guards were powered by batteries, so they could still communicate with each other, but the power surge that occurred when the transformers exploded had fried the main radio terminal. Those in command were having a tough time making their wishes heard.
It was nearly an hour before the guards could be organized.
One hour and twenty minutes after the explosion, as Taft and Choi were speeding down the Shule River in the outboard-powered raft, a guard finally made his way to Choi’s cell.
“Zhou, wake up,” the relief guard, Ping Chowluk, said, shaking the lifeless guard who lay on the concrete.
Rolling Zhou to his back caused the dead guard’s head to flop to one side. Ping noticed the purple bruise on the side of Zhou’s face where his blood had settled after death. Zhou’s tongue was thrust through his teeth in a death grimace. The body was already cooling.
When Ping approached Choi’s cell, he found the door slightly ajar. He pushed it open and peered inside.
The cell was empty. Choi was nowhere to be seen.
Running down the hall, Ping swooped his hand down and picked up a piece of paper. He dashed up the stairs leading outside and sprinted across the courtyard to the main security office for the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility. Bursting inside the office, he shouted to Hu Jimn, the officer in charge.
“Zhou is dead,” Ping said, panting from the run, “and Choi has escaped.”
“That bastard,” Jimn grunted. “The power surge from the earthquake must have unlocked his cell door. Let’s just hope he didn’t get far.”
Jimn rolled his chair across the tile floor to the back-up communications radio and began to issue orders into a microphone. “All guards outside. Begin a sweep of the fence perimeter, we have a missing prisoner.” Jimn then switched channels and spoke again. “Chang!” he shouted into the microphone.
Jimn’s second-in-command, Chang Yibo, answered instantly. “Yes sir.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Enrichment facility one,” Yibo said into his handheld radio.
“Go to the barracks and wake all the off-duty guards. I want you to divide the men into groups of two to search all the buildings from top to bottom,” Jimn shouted.
“What are we looking for?” Yibo asked.
“The scientist Choi has escaped,” Jimn said.
“Do you think he’s still on the property?” Yibo asked.
“We have no way of knowing until we search,” Jimn said loudly.
Turning back to Ping, he asked, “Did you notice anything unusual in Choi’s cell?”
“Only this, but it was in the hallway outside,” Ping said.
He handed Jimn the British five-pound note he had picked up from the hallway outside the cell.
“Odd,” Jimn said quietly as he pocketed the note. Then he returned to radioing instructions to the search teams.
Half of the buildings at the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility had been searched when one of the guards walking the fence perimeter radioed Jimn that he had found a hole scooped out under the outer fence.
“Do you see tracks?” Jimn asked.
“Yes sir,” the guard quickly replied.
Jimn ran from the security office, arriving at the hole in a matter of minutes.
“There were tumbleweeds placed over the opening. Our dog dug them out,” the guard told Jimn.
Jimn slipped under the fence and followed the footprints for a few yards to the east. Shining his flashlight on the larger footprints, he examined the sole markings carefully.
“Get someone to make a plaster mold of these immediately,” Jimn shouted back across the fence to the guard.
Jimn stood staring into the distance as the guard, dragging the dog along, ran toward the security office.
Chang Yibo had left the office building he was searching when he heard of the discovery of the hole over his radio. He slipped under the fence and joined Jimn, who was staring down at the prints.
“What do you make of it, sir?” Yibo asked.
“The smaller prints must be Choi’s,” Jimn said. “They are of the
It was nearly an hour before the guards could be organized.
One hour and twenty minutes after the explosion, as Taft and Choi were speeding down the Shule River in the outboard-powered raft, a guard finally made his way to Choi’s cell.
“Zhou, wake up,” the relief guard, Ping Chowluk, said, shaking the lifeless guard who lay on the concrete.
Rolling Zhou to his back caused the dead guard’s head to flop to one side. Ping noticed the purple bruise on the side of Zhou’s face where his blood had settled after death. Zhou’s tongue was thrust through his teeth in a death grimace. The body was already cooling.
When Ping approached Choi’s cell, he found the door slightly ajar. He pushed it open and peered inside.
The cell was empty. Choi was nowhere to be seen.
Running down the hall, Ping swooped his hand down and picked up a piece of paper. He dashed up the stairs leading outside and sprinted across the courtyard to the main security office for the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility. Bursting inside the office, he shouted to Hu Jimn, the officer in charge.
“Zhou is dead,” Ping said, panting from the run, “and Choi has escaped.”
“That bastard,” Jimn grunted. “The power surge from the earthquake must have unlocked his cell door. Let’s just hope he didn’t get far.”
Jimn rolled his chair across the tile floor to the back-up communications radio and began to issue orders into a microphone. “All guards outside. Begin a sweep of the fence perimeter, we have a missing prisoner.” Jimn then switched channels and spoke again. “Chang!” he shouted into the microphone.
Jimn’s second-in-command, Chang Yibo, answered instantly. “Yes sir.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Enrichment facility one,” Yibo said into his handheld radio.
“Go to the barracks and wake all the off-duty guards. I want you to divide the men into groups of two to search all the buildings from top to bottom,” Jimn shouted.
“What are we looking for?” Yibo asked.
“The scientist Choi has escaped,” Jimn said.
“Do you think he’s still on the property?” Yibo asked.
“We have no way of knowing until we search,” Jimn said loudly.
Turning back to Ping, he asked, “Did you notice anything unusual in Choi’s cell?”
“Only this, but it was in the hallway outside,” Ping said.
He handed Jimn the British five-pound note he had picked up from the hallway outside the cell.
“Odd,” Jimn said quietly as he pocketed the note. Then he returned to radioing instructions to the search teams.
Half of the buildings at the Qinghai Advanced Weapons Facility had been searched when one of the guards walking the fence perimeter radioed Jimn that he had found a hole scooped out under the outer fence.
“Do you see tracks?” Jimn asked.
“Yes sir,” the guard quickly replied.
Jimn ran from the security office, arriving at the hole in a matter of minutes.
“There were tumbleweeds placed over the opening. Our dog dug them out,” the guard told Jimn.
Jimn slipped under the fence and followed the footprints for a few yards to the east. Shining his flashlight on the larger footprints, he examined the sole markings carefully.
“Get someone to make a plaster mold of these immediately,” Jimn shouted back across the fence to the guard.
Jimn stood staring into the distance as the guard, dragging the dog along, ran toward the security office.
Chang Yibo had left the office building he was searching when he heard of the discovery of the hole over his radio. He slipped under the fence and joined Jimn, who was staring down at the prints.
“What do you make of it, sir?” Yibo asked.
“The smaller prints must be Choi’s,” Jimn said. “They are of the
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