First Strike. Justin Richards

“What have you told him?”

      “About you? Nothing. I have allowed him to assume you are French. I will translate, and he won’t know English from French from Greek.”

      “How does he get his information?” Jade asked.

      “He has contacts in the Chinese military. He gets things for the soldiers. Cigarettes, drink, magazines.”

      “Smut,” Jade muttered.

      “Newsweek, Hong Kong edition,” Mr Chang corrected her. “Books too. My friend will know whether nuclear missiles were really ever stationed in Wiengwei, and if so where. The declaration the Chinese government made at the disarmament talks was rather vague and may have been a bluff anyway. But there are certainly many military bases in the province.”

      “Despite the rebels?” Rich asked.

      “Because of the rebels. Some of the bases have been taken over by the rebels.”

      In the front passenger seat, Yoshi suddenly spoke up excitedly.

      “What did he say?” Jade asked when the boy had finished.

      Mr Chang laughed. “He says he has never met westerners before. He says he thinks you are very nice. And he is fascinated by the yellow colour of your hair. He asks if it is dyed.”

      “Tell him no,” said Jade.

      “And tell him we think he’s very nice too,” Rich added. “Especially my sister.”

      Mr Chang didn’t really park the car. He just stopped it in the road and got out.

      “We try not to attract too much attention,” he said. “Yoshi has baseball caps for you. Wear them low, so people cannot easily see your hair and eyes. Your height might be more difficult to disguise.”

      “Expecting trouble?” Chance asked.

      “Only getting my car to start again. But you are distinctive. The less attention you attract, the better. We don’t get westerners here as a rule.”

      “Except US airmen falling from the sky,” said Rich. No one knew what had happened to the crew of the crashed plane, but he didn’t fancy ending up in the next cell.

      Mr Chang nodded. “Rumour has it, the plane was shot down.”

      “It was over Chinese airspace,” Chance admitted.

      “With permission, the Americans say,” Jade pointed out.

      “Parts of this province are a war zone,” said Mr Chang. “Who knows what really happened, or where the airmen are now?”

      Even with the baseball caps, it seemed as though everyone was looking at them as they followed Mr Chang and Yoshi. Rich was aware of people turning, staring and talking to each other as he passed. Bicycles wobbled as they went by. People called out, but Mr Chang ignored them.

      Further up the road, Mr Chang led them down a side street, which seemed to have been turned into an impromptu market. There was hardly room to get through between the stalls. People were selling hot food from the back of carts, cotton and other fabrics from trestle tables, watches and pens, even a few iPods.

      The smell was awful. Rich could only guess what Jade was thinking as they passed cages of chickens and song birds, a pen with piglets grunting round inside, and several mangy-looking goats.

      Mr Chang and Yoshi waved away all offers of goods and bargains and forged a path through the market. Finally they emerged at the other end of the narrow street. Mr Chang pushed open a plain, metal door set into the brick wall of a nondescript building and they went inside.

      The noise was incredible. For as far as Rich could see, the building was one enormous room, filled with people working on sewing machines. There were a few men, but mainly women and children. Mr Chang led the way along the side of the room.

      “What are they all doing?” Rich asked.

      “They make clothes for export to the West,” Mr Chang explained.

      “A sweatshop,” said Jade angrily.

      “Careful, Jade,” her father warned.

      “Well it is,” she retorted. “I bet they get paid almost nothing.”

      “Not much,” Mr Chang agreed. “But at least they have work.”

      “Hey,” said Rich, as they passed a woman sewing a collar on to a brightly coloured blouse. “You’ve got one like that, Jade.”

      “It’s going to a charity shop as soon as I get back,” she told him.

      There was a door at the end of the factory floor that led into an office area. Mr Chang and Chance went through to another office, leaving Yoshi with Rich and Jade.

      “I hope Dad’s going to tell the boss just what he thinks of this place,” said Jade.

      “I hope he’s not,” Rich told her. “At least, not until he’s found out about the nukes.”

      Yoshi grinned at them and said something they didn’t understand. But Jade smiled back at him encouragingly.

      “At least you don’t have to work in a place like this,” she said.

      “Yeah,” Rich agreed, “at least your dad’s a decadent western spy whose mates sell booze and ciggies to the troops. You stick with it, kid.” He winked at Jade. “In a place like this,” he said, more serious now, “I think they just have to survive however they can. Especially with a rebellion going on.”

      “I guess so. Doesn’t mean it’s a good thing though.”

      “No, it doesn’t,” said Rich.

      Chance waited until they were back in the car before he told them how the meeting with Mr Chang’s contact had gone.

      “There was a Chinese People’s Liberation Army nuclear base about 150 kilometres outside the city. The nukes were all decommissioned and there’s just a small force left to guard the place.”

      “So we can get going, then,” said Rich. “Washington, here we come!”

      “If we’re going anywhere,” said Jade, as Mr Chang kept trying to start the car. The engine coughed and spluttered, then died.

      “Soon. Mr Chang’s contact says there’s been unusual activity at the base recently. Convoys of lorries and increased security. It is also in the area where Mr Chang says Ralph had some business contacts.”

      “So you want to go and take a look?” Jade guessed.

      “Seems sensible.”

      “Seems suicidal,” she said. “You can’t just wander in and ask if they’ve got any old nukes left or whether the rebels have taken them all.”

      Chance held up two small plastic cards. “Actually, I can. These are high-level security passes for a military inspection team. Mr Chang and I are going in to take a look round. If we ever get going.”

      The engine finally caught and Mr Chang smiled and gave them a thumbs up.

      “Just the two passes?” Rich asked as they pulled away.

      “That was all he could get,” said Chance, rather too quickly.

      “You mean it’s all you asked for,” said Jade.

      Mr Chang cleared his throat. “Paid for, actually. They were not cheap.”

      “Nothing is,” said Jade. “Except slave labour.”

      “And what do we do while you’re gate-crashing the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Former Nuclear Base Party?” Rich wanted to know.

      “I have a sister who lives not far from the base,” said Mr Chang. “She will look after you. She is a good cook. And Yoshi is good at eating.” He said something to Yoshi, who grinned, and mimed