Gummerson had listened to the initial request, which had raised a few brows on Montana.

"Predator support, this is Diaz," called one of Mitchell's Ghosts.

"Hey, Alicia. Go ahead."

"Jeff, remember that story you told me? Well, I need you to stop a train."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. It's up to you, Mr. Naval Aviator."

"Roger that. Sit back and enjoy the show."

Now Gummerson leaned over Moch and said, "I assume you stopped your train--or is it a truck?"

"Oh, yeah, sir. All he saw was our headlight before we ran him off the road." Moch pointed at one of his monitors with thermal images and pairs of reticles superimposed over several data bars. "Check it out. You see the look on his face?"

"Wow. But he did see the bird."

"True. But he won't be around long enough to tell."

Gummerson nodded and glanced over at Lieutenant Commander Sands, who appeared equally impressed.

Moch's copilot began speaking quickly over his radio as flashing red circles appeared along a three-dimensional rendering of the drone's fuselage.

"What now?" groaned Moch.

"Looks like some hydraulic and engine damage, and a small fuel leak from all that gunfire," said Schumaker. "Sensor operators back home confirm."

"Lieutenant, I need you to take her back over the harbor before you ditch. Can you still do that?" asked Gummerson.

"We'll sweet-talk her into one last pass, sir."

"Focus on the gap between Haicang and Gulangyu Island. That zone concerns me the most."

Moch gently shifted the joystick controller. "On our way."

Gummerson faced Sands. "XO, are the SEALs ready?"

"Standing by."

"Excellent. Tell 'em it won't be long."

"Aye, aye, sir."

LEAVING HAKKA CASTLE
XIAMEN, CHINA
APRIL 2012

Satellite imagery relayed to Mitchell's HUD indicated that Fang was out of his ride, but he had not fled. He was trying to use the truck's forward winch to drag the vehicle from the embankment and, perhaps, tip it upright. If he could utilize a few trees and rig the tow line at the proper angle, he could get back on the road.

They were about five minutes away from his position, and Mitchell knew that if they roared up on him, he'd bolt into the woods.

A pang of guilt woke deep in Mitchell's gut. The mission and his people came first, yes, but this was a chance to slam shut one of the most painful doors of his life. Could he justify taking time out for revenge?

Maybe Fang had seen the Predator. Maybe he'd alert the PLA that the attack had come from Americans.

And didn't General Keating need more time to get those patrol boats away from the harbor?

He could rationalize it all he wanted, but the guilt still clawed at his neck and began robbing him of breath. He turned to the backseat. "Nolan, how're we doing?"

"A whole lot better," replied the medic.