17

Switzerland

Chase panned the binoculars up the length of the valley. The moon was high in the night sky, the snowy mountains bathed in a vivid ghost light—a spectacular sight.

But natural beauty was the last thing on his mind. Instead, he focused on something man-made and charmlessly utilitarian.

“So Yuen’s in there?” he asked, breath steaming in the cold air as he surveyed the factory complex sprawled across the valley floor below.

“As far as I know,” said his companion. Mitzi Fontana was a long-haired and pretty Swiss blonde in her early twenties. “He’s been there a few hours. I persuaded one of the staff to tell me when he left the hotel.”

Chase took a moment to glance at the low-cut blouse beneath her partly fastened coat. “I won’t ask how.”

She smiled. “Oh, Eddie! They had no luggage with them, so they haven’t checked out. This is the only place they could have gone.”

“Unless they wanted some quiet time on the piste, but somehow I don’t think Yuen came here for the skiing. Any chance he left before we got here?”

“My friend at the hotel promised to call me if he came back. So far, he hasn’t.”

“Could be en route, but …” There was no sign of any traffic traveling down the road to the nearest town, two miles away. Chase raised the binoculars to confirm that there was no other way out; about half a mile beyond the factory, the valley was abruptly truncated by a sheer wall of concrete, a hydroelectric dam. The generating station at its base was lit up as brightly as Yuen’s facility.

More lights at the top of the dam caught his attention, a building right at the edge of the sheer valley side. “What’s that up there?”

“A cable car station,” Mitzi told him.

Chase perked up. “A cable car?” Now that he knew what to look for, he picked out a seemingly gossamer-thin line catching the moonlight, running from the building down to a similar station within the factory’s boundary fence.

“Please, Eddie,” she sighed, “don’t start talking about Where Eagles Dare.”

“Aw, come on, it’s one of my favorite films—and the scenery’s perfect for it.” He laughed briefly, before returning to business. “Where does it go?”

“There’s an airstrip about a mile from the dam.”

He frowned. “So Yuen could have left that way?”

“No, I checked. There is a private jet at the airstrip, and it has not left yet.”

“That’s something, then.” He turned the binoculars back to the factory. Security looked tight; tighter than he would have expected for just a microchip manufacturing facility. “What about Sophia? Is she with him?”

“According to my friend at the hotel, there was a woman with him, but he did not get a good look at her—she was taken straight from the suite to the car by two bodyguards.”

“It has to be her. Do you know what kind of car it was?”

“A black Mercedes. I’m afraid I don’t know the model.”

“Whatever’s the most expensive, I bet.” Chase lowered the binoculars. “Thanks for helping me with this, Mitzi. I know it was short notice.”

“And rather pricey!” She nodded at the bundles in the backseat of her SUV. “My skydiving club was rather surprised that I needed a parachute so urgently. And somehow I suspect I won’t be able to return it for a refund …”

“I’ll pay you back,” Chase assured her.

She patted his arm. “I’m joking, Eddie. I already owe you much more than the price of a parachute.”

He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I’ll take care of it when I get back.”

“If you get back,” Mitzi said hesitantly. “Eddie, don’t you think you’re rushing into this?”

“If I didn’t rush into things, you and your mother wouldn’t be alive,” he snapped, more harshly than he’d meant to. “Sorry. But Sophia’s down there, and I’m going to get her out. That’s all there is to it.”

“In that case, all I can do is wish you good luck and help you on your way,” she said resignedly. “But Eddie, please don’t blow up the dam. My grandparents live down the valley.”

He grinned. “I’ll try not to.”

Mitzi laughed, then suddenly fixed him with a stern stare. “Really. Don’t.”

“I dunno where I got this reputation,” Chase said with a nonchalant shrug, then opened the car’s rear door and moved the parachute aside. He nodded approvingly as he saw a gun and a hand grenade.

“Where did you get these?”

“I go rock climbing as well. One of my instructors used to be in the army. He kept a few souvenirs.”

Chase grinned. “Skydiving, rock climbing … you’re turning into a right action girl.”

“All because of you, Eddie,” Mitzi told him, beaming.

Slightly embarrassed by her attention, Chase picked up another bundle which he unrolled and spread out on the ground. Then he took an aerosol can and shook it.

