The trucks' engines didn't sound much better than the boat's, and judging from their large fenders and big, round headlights, they were probably built in the '50s or '60s.

"They couldn't get anything better than these?" Ramirez asked as he passed Mitchell.

"I don't know. I'll ask."

As the others piled in, Mitchell pulled Buddha aside and voiced his question.

"Captain, these old Jiefangs are not uncommon along the mountain roads and more rural areas. The PLA sold a lot of them to the farmers. A brand-new SUV would call much more attention."

"But will they make it up the hills?"

"I think so."

"We can't be late."

Buddha's eyes widened. "Then why are we talking?"

Mitchell nodded and started back for the truck, but Buddha called after him, "Captain, if we are stopped, be sure everyone is wearing their masks and that no one talks. We are the secret police. I have all the paperwork. And oh, yes, my partner's name is Boy Scout."

"All right."

Mitchell reached the tailgate and hoisted himself inside, where he found Diaz, Nolan, Smith, and Ramirez donning black, nondescript uniforms over their wet suits and black balaclavas to conceal all but their eyes.

"How're we doing?" he asked.

"Good, sir," said Diaz. "My uniform actually fits."

"Excellent. Welcome to China, everybody."

USS MONTANA (SSN-823)
SOUTH TAIWAN STRAIT
SOUTH CHINA SEA
APRIL 2012

Five miles offshore, Captain Gummerson plugged into a secure satellite tactical feed and watched as nine green dots inched across his screen.

And twelve time zones away, Gummerson imagined the most powerful man in the free world sitting alone, studying those same green dots.

"Captain, the Predator is ready for launch," said the XO with a slight hint of resignation in his voice.

"Very well. We need to time this just right so Mitchell and his people can bleed every second out of that bird."

"Yes, sir. And, sir, I'm still concerned about detection during launch."

"As well you should be, XO. We've got time to push out another twenty miles. Can't do much to minimize the glare from the Predator's booster propellant, but there's no need to wake the neighbors."

"You read my mind, sir."

"We'll both sleep better knowing we got plenty of water around us. Last thing we need is some sharp-eyed merchant's lookout spotting our big ear."

"Aye, aye, sir. And, sir, for what it's worth, Captain Mitchell was a true professional."

"Agreed. He would've made an excellent submariner. We can't afford to lose a guy like that."

"Yes, sir. If they can do their part, we'll do ours. That's a very capable team he has."

Gummerson narrowed his eyes on the screen. Sometimes being capable was hardly enough.

HAKKA CASTLE
XIAMEN, CHINA
APRIL 2012