Of course the Japanese government would insist on the immediate return of the prime minister’s body, and Takahashi would solemnly accompany it on its journey back to home soil. He would make speeches about his admiration for the politician, about his patriotism and dedication. In reality, though, he would be waiting for the first subtle signs of weakness in Chengdu’s infrastructure. For the confused and typically secretive reaction from the Chinese government as it tried to protect its power. And finally for the country to descend into chaos.

The general watched the F-15 begin evasive action, but its maneuvers seemed awkward and heavy in comparison with the fighter hunting it. Any moment now the American threat—and indeed America’s domination of the world—would be over. The question was, what should he do about this affront? Would he magnanimously ignore it? No, that would demonstrate weakness. Perhaps the sinking of an aircraft carrier. A demonstration of not only Japan’s ability to defeat the American navy but its willingness to act in the face of aggression.

The J-11 was locked in behind its prey now and Takahashi watched the American pilot futilely try to shake it off. Nothing he did, though, had any effect. Nothing could save the aircraft now.

Takahashi counted the seconds in his mind as they ticked past, but the Chinese pilot didn’t fire.

“Chengdu tower,” he said, trying to keep his sudden uncertainty from creeping into his voice. “The American aircraft is still on an intercept course. Are we connected to President Yandong?”

No response.

“Chengdu tower, I—”

He fell silent when the Chinese fighter suddenly broke off and swept south.

“Where is the nearest population center?” he said to the pilot.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Find out and change course for it!” Takahashi said. He brought the binoculars to his eyes again but couldn’t find the F-15. Running to the back of the plane, he pressed the side of his face to one of the windows, trying to get a line of sight.

The fighter was close and continuing to overtake them. Its gray paint scheme and dual tail fins were fully distinguishable despite the sun’s glare.

“Sir!” the pilot shouted from the cockpit. “The closest significant population concentration is approximately fifteen minutes to the north.”

Takahashi ran forward again and picked up a headset as his security men kept their eyes locked on the windows. “Put me on a channel monitored by the F-15 and change course for that city.

“US military aircraft. This is General Masao Takahashi of the Japanese self-defense forces. We are diverting from Chengdu. What are your intentions?”

Silence.

“US military aircraft!” Takahashi repeated, starting to feel the unfamiliar sensation of panic rising in him. “I repeat, this is General—”