As the plane made its descent into Schiphol, Barrow went over it all again. “Eady can’t feel threatened. But don’t be a pushover. You’re angry. Get angry. Channel your anger in a way that makes sense to him.”

“I got it,” Klay said.

“You’ll have the Tenchant funeral and then—”

“I got it,” Klay said.

MISCHIEF REEF

Dangerous Ground

South China Sea

Terry Krieger stood in the stern of the Raptor, a mile off Mischief Reef in the South China Sea, an area aptly known as Dangerous Ground. The area is poorly charted. Accurate information on ocean currents is not available for Dangerous Ground. Charted depths are unreliable, soundings give no warning, radar is of little value. Low islands, sheer drops, and sunken reefs abound in these blue-green waters. The US military’s chief geospatial intelligence agency, which offers guidance to Navy vessels, minces no words when it comes to the area: “Vessels in Dangerous Ground must rely heavily on seaman’s eye navigation and should not normally enter the area other than in daylight. Avoidance of Dangerous Ground is the mariner’s only assurance of safety.”

A brisk morning breeze blew Krieger’s hair. He wore a blue Perseus Group windbreaker and khakis. Beside him, a wall of five flat-screen computer monitors had been set up, served by a single brushed-aluminum keyboard on a white table, all of it secured against the area’s sudden winds and unpredictable currents.

Standing before Krieger was Vice Admiral Meng Jingchen of the People’s Liberation Army Navy, commander of China’s South Fleet, accompanied by his two most trusted men. The three officers wore their service dress whites.

When he described the capability he intended to offer China’s military, President Ho had replied simply, “Convince Meng.”

If he failed to get Meng to think outside the box this morning, Krieger knew he would suffer more than just the loss of a business deal. He’d be gored. Yurchenko would see to it.

“A small gift,” Krieger said. Using both hands, he presented Meng with a book. Mapes, fluent in Mandarin, acted as his interpreter. Meng nodded curtly and accepted the gift. The book was The Sovereign Field Guide to Hawks of North America.

Meng smiled. “Raptor!” he said, and nodded to indicate the yacht, which brought light laughter from his team. Meng admired the book’s cover and turned the first few pages, lingering over the author’s signature and Krieger’s inscription: “Tempus fugit, memento mori. —Terry Krieger.” He turned at random and lingered over a photograph of a bird power-diving. Meng did not look at the bird’s description. “Falco peregrinus,” he said, and told his men it was the world’s fastest raptor. Mapes translated for Krieger.

“Yes,” Krieger said. “Not everyone approaches the world’s challenges in the same way. After this morning, I hope that you and your country will join me in looking at the world from a raptor’s perspective.