Captain Zhou stood waiting outside it in full naval regalia, his stars and bars on gleaming display in the 2500-lumen brilliance of the island’s light towers. He was flanked by a guard detail of six or eight men.

As his motor escort pulled to a halt, Wei immediately matched his face to the one in his computer files. Zhou was short and square-built, with dark skin, flat features and a strong jaw. A mix of Han and Uighur traits that told of Turkish migrations, European origins. Few in the military would admit to those ethnic roots: the vast majority of Uighurs were Muslims and rarely rose to the rank of officer.

Wei had not yet gotten a chance to fully probe the captain’s background and connections. But he would. Zhou had seemingly beaten the law of averages. In Wei’s experience, however, a man rarely advanced on merit alone. Least of all a man from Xinjiang Province.

He smoothed down his jacket and trousers, shrugging the carryall onto his shoulder. Then the sailors in white exited their vehicles, and one of them pulled open his door, and he got out.

Zhou stepped up and saluted. “General.” He added a bow to his ceremonious greeting. “This captain is honored by your presence. How was your trip?”

“Long.” Wei glanced up at the dome. “That’s quite a sight, captain. Even from high above.”

“It’s the rounded shape that fools the eye,” Zhou said. “The structure measures almost a thousand linear feet and can serve as a berth or dry dock for two corvettes at a time.”

“But it isn’t holding a corvette right now.”

Zhou said nothing. He looked unruffled.

The general thought suddenly of a professor he once met at a Beijing dinner. He’d been expelled from Singapore amid accusations of spying for the Ministry. What was it he said? The Chinese expand like a forest, very slowly. But once they get there, they never leave.

Zhou did not recall any boastfulness in the statement. It was delivered in a dry, factual tone.

The island was magnificent. A wonder. And it was just one of many solidifying his nation’s claim to these waters. For a decade they had spread like lilies in a pond virtually without interference, so why stir up the Americans now? Mercilessly attack one of their assets while they were still turning a blind eye?

He nodded at the dome.

“Bring me inside,” he said.

New York City

Carmody and Morse crossed the West Side Highway at Twenty-Sixth Street and then walked through the greenway to the river. There was an outdoor food court at the foot of Pier 66, and Carmody stopped to order an espresso.

“I thought you’d reached your quota,” she said.

“For lousy pod coffee,” he said. “Want something?”

“I’ll take a sparkling water,” she said. “Strawberry if the guy has it.”