“Certainly, old man.” Asgar crouched beside Chiavelli, as Chiavelli explained what needed to be done. With their fingers, they worked loose and removed four-penny nails from the floor where Thayer’s pallet had been.
Meanwhile, a warm smile wreathed David Thayer’s wrinkled face. He extended his hand. “Colonel Smith, I’ve waited a long time for this.
Wish I could think of something profound to say, but my heart and mind are too full.”
“Actually, I was thinking the same thing, Dr. Thayer.” He shook the hand. It was dry, warm, with only a slight tremble. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I mean that. We’re going to get you out of here. From this moment on, consider yourself a free man.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to meet my son.”
“Of course. The president sends his greetings. He wants very much to see you as soon as possible.”
Thayer’s smile widened, and his eyes shone. “I’ve hoped that for more than fifty years. Is he well?”
“From everything I know, he is. You have two grandchildren. Both in college. A boy and a girl. Patrick and Amy. You’ll be going home to a beautiful family.” Jon thought he heard a sob catch in Thayer’s throat.
“Let’s go!” Dennis Chiavelli called softly from the corner.
A panel of the wood floor was gone. It had been dropped down into the opening. David Thayer explained the Uighers had dug tunnels years ago, so they could move freely among the barracks.
Jon and Thayer hunched next to Asgar and Chiavelli, as Chiavelli explained urgently, “We go out as quickly and quietly as possible. Looks like the governor’s laid down the law about the guards getting too lax, so we have to be damned careful. If a guard hasn’t been bribed and tries to stop us, we jump him silently, without lethal force if we can, and we stash him, dead or alive, in the mess hall where he won’t be found until after roll call tomorrow morning. If our luck holds, they won’t figure out before then we’re gone.”
“We’d better be far the hell away by then anyway,” Jon said. He looked at Asgar. “All of that sound right?”
“With an emphasis on nonlethal. My people have to stay behind.”
Chiavelli frowned. “Why are they still here anyway?”
Impatience was written on Asgar’s face. He dropped feet first into the hole and took out a small flashlight. “If we pulled off a mass escape, the Han would come down on us and all of Xinjiang like the Great Wall.
It’s better we remain a bloody nuisance, and we pick our times and places to strike. Besides, we slip people in and out of the prison when we need to. The network here is useful. Come on. We need to move as if the devil were nipping our heels.”
Jon helped Thayer down into the opening. The moist, earthen hole had been scooped out into a tunnel about four feet high. They had to stoop, but it was a luxurious exit compared to Asgar’s tunnel back in the Shanghai longtangs. Chiavelli, the last down, reached up and pulled the sleeping pallet across the hole. He angled the wood panel back up into place and tweaked it to the side so it would hold.
“One of our people will fix it so it’s unnoticeable again,” Asgar explained.
They headed off, almost doubled over, Asgar in the lead. Following were David Thayer, Jon, and Chiavelli. Jon watched Thayer for signs of pain or exhaustion from the strain of the bent-over position, but if he felt either, he gave no indication. The dirt walls closed in around Jon, and a sense of suffocation threatened to overtake him. He kept his gaze on Thayer’s back. The tunnel writhed like a dragon’s tail, interrupted by rough-hewn wood supports and occasional openings in the top where more wood panels indicated another entrance into another building. No one spoke, although Chiavelli sneezed twice, muffling the noise in his hand.
At last, there was a cool stream of fresh air.
Asgar breathed, “We’re here.” As they stopped, he continued, “We’ll be coming up under the last barrack. After that is the mess.” He looked at his watch face. “Right now, there should be no more than one guard patrolling between us and the final barrack. I’ll handle him. If by any chance we’re surprised by a second, which is possible tonight, Jon takes him.” “What do I do?” Chiavelli asked, frowning, eager to help.
Jon said, “Your job’s to make sure Dr. Thayer stays safe.”
Thayer protested, “Don’t do anything special for me. I make it, or I don’t. I’m too old for anyone to risk his life.”
