A Real Mercenary

Defecting on the battlefield and turning his gun on his own side—no one knew whether this Parker could actually bring himself to do it. Parker showed no hesitation. Keeping his hands raised, he rose slowly to his feet and said to Sokholov, "I'm willing to fight for you. I was really tricked into coming here. I've got proof, but can I show it to you after the fighting's over?" Sokholov said in a heavy voice, "Save that for when you're in the POW camp." Making it to a POW camp was a stroke of sheer luck. On this battlefield today, when the fighting was over, perhaps a lucky few might get the privilege of being interrogated. It all came down to whether Parker had the luck to live that long. Parker picked his gun up from the ground, tore away the toilet paper wrapped around the muzzle, and held the rifle in his left hand. With his right hand open and splayed, he turned slowly, making it clear he wouldn't make any sudden move to open fire. The point man could be swapped out now. That brute Andrey could step aside; whatever dangerous work lay ahead, Parker would do it first. Beside them, Glaski suddenly asked, "Got a phone?" "Yes." "Hand it over." Holding the gun, Parker turned slowly, looked back at Sokholov and the others, and said, "I have a pistol, a phone, and three hand grenades on me. Do you want to take them, or should I get them myself?" "Do it yourself. Fast." Parker set his AK-74 down with his left hand, then slowly lifted his jacket to reveal a holster concealed underneath. Moving his right hand carefully into his jacket, he pinched the grip of the pistol between two fingers and eased it out. It was an open-top, quick-draw holster. Pinching the grip with two fingers avoided any misunderstanding; when American police ordered someone to draw or surrender a weapon, this was practically standard procedure. Glaski frowned. "You were pressed into service, but you still have a pistol?" "Tricked into it. I've got a bit of a reputation in the mercenary world, especially in Africa. Man, I really am pretty well known, so I hooked up with an arms dealer here and paid for this pistol out of my own pocket." The weapon was a Glock 17. Holding it by the grip with two fingers, Parker handed it over. Glaski took the pistol and shoved it into his pocket. "Phone! Hurry up!" Parker reached two fingers into the front-left pocket of his jacket and drew out an iPhone. Glaski snatched the phone and casually passed it to Gao Fei next to him. Sokholov nodded. "Keep the grenades. You might need them in a bit." Parker nodded, then slowly leaned down to pick up his rifle. "In a moment, I'll fight my own way. Please believe me, I will never turn on you. Really, my hatred for the Ukrainians—especially those barrier troops—is no less than yours. If anything, I hate them even more than you do." Gao Fei didn't care what Parker was saying right now; he was just thrilled to have a phone in his hands. Parker looked at Gao Fei and said earnestly, "I can pay to redeem my phone. That phone is critical to me. Guys, keep it safe for me, and when I get out of the POW camp, I'll pay you to get it back, okay?" Gao Fei paused for a moment. Seeing that the phone was turned off, he slipped it into his trouser pocket. "Passcode." "Four ones. Man, don't rush to answer any calls, and don't make any calls either. Seriously, keep it safe for me, and I'll definitely make it worth your while." Sokholov kept a stern face. "Talking like that when you're a prisoner—you're pretty confident, aren't you?" "Man, running into you guys was pure luck. Since I don't speak Russian, I honestly didn't know how I was going to survive. But bumping into you makes today my lucky day. God hasn't forsaken me. Believe me, I'll definitely deliver, and I'll definitely find a way out of this hellhole. I've got a few friends in the Wagner Group." Just what kind of guy had they run into? Parker felt his footing was secure now. While he hadn't gotten ahead of himself yet, his tone had visibly grown more confident. "Gentlemen, I know where the fortification is, and I know the entrance. I can draw you a sketch. Take a look—what do you say?" Sokholov felt they had already wasted too much time interrogating Parker, but now, he thought waiting another couple of minutes wouldn't hurt. "Team 3, set up security. You draw the sketch." Parker dropped to one knee, extended a finger, and drew a horizontal line in the dirt, followed by a few short vertical lines. "We're here. We need to move through this section of trench. This stretch is safe and won't take direct machine gun fire, but once you round this bend, things change. This is the junction of two communication trenches, and it's covered by direct machine gun fire." Explaining as he sketched, Parker drew an oval behind the horizontal line and continued, "Here's the bunker. It's built from sandbags, timber, and part of an unfinished reinforced concrete structure. It has six firing ports in total, with five light machine guns inside—no heavy machine guns, because this isn't a position meant to defend against Russians. It's a specialized fortification for the barrier troops tasked with keeping watch over the soldiers in this sector. At the same time, it serves as a company command post for the Ukrainian forces. I won't bother naming the specific unit designation." Having said that, Parker drew two lines in the dirt and asked, "We should attack from both sides simultaneously. Do you have rocket launchers?" "Yes." "Great. Hit them with two rockets first. They're barrier troops meant to keep their own men from fleeing, not fight you, so two rockets will shake their will to fight. If they abandon their position and run, that saves us the most trouble. But that's not very likely, because they can only fall back to the reserve position behind them, where there are higher-ranking, larger barrier forces—namely, the Kraken Battalion." Sokholov knitted his brows. "Kraken Battalion? Hmm. Keep going." "So we fire the rockets, then launch a feint from one side to draw the enemy's attention inside the bunker. The other side moves close, and as soon as we toss grenades inside, the fight is over." Parker withdrew his hand. Still kneeling on one knee, looking more like a commander than a prisoner, he said with supreme confidence, "Because this fortification is used by barrier troops, their firing ports are angled rather uniquely. So if a designated marksman and a machine gunner leave the trench, crawl out in front of the position, and suppress their firing ports, tossing grenades inside really won't be that dangerous. To prove I'm telling the truth, I can be the one to throw them." Sokholov glanced at Glaski, then Gao Fei, then Samir Bek, and finally settled his gaze on Andrey. Andrey couldn't understand English, but he possessed a heart burning with desire for combat merit. Without a second's hesitation, Andrey said, "I'll take the lead." Sokholov immediately looked away from Andrey. Without overthinking it, he said, "We do as he says. Boys, get ready to work."