The rebels stared at old Sen with surprise. Was it normal to ask a stranger about such things? Shouldn't a stranger be kicked out first, and then plans discussed?
Li Qingyu took a deep drag from his cigarette, stood up, and took a folded piece of paper from inside his jacket. It was a simply drawn map. He slapped his palm on the table, unfolding it.
"Here is the PDF camp, and here – your stronghold. This dirt road leads directly from their camp to us. I think the PDF company will most likely go along it."
With these words, Li Qingyu unfastened the backpack hanging on his back and, in one movement, dumped its entire contents onto the table.
The attendees looked at the table and collectively inhaled through their teeth.
Explosives. A whole mountain of explosives.
Li Qingyu had bought some of these charges from black market traders, but among the homemade items, there was also an army charge.
In his hand, he held a remote control. This thing allowed him to detonate the charge from a distance of up to five kilometers.
"We know the enemy's arrival time, we know the direction..."
"We'll dig a pit on the road, put all this stuff in it," Li Qingyu said, looking at everyone. "When the 'Chimera' hits the mine, I'll press the button. We'll send them straight to heaven."
This was his plan: to blow up the armored personnel carrier with a radio-controlled explosive.
However, the rebel commanders just shook their heads.
"It won't work," old Sen said. "We've tried this trick dozens of times – laying bombs on roads, ambushing convoys. PDF has learned their lesson well."
"They won't go by road, but will turn into the wasteland. The terrain here is mostly flat, it hasn't rained in a long time, and their vehicles are all-terrain. They usually plow through wherever they want."
Li Qingyu remembered riding in an army vehicle with Ensign Rudolsson. That bastard really loved driving off-road.
Even where there was asphalt or a packed dirt road, he would still turn into the field. So that's why...
Li Qingyu spread his hands:
"So, the ideas have run out. This is all I could offer against the 'Chimera'."
Of course, he didn't mention what he had done at Lieutenant Winchester's camp. Too many ears. If someone was captured and broke down, both he and Rudolsson would be exposed.
The enemy was already weakened by his sabotage. The rest didn't need to know the details.
Old Sen took the detonator from the table, turned it in his hands, examining it carefully. Determination flashed in his eyes.
"Leave the explosives with us. We'll deliver them to the 'Chimera' ourselves."
Li Qingyu frowned:
"And how will you do that?"
"We'll tie it to a cavalryman. He'll break through to the vehicle under the cover of his comrades."
Li Qingyu whistled. That was suicide.
"Are you sure your soldiers are brave enough to go to certain death?" he asked doubtfully.
The rebels laughed. No one answered – the question seemed so foolish to them.
Li Qingyu just shook his head. He was indifferent to the revolution and the great mission. He was a scavenger, an adventurer, a mercenary.
He took out the remote and threw it to Sen.
"The black button on the left is the safety. Slide it, then hold the lever and press twice. This activates the detonator."
Li Qingyu explained the principle of operation in detail. The old man nodded. The mercenary added:
"The 'Chimera's' turret has a forty-millimeter autocannon and a small-caliber machine gun. The front of the hull has a heavy stabber."
"There are three firing ports on the sides, so if there's infantry inside, they can fire from within."
"But the armor at the rear is thin, almost defenseless."
"If you decide to send a suicide bomber, distract the turret with fire from the front. Let the cavalryman approach from the rear – that way the chances are higher."
The rebel leaders became animated. The iron box had weak spots – and everyone remembered Li Qingyu's words.
An endless meeting began – discussions, preparations, new arguments. By three o'clock in the afternoon, the commanders dispersed to rally their detachments. Among them was the same Arum, recently beaten by Li Qingyu.
Before leaving, the guy with a swollen face gave the mercenary a look full of hatred, then, supported by guards, jumped on his horse and galloped away.
"Arum is vindictive," old Sen remarked. "You humiliated him in front of everyone, he harbors resentment."
Li Qingyu grinned a terrifying smile:
"Let him shoot first. But if he misses, it's his end."
"I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want to spoil relations with allies."
Sen just shook his head and remained silent.
Around five in the evening, the old men, women, and children from Sen's camp were gathered. Laden with bundles and parcels, they moved deeper into the territory controlled by the rebels.
If Sen and his fighters died, they would not return. If they won, a messenger would be sent for them.
By six o'clock, the commanders returned with fighters and weapons. The camp came alive. The rebels brought meat and vegetables, and soon stew was bubbling in the pots. Everyone ate, drank, laughed, and sang.
It seemed they knew they would die tomorrow and wanted to snatch a little joy before it was too late.
Li Qingyu, meanwhile, climbed to a height – under a sprawling tree on the slope – lay down, and began to zero his sniper rifle at distant targets.
The roar of shots echoed through the night, but, forewarned, the rebels were not frightened. Songs and dances did not cease.
He was checking the rifle after maintenance. Sniper weapons require precision. Disassemble – zero again.
It was a little past six, and it would soon be dark – he had to hurry.
He drew a cross on a tree three hundred meters away and shot, checking the hits and adjusting the sight.
Having finished, he didn't stop – he continued shooting at targets at different distances, recording the results in his notebook.
He was compiling a firing card.