to cover my hair, I could pass for him."
"Maybe at a distance," Prynne said dubiously, looking at the prisoner's stubbly face.
"We could all walk around the curve with me holding you at gunpoint as captives," Joe went on. "We'd get as close as possible to the Mercedes, then all we'd need was some sort of distraction to let us rush the guards."
Joe smiled. "Phil could make a very loud distraction with the explosives in the ATV. Let me try this guy's outfit on for size."
When Prynne and Joe walked back to the others, Joe was wearing a pair of baggy khaki pants, a grimy black sweatshirt, and a black knit cap. "Well, what do you think?" he asked. "As a fashion statement," said Phil, "it's the pits. Is there a point to this?"
Joe swiftly outlined his strategy, then turned to Phil. "We need an explosion—something with a lot of noise and smoke but no damage. It should go off forty-five seconds from the time we start walking toward the Mercedes."
Phil examined the area, marking a spot with his toe. "About here, you'd get lots of echo, and it'd be harmless." "Excellent," Prynne said. "You stay here with one of the AK-forty-sevens. When your explosion goes, fire a few short bursts, just to add to the noise and general confusion. After that, act at your own discretion. Understood?"
Phil nodded and went to work.
"You know," Joe said, "it would be a good idea if I knew a few words in their language."
"Serbo-Croatian." Prynne nodded. "Let's see, I'll teach you. 'It's all right, these are prisoners,' and 'Help! Come quickly!' That'll be enough for our purposes."
While Prynne was drilling the phrases into Joe, Clea came up with a handful of mud, which she smeared over Joe's cheeks, jaws, and chin.
"It will look like the face of an unshaven man, from perhaps thirty yards," she said.
Joe shrugged. "If we get that close and Phil's bomb hasn't gone off, we're in trouble anyway."
"It's ready." Phil picked up his AK-47.
"Right." Prynne started out of the cleft. "Phil, we'll be expecting your explosion forty-five seconds from when we go around the turn."
"You got it," Phil answered. "Good luck, guys."
A moment later, Prynne, Clea, and Andreas appeared around the curve, their hands clasped behind their heads. Joe came just behind, carrying an AK-47 and muttering his two Serbo-Croatian phrases under his breath. The Mercedes stood about one hundred and fifty yards away, with two men guarding it.
"Slow down," hissed Prynne. "We don't want to get too close too soon."
The guards had by now caught sight of them. One yelled something.
"Don't answer yet," whispered Prynne. "Make a show of not being able to hear him."
On they trudged, and the guard called out once more and brought his gun up to his shoulder.
Joe waved one arm over his head and shouted out what he hoped would pass for assurance that everything was all right. The guard lowered his gun and called out something else.
"What's he saying now?" whispered Joe.
"He wants to know where the others are. Try the first phrase again."
Joe repeated the first line as they moved steadily closer.
Fifty yards. The guard shouted out more sharply, and both men now trained their AK-47s on the approaching group.
Forty yards. Suddenly the roar of an explosion filled the air, followed by the rattle of an automatic weapon.
Joe spun around, yelling to the alarmed guards. He kept his face turned away and fired a couple of short bursts in the general direction of the blast. The three "prisoners" moved aside.
The two guards came running up. Joe let the first go past, then tackled the second man. He caught him at knee level from behind, cutting him down and sending the man's AK-47 skittering away.
The other guard turned back, his gun wavering as he tried to find a shot that wouldn't hit his comrade. Before the guard had a clear shot, Prynne rushed in to knock the gun aside. The man pulled free but Prynne drove a shoulder into him, sending both of them sprawling into a gully.
Meanwhile Joe
"Maybe at a distance," Prynne said dubiously, looking at the prisoner's stubbly face.
"We could all walk around the curve with me holding you at gunpoint as captives," Joe went on. "We'd get as close as possible to the Mercedes, then all we'd need was some sort of distraction to let us rush the guards."
Joe smiled. "Phil could make a very loud distraction with the explosives in the ATV. Let me try this guy's outfit on for size."
When Prynne and Joe walked back to the others, Joe was wearing a pair of baggy khaki pants, a grimy black sweatshirt, and a black knit cap. "Well, what do you think?" he asked. "As a fashion statement," said Phil, "it's the pits. Is there a point to this?"
Joe swiftly outlined his strategy, then turned to Phil. "We need an explosion—something with a lot of noise and smoke but no damage. It should go off forty-five seconds from the time we start walking toward the Mercedes."
Phil examined the area, marking a spot with his toe. "About here, you'd get lots of echo, and it'd be harmless." "Excellent," Prynne said. "You stay here with one of the AK-forty-sevens. When your explosion goes, fire a few short bursts, just to add to the noise and general confusion. After that, act at your own discretion. Understood?"
Phil nodded and went to work.
"You know," Joe said, "it would be a good idea if I knew a few words in their language."
"Serbo-Croatian." Prynne nodded. "Let's see, I'll teach you. 'It's all right, these are prisoners,' and 'Help! Come quickly!' That'll be enough for our purposes."
While Prynne was drilling the phrases into Joe, Clea came up with a handful of mud, which she smeared over Joe's cheeks, jaws, and chin.
"It will look like the face of an unshaven man, from perhaps thirty yards," she said.
Joe shrugged. "If we get that close and Phil's bomb hasn't gone off, we're in trouble anyway."
"It's ready." Phil picked up his AK-47.
"Right." Prynne started out of the cleft. "Phil, we'll be expecting your explosion forty-five seconds from when we go around the turn."
"You got it," Phil answered. "Good luck, guys."
A moment later, Prynne, Clea, and Andreas appeared around the curve, their hands clasped behind their heads. Joe came just behind, carrying an AK-47 and muttering his two Serbo-Croatian phrases under his breath. The Mercedes stood about one hundred and fifty yards away, with two men guarding it.
"Slow down," hissed Prynne. "We don't want to get too close too soon."
The guards had by now caught sight of them. One yelled something.
"Don't answer yet," whispered Prynne. "Make a show of not being able to hear him."
On they trudged, and the guard called out once more and brought his gun up to his shoulder.
Joe waved one arm over his head and shouted out what he hoped would pass for assurance that everything was all right. The guard lowered his gun and called out something else.
"What's he saying now?" whispered Joe.
"He wants to know where the others are. Try the first phrase again."
Joe repeated the first line as they moved steadily closer.
Fifty yards. The guard shouted out more sharply, and both men now trained their AK-47s on the approaching group.
Forty yards. Suddenly the roar of an explosion filled the air, followed by the rattle of an automatic weapon.
Joe spun around, yelling to the alarmed guards. He kept his face turned away and fired a couple of short bursts in the general direction of the blast. The three "prisoners" moved aside.
The two guards came running up. Joe let the first go past, then tackled the second man. He caught him at knee level from behind, cutting him down and sending the man's AK-47 skittering away.
The other guard turned back, his gun wavering as he tried to find a shot that wouldn't hit his comrade. Before the guard had a clear shot, Prynne rushed in to knock the gun aside. The man pulled free but Prynne drove a shoulder into him, sending both of them sprawling into a gully.
Meanwhile Joe
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