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just passing and thought they could use some help.”
    Mr Chang spoke to the commander, who stared back at him for a moment in disbelief. Then he laughed, and spoke rapidly in reply.
    â€œHe doesn’t believe me, but he says he can tell we aren’t rebels because we have a sense of humour.”
    â€œGuess he won’t have us shot then.”
    The commander laughed again as Mr Chang translated. But his humour did not last. The rebels were coming down the valley side, picking their way closer, running from one area of cover to the next.
    â€œWe have to stop them getting the warheads,” Chance shouted above the increasing gunfire. “Just one of them is enough to devastate a major city.”
    Mr Chang shook his head as he passed that on and the commander replied. “He says that even though we are worryingly well-informed about his cargo, we must think he is stupid. They knew a long time ago the rebels were after the warheads, and prepared for the eventuality.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Chance ducked as a bullet pinged off the broken metal close to his head. “Aren’t the warheads on these trucks?”
    â€œYes,” said Mr Chang, translating. “The warheads are too valuable to abandon unless they have to. But all the nuclear material was all removed and flown back to Beijing weeks ago.”
    It was Chance’s turn to laugh. “Then what are we waiting for? If these are off the DK 5s we saw, the warheads have a remote trigger. We can set them to think they’re about to impact, and they’ll explode. If we build in a delay, we can get away and leave the warheads here to detonate when the rebels arrive at the trucks.”
    The commander frowned as Mr Chang passed that on. He pulled out a radio and started shouting urgently into it.
    â€œHe didn’t know that,” Mr Chang told Chance. “He’s trying to find an engineer.”
    â€œWho needs an engineer?” said Chance. “Come on!”
    Ignoring the shouted protests of the Chinese commander, Chance hauled himself up on to the flatbed trailer. The tarpaulin was scarred and burned, but intact. Chance pulled out a large hunting knife from a holster on his belt and sliced though the heavy material. Then he pushed his way inside.
    There was just enough light to see. The warheads were still fitted within the nose cones of the missiles; it was as if they had just been sheared off. Using the tip of his knife, Chance quickly undid a locking screw and eased open an inspection cover. Behind it was a small display screen and a series of switches. They were labelled with Chinese characters.
    â€œMr Chang!” Chance yelled. “I’m going to need some language help here.”
    Chance pointed to switches, asking what they were. Then he began to work.
    â€œIt will take forever to set each warhead,” said Mr Chang as Chance closed the final switch in the sequence. The display flashed up ‘180’, which became ‘179’, then ‘178’.
    â€œDon’t need to. One per load will do it.”
    â€œEven so, how long will that take?”
    â€œNow I’ve worked out the sequence? Shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes.”
    The hardest part was getting to the last lorry. The rebels were almost on them. The Chinese commander ordered his men to give Chance covering fire, and he disappeared into the dark space beneath the tarpaulin. A few seconds later he was out again.
    â€œI set that one for less than one minute,” he shouted. “Time to retreat.”
    â€œWell past time,” Mr Chang yelled back as together with the surviving soldiers they ran back towards the remains of the lead vehicles. “I estimate thirty seconds till the first one blows.”
    â€œBetter take the car then.”
    Chance leaped through the open passenger door of Mr Chang’s car, flinging himself across to the driver’s seat. The commander was shouting