It was a mini-motorbike, powered by a xenon difluoride battery that worked in conjunction with a powerful solar cell. Azrael pulled a plastic tag from a pouch in his commando pants, leaned into the machine, inserted the tag in a slot just under the handlebars and pushed the ignition button. The bike burst into life.
He jumped on and tore away. Fifty metres from the Land Cruiser, he glanced back to see the truck approaching the missile launchers. He left the track and hit the desert, hearing the rumble of the engine as its powerful four-wheel drive cut through the sand. Gunshots rang out through the desert air. A bullet flew past his right ear. He slipped the bike into a lower gear and squeezed on the gas.
A second bullet whizzed past him, closer this time. He pushed on the accelerator some more, shoved his right hand into his commando pants again and withdrew a slither of black plastic. He turned quickly. The army truck pulled up alongside the Land Cruiser. He touched a pad on the plastic controller and a microsecond later, the vehicle exploded in a ball of flame taking the rocket launcher, the army truck and eight human beings with it.
âEight down, 7 billion to go,â Azrael said aloud into the stifling desert air.
15
Floor 191, Cloud Tower, Dubai, 12 December, 9.01 am
On the observation deck, Franz Heinegger was admiring the view â the staggering panorama of endless desert and perfect blue sky. And beyond the desert, in the centre of his view, lay the Arabian Sea twinkling in the morning sun. From where he stood, Franz could see for over 1000 kilometres and was looking across eight different countries. To his far left lay Iran, then, as he turned clockwise, he took in Afghanistan, Pakistan, a slither of northern India, Oman, the UAE of course, then Yemen and in the far right of his vision, Saudi Arabia. It was a truly spectacular sight.
Franz sipped his coffee, taking in the rich aroma and staring at the vista in humbled silence. It was at moments such as these, he thought, that it was so good to be alive. A weird thought occurred to him. Right now he was proud to be human, proud of his fellow men and women, no matter what nationality or colour they might be. Human beings had shaped this amazing tower, forged it from metal and plastic and wood and concrete. It was up there with the Gutenberg Bible and the moon landings.
He saw the flames first, a flicker of crisp yellow, then pink. That was a moment before he noticed the two black lines. For that is what they appeared to be â two simple black lines, each little more than an elongated dot in the distance. With incredible speed, they grew larger. But still for many seconds Franz could not really understand what it was he was actually seeing. The brightly coloured flames came and went. For several moments, he thought the preternatural colour was merely the sun glinting on something in the air . . . a distant jet? Then one of the black lines broke away, swung south in a ragged arc and vanished.
The other Scourge missile was a little over a kilometre from the tower when the clues all came together in Franz Heineggerâs mind.
Screaming, Franz turned and ran for the exit 20 metres across the marble floor of the platform circumventing the tower. He had just reached the door to the emergency stairwell when the Scourge slammed into the glass wall of the observation platform and exploded, vaporising every living thing from Floors 189 through 193. And as Franz Heineggerâs body was turned into atoms, the force of the explosion sent steel, concrete, glass and metal outwards in an eruption that shattered support pillars, crumbled walls, floors and windows, and sent a huge roar of sound bellowing across the desert, a sound that echoed around the towers and vainglorious monoliths of Dubai.
16
Floor 199, Cloud Tower, 9.01 am
Abu Al-Rashid had just walked through the doors of the Apple Store in the Cloud Tower when he felt the vibration and heard
He jumped on and tore away. Fifty metres from the Land Cruiser, he glanced back to see the truck approaching the missile launchers. He left the track and hit the desert, hearing the rumble of the engine as its powerful four-wheel drive cut through the sand. Gunshots rang out through the desert air. A bullet flew past his right ear. He slipped the bike into a lower gear and squeezed on the gas.
A second bullet whizzed past him, closer this time. He pushed on the accelerator some more, shoved his right hand into his commando pants again and withdrew a slither of black plastic. He turned quickly. The army truck pulled up alongside the Land Cruiser. He touched a pad on the plastic controller and a microsecond later, the vehicle exploded in a ball of flame taking the rocket launcher, the army truck and eight human beings with it.
âEight down, 7 billion to go,â Azrael said aloud into the stifling desert air.
15
Floor 191, Cloud Tower, Dubai, 12 December, 9.01 am
On the observation deck, Franz Heinegger was admiring the view â the staggering panorama of endless desert and perfect blue sky. And beyond the desert, in the centre of his view, lay the Arabian Sea twinkling in the morning sun. From where he stood, Franz could see for over 1000 kilometres and was looking across eight different countries. To his far left lay Iran, then, as he turned clockwise, he took in Afghanistan, Pakistan, a slither of northern India, Oman, the UAE of course, then Yemen and in the far right of his vision, Saudi Arabia. It was a truly spectacular sight.
Franz sipped his coffee, taking in the rich aroma and staring at the vista in humbled silence. It was at moments such as these, he thought, that it was so good to be alive. A weird thought occurred to him. Right now he was proud to be human, proud of his fellow men and women, no matter what nationality or colour they might be. Human beings had shaped this amazing tower, forged it from metal and plastic and wood and concrete. It was up there with the Gutenberg Bible and the moon landings.
He saw the flames first, a flicker of crisp yellow, then pink. That was a moment before he noticed the two black lines. For that is what they appeared to be â two simple black lines, each little more than an elongated dot in the distance. With incredible speed, they grew larger. But still for many seconds Franz could not really understand what it was he was actually seeing. The brightly coloured flames came and went. For several moments, he thought the preternatural colour was merely the sun glinting on something in the air . . . a distant jet? Then one of the black lines broke away, swung south in a ragged arc and vanished.
The other Scourge missile was a little over a kilometre from the tower when the clues all came together in Franz Heineggerâs mind.
Screaming, Franz turned and ran for the exit 20 metres across the marble floor of the platform circumventing the tower. He had just reached the door to the emergency stairwell when the Scourge slammed into the glass wall of the observation platform and exploded, vaporising every living thing from Floors 189 through 193. And as Franz Heineggerâs body was turned into atoms, the force of the explosion sent steel, concrete, glass and metal outwards in an eruption that shattered support pillars, crumbled walls, floors and windows, and sent a huge roar of sound bellowing across the desert, a sound that echoed around the towers and vainglorious monoliths of Dubai.
16
Floor 199, Cloud Tower, 9.01 am
Abu Al-Rashid had just walked through the doors of the Apple Store in the Cloud Tower when he felt the vibration and heard
Similar Books
