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Five to one. Rodin had beaten those odds before, but he was injured, and he had Paskia to think about. The five figures all wore night-vision goggles, giving them an advantage.
And there might be others, like last time. The tall man was still a coward, no matter how he acted. He wouldn’t attack unless he was certain of victory. He would still have his army.
There was another factor—last time, they wanted him alive. Now, there were no restrictions. It was far easier to kill than to capture.
But Rodin knew it would end in a fight. All this posturing, this pointless banter, was a build-up, a way for the tall man and his cronies to size Rodin up. Eventually, they would attack.
Rodin selected his targets. The man to the left of the tall man, the one who held a g*n, maybe a stu
