“Shishka time,” Juraj said.
Lee Qiang could not—despite the situation—help but smile.
The shaped-charge missile hit the truck on the right side, shearing the wheel clean off the axis, the molten jet of metal setting the rubber on fire, slicing through the engine block and spewing out in a shower of golden sparks on the other side. Like a great beast, the truck ground to a halt.
Of course, Lee Qiang could not have seen all this; it happened too fast for the human eye to register, but his camera caught everything.