Free Vortex by Chris Ryan

'Spadeadam's not a place for kids. You must leave, now. Leave me alone. Get out of here.'
'But, Joseph--'
'Get out!' the old man roared, and for a moment Ben thought he saw real madness in his eyes. Both he and Annie stepped nervously back.
The old man looked around him yet again, and started muttering once more. This time, Ben managed to catch something of what Joseph was saying. 'I have to find the place,' he was whispering to himself. 'They don't know I'm here, and I have to find the place.'
'What place, Joseph?' Ben called with a confidence he did not feel. 'Who doesn't know you're here?'
Joseph shook his head. 'Leave me alone. And get out of here. You have to get out of here.' He turned away from them, picked up his plastic bag and returned the Thermos flask, then walked further into the trees. The deeper he walked into the copse, the more indistinct he became in the mist, but before he disappeared from sight, he turned round to speak to them once more. For an alarming moment, his bright green eyes seemed to shine like emeralds in the mist, clear and knowing. 'Leave me alone,' he called again, before continuing on his way.
Ben and Annie watched as the figure of the old man grew increasingly ghostly among the trees. Ben stepped forward after him. 'Come on,' he said suddenly. 'We have to try and talk to him again, find out what he's on about.'
But Annie had grabbed him by the arm. 'Ben, he's incredibly frightened, can't you see? Keep disturbing him and we'll send the poor guy over the edge.'
Ben looked anxiously after him. 'What are we going to do, then?'
Annie bit her lip. Ben half expected her to suggest that they go home, but when she spoke it became clear to him that she was as intrigued by Joseph and his mysterious warnings as he was.
'Let's follow him, from a distance. We'll have to be careful and keep out of sight, but at least we'll be able to see that he's OK.'
Ben nodded. They grabbed their rucksacks, put them on and then, as silently as they could manage, started to trek deeper into the forest. And deeper into RAF Spadeadam.

Chin-Hwa's driver had deposited him outside the government building a couple of hours ago. He had rushed inside in a matter of seconds, but the heavy rain had still saturated his cheap clothes. Since then, he had been waiting on his own in a bare, chilly room containing nothing but a few old plastic chairs. There was no point asking anybody how long it would be until he was seen: Chin-Hwa would be called when his presence was required, and no sooner.
The door opened and an expressionless government worker appeared. He spoke to Chin-Hwa in a voice devoid of respect. 'They will see you now,' he said.
Chin-Hwa nodded, and followed the government worker out of the room and along a succession of corridors that all seemed identical. In all the time he had been coming here, Chin-Hwa had never managed to learn his way around. Sometimes he wondered if the place had been built like that on purpose.
Finally the government worker stopped outside another door and knocked respectfully before opening it.
'The scientist,' he announced to whoever was waiting inside. He stepped aside and allowed Chin-Hwa to enter.
There were four people in the room, the same four Chin-Hwa met with every time he came here. They wore suits that marked them out as high-ranking government men, but Chin-Hwa had immediately recognized them from their pictures in the newspaper when they had first met. The most important of them - the man to whom they all seemed to defer - sat at the head of the table. Behind him was a large picture.
Everybody in North Korea recognized the man in that picture. Kim Il Sung - president until his death in 1994, when his son Kim Jong Il succeeded him as leader and declared his father Eternal President of the Republic. His picture hung at every train station and in every school; there were more than 800 statues of the Eternal President scattered around the country. Not knowing who he was would be