We all considered the proposition for a moment. Volodya added, "Priest and I can go get one from Qinzhou and be back in two hours. I've done snatch and grab jobs before, they're easy."
Eyes flicked to Douglas, who looked to me. "I make the tactical decisions, Mr. Cortez. What Volodya says sounds tactically plausible. But you make the strategic calls, sir. The doctor will have to be watched night and day to make sure he doesn't escape and give away our location."
A quick balance of risks. If we kidnapped the doctor, the Chinese might trace us back here and wipe us out. If we didn't go, we'd certainly lose our bomb expert. That was a small loss in the sense that we could recruit another bomb expert from Douglas's company and have him flown out without too much trouble.
On the other hand, what would it do to morale if these men who barely knew me thought I wouldn't risk anything to save their lives? How could I ask them to gamble their lives on the completion of their missions if I would do nothing for them?
I said, "We don't let our people die if there's a chance to save them. Volodya and Priest, you're back in the game. Fei, see if you can't play any little computer tricks to make it easier."
"Paging Dr. Chao, please report to the emergency loading bay, Dr. Chao to the emergency loading bay." Fei's script was simple enough, though I didn't understand the Mandarin.
The hacker had found a thoracic surgeon at the Deng Xiaoping hospital in Qinzhou, penetrated the relatively paltry encryption system of the administration department, then commandeered the public announcement system.
After paging Dr. Chao, Fei disabled the PA as well as the security cameras in the emergency loading bay. The rest I watched on Priest's glasses camera.
Dr. Chao turned out to be a harried, forty-ish, stick of a man, the too-busy-to-eat sort of doctor. When he got to the loading bay at the back of the building, Priest, clad in nurse's scrubs and a surgical mask, started shouting excitedly in Chinese and pointing to Volodya, who lay behind the rear wheel of the van, his white shirt stained with blood.
Fei provided the translation. "There's been an accident, doctor! His blood pressure's dropping and his vitals are off the charts!"
I cringed at the bad-television-show quality of Priest's medical jargon. But it was apparently good enough, as the doctor came running over to see what the problem was.
Priest hurriedly explained that there had been an automobile accident in the parking lot. When Dr. Chao bent down to examine Volodya's supine figure, Priest stepped back and opened the back of the van.
The doctor looked over to see why Priest had opened the door and, at that moment, Volodya sprang up, grabbed the doctor by the belt and collar, and heaved him into the van.
Douglas burst into laughter beside me. “Take that, you bloody boffin.”
Volodya followed the doctor into the van, wrapped duct tape over his mouth, and put a finger to his mouth in what he hoped was the universally understood signal to be quiet. The doctor, presumably still more surprised than angry, made no gesture of understanding, which was itself an adequate response for our purposes.
Priest walked around the van to the driver's side, started the engine, and started the hour drive back to Qiaogangzhen.
When the van returned, it was late morning, just short of noon. With most of the villagers off at work, less subterfuge was needed now. Volodya ripped the duct tape off the doctor's hands and mouth, jabbed a pistol in the doctor's back, and marched him inside, where I greeted him.
"Hello, Dr. Chao. Please excuse Volodya's harshness and the tricks we employed to bring you here."
He responded in Mandarin. Priest translated. "I do not speak English."
I laughed. "That must have made it difficult to graduate from UCLA Medical School, didn't it? I guess they must have incredibly relaxed language standards."
Chao had the dignity to admit that his weak attempt at deception had failed. "I suppose I did learn some English along the way," he said in an almost flawless accent.
"That's better. Now, we have a patient who needs your assistance. Our medical specialist tells me the patient has a perforated liver. We have anesthetics, tools, surgical thread for sutures, and a whole host of drugs. What we don't have is a surgeon. That's where you fit in."
Chao looked me over and scanned the others in the room. Volodya still held a pistol, though he wasn't bothering to point it at the doctor. Dietrich, Douglas, and the two Brits, Grant and Brook. They all looked like what they were — soldiers from far away lands who were not supposed to be in China.
Chao said flatly, "I suppose you all had something to do with that train explosion I heard about this morning. And what happens if I refuse to treat your colleague? You'll kill me?"
Dietrich took the liberty of answering, rather to my chagrin. "We would hurt you rather severely before resorting to such an extreme option."
I added, "But it won't come to that, what with the Hippocratic Oath and all. You treat every patient.”
“I have never taken the Hippocratic Oath.”
I hadn't quite anticipated that line of argument. “What do you mean, you didn't take the Hippocratic Oath?”
Chao shook his head. “Chinese doctors are not allowed to take the Hippocratic Oath.”
“Why the hell not?”
“The Party forbids it. Under the Western concept, the oath could contradict official duties.”
I decided we were getting too far afield from the actual issue. “Alright, well, unless you want us to resort to Dietrich's suggestion, why don't we come to a financial arrangement instead. One hundred thousand dollars for this operation if you start within the next three minutes.”
Faced with a strong stick and a very juicy carrot, Chao sensibly nodded his understanding. "Alright, show me the patient."
Four hours later, Chao emerged from the bedroom that had served as a makeshift surgical theater where Lian and Dietrich had served as his assistants. "Your friend will live. The nanobots should have him up and about in a few days."
He patted his beast pocket and frowned. "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you?"
"Try Lian, she might have a pack."
The doctor walked off in search of Lian. I remained in the living room of the condo. We had TV and the print edition of some Chinese newspapers that Priest or Fei could translate and read aloud, but the primary source of entertainment in off hours had been hearing the stories of the men.
Pretty much everyone was asleep after the all night operation, alas. Dietrich was sharing sentry duty with Grant, in the kitchen.
Dr. Chao returned to the living room with a cigarette in hand. "Anywhere I can go to smoke this?"
My tired mind reasoned the question out. "You can't go outside and you shouldn't go by an open window. Go to the kitchen."
"The kitchen will smell bad if I smoke there."
"World War 3 is going on out there. We can live with smoke."
Chao nodded. We walked to the kitchen and he lit up.
I said, "You know we can't let you go just yet."
Chao nodded tiredly. "That young man had a gunshot wound to the stomach. You've got, what, six foreigners here? All of them military age, none of them women. So, you're Knights."
Obviously, the comparison didn't hurt my ego. "Not quite. They're all dead."
"Yes, but presumably there will be more."
"Well, we're not them."
"Then who are you?" Chao asked.
I was going to say, "I'm a businessman," but then he'd think I was a drug dealer. I also resisted the James Bond villain temptation to explain everything at the drop of a hat. "We will be in China for the duration of the war. We'll be keeping you here for that time to serve as our medical specialist."
“May I tell my family where I am?”