Local time – 7:10pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
Rawalpindi, Pakistan.
‘There’s no fucking way we’re giving those Pakis out there the weapon. Fucking terrorists.’ Phil’s attempt at whispering, let alone what he was saying, made Alex very nervous. In the small tiled bathroom, it reverberated around the walls, and sounded more like yelling, which, it occurred fleetingly to her, it was. Josh climbed up on the toilet next to the occupied stall, and found he could just see the nuclear exhibit through the plastic vent at the top of the wall. He looked only for a moment, and then jumped down. He sounded both excited and terrified, making a much better effort to speak quietly.
‘There’s a replica of the Shaheen II, with a nuclear payload mounted on it. But I reckon it’s not a replica. It’s the real weapon, but no one would guess that.’
‘What’s a Shaheen II?’ Alex asked.
‘It’s Pakistan’s best ballistic missile.’
Alex jumped up next on the toilet seat. When she stretched onto her tip toes, she was just tall enough to see through the vent.
The nuclear exhibit was in a spacious, round room with a domed ceiling and small glass cases around the perimeter. In the centre of the room was a massive twelve-wheeled vehicle that looked like a cross between a truck and a tank. It had a sleek, lethal-looking missile mounted on the top of it, long enough to protrude over the front of the vehicle. Alex guessed it was 20 meters at least. The truck had two cockpits, one on each side, with thick, glass windscreens. The entire surface, including the missile, was painted in green and light brown camouflage, except for the tip of the missile, which was painted red. It didn’t look real. It looked like a display. A very realistic display. But since Alex had never seen anything like it before, she had no idea how to tell if it was real or not
Henry held Alex’s hand as she stepped off the toilet. He then took her place. Josh was jittery, and Phil stood perfectly still, staring seriously at the wall.
‘Do they put it on the truck so they can move it somewhere suitable for firing the missile?’ Alex whispered.
Josh seemed to be the most educated on nuclear weapons. ‘It’s not a truck, it’s a TEL. Transporter, Erector, Launcher. The missile can be fired a distance of 2,000 kilometres. Maybe even further.’
Alex’s mind spun with this news. Two thousand kilometres? You could fire it from one country, and it would explode in another. The reality of the power of these weapons was quite suddenly very real. Henry had finished looking at the missile and now seemed anxious to get out of the bathroom.
‘The people who shot the guard, what if they’ve gone to get something to move him. What if they’re coming back in here?’ Phil answered Henry’s question by bending down and lifting the cuff of his jeans. A small, black automatic pistol was strapped to his ankle. Alex felt frightened of Phil. She had no idea he carried a gun. In reality, she should have felt safer with this weapon to protect her team. But just as with the nuclear weapon only meters away from them, Alex couldn’t work out if it made them safer, or more likely to be attacked. She moved closer to Henry and tried not to look at the gun. Phil pulled it out of its strap and held it in both hands, like James Bond. He looked ridiculous as he stalked, cat like, his back to the wall, and stood guard next to the door.
Someone’s voice rang out, coming from the nuclear exhibit room. The curved walls were the perfect acoustic shape for the noise to echo through the vents in the bathroom walls. Alex, Henry and Josh rushed to step up on the three toilets, each taking position so they could watch through the vent above their cubicle.
Four Pakistani men were walking slowly around the missile. The shortest one held a gun and he was the one talking. Though obviously quite young, his sweaty, angry face made him look old and worn. The other three moved much more slowly than he did, and from the hesitation in their step, the gun was obviously the only reason they moved at all.
‘There’s got to be a PAL code box on here somewhere. Tariq, have a look underneath. Go! Have a look!’ The short man waved his gun violently at the tallest, strongest man of the three. He said nothing, and reluctantly squatted down to look under the truck. After a few seconds, he appeared to see something. He lay on his back, and slid under the vehicle.
‘What is it? Have you seen it? Is it there?’ the short man yelled down at him. After a long silence, the man on his back called back.
‘Yes. It’s here. It’s a Cat F PAL. Our code will work.’ When Josh heard this, his head snapped around to look at Phil, his face showing his concern. Phil tip toed over to where Josh was perched, and Josh mouthed the words.
‘They’ve got the PAL code. And they’ve worked out where to enter it.’
‘PAL?’ Alex whispered.
‘Permissive Action Link. The weapon can’t be used without a code.’ Alex looked out through the vent, and noticed movement at the entrance to the large room. She caught Josh’s attention by waving him back to his cubicle, and he stepped back up to his spy hole.
A man had walked into the room, holding a gun. He wasn’t Pakistani; he had light skin and dark brown hair and was perhaps forty years old. He had a confident swagger, as if he had bulletproof coating. The smirk on his face reflected an innate arrogance. Alex caught her breath. Whose side was he on?