Mitzi wrinkled her nose as he knelt and started work. “I see that’s something else I won’t be able to get a refund for…”

A few minutes later, Mitzi pulled her Porsche Cayenne out of the scenic vantage point from where she and Chase had surveyed the valley onto a four-lane highway slicing through the mountains. At the height of the skiing season it would be packed with vacationers, but now, in the middle of the night, it was deserted.

Ahead, stretching across the valley in the direction of Bern, was a bridge, an elegant span with a single central support rising more than five hundred feet above the valley floor. Mitzi checked that the road was clear, then accelerated towards it. “Are you ready?” she shouted to Chase.

He wasn’t in the SUV with her—he was on top of it, crouched on the roof with one hand holding the roof rack. “Go for it!” he yelled, extending his other arm out behind him for balance. The one-piece garment he was wearing over his clothes rippled as the wind rapidly increased, the car passing forty, fifty miles per hour as it reached the bridge.

Mitzi gingerly drifted the Cayenne almost to the barriers at the center of the highway, still accelerating. Sixty, and they were coming up to the center of the bridge, its highest point—

“Now!” Chase bellowed.

Mitzi swerved the car hard across both lanes, seemingly on a suicidal course to plow straight through the concrete wall—then at the last possible moment swung back into line, the whole vehicle swaying—

Giving Chase an extra boost as he leaped from the roof into empty space.

He threw his arms and legs wide into a star shape, the triangles of fabric stretching between his wrists and waist snapping open like the wings of a bat. Another nylon wedge between his legs filled with air as he fell.

The wing suit couldn’t stop his descent—the amount of extra lift the material provided was far too small—but it could slow it.

And let him direct it.

Chase tilted his outstretched arms to bring himself into a turn. The lights of the microchip plant wheeled into view below.

Not as far below as they had been just seconds before. Although he was now gliding up the valley at an ever-increasing pace, his rate of vertical descent was practically pure free fall.

Icy wind slashed at his face. He had already dropped below 350 feet, three hundred—

He tore at the rip cord.

The parachute erupted from its pack like a slow-motion explosion, black as the night sky. Chase braced himself, swinging to an upright position as the straps yanked tight, and grabbed the control lines.

The barbed-wire top of the high perimeter fence swept past below. The black paint he had sprayed over the vivid yellow panels of the wing suit would reduce the chance of his being seen, but if some guard had heard the thump of the parachute opening and recognized its cause, he could still be spotted, highlighted by the glow of the moon…

He shot over the roof of a building. If he descended any farther he would come down in the middle of a brightly lit area—

Chase tugged the lines to collapse the chute, legs out ahead of him as he slammed onto the roof and rolled to absorb the impact. Pain bit at the stitches in his calf. He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress it.

Even as he shrugged off the parachute he had already drawn the black Steyr GB pistol. He turned in a fast circle, hunting for exits from the roof.

The top of a ladder rose above one corner. He aimed the gun at it, listening for movement below. If he heard the clang of ascending feet, what he’d hoped would be a stealth mission would turn into a battle…

No clanging, no footsteps. The only noise was the faint rush of the wind and the whine of electrical equipment.

He relaxed, slightly, and unzipped the wing suit, stepping out of it to reveal nothing but black beneath; black jeans, black polo neck, his battered leather jacket. After bundling up the parachute, he trod quietly across to the ladder and looked down.

The building below contained offices, all but a few of the windows dark. Across the broad road was a large white two-story structure. Its windowless walls suggested industrial use, and from the large number of airconditioning units on the flat roof Chase guessed it was a chip fabrication facility. The most expensive microchips could be rendered utterly worthless by the tiniest speck of dust introduced during the manufacturing process, so the air had to be filtered to be as pure as possible.

He looked for signs of life. At the far end of the road to the right was a high chain-link fence, beyond it the river running from the dam. A white SUV drove past, then disappeared behind another building. A security patrol, checking the perimeter. Chase grinned. They obviously hadn’t expected anyone to drop in from above.

He turned and slid down the ladder, then brought up his gun again. Still no sign of anyone. He raced across the road to the corner of the industrial building and darted into a long alley.

