“All right, but put on something to cover your legs. We’re going down a mine.”
The sun was just beginning to rise as they drove away from the motel and out of town, heading north towards more remote mining towns such as Broad Arrow, Comet Vale, and Leonora. The EurAsia Enterprises facility was about an hour’s drive away.
Many of the mines in Kalgoorlie-Boulder were open pit mines. This meant that the ore was mined and hauled from what was basically a large hole in the ground. The maximum amount of payable ore was moved by the shortest route to the processing plant with the minimum amount of waste. The aptly named “Super Pit” was the largest of this kind in the area, and the city’s gold-mining industry was now primarily centred around it. The Super Pit would eventually swallow the last of the traditional underground mine shafts that could be found in the Golden Mile.
EurAsia’s mining operation was of the old-fashioned underground type. The ore was drilled and blasted by conventional means, leaving a cavern which was partially filled with barren rock from the same mine. The broken ore produced by the blast was carried by haul trucks or rail cars to a primary crusher underground, before being winched to the surface via a shaft. Trucks, loaders, and other vehicles and equipment used underground were dismantled on the surface and lowered in pieces down the shaft. They were then reassembled in workshops cut from the rock beneath the surface. Large headframes, prominent features in the Kalgoorlie-Boulder skyline, were used for hauling ore to the surface or raising and lowering miners and equipment.
The entrance to the facility was just off the highway. A faded sign read “EurAsia Enterprises Australia Pty—Private Property—No Trespassing.” A road led from the paved highway off into the distance. Bond turned into the drive, then moved off the dirt road and travelled along the side of it over the rough terrain.
“What are you doing?” Sunni asked.
“I don’t want to leave fresh tyre treads in the dirt road. No one will notice the tracks out here.”
After ten minutes, the adjacent dirt road opened up into a large gravelled area surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. A closed gate barred entrance to the compound. There was a two-storey, white wooden building just inside the fence. Several 4x4 vehicles and a couple of other standard cars were parked in front. Most notable was the private airstrip alongside the building. A Cessna Grand Caravan single turboprop sat on the runway. Bond thought it was probably used by company executives to get to and from Perth in a hurry. It was the type of plane that was commonly owned by corporations and even private individuals in an area as large as Western Australia.
Bond parked the Vitara behind a clump of eucalyptus trees that he hoped would shield it from sight. He and Sunni got out and moved closer to the fence. Some distance away, on the other side of the white building, was the entrance to the mine. A headframe fifty metres high marked the spot. Two trucks sat on the “decline,” the dirt road that led into the big dark hole. Another small structure stood next to it, most likely a miners’ barracks or storehouse. Two men wearing overalls were walking towards the main building. Bond wondered how many more employees would be present.
From this vantage point, he could see inside the loading bay of the building. Sitting on a flatbed lorry was the dark brown sampan with the red hood that he had last seen at the EurAsia warehouse at Kwai Chung. What the hell was it doing here? Hadn’t the Taitai shipped it to Singapore? That ship couldn’t have travelled as far as Perth in four days. It was very curious—there wasn’t a body of water for miles, and these people had a Chinese boat sitting in the loading bay of a mining operation.
He held the barbed-wire open for them to slip through. They both ran for cover behind a pile of boulders near the mine entrance. When the coast was clear, Bond slipped over to the small structure and listened at the door. There was silence. He gestured for Sunni, and together they entered the small building.
He had been right. It was full of mining tools, hardhats, lockers, and a shower. Bond tossed a pair of overalls to Sunni and put some on himself. They found hardhats that fitted (Sunni tucked her long hair underneath the hat), took a couple of torches and pickaxes, then proceeded out of the door. There was no one in sight. It was probably too early for the miners. If they hurried, they could be in and out before anyone arrived for the beginning of the working day.
Bond and Sunni entered the mine and made their way down the decline into darkness. They switched on the flashlights, revealing a colourless shaft of stone not much higher than Bond’s head. Props were inserted every few yards to support the ceiling. He consulted the map he had found at Kwai Chung.
