“I was aware that you had integrated the antiviral molecule into microbes in an attempt to speed up the synthesis process,” Lee said.

“We decided that was too slow,” Mitchell said. “So we incorporated the toxin’s curative protein in fast-growing saltwater algae.”

Lee’s expression of dismay turned to laughter.

She picked up a cylinder and said, “This is wonderful.”

Seeing the puzzled expressions on the faces of the three men, she explained.

“Algae grow at an incredible speed,” she said. “Once we get these cultures to the production facilities, they can extract enough vaccine for hundreds of people in a short time. We can do the same for thousands, then hundreds of thousands within a few days.”

She handed the cylinder to Austin, who held it gingerly as if he expected to feel some sort of magical emanations. He carefully placed it back in the cooler and closed the lid, then turned to Dixon.

“This has to get to China as soon as possible,” he said.

The captain picked the cooler off the deck.

“It’s on its way,” he said.

Ten minutes later, the Seahawk carrying the cooler lifted off the deck and headed toward its rendezvous with a fast jet waiting at Pohnpei Airport. Within hours of landing in China, its cargo would be distributed to vaccine-production facilities that Lee had set up during her time on Bonefish Key.

Austin stood on the deck, watching the helicopter shrink to a speck. Lee had volunteered to escort the vaccine back to China. Austin was sad to see her go, but the evil smile of the Dragon Lady was already starting to overshadow his thoughts of Song’s lovely face.

THE GIANT RUSSIAN SUBMARINE led the way into Pohnpei’s harbor like a proud leviathan. Next was Chang’s freighter, now manned by a Navy crew that had taken over after a destroyer had chased her down. Without orders from Chang, his crew had surrendered to the no-nonsense Navy SEALs without a shot.

Phelps had come over from the submarine and was giving Austin and Zavala a tour of the deceptively decrepit-looking vessel, showing them the moon pool, the high-powered engine room, and the state-of-the-art communications center with its hologram-projection booth that Chang used to communicate with his other two triplets.

The last stop was the ship’s salon. Austin made himself immediately at home in the oversize room. He passed out three Havana-wrapped cigars from a humidor and lit them with a silver-plated lighter. He, Zavala, and Phelps sat in plush red-velvet chairs and puffed on their cigars.

“Chang had a good nose for smokes,” Zavala said, “but his taste in decorating stinks.”

Austin blew out a smoke ring and glanced around the spacious salon.

“I dunno,” he said, looking at the purple drapes and dark wood paneling, “the Castle Dracula look is all the rage in Transylvania.”