"What if the prisoner has been put in one of the support vehicles?"
"Then there will be a tragic death by friendly fire," said Suriyawong.
The soldiers understood, or at least thought they understood--Suriyawong was going through the motions of rescuing the prisoner, but if the prisoner died he would not mind.
This was not, strictly speaking, true, or at least not at this moment. Suriyawong simply trusted the Chinese soldiers to go absolutely by the book. The convoy was merely a show of force to keep any local crowds or rebels or rogue military groups from attempting to interfere. They had not contemplated the possibility of--or even a motive for--a rescue from some outside force. Certainly not from the tiny commando force of the Hegemon.
Only a half dozen Chinese soldiers were able to get out of the vehicles before the Hegemony missiles blew them up. Suriyawong's soldiers were already firing before they leapt from the settling choppers, and he knew that in moments all resistance would be over.
But the prison van carrying Achilles was undisturbed. No one had emerged from it, not even the drivers.
Violating protocol, Suriyawong jumped down from the command chopper and walked toward the back of the prison van. He stood close as the soldier assigned to blow the door slapped on the unlocking charge and detonated it. There was a loud pop, but no backblast at all as the explosive tore open the latch.
The door jogged open a couple of centimeters.
Suriyawong extended an arm to stop the other soldiers from going into the van to rescue the prisoner.
Instead he opened the door only far enough to toss his own combat knife onto the floor of the van. Then he pushed the door back into place and stood back, waving his men back also.
The van rocked and lurched from some violent activity inside it. Two guns went off. The door flew open as a body collapsed backward into the dirt at their feet.
Be Achilles, thought Suriyawong, looking down at the Chinese officer who was trying to gather his entrails with his hands. Suriyawong had the irrational thought that the man ought really to wash his organs before jamming them back into his abdomen. It was so unsanitary.
A tall young man in prison pajamas appeared in the van door, holding a bloody combat knife in his hand.
You don't look like much, Achilles, thought Suriyawong. But then, you don't have to look all that impressive when you've just killed your guards with a knife you didn't expect someone to throw on the floor at your feet.
"All dead inside?" asked Suriyawong.
A soldier would have answered yes or no, along with a count of the living and dead. But Achilles hadn't been a soldier in Battle School for more than a few days. He didn't have the reflexes of military discipline.
"Very nearly," said Achilles. "Whose stupid idea was it to throw me a knife instead of opening the mossin' door and blasting the hell out of those guys?"
"Check to see if they're dead," Suriyawong said to his nearby men. Moments later they reported that all convoy personnel had been killed. That was essential if the Hegemon was to be able to preserve the fiction that it was not a Hegemony force that had carried out this raid.
"Choppers, in twenty," said Suriyawong.
At once his men scrambled to the choppers.
Suriyawong turned to Achilles. "My commander respectfully invites you to allow us to transport you out of China."
"And if I refuse?"
"If you have your own resources in country, then I will bid you good-bye with my commander's compliments."
This was not at all what Peter's orders said, but Suriyawong knew what he was doing.
"Very well," said Achilles. "Go away and leave me here."
Suriyawong immediately jogged toward his command chopper.
"Wait," called Achilles.
"Ten seconds," Suriyawong called over his shoulder. He jumped inside and turned around. Sure enough, Achilles was close behind, reaching out a hand to be taken up into the bird.
"I'm glad you chose to come with us," said Suriyawong.
Achilles found a seat and strapped himself into it. "I assume your commander is Bean and you're Suriyawong," said Achilles.