“We have to travel quite a way to this point here,” he said, referring to a junction some distance away. The decline curved to the left there, while the map showed another passage leading right towards the “Off Limits Area.”
It was about fifteen degrees cooler in the mine, which felt wonderful, but the air was stale and smelled of minerals. They soon came to an area that had recently been excavated. A couple of pickaxes lay on the ground, and the wall to their left had been chipped away. Bond pointed his flashlight at the wall. Streaks of dull brown-yellow spread through the rock.
“See that?” Bond gestured. “That’s gold.”
Sunni was amazed. “Really? It doesn’t look like gold.”
“That’s because gold is never bright and shiny when you first find it. It’s actually quite dull. It’s very soft and malleable, too. The stuff that sparkles is really ‘fool’s gold.’ ”
They moved on further into the mine and finally came to the junction. The passage to the right was so narrow that they had to squeeze through single file. They moved down the tunnel for several minutes until it opened up into a large cavern. Bond consulted the map.
“We’re nearly beneath the main building. They’ve excavated back under the compound. I wonder if they have lifts or something going up to the surface.”
He shone the torch around the room and saw that lights had been installed in the ceiling. Bond found the switch and turned them on. The room was furnished with tables, lockers, chairs, and a vending machine for soft drinks. A large steel door was built into the far wall, with a sign reading “Off Limits Area. Danger: Radiation.” There was a small porthole in the door. Bond walked over to it and looked inside. It was some kind of airlock, for another steel door was just a few feet away.
Radiation? What was behind that steel door? Bond’s heart suddenly started to race. What had he stumbled on? Had he found the source of the Australian nuclear explosion? Could this possibly be the answer?
He turned quickly and searched the lockers. They were full of radiation-resistant body suits. He took one and put it on.
“Wait here,” he told Sunni. “I’m going inside.”
“Be careful,” was all she said. She was getting a little nervous now.
Bond found the airlock controls easily enough and opened the outer door. He stepped inside and closed it behind him. He then opened the inner door and stepped into another mine shaft. He flicked on an electric generator which powered up some lights. Bond studied the rock walls and found no traces of gold. Instead, he saw net-like veins of a dull, black, sooty material that was neither smooth nor craggy. He didn’t need a Geiger counter to identify the oxide. EurAsia Enterprises was mining uranium!
He followed the passage into another large work area, this one set up more like a laboratory. A lift had been installed here, and Bond presumed it went up into the main building on the surface. There were also other large machines in the room, and Bond thought they might be the reactors that converted the non-fissionable uranium-238, or natural uranium, into uranium-235, which was the material used in atomic bombs. He knew that natural uranium contained both isotopes, but usually only 0.6 per cent of the material was the fissionable U-235.
A U-235 atom was so unstable that a blow from a single neutron was enough to split it and bring on a chain reaction. When a U-235 atom was split, it would give off energy in the form of heat and Gamm
a radiation, which was the most dynamic form of radioactivity and the most lethal. The split atom would also emit two or three spare neutrons that would fly out with sufficient force to split other atoms they came in contact with. In theory, it was necessary to split only one U-235 atom, and the neutrons from this one would split other atoms, which would split more … and so on. All of this happened within a millionth of a second. Bond knew that the minimum amount to start a chain reaction was known as Super Critical Mass.
It only took the materials, the recipe, and a certain amount of expertise to make a bomb. Bond saw that the first two of these elements were in this room, and someone obviously had the necessary skill.
The big question in Bond’s mind was whether Guy Thackeray himself had been involved at all. The man was dead, but this facility was obviously still operating. Who was behind it?
In the centre of the room, on a steel table, was a metal object that resembled a large skittle. On closer examination, Bond knew it was a bomb that was almost complete. The top of the device had been removed. It was the section that held the detonator and fuse which would be used to set off the chain reaction. A hollow cylinder of U-235 was inside the device. The missing section would contain another phallic-shaped portion of U-235 which would be injected by a plunger into the cylinder, thereby causing Super Critical Mass. The detonator that fired the plunger was activated by a fuse set to a timer, not an altimeter. This bomb was going to be placed somewhere, not dropped from an aeroplane.
