At first Tang had insisted on riding up front with the old man. But as he grew weaker, he had been forced to lie down in the bed of the cart. The cart had no springs, and the rough- sawed board bed of the two-wheeled cart was hard and unyielding. Despite that, he continued to hold the small automatic to the boy's head, using a threadbare old blanket to fend off the rain. The blanket had long since soaked through, and Tang, in addition to his pain, suffered from the chills.
Tang had instructed the old man to stay on the back roads to avoid Quan's patrols. On at least two occasions they had been close enough for Tang to see the lights of the armored patrol carriers on the main road just over the hill on the coastal road. Three times low-flying Komiskos with their sweeping searchlights had flown low enough that he was certain they would be spotted. Yet somehow they had managed to avoided detection.
Tang knew the Danjia base commander all too well, and he was equally aware of Quan's dogged determination. The man would keep his patrols out as long as it took to find him. Tang had confiscated the boy's ancient battery-operated, two-band, six-transistor radio when they left the house. With it he had been able to monitor the Danjia security-band transmissions. He knew they were looking for him, and as the night had progressed, he knew Quan was no longer focusing his efforts on the coastal villages south of Danjia. He had expanded the search both north and inland. Twice within the last few minutes he had heard the patrols report in from villages within ten miles from where he was in hiding.
Early on, Tang realized his plan to take the bus into Haikou had to be scrapped. Quan's patrols would be stopping and searching every car, every bus, and every truck.
Despite his pain, he pulled himself into a sitting position and crawled up to the old man so he could hear him.
"I have… have changed my mind. We are not going into the village. Quan's men will be there."
The old man reined up the plodding horse and stopped the cart. He looked at Tang and waited.
Tang started to give the peasant instructions, then stopped. He was rattled. He closed his eyes against the pain and tried to think. "Where… where are we?" he demanded.
The old man squinted into the rain. "The village of Qianling is not far, perhaps a kilometer."
"Qianling is on the coast road," Tang said, his head clearing. "They will be looking for me in Qianling." There was another pause before he asked, "How far… far from Qianling is Zebo? There is an orphanage in Zebo. Take me there."
After a long silence the man protested, "The horse is old and it is lame. It cannot make it that far."
Tang shoved the barrel of the small automatic into the small of the man's back and felt the rain pelt against his own face. "The horse will not only be lame, it will be dead if you do not take me to Zebo. I am out of patience, old man, and I am in a great deal of pain. I need a doctor. If you and your son want to get out of this alive, you'll get me to Zebo."
Le Win Fo, with the aid of the older children, had pulled the Defender through the mud and back into the shelter, then closed the doors. While one group busied themselves smoothing out the tracks of the craft's sled undercarriage, others hurried to camouflage the rusting Quonset hut with cut kimho and shaq saplings. The smaller children brought in bunches of broom brush and heeled them into the mud until it looked as though the building had not been used in ages. Le knew that with the camouflage, in the rain and darkness, the old building was barely visible from the top of the hill.
Satisfied, Le trudged up the hill to the main house, where he knew Father Hua would be waiting and monitoring the transmissions from the Danjia radio. When Le entered the room, Hua looked up with an undeniable expression of relief in his near-sightless eyes; the son of his sister had returned home safe.
"What about the Americans?" Hua asked, anxiety in his rasping voice.
Le's brow furrowed. "I do not know, Father. Just as I let them down on the roof of the cell block, one of the Komiskos returned. It may have spotted me, but suddenly the Komisko exploded, crashed, and burned. In the confusion I managed to escape. I do not know what happened to the Americans. Have the broadcasts indicated anything?"
Hua turned to the youth who had been operating the radios. "Yun Qin would know."
"They report only that they have widened the search for the assassin," Yun Qin said. "Nothing else."
Hua closed his eyes and folded his arms across his frail chest. "It would seem that Quan has erred greatly," he said.
Le waited for the aging priest to elaborate.
"The web is intricate, but to those who would see, the plot is apparent. This man they are searching for is called Tang Ro Ji. We have heard his name many times. Is this not the same Tang Ro Ji who has long been a confidant of Colonel Quan? Is this not the same Tang Ro Ji who is but an extension of Quan's greed?"
"You think Quan engineered the attempted assassination of Han Ki Po?'' Le Win Fo asked.
"Chairman Han Ki Po is dead," Yun Qin said. "It was announced less than an hour ago."
"One can only surmise that Tang Ro Ji's identity was discovered," Hua speculated. "If that is the case, and he is captured, it will not take long for them to uncover the plot. That is why Quan has thrown caution aside to capture Tang Ro Ji before Dung Lei Hong and Major Han's forces locate him. We must be mindful that Quan is not the only one with ambitions to take over the Fifth Academy. Capturing Tang would enable Quan's enemies to eliminate him as well."
Le Win Fo was putting the pieces together as Hua revealed his suspicions. Finally he asked, "Have Quan's patrols been here yet?"
Hua shook his head. "They will come," he said. "It is inevitable."
Le stood up. He looked at the youthful Yun Qin and instructed him to continue to monitor the Danjia transmissions. Then he turned to Father Hua. "We must pray for two things, Father. We must pray that Quan finds the assassin, Tang. And we must pray that our American friends succeed."
Father Hua closed his eyes and bowed his ancient head. He was already deep in prayer.
Le stepped from the shelter of the main house and out onto the flagstone deck. He peered up into the rain and wondered about the safety of the Americans. Far to the south and west, he could see the faint lights on the guard tower at the Danjia security fence. He wondered how long it had taken Quan's men to repair them. From time to time he could hear the distant sound of the searching Komiskos. Like Hua, Le Win Fo began to pray. He feared for the Americans' safety.
Bogner had almost made it. He was within sight of the large hangar, and while he caught his breath he had ducked under the roof of a small shed containing oil drums and refueling equipment. He had put Schubatis down, propped him up against the side of the shed, and momentarily removed the gag.
The Russian was slipping in and out of consciousness. Bogner tried to reason with him, explaining that he was there to help him escape, but the frail little man was disoriented and frightened. If he understood what Bogner was telling him, he gave no indication.
The heavy rains continued, and for the last several minutes the downpour had been accompanied by repeated peals of thunder and occasional lightning. A Komisko circled overhead, preparing to land, and the refueling trucks scurried around the tarmac all but obscured by the spray of water created by the rotors' downdraft.
While Bogner waited, he tried to bring Schubatis around again. He shook the Russian until the man's eyes fluttered open. "Schubatis," he whispered, "can you hear me?"