5

Abu Bakar turned on the lab’s new portable generator.

“Okay,” Tony said, trying to think of a way out of the mess he’d gotten himself into, “here’s what I need to build your weapons ... ”

Yinsen cleared his throat and began translating Tony’s list for Abu Bakar.

“S-category missiles,” Tony said. “Lot 7043. The S-30 explosive tritonal, and a dozen of the S-76. Mortars: M-category, numbers one, four, eight, twenty, and sixty. M-229s—I need eleven of these. Mines: the pre-nineties AP fours and AP sixteens.”

Abu Bakar relayed the orders and his men hurried off to fill Tony’s requests.

Tony made an arc with his hands. “I need this area free of clutter,” he said, “with good light. I want the equipment at twelve o’clock to the door, to avoid logjams. I need welding gear—acetylene or propane—helmets, soldering setup with goggles, and smelting cups. Two full sets of precision tools ... ”

Abu Bakar seemed annoyed by the long list.

“Finally,” Tony said, “I want three pairs of white tube socks, a toothbrush, protein powder, spices, sugar, five pounds of tea, playing cards, and ... a washing machine and dryer.”

Abu Bakar pushed his face right up to Tony’s and spoke in Arabic. “A washing machine?” Yinsen translated. “Do you think he’s a fool?”

Tony stared into the insurgent’s eyes. “I must have everything,” he said. “Great man will make a big boom for the powerful Abu Bakar. Big boom will kill Abu Bakar’s enemies.”

Yinsen translated and, slowly, Abu Bakar nodded and smiled.

The next day, Tony and Yinsen began salvaging the pieces they needed from the aging weapons Abu Bakar’s men had brought.

“You know that Abu Bakar removed all the explosives from these before he gave them to us,” Yinsen whispered.

“I know,” Tony replied. “They’re crazy, not stupid.” He carefully removed a tiny strip of palladium metal from one of the missiles. “Okay, we don’t need this,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the missile’s guidance machinery.

“What is that?” Yinsen asked.

“That’s palladium. Oh point one five grams. We need at least one point six, so why don’t you break down the other eleven?”

When they were all together, Tony and Yinsen put the palladium strips in a melting bowl. “Good,” Tony said. “Now heat the palladium to 1,825 degrees Kelvin.” That was when the palladium would melt.

As Yinsen heated the metal, Tony wrapped a copper coil around a glass ring he’d removed from another missile. They had a lot to do, and not much time.

“Careful ... ” Tony said as Yinsen brought him the melted palladium.

“Relax,” Yinsen replied. “I have steady hands. It’s why you’re still alive.”

They poured the palladium into the ring and waited until it cooled. Then Tony finished connecting the last pieces of the device and threw the lab generator switch. The lights in the cave dimmed and the palm-sized device glowed atop the workbench.

“That doesn’t look like a Jericho missile,” Yinsen observed.

“That’s because it’s a miniaturized Arc Reactor,” Tony said. “I got a big one powering my factory at home. It should keep the shrapnel out of my heart.” He had used a version of what he called Repulsor Technology to hold the shrapnel in place.

Yinsen nodded, understanding. “So you won’t need the car battery anymore.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “And this power source will last a bit longer than a week.”

Yinsen leaned close, studying the device. “It’s pretty small,” he said. “What can it generate?”

“Three gigajoules, give or take.”

Yinsen’s mouth dropped open. “That could power your chest plate for fifty lifetimes!”

A sly grin crept over Tony’s face. “Or something really big for fifteen minutes.” He held Yinsen’s eyes for a moment and then said, “Let’s install it in my chest.”

Yinsen glanced at the security monitor that was tucked into a corner of the cave ceiling. “They’ll be watching.”

“Then I’ll be counting on those famously steady hands to work quickly ... and in secret,” Tony said.

Over the next few weeks, they fell into a routine. Work, sleep, dodge the newest threats from the insurgents. Repeat. The laboratory was strewn with parts that might, for all his captors knew, be assembled into a high-tech missile. After a long day spent cutting, welding, and shaping salvaged sheet metal, Tony looked over at Yinsen. He seemed to be assembling some kind of game.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked.

