With the rain still pelting down on him, he grabbed the raft's single oar, winced in pain, and began to row.
Flight Captain Feng brought the nose of his Flanker up and leveled off at 5,000 feet. The worst of the storm was behind him. He changed frequencies, fingered the transmit button, and prepared to repeat his transmission at the request of Danjia ops personnel in the tower.
Somewhere below him the Su-39 was awash in six-foot swells, and in all probability, the man piloting it was either dead or dying. It was Feng's first combat mission, and in all probability, his first kill. He had achieved his objective by simply outflying the Russianthe Russian that Colonel Quan had brought in to teach them how to fly the strange-looking plane.
Feng had no way of knowing that the Russian, Borisov, had died long before the Covert ditched, or that in its final flight it had been piloted by an American. In fact, Chi Feng knew nothing of the details of the intricate drama in which he had played such a major role. He simply knew that his first real combat mission had been a success. There was a sense of elationand a sense of sadness.
He pressed the switch and repeated his message. He gave the coordinates, the time, advised the tower of his location, and the confirmation "target acquired and destroyed."
Chapter Twelve
Tang Ro Ji discarded the heavy wet blanket he had stolen from the old man's cart and dropped to his knees beside the road. The pain and the long night had taken their toll; he was near exhaustion.
With the first light of dawn, he had been able to find his way with less difficulty. Then the rain had slacked off to little more than a steady drizzle. But in the rice fields to the west, near the backwaters of the reservoir, a layer of thin, silver-gray fog had begun to form. At first it hugged the ground and only made the footing uncertain. Now the night-long cold rain and warm earth combined to paint a thick, concealing fog that made the job of the patrols even more difficult. But it was creeping up from the low land, filling in the swales and forming a bond with the low-hanging scud cloudsthe aftermath of the storm.
For the last several minutes, his visibility had been restricted to no more than a hundred feet or so. Disoriented from the pain and confused by the fog, he had mistakenly traveled several hundred yards in the wrong directionaway from Hua's orphanage. When he discovered his error, he had to retrace his steps back to the hill overlooking the settlement. Even now he could not be certain. It would take what little strength he had left to descend the hill and reconnoiter the situation before entering the village.
Twice within the last hour Quan's patrols had passed within a few hundred feet of him as they scoured the countryside. Each time he had sought refuge in the tall grass that lined the road, and the patrol's probing and sweeping searchlights had passed over him.
He strained to see down in the shallow valley and held his head to one side, listening for any sound that might reveal his whereabouts. A wet hare came within a few feet of him, only to sense the danger and race away. In the distance, a dog barked a few times, but otherwise there was silence.
Tang waited for several more minutes before deciding he was ready. He ran his fingers over his blood-soaked arm and searched through his pockets until he could feel the reassuring bulk of the Barkai. He had not checked it since leaving the old man and his son, and he did not know how many shells he had left.
He had just struggled to one knee when he heard an approaching car. It was moving slowly over the muddy, rutted road, and he realized that the driver was probably having difficulty seeing as his headlights reached out only to be absorbed by the wall of fog. The car slowed and finally came to a stop no more than two hundred feet from where Tang Ro Ji was hiding.
He heard doors open and the sound of voices. One was that of a woman, the other a man's. Ro Ji inched forward in the grass and listened.
''Are you sure this is it?" the man asked.
"It has to be," the woman said. Her voice was confident.
"With all this fog, how can you tell?"
"Zebo should be just down that road a quarter of a mile or so…"
Tang stood up, moved forward, and stopped when he could actually see the two figures standing beside the car.
"I have been here many times," the woman said. "See that old cemetery over there, and that rock road leading down the hill? This is it."
"If we go stumbling into one of Quan's outposts or one of his patrols, we'll have a lot of explaining to do," the man said. His voice was edgy and uncertain. "They may be the kind that shoot first and ask questions later."
The woman went back to get a flashlight from the car, walked several feet away, aimed the light down the hill, and repeated that she was sure they were in the right place.
A car was what Tang needed, but with his shattered arm he knew he couldn't drive. His fevered mind began formulating a plan. He could get rid of one of them and force the other to drive him to Haikou. In Haikou he knew a doctor who would ask no questions. Money did the talking in Haikou.
Still concealed by the fog, he fished out the Barkai, stepped out on the road, and approached the car. Shu Li saw him first, but Zhun Be was the one who recognized him. He blurted out Tang Ro Ji's name before he realized.
"Most unfortunate," Han Ki Po's assassin said ominously, "that you should recognize me. Such irony. Quan's troops have been searching for me throughout the nightand you are the ones who find me."
Shu Li's eyes were fixed on the Barkai. The man holding the small automatic was visibly weak and unsteady.
"The gods are with me, wouldn't you say?" Tang said softly. "I am in need of a car, and you have one."
"You can have the car," Shu Li said. "Just leave us alone."
Tang managed a crooked half-smile. "I'm afraid it isn't that simple. As you can see, I am somewhat incapacitated. Driving would be difficult…"
Shu Li looked at the bloodstained left arm hanging at Tang Ro Ji's side.
"… I have lost a great deal of blood and…"
"Zebo is just down that hill," Shu Li said, pointing. "Father Hua can help you. He will know what to do."
Tang shook his head. "No, there are too many people down there. Have you not heard it said that one man cannot know the minds of many? While the good father is tending to my arm, others could go for help. If Hua was my only alternative, I would chance it. But your rather fortuitous arrival gives me a more desirable alternative. Instead, you will drive me to Haikou."
"You'll never make it that far," Shu Li said. "You've lost too much blood already."
"You underestimate me," Tang said. He had begun gesturing her back toward the Renault with the snub-nosed Barkai.
Shu Li looked at Zhun Be. "What about my friend?"
Tang was weary. "The Americans have a saying about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am afraid that is the situation your friend finds himself in. I cannot let him go, because he will inform Hua of what has happened. I cannot take him with us, because, under the circumstances, I cannot watch the both of you. He is, how do you say it, excess baggage… out of luck."