Bogner was dealing with factors other than the Komiskos. In the last thirty minutes, the sky had darkened and the breeze freshened as a deck of low-hanging clouds moved in from the Gulf. It had all the signs of an impending storm. Bogner began to feel occasional drops of rain, and in the distance he saw repeated flashes of lightning.
He heard Driver and Le moving through the grass toward him.
"We are in luck," Le said. "The weather will afford us even more distraction and cover. Those who remain on the installation will be driven inside. They will be less vigilant."
Driver scanned the low-hanging cloud deck and finally stood up. "Can't hear 'em. It sounds like they've cleared. Let's go for it. Let's get that Defender cranked up."
"One moment," Le cautioned. "There is still the small matter of disabling the observation post at the 2.5-kilometer marker. Colonel Quan located it there to observe activities at Zebo."
"Why in the hell didn't we take it out while we were waiting for the Komiskos to refuel?" Driver demanded.
"If they had not reported the arrival and departure of the search flight, Quan would have been alerted," Le said.
"How far is it?" Bogner asked.
"Less than five hundred meters. See that light just over the hill? It will be necessary to cut through the fence. But we are in luck. The rain will force them inside the shelter. They will be less alert."
It took less than fifteen minutes to get to their objective. The obs shack, located atop a twenty-foot security tower, was visible from the top of the hill. Bogner worked his way to the base, along the fence, used his wire cutters to cut a hole, and crawled through. Then he motioned for Driver and Le to stay back. "I think one of us has a better chance than if all three of us try to go in. Let me take it from here," he whispered.
Le Win Fo waited, Driver serving as a backup, and the rain had already started by the time Bogner circled the base of the wooden tower and started to climb the ladder. Le had guessed right. Quan's soldiers had forfeited security measures for sanctuary from the rain. The doors of the obs shack had been left open, and the two uniformed observers occupied themselves listening to music blaring from a small transistor radio.
Bogner inched his way onto the narrow observation platform outside of the shed and crawled along the deck until he was on the far side, away from the floodlights aimed at Zebo. In a narrow area where there were no windows he stood up. Both men had their backs to him. He removed the coiled choke wire from the spring clip on his aux belt and wedged one round from his spare ammo clip. Then he dropped the brass-jacketed shell onto the deck. It rolled off and clattered down into the gravel pad below the tower.
For Bogner it was all textbook and instinct after that. Everything happened fast.
The two observers looked up, there was a brief exchange of uneasy chatter, and the taller of the two picked up his rifle and stepped out on the obs deck to check out the noise. He had barely cleared the door when Bogner moved out of the shadows and slammed the butt of his SMG down into the back of the man's neck just below the skull. He heard the guard let out a semimuffled grunt, saw him go weak in the legs and topple over the guardrail. There was an ominous thudding sound when the man's body hit the ground.
Then he wheeled to confront the second man. When the young soldier saw Bogner he froze momentarilythen went for his revolver. The second one was even less of a challenge than the first. Bogner reached for his knife and threw, all in one motion.
For one split second between Bogner's throw and the eight-inch blade gouging its way into the young man's chest, their eyes locked. In that moment Bogner saw anger, hate, and finally terror. Then the guard lurched forward and fell to the floor. It was all over. There hadn't even been time to register a protest over dying. Right then and there Bogner asked himself whether or not Schubatis was worth the lives of two young men.
He rolled the soldier over, checked his pulse, found none, retrieved his knife, and smashed the radio gear. Then he scurried down the ladder, checked the man on the ground, crawled back through the fence, and raced for the place where Le Win Fo and Driver waited. As he did, there was a loud peal of thunder and a bolt of lightning razored its way through the Hainan sky.
An agitated Quan Cho snuffed out one cigarette and lit another. He glanced at the brace of telephones on his desk, stood up, and moved to the nearest window to watch the rain. Through it all, Lieutenant Yew had remained standing.
"How many men have you dispatched?" Quan demanded, still appraising the storm.
"All that are available, Colonel," Yew assured him.
Quan wheeled and glowered at the young officer. "And just exactly what do you mean by 'all that are available,' Lieutenant?"
Yew shifted his stance. When Quan was angry, he was often irrational. Yew measured his answer. "All personnel that are not on duty in the cell block or manning the security posts," he clarified. "I have also alerted the men who have just come off duty. They have been dispatched under Lieutenant Jing as part of the search party for Tang Ro Ji."
Quan's hollowed face formed a deep frown. Yew knew that look. The Colonel turned back to the window and watched the rain form a tiny river cascading down the stone walkway to the garrison ground in front of the headquarters building. From where he stood, the downpour all but obliterated the lights of the main hangar where the Su-39 was housed.
Further vexing Quan was the fact that there had already been two follow-up calls from the Huangliu compound where Han Ki Po's body had been found. The most recent call had been from General Han Xihui, the chairman's son.
Han did not try to hide his anger. Quan could tell from the sound of his voice that he had already begun to suspect a conspiracy. Furthermore, Quan realized that if Han located Tang before his patrols did, the General was skilled in ways that could make even a man like Tang Ro Ji talk.
Yew weighed his words before he spoke. "With the Colonel's permission, I will return to my post at the cell block to await orders."
Without looking back at the young officer, Quan nodded. "Send Major Zi Yu in."
"Major Zi Yu is with the patrols covering the coastal villages," Yew informed him.
Quan was still fuming when Yew left the room. In the narrow corridor outside the Colonel's office, he put on the olive-green rain poncho, buttoned it tight against his throat, pulled up the hood, and stepped out into the rain. As he trudged across the garrison ground between Quan's office and the cell block, he heard the sound of a helicopter rotor. The Komiskos were coming and going with such frequency since the alert that he did not even bother to look up. He did not bother even though it occurred to him that flying one of the aging helicopters in weather such as they were experiencing would indeed be a sobering experience.
Almost as an afterthought, he stopped at a bank of vending machines between two barracks and rummaged through his pockets until he found enough money to buy a pack of cigarettes. It had already been a long night for Yew, and the prospects were for an even longer one before he was off duty.
In the intensity of the storm, the young security officer failed to notice Le Win Fo's small Defender helicopter settling onto the roof of Danjia's east cell block.
Bogner held his breath as a strong gust of wind yawed the tiny chopper into a sideways drift just a few feet above the roof of the cell block. He heard Driver suck in his breath and felt the Air Force veteran stiffen.