Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1)

by Azam Hossain

  “Fortunately it is not necessary for me to descend too far to the point where I plant the explosives. Everything directly above it will come down – increasing the destructive power. That that comes down will crash down on parts of the wall, below the point where the explosives are placed and that lower part will also come down,” the Major explained to Ismail and I over tea shortly before dark a little distance from the edge, which we had made our impromptu base, “If my calculations are right at least half the base will be smashed and covered with the debris from the wall. That is even before we consider the destruction to the launch facility from the C4 that you will plant inside it,” he said looking directly at me.

  I nearly choked on my Earl Grey and my face betrayed surprise.

  “You are not here for nothing Collingwood, besides I cannot do everything,” he admonished.

  I lowered the metal mug from my lips and looked at the Major feigning stoicism to conceal my anxiety, “I hope I prove my worth, just tell me what I have to do,” I riposted with as much confidence as I could muster.

  Once night fell the Major abseiled down the wall dressed in black, with pieces of C4 and detonators contained in the pockets of his specially adapted harness. He was attached to the ropes, which were moored to several pitons which had been driven into the ground and one to a horse. He scaled down the wall four times. Each time he would have to judge how far he had descended and then in the dark without any artificial light find a suitable crack in the rock or ledge in which to secure the C4 with the detonator attached and set, before ascending again. All Ismail and I could do was wait idly and when we received the signal pull him up with the aid of the horse. The Major did all this diligently, with unfailing and inexhaustible energy. Each time he came up he would rest for 10 minutes before we adjusted the pitons and ropes in accordance with his direction and refilled the pockets of his harness ready for his next descent. His sweaty brow and the preoccupied look on his face testified to his physical exertion. One couldn’t help but admire his efforts. When he came up for the last time he was visibly exhausted – the harness removed, he gulped down some water, with Ismail and I in attendance upon him.

  “Did everything go well?” I asked.

  The Major waited to gulp down some more water before replying, “Yes it went well.”

  “You are very brave man sir,” opined Ismail.

  The Major nodded, embarrassed by the praise he had rightfully earnt; before going on to explain that the C4 which he had planted was timed to go off at 0500 hrs tomorrow morning. This was in accordance with what he told us in his tent that morning. The three of us then set about inserting more C4 in various crevices and holes below the ridge where we were standing. Our task completed, we packed away our equipment and concealed any evidence of our presence by scattering our fire place and hiding any detritus we had created. The Major looked around with approval before mounting his horse. The three of us on our mounts trotted back the way we had come, with Ismail leading the fourth horse.

  “No matter what happen - we have struck blow against Iran,” stated Ismail his breast swelling with pride, as that flouting of Azakistan’s sovereignty down below, had just had the seeds of its imminent destruction sown. The Major stated that it was now a fait accompli.

  I began to doubt the need for planting explosives in the launch facility itself, but felt unable to voice these doubts. I could not now abdicate the role assigned me by the Major of planting the C4 in the base itself – especially after his sterling efforts. Otherwise I would feel a complete wretch and instead of one - I would have two Germans looking at me with disapproval. And I hadn’t forgotten the pedestal that Ismail had placed me upon.

  “So Major tell me what I have to do?” I asked in earnest, as my horse drew level with his.

  “You are very keen Captain Collingwood. It is good to see,” he said guardedly, “Wait till we get to the bottom and I shall tell you all,” he advised.

  The Major and Ismail between then negotiated a way down Khazali’s Mound; which part of the way required us to dismount. It was now dark. Fortunately the different route we took going down was not nearly as treacherous, or as narrow as the path we took getting up. When we had descended I glanced around in all directions in an empty expanse of valley floor. The weather had cooled as was to be expected and as I looked overhead saw ominous clouds gathering, moving up from the south. Rain would be a good thing; for its sound and the poorer visibility it would induce, would help to conceal our presence.

  “The destruction of the launch facility is our mission. What happens to each of us afterwards is not important,” the Major began his briefing to me, with Ismail listening in, “It will not be easy but that will make success all the more glorious.”

