She nodded. "We have a saying around the office. Do you know why J. Edgar Hoover hired only lawyers and CPAs when he formed the FBI? Because of our meticulous attention to detail, our curiosity, and our persistence."

"What are you really trying to say?"

"I'm saying that after I talked to your dad, I went online to the Silver Star registry, saw your name there twice."

"Yeah?"

"Then I clicked on the citation block."

"Really?" Mitchell began to tense. Had the army actually left that door open? Impossible.

"Yeah, and all they said was 'classified.' "

Mitchell relaxed. "Everything's classified."

"You should be recognized with much more than just medals."

"It's not about recognition. It never was."

She leaned over and ran her fingers along the side of his face. "Scott, I've had a lot of time to think about what happened to us."

"Me, too. More than you know."

"I always asked why, and then, last April, when I talked to your dad, I finally got my answer."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's why I brought you here. Not to torture us." She took his hands in hers.

"Aw, man, please don't cry."

Her voice cracked. "I want you to know that I get it. I used to think you were selfish. You loved the army more than me. But that's not it at all, is it?"

His own eyes burned. "Sometimes I wonder, if I don't do it, who will?"

"I know. Those that can--do."

"Yeah."

"Most people have no idea what duty really means. I never did."

He nodded. "Sometimes it's so hard."

"I can't even imagine." She squeezed his hands. "But listen to me. You can't stop. Because we need you."

She dropped him off at the house by 0710, and before heading inside to wake up everyone and say his good-byes, Mitchell skulked his way back to the workshop, Special Forces style, and went inside.

He crossed over to Dad's main workbench, saw a nail in the brown wall and a rectangular square where the paint looked darker and was not coated by a layer of dust.

Indeed, a picture had hung there. Mitchell opened one of the bench's side drawers and found it.

So Dad had remembered the picture at the last minute and had rushed out to the shop to hide it. He was proud of his son but too self-conscious to show it.

Mitchell slipped the frame back into the drawer and smiled. Kristen had given him much more than she knew.

This was a homecoming he would never forget.

SIXTEEN

SIXTEEN

THIRTY-FIRST GROUP ARMY HEADQUARTERS (NMR)
SPECIAL OPERATIONS FORCES OFFICES
XIAMEN, CHINA
FEBRUARY 2012

Special Operations Forces of the Nanjing Military Region of China were code-named the Flying Dragons, and consequently People's Liberation Army Colonel Xu Dingfa had suggested back in 2008 that the operation be called Pouncing Dragon, since colleagues from his old Special Forces group would play a key role in the attack on Taipei. The name had remained unchanged for all that time.