Chase knew the factory’s general layout from a printout of an aerial photo Mitzi had taken from the Internet. He reached the end of the alley. There should be another, larger complex of buildings ahead …

He was right; there were more of the anonymous structures across another road. And something else—a black Mercedes S600 parked in front of one of the buildings, a bored-looking chauffeur at the wheel.

“Good to see you again, Dick,” Chase whispered. He looked back at the building. Unlike the one he was flanking, this had windows on its upper floor, only one of them illuminated. There was a set of large glass doors close to the Mercedes, but there was also a security guard visible in a reception area beyond and a video camera staring down at the doors. That entrance was not an option, then.

But there was a ladder running up the side of the building, away from any cameras …

He checked the road again, then sprinted across it to the ladder and rapidly ascended.

The roof was a metal forest of air-conditioning ducts and rumbling filtration units. There were no skylights or other possible access points that he could see, so instead he went to the front of the building and, lying flat, looked down over the edge. A darkened window was directly beneath him.

Chase inched forward until his waist was level with the edge of the building, then carefully leaned down and peered through the window. The glare from the streetlights was enough to let him see that it was an office, screen savers drifting on idle computers.

The nearest lit window was several rooms away. He hoped nobody would hear him …

He pressed one hand flat against the glass. Then with the other he sharply rapped the butt of his gun against the window to punch a jagged hole by the side of the frame. The glass beneath his palm shuddered and cracked, but he had absorbed most of the vibration, preventing the whole pane from shattering and dropping noisily to the ground.

He carefully reached through the hole and fumbled with the handle. The window swung open. Chase extracted his hand, then quickly lowered himself through the gap. Feet thumping onto the floor, he shut the window and drew his gun again.

The corridor outside was lit by cold compact-fluorescent lights.

He advanced quickly, gun in hand. At the end, a flight of stairs led downwards, and opposite it were doors to male and female lavatories.

He looked down the stairs. At the bottom, a corridor led away to one side, presumably to the lobby. There was another door directly opposite the foot of the stairs, but Chase instantly saw that it had an electronic lock. A card reader. If he wanted to get onto the factory floor, he would need somebody’s ID. “Bollocks,” he muttered.

He opened the door next to the stairs and entered an office. The overhead lights were off—but there was still plenty of illumination. One whole wall was glass, overlooking the building’s interior.

Chase crouched and moved closer to the window, using a chair as cover as he looked out over a huge space. Rows of brilliant lights in the ceiling lit every corner with an intense, even whiteness. To each side of a central aisle were dozens of rectangular chambers, their walls and ceilings all glass.

Clean rooms. Each unit had an air lock at one end, and pipes leading up to the filters on the roof. Inside, newly manufactured silicon wafers—each containing dozens or even hundreds of chips—were being carefully examined and tested for flaws.

Tested by humans, not machines. To Chase’s dismay, the night shift at the plant was busy; he could see at least two dozen people, all covered head to toe in white “bunny suits,” their faces hidden behind filter masks. So much for sneaking through the building …

The thought was instantly dismissed from his mind as he saw someone else. Yuen.

He was in another glass-walled room on the first floor at the far end of the factory, some kind of executive conference chamber to judge from the large circular table and black leather high-backed chairs. He appeared to be engaged in a discussion with two other men, one suited and the other in a white lab coat. There were two more men in black suits on the far side of the table, apparently not involved in the conversation—Yuen’s bodyguards, he guessed—and seated between them—

His heart pounded.

Sophia!

He backed away from the window. He was sure he could handle the two bodyguards flanking Sophia, and he doubted either of the other men with Yuen would pose a threat, especially with a gun waved in their faces. As for Yuen himself, he was going to get a proper kicking, whether he offered any resistance or not.

But he had to get to them first…

His attention was caught by a technician walking along the factory floor towards the stairs. He was wearing a bunny suit, but had pulled down the hood and was taking off his mask. As Chase watched, he fiddled with a card attached to a reel on his suit by a thin wire.

Chase moved back across the dimly lit room and out into the corridor. He heard a chime come from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a buzz as the electronic lock was released. As he ducked into the men’s room, he heard the man coming up the stairs.

The technician opened the door and entered, yawning—then stopped in confusion as he saw the unfamiliar figure waiting for him.