Yinsen looked up. “Tell me what you’re doing, and I’ll tell you what I’m doing.”

“It looks like you’re making a backgammon board.”

“I’m impressed,” Yinsen said. “How about we play, and if I win, you tell me what you’re really making.”

“Two things,” Tony said. “One, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Two, I was the backgammon champ at MIT four years running.”

“Interesting,” Yinsen replied. “I was the champion at Cambridge—the one in England.”

Tony leaned away from his work and rolled his eyes. “Please don’t use the words ‘interesting’ and ‘Cambridge’ in the same sentence. Is Cambridge still a school?”

“It’s a university. You probably haven’t heard about it since Americans can’t get in.”

Tony shot him a look. “Unless they’re teaching.”

Just at that moment, the door to the lab flew open and Abu Bakar stormed in, followed by four of Raza’s guards. The guards took up positions on either side of the room and pointed their guns at Tony and Yinsen. After the room was secure, Raza entered. Everything about him screamed “danger.” He seemed unpredictable and deadly.

“Relax,” Raza told Tony. He walked to the workbench and looked at the missile schematics Tony had drawn on salvaged pieces of paper.

“The bow and arrow was once the pinnacle of weapons technology,” Raza mused. “It allowed Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine.”

The warlord fixed his cold eyes upon Tony. “Today, whoever has the latest Stark weapons rules these lands. Soon, it will be my turn.” Seeming to sense something was amiss, he turned to Yinsen and spoke in Urdu.

Yinsen shook his head and replied, adding in English, “We’re working. The missile is very complex. That’s why we’re taking so long. We’re working very hard. Ask Stark if you don’t believe me.”

Raza glanced at Stark. Tony remained stoic.

At a nod from the warlord, the guards seized Yinsen and forced him to his knees. Raza stepped forward and brought a piece of red-hot metal from the furnace, holding it closer to Yinsen’s face as he kept on asking questions in Urdu, or whatever language he spoke.

Tony started to panic. He needed Yinsen, and he couldn’t just stand there and watch someone be tortured for protecting him. “What do you want?” he shouted at Raza. “A delivery date?”

He pointed at Yinsen. “I need him! Good assistant!”

Raza glared at him for a long moment. Then he flung the glowing metal rod away. The guards let go of Yinsen, and he collapsed to the floor.

Raza scowled at Yinsen and Tony. “You have until tomorrow to assemble my missile,” he said. He turned and left the room. The others followed, locking the door as they left. Tony helped Yinsen to his feet.

Yinsen recovered for a few minutes and then said, “Now are you going to tell me what you’re really building?”

Tony looked at Yinsen. Even after all they’d been through together, could he trust him? Tony decided he could. Being careful to avoid the gaze of the surveillance camera, he showed Yinsen the real plans for the project.

Yinsen’s weathered face broke into a smile.

Their backgammon game would have to wait.

Over the following twenty-four hours, the two of them worked feverishly: soldering circuits, connecting electronics, hammering metal—always carefully concealing their purpose from the watchful eyes of the warlord and his guards.

“My people have a tale about a prince,” Yinsen said as he worked the salvaged metal. “The king hated the prince, so he banished him to the underworld and jailed him there.”

Sweat poured from Tony’s body as he beat the metal into shape. “Tell me,” he said.

“The king made the prince work the iron pits. Year after year, the prince mined the heavy ore, becoming so strong he could crush pieces of it together in his bare hands.”

Tony wiped the soot from his face.

“Too late the king realized his mistake,” Yinsen continued. “He took his finest sword and went to kill the prince. But when he struck, the sword broke in half. The prince himself had become as strong as iron.”

Tony lifted a glowing iron mask from the furnace. The mask was crude, but it would definitely suit his purpose.

“What next, young prince?” Yinsen asked. KvoV9ipFtJxYdZitGuyNh2+Ve8JKeZ5zxUaeAnszeEZdQ8/V1wnVA5+p/Gyv14gA