Ding Chavez rode shotgun, with Adara and Lisanne behind him. Ryan took the rearmost seat with some of the luggage. They didn’t have much, just a duffel apiece, but needed enough to pass for tourists. Most had grabbed catnaps along the way, wanting to be as fresh as possible when they arrived so they could hit the ground running.
An hour south of Burqin village — the entrance to Kanas Lake Park — Chavez got everyone’s attention. Yao was guide, but as an NOC, he operated by himself so much that he was more than happy to yield the role of team leader.
“Let’s do a quick gear check,” Chavez said. “Everyone up on commo?”
The group answered in turn.
Gavin Biery had modified their cell phones so they could function as radio and intercoms, allowing them a common net even when there was no cell service. Gone were the copper near-field neck loops and belt-pack radios. Linked to the Sonitus Molar Mics attached to each operative’s rear tooth, the entire communications system had been reduced to what looked and outwardly functioned exactly like a normal cell phone, and a piece of plastic that resembled a small retainer. It would be discovered only during an extremely invasive search.
Chavez looked across the front seat at Yao. “I know you didn’t want to dig out weapons prior to the checkpoints.”
“Now is probably okay,” Yao said. “Ryan, grab that camera bag in the back.”
Ryan did, passing it over the seat to Lisanne, who gave it to Chavez.
Yao nodded at the hard plastic case. “They’re in there. Two wide body cameras, a couple of lenses, and ten rolls of film.”
Chavez scoffed. “You’re still using film?”
Yao chuckled. “I’m not taking pictures, dude. Those little black film canisters are about the same size as the suppressors. Helps them blend in. The pistols are wedged in the camera bodies. Should be four total. One for each of you.”
Adara and Lisanne leaned forward to get a look. All the way in the rear, Ryan looked on glumly, chin resting in his hands over the backseat, waiting his turn.
“How’d you get this through security at the airport?” he asked.
“I didn’t,” Yao said. “The case was waiting for me at the rental car place in Urumqi.”
“You’ve got some serious contacts, my friend,” Lisanne said.
“A lot of people in this part of the country are good and pissed at their Chinese overlords,” Yao said. “I can usually find someone willing to do something for me as long as they figure I’m sticking it to Beijing. I use a couple of assets as cutouts, to keep my face off the transaction.” He shrugged. “Plus, you can accomplish more with a good cause and a duffel bag of cash than you can with a good cause alone.”
Chavez flipped open one of the cameras. “What the hell?” He held up a small black Beretta semiautomatic Bobcat.
“You got us toy guns?”
Ryan groaned from the rear seat. “You know what Colonel Jeff Cooper said about the .25 auto? You better not carry one because you might have to shoot someone with it, and if you shoot someone with it, they just might realize they were shot and it might piss them off… or something like that.”
“Shows how much you know,” Yao said. “These Bobcats are .22-caliber.”
“A .22…” Ryan fell back against his seat. “Well, that is just fabulous news.”
Chavez passed one of the diminutive black pistols over the seat for Adara and Lisanne to look at.
Lisanne activated the lever on the side, flipping up the barrel, obviously familiar with the weapon. “My mother had one of these. The tip-up barrel made it easier for her to chamber a round without having to work the slide. Pretty nifty, if you ask me.”
“I agree with Ryan,” Chavez said. “I’d take nine-millimeter over nifty. Beggars can’t be choosers, though.”
“They cannot,” Yao said, tapping the steering wheel with an open hand as he drove. “We’re in the Wild West, my friends. Adapt and overcome.” He nodded sideways to the case again, eyes on the road. There were wild horses there, and the occasional camel. “Unscrew the lenses. There should be five blades in there. Some of them are better than others. Give Ryan the Halo. Maybe a good Microtech will appease him.”
Ding unscrewed the plastic cap on the end of a telephoto lens and dumped the knives out in his hand. All of them were Microtech automatics with OTF, or out-the-front, blades. The Halo was the largest, with a blade just over four inches long.
“Excellent,” Chavez said. “Just in case I need a sexy knife to cut open an MRE.”
“You will find the icing on the cake next to those film canisters we talked about,” Yao said. “It took some doing to get those babies. Everybody on my pipeline kept wanting to steal them.”
Chavez held up a black metal cylinder, an inch in diameter and just under three inches long.
“Small for a suppressor,” he mused.