He had to get out of there and contact London immediately. Bond could handle M’s displeasure that he had disobeyed orders and left Hong Kong. If she suspended him, so be it. At least he had found the source of the nuclear “accident.” Now if he only knew who was behind it and what their motives were …
Bond switched off the lights, went back through the passage, and opened the door to the airlock. He closed it behind him, then opened the outer door.
He stepped into the room where he’d left Sunni and got the shock of his life.
The three albino Chinese thugs, the ones he’d dubbed Tom, Dick, and Harry, stood facing him, armed with pistols. Harry held Sunni, with his hand over her mouth.
It was the fourth man in the room who took Bond completely by surprise.
“Did you find what you were looking for, Mr. Bond?” asked Guy Thackeray, alive and well and looking very fit.
NINETEEN
FAREWELL TO HONG KONG
THE ALBINO TOM IMMEDIATELY MOVED FORWARD AND DISARMED BOND. HE tucked the Walther PPK in his belt, then moved back into position. Harry slowly released Sunni, and she moved to join Bond.
“How touching,” Thackeray said. “It looks as if you two have some sort of affection for each other. Surprised to see me, Mr. Bond?”
Bond was speechless.
“No, I’m not a ghost,” Thackeray said. “Still alive. I haven’t felt better in years!”
“What’s going on, Thackeray?” Bond ground out. “Let us go!”
“But you two are my guests,” the man said with mock sincerity. “I was about to have breakfast. Won’t you join me? I promise to tell all.” He gestured to the albinos. Bond and Sunni were shoved roughly towards the passageway. Bond removed his radioactive-resistant suit, then the entire party made their way out of the mine. They walked across the gravel towards the main building. The temperature had risen considerably in the hour Bond and Sunni had been underground.
They were led into a comfortable private dining area on the second floor. Tom shoved Bond towards a chair. Angered, 007 turned and swung at the albino. Tom was unbelievably quick for his size—he blocked the blow effortlessly, grabbed Bond’s arm and twisted it sharply. Bond winced in agony.
“Enough of that!” Thackeray commanded. Tom released Bond, who jerked his arm away from the albino and stared at him menacingly.
“Who are the three stooges, Thackeray? I should have known they worked for you when I first saw them in Macau.”
“Oh, these are the Chang brothers. All three of them were born albino. Their parents were my grandfather’s servants. My own father saw to it that they were raised in a safe environment and they have been loyal to my family ever since,” Thackeray said.
“Sit down, Mr. Bond. Sit down, Miss … uhm, what shall I call your lovely companion?”
Before Sunni could answer, Bond replied, “Her name is no concern of yours. She’s completely innocent. You should let her go. She won’t go to the police.”
“I cannot believe she is completely innocent, Bond,” Thackeray said.
“For that matter,” Bond said, “you have no right to keep me either. I promise you, my newspaper won’t publish anything about you.”
“Your newspaper?” Thackeray laughed loudly. “Come, come, Bond. Cut the crap, please. I know all about you. You’re no reporter. I knew you weren’t a reporter before we parted company in Macau. You work for the British Secret Service. You see, my albino friends here kept tabs on Mr. Woo after he had played mahjong with me a couple of times. I wanted to know more about him. It wasn’t difficult to ascertain that he worked for your government. You people really are becoming careless, you know. I was about to do something about him, but General Wong in China beat me to it. Woo knew too much. It wasn’t a huge leap of logic to see through you, Mr. Bond.”
A Chinese servant brought in a tray of food: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, and coffee.
“Ah, breakfast,” Thackeray said. “Eat up, please. It may be the last good breakfast you’ll ever have!” He sat down and started piling food on his plate.
Bond looked at Sunni. She was terribly frightened. He took her hand. It was trembling. He wished she had stayed at the motel and was angry with himself for allowing her to come. Once again he had put a girl he cared about in jeopardy. Bond gave her hand a squeeze as if to say, “Don’t worry.” He then put on his best façade of nonchalance.
