement from the others. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘All against?’

  Lonmore hesitantly lifted his hand, followed by Petra. Still standing with Nina, Olivia raised hers more firmly. ‘The motion is defeated,’ she said. ‘Thankfully.’

  Mikkelsson shook his head slowly. ‘That is most disappointing,’ he said. ‘Of all people, Olivia, I thought your greed would lead you to make the right choice.’

  ‘She did make the right choice,’ said Lonmore. ‘Making a deal with an insane dictatorship? You must be mad yourself, Fenrir! How could you possibly think we’d go along with it?’

  ‘I had sincerely hoped you might,’ he replied, ‘but I suspected you would not. Which is why I prepared for this outcome.’

  He gestured to De Klerx – and the Dutchman advanced, drawing a gun from inside his jacket.

  ‘Shit!’ Eddie gasped, hurriedly moving to shield Nina. ‘I fucking knew it!’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ gasped Lonmore, jumping up from his chair. Petra squealed in fear, grabbing his hand. Behind them, Spencer half rose from his own seat before freezing as the muzzle flicked towards him.

  ‘The Legacy has lost its ability to function,’ said Mikkelsson, standing. Sarah looked on with apprehension; Anastasia with anticipation. ‘It has lost its purpose. If it cannot fulfil its purpose, then it must be replaced.’

  ‘Fenrir, please!’ cried Lonmore, wide-eyed. ‘We – we can talk about this, we can reconsider! We’ll take another vote!’

  ‘You have already cast your ballots,’ the Icelander said. ‘Now we will cast our bullets.’

  ‘No, wait—’

  Another gesture – and De Klerx opened fire.

  The first rounds tore bloodily into Lonmore’s chest. Petra screamed and tried to run, but only made a single step before another rapid-fire fusillade cut her down. Behind them, Spencer leapt from his chair and sprinted in panic across the room—

  De Klerx tracked him. A couple of bullets narrowly missed the running man, one of the panoramic windows exploding – but another hit him in the shoulder, shattering bone. Overcome by blind agony, Spencer collided with a chair and fell to the floor. De Klerx rounded the table and closed on him. Before the young man could recover, a last bullet hit him in the side of his head, an exit wound bursting open on the other side of his skull and spraying its contents across the pale wood floor.

  Eddie saw that the gun’
s slide had locked back: the magazine was empty. ‘Nina, run!’ he yelled, but the Dutchman was already replacing it with a new mag from the strap of his shoulder holster and bringing his weapon to bear.

  Nina, Eddie and Olivia froze by the fountain. An ice-spiked wind blew in through the broken window as De Klerx looked to Mikkelsson for instructions. ‘What are you waiting for?’ the Icelander snapped. ‘Shoot them!’

  33

  The Dutchman glanced at Anastasia, who smiled, then back at his targets—

  Nina stamped on a metal pedal.

  The fountain gushed into life, boiling water erupting from the model volcano – and instantly producing a blinding, choking cloud of steam as it hit the freezing air from outside. The gusting wind swept it across the lounge, swallowing De Klerx.

  ‘Run!’ Nina yelled. She raced for the exit, hauling her grandmother behind her.

  Eddie had nearly been caught by the scalding steam. ‘Jesus!’ he gasped as he darted clear and followed the two women. ‘You almost lobstered me!’

  ‘Better red than dead!’ she replied. Eddie overtook and barged open the doors. Behind them, the cloud was already dispersing. ‘We’ve gotta get to the jeeps!’ Nina headed for the nearby stairs to the west entrance, but the exterior doors below crashed open. ‘Whoa, not that way!’

  Eddie snatched a fire extinguisher from its wall clips and hurled it down the stairwell. Honnick, charging up the steps, tried to dodge, but not quickly enough. The heavy metal cylinder struck his skull, bowling the hapless mercenary back to ground level with another deep cut to his head to add to those he had received in Reykjavik and aboard the Pactolus.

  The Englishman was about to vault down to grab his gun when he saw the shadows of more guards running towards the glass doors below. ‘Keep going!’ he yelled instead, reversing course.

  He quickly caught up with Nina and Olivia. ‘Come on, come on!’ the redhead cried, tugging at the old woman’s wrist.

  ‘I can’t!’ Olivia protested. ‘I’m eighty-nine years old!’

  ‘You want to reach ninety? Then move your bony ass!’

  Olivia looked offended, but before she could say anything, Eddie scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. She shrieked. ‘Sorry,’ he said as he ran down the corridor alongside Nina. ‘But she’s right, it is on the bony side.’

  ‘You—’ the elderly lady began, only to gasp in fear as two men reached the top of the stairs behind them. ‘Look out!’

  Nina darted around a corner as they entered the main lobby. Eddie swerved after her. Plasterboard exploded behind him as bullets hit the wall, but the rounds didn’t penetrate, impacting against concrete beneath the surface.

  They were still far from safe. The gunmen were already haring after them, and a gust of cold air warned that more guards were coming up the stairs from the main entrance below. ‘In there,’ said Eddie, running for the geothermal power plant’s entrance.

  ‘You think there’s another way out?’ asked Nina.

  ‘I bloody well hope so!’

  ‘There is,’ Olivia told them. ‘At the back. I’ve got a keycard.’

  ‘Great.’ He put her down. She produced the card and swiped it across the lock.

  They entered the cavernous white chamber. There was nobody else inside. Nina slammed the door, seeing a bolt and shoving it closed, even though she knew it wouldn’t stop their pursuers for long. ‘Which way?’ she asked Olivia.

  ‘There.’ Her grandmother pointed. The hydrogen sulphide pipes ran into the rear wall, a doorway nearby. ‘There’s a door to the outside past the storage tanks.’