“You are old,” Jon said bluntly. “But that means you’ll make it harder on us if you try to do what you can’t.”
David Thayer said, amused, “So Captain Chiavelli becomes my bodyguard and my wet nurse. Poor Captain Chiavelli. It is a sad fate for such a brave man of action.”
“No worries,” Chiavelli assured him. “My pleasure.” “Here we go,” Asgar whispered.
The panel above their heads had been unsealed and left ajar, the source of the fresh air. Asgar pushed it out of the way, and they climbed up, one after the other, into the crawl space beneath the barrack. Thayer was awkward but made it. Chiavelli replaced the panel and brushed dirt back over it.
Jon and Asgar took positions under the edge of the building, where the dimly lighted yard stretched between it and the mess hall. As Asgar had predicted, a single guard patrolled in a sloppy circle, his assault rifle slung over his shoulder and his head down as if half asleep.
They scuttled backward to where Thayer and Chiavelli lay. Thayer gave Jon a questioning look, but Jon shook his head, his fingers at his lips.
They waited. The night air was chilly against their skin. The moon had retreated behind a gray cloud, and the shadowy prison took on an eerie, dangerous air. They waited tensely.
At last, the guard headed back in their direction. Again Jon and Asgar moved to the edge of the barrack. And waited. As the man’s feet moved past, Asgar sprang out like a mountain cat and smashed the butt of his pistol down onto the guard’s head. And it was over. Asgar started to drag the man under the barrack, where they would tie and gag him and smuggle him into the mess hall to hide.
Then it happened. A second guard marched out from around the next building. He saw Asgar bent over his collapsed comrade. For a long beat, the new guard stared, puzzled, his routine-dulled brain unable to comprehend and react. Abruptly, it penetrated. He grabbed his assault rifle, which was slung over his shoulder.
Just as he spun it over into his hands, Jon jumped out from under the barrack behind him and reached to clamp an arm around his throat. The man immediately slammed back the butt of the rifle. Jon saw it coming and dodged, but he lost his grip on the guard.
The man whirled around, aimed his rifle at Jon, and tightened his finger. At that moment, Dennis Chiavelli blasted out from under the barrack, racing shoulder down, like a battering ram. He crashed into the guard, pushing him a good six feet, while trying to yank the rifle from his hands. But the guard managed to pull the trigger.
The rifle fired. The noise was like a crack of thunder. It seemed to shake the buildings and explode up into the starry heavens.
Fear shot through Jon. “Hide him. Quick!” He kicked the guard in the chin, knocking him out.
At the same time, a voice shouted in Chinese, then another. There were questions in the voices. The old man straightened up onto his feet. He bellowed into the night, his voice strong. Jon had no idea what the words meant, but they were confident. The old man laughed, and there were responding chuckles in the distance.
“I told them I was an idiot,” Thayer whispered as they quickly bound, gagged, and blindfolded the two guards. “I said I nearly shot myself in the foot by accident and begged them not to report me.” He chuckled again.
“Nice save,” Jon said in a low voice.
“Jolly right,” Asgar agreed.
Chiavelli said nothing, merely smiled.
With the fear of being caught goading them, the four rushed the two unconscious guards toward the mess building. Two Uighers were waiting there, the door ajar. Inside, one of the Uighers asked Asgar a question.
Before Asgar could translate, David Thayer did: “They’re saying they’ll hide the guards, if we like. We should leave before the moon comes out again.”
Jon nodded. “Tell them yes. Thanks, Dr. Thayer. Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.”
At a trot, they retraced the path Ibrahim had led them on, from the mess hall to the kitchen and finally to the rear double doors where another Uigher beckoned them to hurry even faster. The moon, approaching full tonight, was still low as they trotted out into the blind spot to the fence where the Uighers on both sides had already reopened the passage.
Asgar swiftly crawled under, but David Thayer suddenly stopped. He stared out through the chain links as if