“I bet you say that to all your guests, Thackeray,” he said, sitting down. “This looks good. We’re quite hungry, aren’t we, Sunni?”
She looked at him as if he was mad. Bond gestured with his head for her to sit. Sunni sat down and played with her food.
“So, tell me,” Bond said, “how did you manage to survive that car bomb?”
“Oh, that,” Thackeray said. “Simple stage illusion. I once made a paltry living doing magic, but you probably already know that. I used to perform the same trick on stage with a cabinet and a curtain. I’d step into the cabinet, and my assistants would hold a large drape in front of it. The top of the cabinet could be seen behind the curtain, but it shielded my escape through the bottom. The cabinet was set on fire, and then I miraculously appeared at the back of the house and walked down the aisle to the thunderous applause of the audience. It was a nice illusion. On the day of my ‘disappearance,’ I simply got out of the limo when the vehicle was shielded by a large lorry that pulled up beside it. I jumped on to the side of the lorry and rode with it up the street. A man I’d hired then threw the bomb into the car. It was quite spectacular, if I do say so myself. I understand you had something to do with the man’s demise?”
Of course, Bond thought. He should have known it had been a magician’s illusion. It just proved the old adage that the hand really was quicker than the eye.
“Very clever, Thackeray,” Bond said. “But why? I know all about the contract between your great-great-grandfather and Li Xu Nan’s great-great-grandfather. But why disappear? Unless it was simply to escape being arrested as a drug-smuggler?”
“Yes, well, the contract …” Thackeray suddenly seemed lost in thought. “It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? My father had told me about the agreement, and I thought it had been lost forever. Li Xu Nan hated me on principle. He thought my family had cheated his family. But we didn’t lose the contract. The Thackerays had nothing to do with his family’s exile from China. Yet he blamed me for some reason.” Thackeray chuckled. “It didn’t stop him from doing business with me!”
“And then Gener
al Wong came to see you …”
Thackeray nodded. “Yes. A black day, to be sure. General Wong came to see me in, what year was it … ? 1985. At first I couldn’t believe he could get away with what he told me. I was determined to find a legal defence against him. At the same time, though, I had to keep silent. I couldn’t put the company’s market value in jeopardy. If the news that EurAsia Enterprises was going to change ‘management’ in 1997 had been made public then, I could not have conducted business. There are plenty of big corporations that have pulled out of Hong Kong in the last ten years. I was stuck, so I had to make it work until that fateful day.”
Thackeray stood and began to walk around the room as he spoke. He took a bottle of vodka, poured some into a glass, and drank it quickly. For the next half hour, he continued to refill the glass regularly. His address slowly became a rant, as if he was justifying himself to the gods rather than talking to people in the same room as him.
“I had to live with it for ten years!” he said. “Ten … bloody … years … Imagine it! Imagine knowing that everything your family had built was going to vanish in one swift blow, and there wasn’t a damned thing you could do about it! I alone carried that weight on my shoulders. My solicitor knew of course but he was helpless as well. So, about a year ago, I finally knew what I had to do. I would get everything I could out of the company, escape, and then wreak havoc on the society that had destroyed five generations of wealth and success.”
He sat down again and faced Bond and the girl. His face was flushed and he was now beginning to lose his composure. “I hate the Chinese. I hate the two-faced bastards! They smile to your face, eager-to-please, but behind your back they have nothing but contempt for you. And you know something? The British are no better! I hate them as well! What idiots! They agreed to hand over the wealthiest city-state in Asia to the yellow bastards, and it was rightfully theirs!”
So, Bond thought, not only was Thackeray a raving madman, he was a racist as well. “There are many who would argue with you, Thackeray,” he said. “It was the Chinese who got the unfair deal back in the nineteenth century. The land was originally theirs. Hong Kong was won only because of the greed and opportunism of opium traders. That was the reasoning behind the treaty Britain signed with China in 1984. China has lived with what they felt was shame and humiliation that England has nurtured one of her children. Hong Kong is a part of China, Thackeray. You cannot refute that.”
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