“News from Asia,” the female voice began. “More trouble in the South China Sea. Vietnam filed a formal protest earlier today with the United Nations after an incident involving the collision of a Chinese minesweeper and a Vietnamese fishing trawler near the disputed Spratly Islands. In an exclusive BBC Radio interview, the Vietnamese foreign minister complained of several recent encroachments by Chinese naval vessels in territorial waters claimed by Hanoi.”

Jack heard more news: a meeting of ASEAN defense ministers, declining agricultural exports from Thailand, and a new fifty-two-week high for both the Shanghai and Hong Kong stock indexes. But it was the weather forecast that had caught Jack’s attention.

“The Australian Bureau of Meteorology in Perth is upgrading a tropical low in the Java Sea approximately one hundred and seventy-seven kilometers southeast of Singapore to a category-one tropical storm with gusting winds exceeding ninety kilometers per hour. Locally, expect strong gusting winds and heavy rainfall to continue for the next forty-eight hours with possible flood warnings for low-lying areas in Singapore, eastern Malaysia, Borneo, and Sumatra.”

“That can’t be good,” he said out loud, grateful it wasn’t hitting Singapore. He wondered how bad the storm would get. One hundred and sixty kilometers worked out to be about a hundred miles. Pretty far away. But fifty-five-mile-per-hour winds out there still meant a big-ass storm.

As if on cue, the car behind him flashed its turn signal and dove onto an exit ramp. Jack was practically alone on the road now. Fifteen minutes later he exited, turning onto Pioneer Road in the industrial district, heading for Tanjong Kling Road.

—

Jack followed the track on his Google Maps app along the tree-lined boulevard, where warehouses and industrial buildings stood neatly crowded behind cyclone fences. He’d slowed down to a crawl on the nearly empty street. The Nissan’s furious windshield wipers slapped vainly against the sheets of rain pouring down, giving Jack just momentary glimpses of open road between swipes, like the van itself was blinking. He couldn’t read any of the street numbers on the buildings.

The warehouse location he was searching for should be just up ahead and on the right. He rolled down his window, hoping to be able to read the numbers on the next building coming up. The cool rain splashed over his face and neck as he held one hand above his eyes to shield them from the heavy drops pelting him. He needed to stop. He glanced back into his side-view mirror just to be sure there wasn’t anyone behind him as he tapped the brakes, and that’s when he saw—

Oh, shit!