Jed looked at the lucid Chinese scientist and saw that the man was a mess of conflicting emotions. Yes, Dr. Zhao had been “liberated” from a life of scientific servitude to the CCP. But in the Chinese defense industrial complex, he’d been a highly respected researcher and man of influence. Now he was a defector. In China, he’d had a security detail 24-7 to protect him for the Chinese state. In the US, he’d need a security detail 24-7 to protect him from the Chinese state. The Chinese government did not operate with a “turn the other cheek” philosophy when it came to things like defection. Zhao’s extraction would have consequences for all parties involved. Retribution was almost guaranteed, and the scientist would be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Are you okay?” Nisha said, sitting down next to the man at the round four-person table where he sat, staring into a steaming cup of black coffee. A half-eaten granola bar, in a peeled-back wrapper, sat on the white Formica top with a little pile of crumbs beside it.

Zhao nodded. “My wife died two years ago. I wanted to leave China for long time . . . but now that it happen, I feel like bad person. Like traitor.”

Instead of coddling the man, she said, “Why do you feel that way?”

He looked up at her. “Because instead of trying to fix problem, I run away. A good Chinese man stay and fight more bravely.”

“Then why didn’t you, when you had the chance?”

He hesitated, seemingly taken aback by her direct manner. “Because I was afraid . . .”

Jed watched Nisha nod and say, “And for good reason. If you had tried to sabotage the project, you would have been punished—sent to a facility for reeducation and then put back to work. Stopping the work was never a realistic option for you. Besides ending your own life, there was nothing you could have done to fight the machine. Exerting control over its people, this is what the Chinese government does. They are very good at it.”

Zhao’s gaze went to the middle distance and he mumbled something in Mandarin.

“You are a brave man, Dr. Zhao,” she said, leaning in to try to catch his eye. “Defecting was the hardest decision you could make. The most difficult choice. A good Chinese man is one who puts the lives of his countrymen ahead of his own and makes such hard choices. This weapon is evil. This weapon should not exist.”

Zhao turned abruptly to face her. “I will not help your government build a copy of the weapon. That is not why I agree to come here. I come here to warn, to educate about the risks, and to help America stop this Chinese program by telling the world. This weapon must be banned by United Nations, just like biological weapons are banned.”