  Never mind your glory von Weizsacker, I think to myself. I just wanted to get out alive. I was afraid for a moment he might start quoting Clausewitz. I tried to maintain an implacable demeanour as he continued, “The planting of the explosives in the base itself, is the most dangerous part of this mission. I would have done it myself, but I was concerned that you would feel that you had wasted your time coming on this mission if you couldn’t get any of the more challenging roles. The honour now falls to you. Oh how I envy you Herr Collingwood,” he said looking at me aggrieved and sounding genuinely disappointed that it was I being sent into the heart of the enemy and not him.

  “Thank you, I’m most obliged,” I lied through gritted teeth.

  It was as if he were forsaking the first taste of a newly opened bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild in my favour, such was his genuine sorrow - when instead he was asking me to risk capture and death at the hands of the enemy. He continued that he believed that the launch facility was designed to store ICBM’s – InterContinental Ballistic Missiles, which meant that they could reach Europe. He told me to plant the explosives at the very bottom of the base in order to destroy the foundations.

  In a few moments I had dispensed with my Azaki outerwear into darker clothes. Checked my Glock, knife and tracking device and concealed them about me and had a rucksack filled with the C4 and the detonators. I was ready!

  “We shall meet you at the northern end of Khazali’s Mound when you have finished,” he looked at his watch, “It is now 22.20hrs. If you are not there by 0100hrs we will have to leave you. Viel Gluck Captain Collingwood!”

  The Major and I shook hands stoically, whilst Ismail seemed distressed as he shook my hand. I’ve never been one for long farewells, so I walked a few paces before turning back and raised a curt hand of farewell, before turning my back on them and walked with purpose toward the base which I was now resolved to destroy. I took a deep breath and exhaled and as I did so reflected on the chain of events; starting from Andrew’s phone call that had lead to this - shaking my head in disdain at the capricious nature of providence.

  CHAPTER 22 – INTO THE ABYSS.

  I stayed as close to the walls of the Mound as I could, as I cautiously made my way towards the base feeling somewhat vulnerable in this dark and exposed terrain. This was the first time that I’d been truly alone since arriving in this country, whose name prompted me to curse, as I could barely bring myself to utter it, given the dangers before me. By now the Major and Ismail were out of sight. It was quite cold and I noticed that the skies were getting darker with the imminence of rain. It was now 22.46. As I progressed slowly forward I could see just ahead, the pillars holding up the tarpaulin cover over much of the site. Fortunately the floodlights were switched off as the workers had gone home. As I stealthily moved forward staying as close to the wall as observation of the sight would permit, I could see no one. I momentarily countenanced the possibility that they had all gone, but I dismissed this notion as quickly as I had conceived it. I moved closer to the sight, my caution receding. Where in gods name were these Shiites? I reconnoitred the site looking from left to right. The chair where I saw one of the guards sitting down last night was empty. Apart from the occasional secondary lighting there was no illumination
and not a soul to be seen. However, just then I noticed in the distance the Portacabins that were adjacent to the site. I could see three of the guards, one of whom was smoking, all standing outside – they appeared to be chatting amicably. Just then the heavens opened and it started to rain heavily.

  The absence of the guards had disconcerted me. But I gathered my wits and realised it was an opportunity for me to take advantage. I had already been fool enough to waste time. I crept over to the base, whose complete want of illumination meant that I could barely see where the hell I was treading. Using my small torch to illuminate my path was entirely out of the question as it would betray me in an instant. I recall the ground here being uneven on an earlier reconnoitring. Thus each foot I put forward was done in trepidation; whilst I simultaneously got drenched. All I could hear was the pounding of the rain. Water ran down my face and my cloths stuck to me. Out of the darkness before me appeared the shape of the base. It was a white concrete rectangle shape about the size of a football pitch. I made my way towards the leftward side of this mass of concrete, which contained a rectangular recess containing stairs leading to the Entrance; this was surrounded on three sides by a metal safety balustrade. Just to the right, within the base was a large retractable circle – denoting from where the missiles would emerge when fired. The rain got heavier, just as I came under the shelter of the tarpaulin. But by now I was truly soaked. I got to the top of the stairs leading down to the Entrance and cautiously descended the steps several feet down until I reached a black door containing a sign in Farsi. The door contained in its centre a big round wheel, which had to be turned to unlock and lock the door, similar to those found on ships. I grabbed the heavy metallic wheel with both hands and turned it in an anti-clockwise direction - it was initially stiff but the more I turned it the easier it became. Once I turned it as far as it would go, I tried the door handle and lever together – it opened slowly. The door was big heavy and seemingly solid metal. I pulled. When it had opened sufficiently wide enough for me to enter, I went through into darkness, but for a small light above the door and switched on my torch. I then pulled the door shut and as I did so the sound of the rain receded, followed by a gentle metallic clang as the door found its frame.

