“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 Gamma 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
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
“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,
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 facade 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