“Ay up,” said Chase with a disarming smile. “Come to read the meter.” He pointed off to one side. The technician instinctively glanced in that direction—

And took Chase’s mighty fist square in his face. He made an almost comical little squeak, then slumped backwards, eyes rolled up into his head. Chase caught him before he hit the floor.

“Sorry about that.” He unzipped the white suit. “Now, don’t get the wrong idea…”

Three minutes later, Chase—wearing the technician’s bunny suit, his face almost totally obscured by the mask and hood—stepped onto the factory floor. The key card snapped back to the reel as he released it.

There was nowhere to hide his gun in the suit, so he’d been forced to holster it under his jacket. It would take a few seconds to tear down the zip and draw it. He just hoped he wouldn’t need the weapon in a hurry.

He made his way through the huge room, trying to look purposeful without appearing too urgent. None of the technicians seemed to be paying any attention to him, just another figure in white. A casual glance up at the conference room to check on his target—

Shit!

The room was now dark, a cold glow from the far side revealing that it had windows on two walls, looking out across another section of the factory. Yuen had gone—and so had Sophia.

He increased his pace, no longer concerned about fitting in. He needed to catch Yuen and his companions when they were alone, away from any workers who might raise the alarm—

The door at the far end of the central aisle opened. Yuen stepped through, marching straight towards him.

Chase made a sharp turn to stand at the air lock of the nearest clean room. Yuen was accompanied by the suited, goatee-bearded man he’d been talking to in the conference room and a uniformed security guard. An armed security guard, a holstered pistol at his side. Of the man in the lab coat, the two bodyguards and Sophia there was no sign.

Yuen was approaching fast, eyes sweeping from side to side as he surveyed his domain. He glanced at Chase—and his gaze locked on to him.

Chase tensed, lifting a hand towards his suit’s zip …

But there was no shock of recognition in Yuen’s face, no barked orders to the guard. Chase realized why he had drawn his attention—Yuen was wondering why one of his employees was standing around rather than working.

Chase ran the card through the reader beside the air lock door, not even knowing if the man from whom he’d stolen it had access to this particular chamber. Green light. The door buzzed. Chase gratefully pulled it open and stepped inside, pretending to fumble with his card as Yuen walked past—

“You!”

Chase looked around at the shout, audible even through the glass walls. Yuen had stopped, and was pointing an accusing finger at him. His companions stopped as well, the security guard’s hand hovering over his gun.

Caught, knowing he could never draw his own gun fast enough to beat the guard, Chase did the only thing he could think of—act innocent. He pointed a gloved finger uncertainly at himself, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes, you!” Yuen repeated, looking irate. He glared at Chase for a long and uncomfortable moment, then indicated the matting on the floor. “Wipe your feet! Every time you track dust in there, it costs me half a million dollars in ruined silicon wafers!”

Chase offered an apologetic nod, then made a show of carefully wiping his covered feet on the mat. Yuen jerked his head in exasperation, then strode away, the two other men in tow.

Relieved, Chase watched until they turned from the central aisle and headed for an enclosed cabin at one side of the room, then swiped his card to leave the air lock. He resumed his course for the door at the far end of the factory. There was another card reader next to it; he slid his stolen ID through it—

Red light, and a harsh warning rasp. Access denied. The technician he was impersonating didn’t have clearance to enter this part of the facility.

He looked back at the nearby clean rooms, suddenly nervous. If any of the other workers wondered why he was trying to enter a restricted area, they could raise the alarm at any moment…

A chime. Chase whipped around to see that the light on the card reader had turned green, the door buzzing as it unlocked. He opened it and hurried through.

Instantly suspicious. There was no way the computer controlling the lock would deny him access, then change its mind without another swipe of the key card. Someone had let him in.

He was in a hallway. Directly ahead was another security door, leading into the next section of the factory. Corridors headed off to each side, but the stairs up to the next floor were his first priority. If he had to search for Sophia, it made sense to begin from where he’d last seen her. He pulled off the bunny suit and shoved the key card into a pocket, then drew his gun.

Chase ascended the stairs, rapidly swinging the Steyr in both directions at the top in case anybody was waiting for him, then jogged to the door of the conference room.

He burst through it, gun sweeping the darkened room. Empty. To his left was the window overlooking the huge chip fabrication room he’d just exited. Knowing Sophia wasn’t there, he instead went to the window on his right and looked at the industrial facility that lay below.