  I then descended about four metres down a black metal staircase to reach a small landing on one side of which there were rails which lead to a drop of about 3 metres; along which there was a corridor running parallel to the staircase down which I had just descended. I turned around on the landing and saw another flight of stairs descending deeper into this abyss of infamy. I found the darkness quite daunting. It was not something that I had prepared myself for. The walls and the ceilings were just simple ugly plain grey concrete with light fittings. The key according to the Major was destroying the base from the bottom. With only my torch to guide me – I surveyed my surroundings at each landing in case there should be some obstacle or danger in my way. As I descended to the fourth flight I noticed a corridor leading away from the stairs, rather than take the fifth flight down curiosity got the better of me. I shone my torch down this pitch black corridor, which got noticeably wider after about three metres and at this point I noticed on the left hand side of the wall – the side facing in the direction of the rest of the base - a bank of dials, buttons, pressure gauges and screens. Just a little further along, on the right of the corridor I saw a recess in the wall, into which I turned and shone my torch. It contained a narrow alcove of about 6 metres in length, containing a couple of camp beds, head to toe and two small cupboards for personal possessions. I turned back to the main corridor and consulted my Breitling; it was now 23.15hrs. Suddenly I felt a new sense of urgency. I walked back down the corridor the way I had come and took the next flight of stairs down. I shone my torch and followed its beam as I took the remaining flights down until I had finally reached the bottom, discernible by the absence of any further stairs; and as the beam of my torch revealed an expanse of space on my left. The silence and the cavernous nature of this concrete abomination exaggerated the sound of each step I took; and thereby heightened my feeling of solitude. I looked up above me and saw two red lights on the walls that ran the length of the base – one to my right and the other far off on the opposing wall. They indicated that the base was far bigger than I had imagined and this filled me with a sense of foreboding.

  I turned to the right corner of the base, as it was when standing from the bottom of the stairs and proceeded there. I took off my backpack, placed it on the ground and shone my torch in to it and retrieved a couple of blocks of C4, a detonator and timer. I concealed the explosives as I planted them. I placed two blocks of C4 in the extreme corner with their detonators. I set the timer to 05.00hrs. A sense of grim satisfaction came over me as I planted the first of the C4 which would put these despicable Persian plans to an end for good. I began to walk to the very far corner, which would require me to walk the length of the base along one of the walls. My torch caught a glimpse of a small metallic box on the wall about five feet from the ground. I opened this box, which was slightly larger than a shoe box in its dimensions and brought the beam of my torch to bear on its contents to reveal just what I had been hoping for – light switches! Perhaps I was being paranoid, but what if the Persians on the surface could detect the lights being switched on? The oppressive nature of the dark; coupled with its restrictions on my movements were dispiriting. The box contained ten switches in two rows of five. I flicked the two on the left and waited. Nothing happened!

  “Oh Christ!” I swore aloud in vexation. In a fit of pique I brought my open palmed hand over the switches and in a decisive downward motion switched them all to the “On” position and resolved that I would just have to live, or if fortune had it.....die by the consequences.

  CHAPTER 23 – ILLUMINATION, INFAMY & CAPITULATION.

  I waited with baited breath. Such was my apprehension that I had begun to perspire; coupled with the dampness from the rain, it was I reflected a fine way to catch a chill. After waiting for several seconds nothing happened. I gave it up as a lost cause and resumed walking to the furthest corner. As I took a few paces, suddenly I could hear a sound; I stopped dead in my tracks and listened. First I could not make it out; and listened again. It was a whirring sound – the sound of a generator? I reflected that once it had built up enough power the lights would come on. In the meantime I was not going to waste any more time. I got to the far corner of the base and proceeded to plant the explosives as discreetly and as quickly as I could. I had to be single minded in this at least. As I laid and set the C4 in the final corner, I raised myself off my haunches and looked down at it with satisfaction and a modicum of relief.

