The Secret of Excalibur

‘That’s what it’s for?’ Chase asked in disbelief. ‘You’ve got the world’s biggest missile sub downstairs, and you’re using it as a generator?’

‘It produces nearly four hundred megawatts of power. But even if we fed all of Russia’s electricity into it, it wouldn’t be enough. Not without the superconductor.’ He looked at the gauge again, which had now reached 0.47. ‘The highest it has ever gone is zero point seven two. If it goes higher, then the superconductor is working - it is channelling earth energy into the generator. But it will still consume more energy than it produces . . . until the gauge reads one. That is the point where the process becomes self-sustaining. ’

‘And then what?’ demanded Chase.

‘And then . . . you can leave.’

Nina regarded him suspiciously. ‘You’re really going to let us go?’

‘Your fiance gave me his word that he would bring me Excalibur. I gave him my word that I would release you in return. I have what I want - there is no need for more violence.’

‘Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you sent your little gang of psychos out to get it,’ Chase snarled, with a hate-filled glance at Kruglov.

‘If Jack had not been working against me, I would not have had to. He is as much to blame for what has happened as I am. For what it’s worth, I regret the loss of life.’

‘What, and you think saying sorry makes everything all right?’ said Nina bitterly. ‘You hypocritical bastard. Just because you send other people to do your dirty work doesn’t mean your own hands are clean!’

But Vaskovich was no longer listening, his attention focused on the gauge. 0.68 . . . 0.69 . . . More electrical flares lit up the huge chamber, the hum of the machinery rising in pitch. 0.71 . . . 0.72 . . .

‘It works!’ Vaskovich cried, elated. The gauge now read 0.73, and kept climbing. He rushed over to one of the consoles, speaking in rapid, excited Russian to the technician. Despite herself, Nina found herself becoming caught up in the moment, willing the reading higher. It passed 0.90, 0.91. Vaskovich hurried back and leaned intently over the console, the digital figures reflected in his glasses. 0.96, 0.97 . . .

It stopped.

The gauge remained constant at 0.97. Vaskovich’s face fell in confusion, then anger. He shouted an order to the technicians, jerking his hands upwards in an unmistakable ‘More!’ gesture. One of the men shook his head.

‘What’s wrong?’ Nina asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Vaskovich darted from console to console, shoving the technicians aside to work the controls himself, with the same lack of results. ‘It should be working. The superconductor is channelling earth energy into the system - why isn’t it working?’

‘I know,’ said a voice from above.

Everyone looked up to see Mitchell standing on top of the generator’s frame, having descended by rope through one of the dome’s louvres. He aimed his gun at Vaskovich, and fired.

28

The window shattered. Vaskovich’s right thigh erupted with bloody holes as bullets ripped into it. The oligarch collapsed, screaming.

Chase was already moving, shoving Nina towards the ladder. ‘Go!’ he yelled, despite being unsure if there was another way out of the generator chamber. To reach the door of the control room she would have to pass Kruglov and Maximov, and he wanted to give Mitchell a clear field of fire.

Another burst of gunfire took out two of the technicians at their consoles as Mitchell descended the rope. Chase ran to pull him in through the broken window.

Nina scrambled down the ladder. Kruglov saw her go, pulled out his black-bladed knife and raced after her. She jumped to the catwalk below and looked round. A third of the way anticlockwise round the catwalk a walkway led to a passage set in the vast pit’s concrete wall. She ran for it as Kruglov leapt down behind her.

Chase hauled Mitchell into the control room. The American fired the XM-201 again, a rapid sweep of shots killing another technician and taking down three of the guards. Maximov threw himself into the cover of another console as bullets seared past him.

‘You miss me?’ Mitchell asked. He indicated his shoulder: the second rifle was attached to the harness on his back. ‘Brought something for you - oh, shit, look out!’

‘Fuck!’ Chase dived one way, Mitchell the other, as the console Maximov had been hiding behind was hurled through the window between them and crashed down into the pit. The huge Russian charged at them. Mitchell managed to get off another shot, blasting a chunk of shredded meat from Maximov’s upper arm.

It didn’t even slow him. Instead, he grinned and seized Mitchell in his massive hands, slamming him to the floor.

Chase jumped up. Mitchell was pinned down by Maximov - and both rifles were trapped beneath him.

And there was still another guard to deal with.

The surviving technicians were running for the exit, but the guard barrelled straight at Chase, intending to shoulder-barge him out of the broken window. Chase held his ground. He waited until the Russian was almost upon him, then feinted to the left. The guard instinctively moved to intercept him—

Chase instead ducked right, swinging a hammer-blow punch that smashed into the man’s jaw. The guard reeled, throwing out his hands to stop his fall - only to impale his palms on the spears of glass. He fell through the window, dropping past Kruglov to plunge screaming into the depths of the pit.

Nina heard the terrified yell and looked back, fearful that it had been Chase. It only took a glimpse of the falling figure to see that it wasn’t, but that glimpse also told her Kruglov was gaining. She raced for the walkway leading to the opening.

Chase ran back to help Mitchell. Maximov was choking him, thumping his head repeatedly against the floor. Lacking weapons, Chase snatched up a chair and smashed it over the Russian’s broad back. The chair broke apart, pieces scattering, but Maximov just let out a grunting laugh.

‘All right,’ Chase growled, ‘how about this?’ He delivered a brutal kick to one of the giant’s kidneys.

On anyone else it would have decisively ended the fight, but instead Maximov’s back arched with pleasure. ‘Daaaaaa!’ he gasped, insane smile widening in ecstasy.

Mitchell was turning blue, and Chase was out of ideas . . .

Wait!

If Maximov felt pain as pleasure, then . . .

‘Can’t believe I’m doing this,’ Chase muttered as he moved behind Maximov and reached down to his sides, fingers outstretched - to tickle him.

It was as if the Russian had received an electric shock. He released his grip on Mitchell’s throat and jumped to his feet, face twisted in rage. ‘That hurt, little man!’

Chase backed away. On the floor, Mitchell gasped for air, moving weakly. The XM-201 lay across his stomach. Come on, shoot the bastard! ‘No wonder you always look so fucking grumpy,’ Chase said, trying to keep Maximov’s attention off the gun. ‘Must feel like a kick in the bollocks every time you have a wank.’

Through the window he saw Nina running along the catwalk, with Kruglov not far behind. Mitchell, groaning, rolled on his side . . . and the gun slid to the floor, forgotten as its owner struggled to breathe. Shit!

Chase looked from the rifle to Nina, to Kruglov, then back to Maximov. He was out of time. ‘Ah, fuck it!’ he spat as he launched himself at the Russian, ducking under his grasping hands to smash a fist into his stomach, hitting him again and again. ‘This’ll put a fucking smile on your face!’

‘Da, little man!’ bellowed Maximov, the sheer fury of Chase’s attack actually forcing him backwards. He raised one arm, hand clenching into a fist. ‘Do!’ The hand slammed on to Chase’s back. ‘It!’ Another blow knocked him to his knees. ‘Again! ’ The final punch dropped him to the floor.

Winded, Chase looked up through pain-filled eyes, and saw Mitchell struggling to all fours behind Maximov. The gun lay beside him, still forgotten.

But Maximov didn’t know that . . .

Chase tipped his head back further, and smiled up at the Russian. Maximov stopped, confused. ‘If you like