It wasn’t making microchips.

Chase recognized several barrels as being the same kind that he’d seen in the mine in Botswana. Barrels filled with uranium ore.

They were lined up on a conveyor belt that led into a very large and solid-looking machine. Some kind of furnace; even though it was fully enclosed, the air above it shimmered with heat haze, banks of air conditioners on the ceiling providing cooling. A heavy pipe led off to one side into a thick steel container, seemingly for waste; other pipes went into a second furnace. Although it was smaller than the first, the fact that it was practically buried inside cooling equipment suggested it was far hotter.

From there, more pipes—thick, carrying high-pressure gas—passed into several condenser chambers, light rapidly pulsing through little inspection portholes of six-inch-thick leaded glass. Laser light, the blue flashes pure and unvarying. At the front of each chamber was another steel compartment, where the end result of the process was collected.

Chase knew what the process was; what it made. He’d been briefed on it by the SAS as preparation for a secret mission in Iran, partly so that if he encountered it he could identify it… but mostly so that he could sabotage it.

It was an AVLIS system—Atomic Vapor Laser Isotope Separation—and it had only one purpose: to take uranium ore, vaporize it, and pass the resulting superheated gas through a powerful laser beam of a very specific wavelength. The science had been way over Chase’s head—he was a soldier, not an atomic physicist—but he knew what the laser separated out inside the collection chambers. Enriched uranium, weapons-grade, produced faster, more safely and with greater purity than in traditional gas centrifuge systems.

And as Chase surveyed the rest of the factory, he saw the uranium’s destination.

An assembly line had been set up, a row of at least twenty gleaming stainless-steel cases in progressive stages of completion spaced out along it. Bomb cases.

“Buggeration and fuckery …” he whispered. What he saw below was advanced technology, beyond the capabilities of most nations seeking to join the nuclear club.

But Yuen had it—his own personal nuclear bomb factory, built in secret with the billions of dollars his hightech companies had brought him.

Everything had changed. This was no longer just a rescue mission, and Yuen’s dealings were now more than selling uranium on the black market. He was building—had built, Chase realized, as he saw the completed last bomb on the line—nuclear weapons. Whatever Yuen’s intentions, the factory had to be shut down. Now.

He looked over the plant again, looking for weak spots. According to his SAS briefing, the lasers were the key, the most complex and expensive part of the entire process. If they were destroyed, or even damaged, the whole system would be rendered utterly useless.

And if there was one thing he was good at, it was damaging and destroying things.

There were five condenser chambers, though at the moment only four were active. Two men, wearing not the white bunny suits found in the innocuous chip fabrication plant but yellow hazard suits with full face masks, were working on the fifth, a panel open and what Chase guessed was the laser partially removed. That meant he could take care of one of the lasers just by knocking it to the floor, but the others would present more of a problem.

The lights in the conference room suddenly flicked on.

Chase whirled, gun flashing up at the door as it opened—

Sophia!

She stood in the doorway, terrified. Behind her was Yuen, pressing a gun against her head. Behind him were two uniformed security guards and the two black-suited bodyguards, all with their guns raised.

Pointing at Chase.

“I told you to wipe your feet.” Smirking, Yuen advanced into the room, shoving Sophia before him. His men followed, spreading out two to each side. “Now, drop your gun or your ex-wife becomes your really ex-wife.”

“You won’t hurt her, Dick,” growled Chase, concentrating more on the other men than on Yuen. While the billionaire was gloating, he was distracted—but his guards were silent and completely focused, weapons unwavering. “Not after the trouble you went through to get her back.”

“Oh, you mean the way you dropped my dear trophy wife right back into my lap, without my even having to lift a finger?” Yuen laughed, and ground the gun against the side of Sophia’s face. She whimpered. “Do it,” he snapped, voice hardening. “Or she dies. I can get another wife. But you won’t get another warning.”

Left with no choice, Chase held up his hands and dropped the gun. The guards immediately rushed forward, grabbing his arms and searching him.

Yuen stepped out from behind Sophia. He lowered his gun…

And handed it to his wife.

Sickening disbelief rose in Chase’s stomach as Sophia flicked her hair and gave him a smile of fake apology. “Sorry, Eddie,” she said. “But you never were terribly bright, were you?”