But who was he kidding? He wanted to fire that shot more than anything else in the world. His anger had grown talons that ripped apart his gut, and over and over he watched himself squeezing the man's neck and firing that shot. Mitchell gasped, shuddered off the thought, and hustled on.

Beasley sprinted along the edge of the forest, then he broke into a Motor City madman dash across the field, coming toward the choppers and trucks from the left flank.

Two of the men, the drivers, had pushed themselves deeper into the back of one truck, leaving the tailgate open. The other two guys, the pilots, had sought refuge inside the other Brave Warrior's cab.

Those drivers they could reach. But the pilots in the cab were already giving Beasley a headache.

He signaled for Jenkins and Hume to get low on the driver's side of the pilots' truck, while he and Brown rushed up to the other truck with the open tailgate, their pistols clutched tightly in gloved hands.

One of the pilots was about to light a cigarette. The other was lifting his glass to take a sip.

Brown shot the drinker in the head. Thump!

But Beasley opted for two shots into the smoker's chest--because the man would become helpful, even in death. He rushed forward, caught the guy before he slumped forward, and whispered to Brown, "Help me stand him up!"

"What the hell are we doing?"

"Marcus, trust me. And we have to move. I need to check in with the bot. That power crew will be there any minute."

"Okay. I think I get it now."

The captain's firing order had come so abruptly that it took Diaz's brain a moment to catch up to her ears.

Holding her breath, she made the slightest tweak to her aim before squeezing the trigger.

While she doubted the click from her rifle was loud enough to be detected by the guards posted around the castle, that second sniper might've heard it. She squinted and observed a blood cloud envelop the first sniper.

Clean kill.

Using the knife edge of her firing hand, she worked the bolt effortlessly and ejected the spent case. After chambering the next round, she clambered to her feet, grabbed the firing mat, and stole off along the ridge.

She needed to cross just ten, fifteen meters to the west to get a more direct bead on the second sniper on the north side. She already envisioned herself in place and taking him out.

The rain was torrential now, and the first jagged seam of lightning ripped through the sky, backlighting the gnarled and dripping limbs in her path.

Just a little farther, she assured herself, her boots thumping, her breath growing shallow.

She was at once scared out of her mind and riding an adrenaline high unlike any she'd ever experienced. She'd been in a lot of foreign countries before, but none held the mystery and foreboding of China.