  The whirring had continued throughout and I had by now become rather inured to it. Still no lights, so I decided to leave and made for the stairs down which I had come; as I started climbing the first flight the whirring sound suddenly got louder. I stopped and then all of a sudden and rather belatedly the lights came on with a “blink blink” sound you hear when strip lights flicker on. After the darkness I had had to endure, the sudden illumination caught me unawares - I raised one arm to partially shield my eyes from the glare and switched off my torch. I blinked and then lowered my arm as my eyes began adjusting to the light. Only about one in every three of the lights throughout the complex had come on. Consequently, the cavernous interior was only dimly illuminated, but sufficiently for me to be able to see the scope and ambition of the Persians. I was immediately struck by the sight of what could only have been a missile silo towering above me. I looked over in the distance and saw in the centre of this vast chamber a tall cylindrical structure several storeys high. At the base of this structure there was a rectangle shaped wall about 4 metres high and 4x6 metres long on each side. This could only be one thing – the silo from which a missile, possibly armed with a nuclear warhead could be launched. The dimensions suggested that the silo had been designed for ICBM’s, as the Major had feared. This cavernous area was much bigger than a nuclear
launch facility need be. It was possible that our assumptions and our intelligence were wrong. Everything about it aroused one’s suspicions of diabolical Persian designs. I looked up to the top – towards the ceiling which must have been about seven floors in height above us. And although lit it was quite dark up there, there were several beams of what I presumed were steel. I studied this unconventional ceiling for a moment. There were staggered layers above these beams and large cantilever supports coming out from two opposing walls to support the retracting ceiling further. This looked to me not just any ceiling but a heavily reinforced concrete one – designed to withstand a missile strike. To have it retract as well was quite an engineering feat. These Persians were not to be underestimated I thought, as much in approbation as in rebuke.

  I then glanced towards the long wall of the base, on the side nearer Khazali’s Mound; an archway with a double door wide enough for a car to pass through was visible. I went up to it opened the door and shone my torch to reveal a long uphill tunnel only dimly lit. It had the width of two cars and a height of almost 3 metres. Based on my orientation of the surrounding geography, this tunnel lead deep into Khazali’s Mound – but to where? There was of course only one way to find out! As I started walking along this uphill tunnel, I felt strangely exhilarated with suspense. Within this tunnel were sets of doors at periodic intervals that were wide open and made of solid metal. The frames for these doors appeared to provide a hermetic seal when the door was closed, which one had to step over when walking through each door way. As I continued, I noticed that the gradient got even steeper. After nearly a hundred metres I saw an end to the tunnel in the form of a closed metallic door. I marvelled at the engineering and logistical challenge of building such a tunnel at this depth. I turned the large handle and pushed with both hands - the door opened slowly, such was its weight. I entered. It was distinctly colder here, which was no doubt indicative of its proximity to the surface. There must be air ducts. There was some secondary lighting on the walls. This enabled me to discern the size of this chamber as being about half the size of the first chamber containing the silo, from whence I had just come. The walls were made of solid rock, right in the middle of Khazali’s Mound. What a feat! I began walking around this cavernous entity, wondering what its purpose was. And then before my very eyes as they adjusted to the light, I could see a Nuclear Reactor! In the middle of this chamber the floor was metallic, made up of a grid like plates in a square shape about eight metres wide on each side. In the centre of this surrounded by a metal safety fence there was a structure which towered several metres above the ground, with a diameter of 4 metres which ended in a dome shape. This was the reactor itself, into which Uranium rods would be placed for the purpose of irradiation. I suddenly recalled Solomon telling me in his hotel room about taking delivery of a substance known to him as Beluga CC238 from Forsyth Landor – the yellowcake! This is where at least some of it was intended to end up. After this process the resultant Plutonium is separated from the rest of the spent rods by dissolving them in nitric acid. For that a reprocessing plant is required, requiring large amounts of water.