Beasley had already played out Bravo Team's raid a half dozen times in his head. He'd initially considered a standoff attack, dropping each guy quietly like snipers and taking full advantage of the camera mounted on his Modular Rifle--Caseless (MR-C) to peek around the vehicles. However, once those men had gathered in close, he'd realized that the raid must be more swift, that all four needed to go down at once.

And to ensure success, Beasley knew they had to get in close. Very close.

"Well, that's ten minutes," whispered Jenkins over Bravo Team's radio channel.

"Ghost Lead, this is Bravo Lead," called Beasley on the main channel. "Still waiting on you, Boss."

"Uh, yeah. Sit tight."

Something ominous had crept into the captain's tone.

"What the hell's he waiting for?" asked Brown.

"The captain knows what he's doing," Beasley retorted, only half buying the assurance.

"I know he knows. Wish he'd share it with us."

"He sounds distracted," said Jenkins.

"We're all distracted," Beasley snapped.

"I think something's going down," said Brown.

"Yeah, it's called Operation War Wraith," Beasley finished.

"Uh, I don't know. This . . . this ain't right," said Hume. "Every time we work with the spooks, there's always something they don't tell us--and I got a feeling the captain just got a piece of intel he definitely doesn't like."

Beasley sighed. The longer they waited, the more paranoid they would become.

Huang used the small penlight to lead the village elders into their usual meeting room. Eleven of the twelve men stared worriedly at him as he spoke. "Everyone is in their rooms. The gate door is open. Our visitors are asleep, and Fang and his men remain at their posts. I'm told there will be four men, dressed all in black. We need only stay out of their way. It will all be over soon."

One of the other elders, a ruddy-faced man named Pan who had never liked Huang because of a dispute between their sons, both now grown, widened his eyes. "I will say it again. I'm outraged that you've made this deal with the secret police. If anyone is hurt, I will blame you, Huang. You."

"What is worse? Dealing with the police or being forced to open our doors to these criminals? Tonight, our problems will end once and for all. Go now to your posts. Keep low. And watch. I am told it will happen soon."

Pan held up his index finger at Huang. "I know he's agreed to give you his truck, but you'd better not accept it. That is, as you say, a gift from a criminal."

Huang glowered at Pan as the man passed by.

Interestingly enough, Fang had driven his truck inside the central building and parked it in the courtyard, beneath a long row of canvas awnings, out of sight. He'd certainly made it appear as if he were leaving it behind.