Buddha screamed into the phone, "Get back here! Now!"

"No, you fat cow. You come with me!"

Throwing up his arms and screaming, Buddha returned to his SUV and threw it in gear.

After sending off Smith to check on Beasley and Hume, Mitchell sprinted off to help Jenkins.

As Mitchell headed north, a vehicle--one of those Chinese Brave Warriors--suddenly raced through the central building's main entrance and crossed into the path, heading east out of the castle. Unsure who might be in that truck, Mitchell held fire and called over the radio. "This is Ghost Lead. There's a vehicle heading east! Where the hell did that come from? Who's in it?"

"Ghost Lead, this is Diaz. I'm en route to the rally point. See your truck. Must be that last guard, the guy who looked like the security team leader, the one that had the cane. Not sure where he hid the truck."

"Roger that."

"And, sir, looks like our SUVs are coming down the mountain."

"What?"

"That's right, sir. They're coming down."

Mitchell swung around and watched as Fang Zhi's truck roared up onto the east road, directly toward the first oncoming SUV. "Diaz, you see that other truck."

"I got him."

"Fire!"

"I'll try, sir, but he's moving fast!"

"Just try. Ramirez? Nolan? Get to Jenkins. Help him get Brown out of there.

"You got it, Boss," answered Ramirez.

Boy Scout cut his wheel to the left, trying to run the oncoming truck off the road, but the driver, whose window was down, thrust his arm and head out the window and began firing his pistol.

The first shot exploded into Boy Scout's windshield as he reached for his own weapon.

He never brought it to bear.

Just as the two vehicles passed each other, with the truck to Boy Scout's left, the driver fired once more. Boy Scout's neck snapped back as he thought a curse, fell forward onto the wheel, and all sensation vanished.

Buddha rolled his wheel and drove as far off to the right as he could, bringing his SUV high onto the muddy embankment, even as he fired upon the escaping truck.

That driver returned fire, then accelerated up and over the hill, gone.

Beasley picked his way through the shattered staircase and found Hume sitting up against the wall, his legs and right arm pinpricked by dozens of pieces of shrapnel. Opposite him lay a guard and Major-General Chen.

"Johnny, it's me, Matt. Getting you out of here, buddy."

Hume did not move.

Beasley removed the sergeant's earpiece and balaclava, then directed a small Gladius tactical light to the side of Hume's head, checking his ears and eyes. They looked all right. He examined the wounds on Hume's extremities.

The sergeant stirred and said, "Matt, I think I'm going to puke."

"Your ears ringing, too?"

"Yeah."

"You got a little shrapnel, little head injury. Ain't nothing. Let's see if you can put some weight on those legs. Ready?"