  Eddie spotted something mounted on the wall beside a fire hose and veered away as they ran across the room. ‘Keep going! I’ll catch up!’

  Nina looked back. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Slowing ’em down!’ He grabbed a fire axe and rushed back to the pipes leading into the twin turbines. The door banged as someone tried to open it. Another thump, louder: a kick. The bolt buckled.

  Eddie reached a set of valves. Red-painted wheels allowed the flow of superheated water to be controlled manually. A deep breath, then he raised the axe.

  A crack as the bolt snapped and the door flew open. A man burst in. He saw the Englishman directly ahead and took aim—

  Eddie swung. The axe sheared off one of the valve wheels – and the jutting stub of pipe to which it was attached.

  He dived clear as a high-pressure water jet blasted at the doorway. It hit the gunman and hurled him back into the lobby, his skin instantly blistering and liquefying. He skidded across the floor, other guards scrambling clear as boiling droplets sprayed off him.

  The stench of rotten eggs filled the room as suspended hydrogen sulphide escaped into the air. Eddie coughed, rolling back to his feet. Some of the super-hot spray had caught him, the exposed skin of his hands red and stinging. He looked at the doorway. It was shrouded in steam, the fist-thick jet still rushing through it. Nobody else would be coming in that way.

  There was another entrance higher up the wall, though, an elevated walkway leading around the turbine hall to a ladder. It wouldn’t take De Klerx’s men long to reach it.

  He caught up with the women at the rear door. Olivia was panting, her gait unsteady. ‘I’ll carry you!’ he shouted.

  ‘Please, no!’ she insisted. ‘At least leave me some dignity!’

  ‘You want to die with dignity,’ Nina said, ‘go to Switzerland—’

  The whine of the machines suddenly fluctuated and dropped in pitch. Alarms shrilled as the bright overhead fluorescents flickered, then went out. A moment of darkness – then illumination returned, but at a much lower level as emergency lights came on. Both turbines spun down to silence.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Nina, blinking into the gloom.

  ‘I think the emergency generators just kicked in,’ replied Olivia. ‘But that would mean something had happened to the geothermal pumps.’ She saw the dripping axe in Eddie’s hand. ‘Ah. Mystery solved.’

  He smirked. ‘Just be glad this isn’t a nuclear plant.’

  They opened the door. The room beyond was as tall as the turbine hall, but less deep, complex pipework connecting a row of large stainless-steel tanks. Eddie hefted the axe, but the chamber was empty. At the room’s far end was another door. ‘There are some offices through there,’ said Olivia. ‘There’s an emergency exit past them.’

  A bang from behind as one of De Klerx’s men barged through the upper door. ‘Time to go!’ Eddie said, bundling the women into the room. The guard fired. A bullet whipped past the Yorkshireman’s back and clanked off a piece of machinery.

  Nina grimaced as she saw a warning sign; she couldn’t read the Icelandic text, but the international explosive hazard symbol was clear even in the half-light. ‘Jesus! It’s lucky he didn’t blow the whole place up.’

  Eddie glanced at the sign, then – to her alarm – grinned. ‘Yeah, ’cause it means I can give him another chance.’

  ‘What does he mean?’ Olivia asked her granddaughter with growing concern.

  Nina took her hand again. ‘When he gets that face? You want to be moving away from him, fast.’ She hurried down the line of gleaming gas tanks, drawing Olivia with her. Eddie didn’t follow. ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘Just get outside.’ He flipped the axe around to favour the sharp point at the other end of its head. ‘I need to pass some gas.’

  ‘No, don’t!’ the horrified Olivia cried as he swung. ‘It’ll expl—’

  The point stabbed into the first tank’s steel skin with a clang – then was blown clear as hydrogen sulphide jetted out.

  Eddie reeled as the escaping gas tore at his clothing. If the smell in the turbine room had been bad, this was more like a chemical attack. He closed his eyes and held his breath, burying hi
s face into the crook of his arm for protection – he was now literally standing in a cloud of poison. Another alarm wailed as detectors registered the deadly substance.

  He waved the axe in what he thought was the direction of the exit, trying to find a pipe to use as a guide, then abruptly drew it back. Stainless steel, at least the kind used to contain explosive chemicals, wouldn’t spark, but that might not be true of the blade. He turned it over to grip it by the head, using the wooden handle like a blind man’s stick to feel his way forward. He had to get clear before the guard reached the entrance.

  The handle barked against something in front of him. The route to the exit had been clear of obstructions. He was off-course, and realised with growing fear that he had lost his bearings. The roar of gas echoed off the walls, seeming to come from all around him. The howling alarms increased the confusion. A couple more sweeps of the axe revealed an open path . . . but was he facing the exit, or back towards the turbine room?

  Even closed, his eyes were stinging. If he opened them, however briefly, they could be permanently damaged. He had to get clear of the ruptured tank, but if he went the wrong way, the gunman would kill him before the gas could.

  He knew what he had to do. It was a huge risk, but there was no choice. He moved his arm just enough to expose his mouth, using the last of the air in his lungs to shout, ‘Nina!’

  Even exhaling, that was enough to burn his lips and sear his tongue. He clamped his mouth shut again. If Nina was replying, he couldn’t hear her over the noise. But he couldn’t call out again without taking a fatal breath.

  He had to move. A fifty-fifty chance: either he was going towards her, or he would die. Sweeping the axe again, he started forward. Another roar, but this was inside his own head – blood rushing in his ears as his body ran out of oxygen—

  ‘Eddie!’

  Faint, seeming miles distant – but ahead. He found some reserve of strength and increased his pace. The wooden shaft thunked against pipework, again and again – then nothing. He remembered that the pipes turned inwards at the base of each tank. The way the steel vessels were spaced, that put him about twenty-five feet from the leak. Far enough to risk a breath? Not yet.