The Thai muttered a command in his own language. Yong acknowledged it and switched directions, his left foot now striking six inches higher than the trainer’s head.

“It would be an advantage if the deal goes through,” Meili said in Mandarin. She was small but well toned, with a heart-shaped mole just above her upper lip. Her hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. She wore red training shorts and a tight black tank top, and her hands were taped for practice sparring.

Yong understood her perfectly, despite her heavy mainland accent. His own Mandarin was heavily influenced by his mother’s Hokkien dialect, which was also practically another language—the second of four he spoke fluently, English being his first.

Yong took a couple of deep breaths, his eyes focused on the square pads now held chest high and pointing down at a forty-five-degree angle.

“My father wants the deal,” Yong said. “My sister wants the deal because Father wants the deal.” Yong’s right leg exploded forward, his weight leveraged on his back leg. His foot struck against the pads in four rapid strikes, smacking them so hard it knocked the sturdy Thai back onto his heels.

“Did I hit a nerve?” The diminutive Ministry of State Security agent asked. She kept one eye on the Thai. Yong had assured her before that he spoke only Thai and no Chinese dialects of any kind, but she was still suspicious.

Yong hissed through gritted teeth. “I won’t have it!”

Yong reversed positions and launched four more crushing blows against the Thai’s hands. The trainer grunted with each strike.

Meili didn’t speak when Yong threw his kicks. There was no point—the noise was deafening. She shuddered at the thought of being on the other side of those heel strikes. She was hoping to convince Yong of the strategic advantage a merger with Marin Aerospace would have for him, and for her agency.

Yong was breathing hard now. He turned to face his Chinese contact. “And that wasn’t our arrangement.”

“No, it wasn’t. I just wanted to be sure you had considered the possibilities.”

The Thai trainer shouted and Yong spun effortlessly on his heel, throwing a vicious right elbow strike across the left pad, then whirled around in the opposite direction and crushed the left pad with a left elbow reverse. Yong shouted, then repeated the exact strikes six more times in a single flowing movement.

From Meili’s perspective, Yong looked like a spinning rotary blade. The elbow was the hardest bone in the human frame and Muay Thai used it to great advantage, one of the “eight limbs” of its fighting discipline—elbows, shins, knees, and fists. More and more MMA fighters were incorporating the Thai martial art into their combat repertoire.

“And you’re certain Ryan won’t find anything?”

“As certain as I can be. After all, I designed the accounting system.”

“Is that enough?”