“We are three men doing our jobs, ja?” he said, feeling his accent improving as he spoke. “My job is to keep my client safe. I know you have hidden cameras and microphones in this room. I will never find them all. That is okay, because my job is safety and security, not counterintelligence. I search for bombs and poisons. Move so I am doing my job, bitte.”

The larger man nodded to his colleague, who uncrossed his arms and moved from the window. Jed made a show of checking behind the curtains and along the windows. Then he pulled compact binoculars from his coat and scanned the area north of the Renaissance hotel, toward the convention center, searching for spotters and possible sniper hides.

“These curtains will be closed, ja?”

“Yes,” the Chinese man in charge answered. “It is very secure. You have my word.”

“Tài gànxièle,” Jed said with a deep nod, butchering the Chinese words of thanks intentionally—though it wasn’t a huge stretch. He left the conference room, shutting the door behind him. In the hall, he nodded to two uniformed Chinese soldiers who were flanking the door before striding off.

“Great job,” said an unfamiliar voice in his ear. Jed assumed it belonged to “John,” the team leader for the spooky contractors assisting them for the snatch and grab. With Ben’s authorization, Nisha had pulled the team together using contacts from her past life. She’d been weirdly secretive about the whole thing, communicating with Ben directly. Jed had asked John, the only team member he’d actually met, which group in the IC they were with. The man had simply laughed at the question and winked at Nisha.

“That’s a story for another time, Jed,” she’d said.

Jed took the stairs up the three flights to the fourth floor and resisted, again with great difficulty, the urge to look in both directions before unlocking the room with his pass card. He’d been assured that the Chinese were watching with cameras everywhere they went, so there was no point in acting suspicious. Outside of their hotel room, his every move was being watched, so the key, Nisha had said, was to behave in ways most authentic to their NOC. Jed entered his hotel room and passed through the connecting door into Nisha and Bex’s room—which was serving as a miniature TOC with multiple laptop computers set up as workstations.

“You’re sure we’re good to talk?” he asked, looking at Nisha instead of John.

John answered regardless. “Yes, it’s all good. The Chinese have capable technology, but ours is better, Senior Chief,” the sandy-haired man—who looked more like a surfer than a spy—said with a grin.

“Please call me Jed,” he grumbled, not sure why the spook was calling him by his Navy rank.

“Cool,” John said.