CHAPTER FOUR

As I tightened my grip on the bobby pin between my fingers, dozens of simulations began running through my mind at once. An endless chain of possibilities brutally eliminated one another as they raced through the corridors of my brain. The first wave consisted of physical escape attempts and close-quarters combat scenarios within this confined space, as one three-dimensional simulation after another sprang to life. The moment I picked the lock with the bobby pin, charging forward with brute force seemed like the quickest option. For the first few seconds, the advantage appeared to be mine, but even if my hands were free, there were still two men in that cramped compartment with their weapons already trained on me. Within seconds, I was on the ground. Against armed professionals, the probability of success for that move was one percent. I silently cracked open the armored door and jumped from the moving APC. I escaped the steel cage almost immediately, but the simulation continued the instant I slammed into the ground at that speed. Before I could even get back on my feet, they were already after me. Out in the open, I was shot within seconds. Simulation terminated, probability of success: four percent. Searching for a hidden backup weapon in the darkness was a smart option. Even a forgotten magazine inside the vehicle could shift the balance. But searching in this darkness was a one-in-a-thousand chance and would only waste precious time. I slipped in behind the driver and tried to choke him without appearing in the rearview mirror. He lost control of the steering wheel, but the man in the back shot me in the spine. Probability of success: two percent. The moment the door opened, dropping flat onto the floor and slipping out beneath their feet might have let me escape their notice. The probability was three percent, but the risk of being crushed beneath their boots as they stepped down from the APC's high step was far greater. Forcing open the emergency hatch on top of the armored vehicle could have given me an escape route from above. The probability of success was one and a half percent, but the wind and speed at the top would have thrown off my balance and sent me beneath the tracks. The moment the vehicle came to a stop, I set up an ambush behind the door and took the first man who entered hostage, giving myself a human shield. But the other soldier opened fire on both of us without a moment's hesitation. The probability was ten percent, but the risk erased the idea entirely. Control wasn't mine. Every impulsive move I made inside a moving fifteen-ton vehicle was dangerous. With a laughable probability of just zero point five percent, it would most likely end with me being the first one crushed inside this steel box. When the first chain of scenarios collapsed, my mind immediately loaded a second series of simulations. This time, the system laid out ideas centered around lighting and mechanical sabotage. I jammed the bobby pin into the light socket and short-circuited it, plunging the compartment into complete darkness. It gave me greater freedom of movement in the dark. The idea offered an eight percent chance of success, but the moment the men switched to night vision goggles, my advantage disappeared. Cutting the radio lines and sabotaging their communications would keep any report from reaching headquarters. The probability was three percent, but the moment the radios went silent, there was a risk that the main base would grow suspicious and dispatch a support team. Creating interference over the radio using fake Morse code might confuse them. The probability was seven percent, but professional frequency filters would eliminate the interference, and besides, I doubted they'd fall for a trick like that. Using the acoustic resonance inside the compartment and striking the metal in a steady rhythm might distract the driver and throw off his concentration. The probability was five percent, but their headsets already block…