Yuki unholstered his pistol. Siri was certain he was about to shoot the three of them in the head right there and then. There would be no discussion. Three executions: bang, bang, bang, then a signal for the massacre.

But instead there was an explosion. It was followed by another, and another. Yuki turned in time to see the third blast light up the night sky.

“What . . . ?” he said.

“That would be Chief Inspector Phosy and a few dozen armed police officers,” said Siri. “I’m sure they’ve already overpowered your pudgy Japanese forward guard and secured the tunnel entrance. I’m afraid that cuts off your orderly escape route. You really should have come in helicopters again.”

“Your only option now is to use us as hostages and talk your way out of here,” said Daeng.

There was another explosion. Yuki-san stood with his gun at Siri’s head.

“Getting closer,” said Siri.

“You could panic and get your unit of geriatrics to kill all these nice people, but you’ve made the classical mass-shooting mistake of placing your old boys in positions where they couldn’t shoot the hostages without shooting each other,” said Daeng.

Another explosion.

“Plus there’s the suicide bomber element,” said Siri.

“What are you talking about?” said Yuki.

Siri opened his shirt to reveal a nest of explosives with the letters TNT written on them strapped to his chest. A wire snaked through his sleeve down to his hand in which he held a device that looked a lot like a detonator. He rotated to give everyone a good look. There was a gasp from the captives.

“Put down your weapons,” Siri shouted, “or I blow up your commander.”

“No,” said Yuki-san. “Asians of your low class do not have the courage to take your own lives.”

“Usually not,” said Siri. “But I have terminal horripilation. I only have two months left to live.”

“Me too,” said Daeng. “It’s contagious.”

Two of the guards had already handed over their weapons to the villagers. Thirty years earlier they might have fought to the death, but they’d mellowed and learned to recognize fate. They’d had that one fat mango in their lives and it hadn’t ever ripened.

Another explosion. Closer.

“So, let’s all go together, the heroic way,” said Siri. He raised the detonator and began to squeeze the button.

“No,” said Yuki-san.

He redirected the pistol to his own head.

“Only I have the right,” he said.