Wang shook his head in disappointment. "I haven't slept in two days. I was thinking about meeting you at the academy, about how you've become my son. I have grown sick. Is this what a son does to his father?"

Zuo averted his gaze. "No."

"Then what shall I do with you?"

"Please, sir. I am not working for anyone. I was just curious. Stupid."

Wang crossed around the desk. "Stand up!"

Zuo complied.

Wang reached down, removed Zuo's pistol, and handed it to one of the guards. Then he shook his head and abruptly smacked Zuo across the face. "I have no tolerance or forgiveness or mercy for spies."

With his cheek on fire, Zuo lowered his head and flexed his fingers. This was it. Wang would have him die in a robbery or an accident--nothing to arouse further investigation by State Security. There would be no new life back in America. No freedom. All of the spying he had done for the Americans had been for nothing.

Nothing!

Slowly, he raised his head, looked Wang straight in the eye, then he threw himself forward, wrapping his fingers around the director's throat. He drove the man onto the floor and began digging his fingers into warm, flabby flesh, just as the guards seized his arms and wrenched him off.

One guard reared back and punched Zuo in the temple. He rolled back, across the floor, the room spinning.

"Get him out of here," Wang cried. "Back down to my car. Hurry now!"

They hauled Zuo to his feet, dragged him out the door as he struggled to remain conscious.

LEAVING HAKKA CASTLE
XIAMEN, CHINA
APRIL 2012

The vehicle with the single headlight barreled toward Fang, its engine growing louder and issuing a strange and rhythmic whine. He thrust out his hand, firing his pistol until the magazine was empty.

But the thing kept coming.

He reached over, seized his rifle, propped the barrel on the side-view mirror, and unloaded the ten bullets left in the magazine. He let the rifle fall away, just as he cut the wheel to the right, veering sharply off the road.

With a violent jostle that threw him up from the seat, he hit the embankment, and the truck suddenly dropped a meter and began rolling onto its side.

His gaze flicked up to his left, and he couldn't believe what came roaring by.

THIRTY

THIRTY

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

Captain Gummerson approached the two naval aviators just as Lieutenant Moch shook his fist and muttered, "Yeah."

They were in the control room, and Moch and his copilot, Lieutenant Justin Schumaker, had been a study in sheer determination as they'd piloted the Predator over the twisting mountain road. Once they'd located a swath of ground wide enough to permit the Predator's wingspan of 14.8 meters, they had descended hard and fast through the rainstorm, putting the bird on a direct intercept course with Mitchell's fleeing guard.