Chapters (39)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Acknowledgements
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
"Is this new?" asked Huang, his eyes widening as he ran fingers over the Brave Warrior's hood.
"You like it?"
"Very much."
"Perhaps I can get you one."
"No. I don't believe it."
"Believe it."
"All right. Now come inside for tea. You have no choice." Huang smiled tightly.
Fang followed him through the open gates and into the central courtyard. He glanced up at the women pinning clothes on lines strung between the curving balconies.
"I assume you've come to plan another meeting?" asked Huang as they crossed the yard.
"Yes."
"Well, the other elders have grown squeamish about all this. And the helicopters make too much noise."
"So your price has increased?"
Huang paused, turned back. "Yes, it has. And I will need one of those trucks."
Fang tensed. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement."
They turned into a narrow hallway that took them into a modest-sized eating area with wooden tables and fireplace.
But before Huang could fetch them tea, Fang glanced back, making sure they were alone.
Abruptly, he drew the sword cane he kept buckled to his side, reared back, and struck a solid blow to Huang's shoulder, knocking the old man to his knees.
Huang gasped, one hand going to his wound. "Fang! What are you doing?"
Fang lifted the sword, balancing it a hairsbreadth away from Huang's nose. "I'm reminding you, old man, that we are not to be threatened. We've made you a generous deal. And I will get you that truck, but our price is the same."
"All right. All right."
"You tell the elders that they should remain squeamish, because if they change their minds, I am unsure what terrible things will happen here."
"Fang, you don't have to do this."
"It would seem I do. Now then, I won't be staying for tea. Tell the others we will be coming soon." Fang pulled a cell phone from his hip pocket and placed it on the ground beside him. "Keep this turned on. Keep it with you at all times. I will call. Be ready. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Fang's sword hissed as he slid it back into the cane, then he offered a hand to Huang, who glanced at it, then finally accepted. "You see?" Fang asked with a broad grin. "Everything's better now."
SEVENTEEN
SEVENTEEN
CENTRAL MILITARY COMMISSION (CMC)
MINISTRY OF NATIONAL DEFENSE COMPOUND
BEIJING, CHINA
APRIL 2012
Captain Zuo Junping, the twenty-eight-year-old military attache to Deputy Director Wang Ya, crawled out from beneath his stack of intelligence reports and greeted the leonine Major-General Chen Yi. The general had flown up from Xiamen three times in the past month and had remained in Beijing for a week, meeting daily with the deputy director.
That one commander from a single military region could gain so much of the deputy director's attention might have struck outsiders as odd were it not for recent events.