“Not exactly,” Bex chimed in. “Getting vertigo and vomiting are not the same thing at all as being vaporized.”

“Agreed, but targeting is still a constraint and when we find out the operational spectrum the weapon operates in, we can install shielding. Every microwave oven on the planet has a Faraday screen over the viewing window. We can install similar tech here, isn’t that right, Dr. Zhao?” Ben said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, is true, shielding can be made, but weapon is multimodal. Has twelve emitters . . . modulate across the 300 MHz to 300 GHz frequency band to optimize damage and give weapon ability to destroy biological and electronic targets. If you target fighter jet, you choose whether to vaporize pilot or plane computer or both.”

“Awesome,” Eli said under his breath. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“What type of platform did your laboratory design the weapon to be carried by?” Ben asked. “Given the weight constraints, it would have to be something large.”

“All testing ground-based, but prototype unit going to install on AG600.”

“I’m not familiar with the AG600,” Ben said.

“It’s an amphibious turboprop the size of a 737,” Pastor Mike said, apparently up to speed on his Chinese aviation platforms.

“Ah, so that’s a pretty big footprint.”

“Yes, but not happen because prototype disappear,” Zhao said.

“What do you mean it disappeared?” Ben said.

“One day weapon in testing warehouse, next day gone.”

Ben glanced at Pastor Mike, who pursed his lips. Jed knew what question he’d ask the Chinese scientist next, and it turned out to be the exact question Ben had on his mind as well.

“Was the weapon stolen?” the Shepherd commander asked.

Zhao laughed. “Warehouse very, very secure on military base. This not possible.”

“Then that means the Chinese must have knowingly sold the weapon to—” Bex wisely stopped herself midsentence.

Jed felt pretty confident that Dr. Zhao was not read in on, or probably even aware of, the existence of the Dark Ones. Supernatural warfare and demon-possessed terrorists hiding in plain sight were not exactly the type of conversation one just waded into casually with the uninitiated. To broach the topic now jeopardized both Zhao’s opinion of them and his willingness to continue to be open and forthcoming.

“Dr. Zhao, in the days or weeks leading up to the weapon’s disappearance, did you happen to notice visitors to the facility, visitors whom you did not recognize? Foreign nationals perhaps?” the Shepherd intelligence chief, Julia Nesbitt, asked, pivoting brilliantly.

“Yes, I see them,” Zhao said. “Foreign men, look at weapon.”

Ben pulled out his phone, tapped it a few times, then held up the screen to show a photograph of Victor to Zhao. “Do you recognize this man?”

Zhao squinted at the pic, then shook his head. “No.”

“What about this man?” Ben asked, swiping to another image. “Or this man?”

“Last one,” Zhao said, perking up. “Yes, this man visit warehouse.”