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Sam turned his head and whispered in Remi’s ear. “Stay perfectly still.” She nodded.
Moving slowly, carefully, Sam curled his legs beneath him, then rose into a crouch onto the balls of his feet. He took two crab steps toward the tailgate and turned his head to listen. After a moment, he turned back to Remi and held up four fingers. Four guards were standing on the other side of the tailgate. He pointed to his rifle, then in the direction of the soldiers.
She handed him the rifle. Sam laid it across his legs, then pressed his wrists together. She nodded. He gestured for her to lie flat. She did so.
Sam made sure the rifle’s safety was off, adjusted himself and took a deep breath, then reached up with his left hand, grasped the canvas, and jerked it aside.
“Hands up!” he shouted.
The two soldiers closest to the bumper spun around while simultaneously backpedaling. They stumbled into their comrades, who were struggling to unsling their rifles.
“Don’t!” Sam said, and raised his rifle to his shoulder.
Despite the language gap, the soldiers got the message and stopped moving. Sam gestured with the barrel of his rifle several times until the men got the message. Slowly each man unslung his rifle and let it drop to the ground. Sam backed them up a few feet, then climbed over the tailgate and hopped down.
“All clear,” he said to Remi.
She dropped to the ground beside him.
“They look terrified,” she said.
“Perfect. The more terrified they are, the better for us,” Sam said. “Would you do the honors?”
Remi collected their rifles and dumped all but one into the truck bed. Sam said, “Safety off?”
“I think . . .”
“Lever switch above the trigger on the right side.”
“Got it. Okay.”
Sam and Remi and the four Chinese soldiers stared at one another. For ten seconds, no one spoke. Finally Sam asked, “English?”
The soldier on the far right said, “Small English.”
“Right. Okay. You are my prisoners.”
Remi sighed heavily. “Sam . . .”
“Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“Now that you’ve got that out of your system, what do we do with them?”
“We tie them up and . . . Oh, no. That’s not good.”
“What?” Remi glanced at her husband. Sam’s narrowed eyes were staring over the heads of the soldiers toward the cab of the second truck. She followed his gaze and saw a silhouetted figure sitting in the cab. The figure ducked down suddenly.
“We miscounted,” Sam muttered.
“I see that.”
“Get in the driver’s seat, Remi. Start the engine. Check for—”
“You can be sure of it,” she replied, then turned on her heel and sprinted toward the front of the truck. A moment later the engine started. The four soldiers shuffled nervously and glanced at one another.
“All aboard!” Remi shouted out the cab window.
“Coming, dear!” Sam replied without turning.
