Bolan took a deep drag. "How many Tiger soldiers guard the temple?"

"About thirty," replied the headman. The water in his pipe gurgled as he dragged on it.

"Nark said he had signed up three thousand men in the area for the attack on the Tiger camp," said Bolan.

"Yes," said the headman.

"How many signed in this village?"

"Four hundred."

"We could use some of those to attack the temple and free him."

The headman remained silent, eyes on the fire.

Warning bells rang in Bolan's head. Something was up. "Do you agree?" he pressed.

"The men have no arms," said the headman into the fire. "Tiger take all our rifles.''

"You have muskets and crossbows," Bolan countered. "Our superior numbers will take care of our inferior weapons."

The headman-made no reply. Suddenly the room was very still, the only sound the rustling of a paper skeleton blown by a slight breeze. It hung on a wall next to the ancestral altar, a charm to ward off evil spirits.

"What do you think?" asked Bolan, breaking the silence.

"The men don't want to fight," announced the headman quietly.

So that's what it is, Bolan thought. Nark's capture had given the Meo cold feet. "I don't understand," he began. "You told Nark that everyone in the Golden Triangle wanted to fight the Chinese. You said the Chinese enslaved you, that they made you grow opium and paid you low prices. You said they forced the men to be coolies and took your women. And now you say you don't want to fight."

"Only a fool fights to lose," the headman snapped. He fixed Bolan with his tiny eyes, the pupils glowing like coals. "When I tell Mr. Nark we want to fight, Tiger not know about operation. Now they know, now no surprise. No surprise, no win." The pipe gurgled as he resumed smoking.