Lena rose and walked to the phone, lifting the handle to her ear. She switched to a sharp-tongued Mandarin.

She said, “Contact the destroyer Lanzhou. Tell them that they must send their alert helicopter. It must land on the north end of the runway at 1:00 a.m. Be prepared to take a passenger in restraints. Call me if there are any problems. Once he is on the ship, await my further instruction. Keep him under observation. Do not let him speak with anyone.”

She hung up the phone and looked at Bill’s limp body on the floor. She needed Bill gone from this side of the island. This “voluntary” extraction of information could only go on for so long. Sooner or later they would realize that it was a charade. Some may already suspect. She hoped Bill’s imminent departure wouldn’t be the beginning of the unraveling.

*****

14 years earlier - Washington, D.C.

Lena sat in her car and looked at her watch. He should be here any minute. She tried not to be nervous. There could be many reasons why he would make contact with her. She was almost finished with her undergraduate degree. And she had performed a few small tasks around the D.C. area. Mostly surveillance or eavesdropping. Things she had learned from her initial training on how to be an intelligence operative. By all accounts she had performed admirably. Could this be to give her praise? Perhaps this meeting was a simple check-up? Or to discuss future duties? Still, she knew this man’s reputation. Mr. Cheng Jinshan was a very important businessman. And a legendary puppeteer for his network of spies. This visit would not be for a trivial reason.

She parked at the corner of 36th Street and Prospect. At exactly noon she got out of her car, and walked to The Tombs, a swanky Georgetown bar across the street. The inside was dark and empty. It was a weekday and most people wouldn’t arrive until happy hour. A bartender was at the far side of the room, wiping down the glossy tables.

Lena scanned to see if the Jinshan was already here.

The bartender spotted her. “You ready to order?” he asked.

“No. Just—”

“Two Dewars on the rocks. We’ll sit by the fireplace.” The voice from behind froze her. She was sixteen when she had last heard that voice. The day that he had recruited her. She tried not to think about that day of tears.

She turned and held out her hand. “Hello, sir.”

“Hello, Lena.” He studied her for a moment, and then walked on.

They sat at a long wooden table tucked beside a large brick fireplace. The flames blazed and crackled. A dozen crew paddles formed a semicircle on the stones above the fire.

The bartender brought two heavy glasses of light brown liquid and went back to cleaning.

“Do you drink?” the man asked, taking a sip.

She gave a weak smile. “A little. Not like the others at my school. I have more important things to do with my time.” She felt like this was half evaluation, half job interview.