And what would happen to him now? His only allies in this country were dead or about to die.

Fang stepped out of the room and eyed the rain. Ying Long was the most famous Chinese dragon and god of the rain. Fang asked him now to bring an even greater storm to the mountains, one that would ensure his escape.

Sergeant John Hume had been sent to cover the north side staircase in the event Major-General Chen attempted to use that route. The rickety wooden stairs rose about five meters, then turned up to the next landing. Hume climbed as furtively as he could, keeping a two-handed grip on his pistol, ENVGs lighting his path. The Zeus T2 radio-guided missile launcher that he usually packed was inappropriate for a stealthy job like this. Too bad. The element of surprise was gone, and he could use a nice explosion to lift his spirits.

A clatter of feet came from above.

He stopped, thought he saw a head jut out from above. Then a flashlight's beam suddenly blinded him.

He fired, wood splintering.

Something clattered down the steps: a grenade!

Hume turned and threw himself headfirst down the staircase, just as the explosion catapulted him against the far wall.

As shattered pieces of the staircase tumbled on top of him, he rolled over and pressed his back against the wall, as two figures came down through the lingering dust.

Despite his lost breath and the biting pain in his arms and legs, he thought, No, I don't die here.

Gritting his teeth, Hume squinted and emptied his magazine into the oncoming men. He broke into a scream as they collapsed and rolled down the stairs, falling at his feet.

The he reached forward, lifted one man's head. It was him, Major-General Chen.

Only semiconscious now, he tugged off his ENVGs and called out to Beasley. "Bravo Lead, this is Hume. Target Alpha terminated. One more to go. Need help here. Staircase. Please."

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-EIGHT

TRANSFORMER STATION
XIAMEN, CHINA
APRIL 2012

Maintenance Supervisor Tang Chia-jun coughed and squinted through the thinning clouds of smoke rising around the transformer station.

Once he and his men reached the breakers that he assumed were the problem, he took one look at the damage, and his mouth fell open.

Supervisor Tang had been working for the power company for over twenty-two years. He knew his job.

And he knew sabotage when he saw it. That new lock on the gate and the smoke had been the first signs of something much more than a routine repair.

Now his flashlight's beam shot up through the smoke like a laser and caught three gray bricks attached to the main lines. His breath grew shallow.

Just then, Tang's assistant supervisor shouted from the other side of the station.

Tang rushed over and found that the man had removed his hard hat and he, along with three others, stood near a small, robotlike camera humming softly.