"Then be quiet and listen to me complain. I can't believe after all these years you still haven't learned to dance."

They were tipsy but hardly drunk by the time they left the banquet hall. Kristen drove them in her little white sports car back to her condo, a two-bedroom affair that was also home to her two cats.

She had lots of big, country-style furniture and had an affinity for plaid. The place felt homey and clashed with her sophisticated gown and hairstyle.

"I need to be back to the house by oh seven thirty," he said. "I have to get to the airport, return my rental car, and make my flight."

"Tomorrow's Sunday. Don't worry about it. I'll get you there."

"Kristen, I shouldn't be here. All we're doing is torturing ourselves."

She pulled her hair out of the bun and shook free her long curls. "No. It's not like that at all."

An hour later, they lay in silence, just watching the shadows shift across the ceiling as headlights filtered in through the long windows.

She leaned over and began tracing the scar on his belly. "What happened here?"

"Stupid accident in my shop."

"It's a strange-looking scar, like one of those Asian tattoos or something."

"Why aren't you married?"

"I don't know. Maybe the same reason you aren't."

"Your job takes you all over the world for years at a time?"

She hissed. "You know what I mean."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's our luck."

"My dad thinks I'll fall back in love with you, quit the army, and stay here."

"I don't think that's what he wants for you."

"Oh, yeah it is."

She shook her head. "Back in April, when I went over to the house to drop off his taxes, I caught him out in the shop, staring at a picture of you. He's got it hung on the wall above his workbench."

"There's no picture there."

"There was. Your dad showed me a red, white, and blue ribbon on your uniform. He said it was the Silver Star. He said you had to do something very special to earn that."

"So that's why you were looking at my medals?"

She nodded. "We have a saying around the office. Do you know why J. Edgar Hoover hired only lawyers and CPAs when he formed the FBI? Because of our meticulous attention to detail, our curiosity, and our persistence."

"What are you really trying to say?"

"I'm saying that after I talked to your dad, I went online to the Silver Star registry, saw your name there twice."

"Yeah?"

"Then I clicked on the citation block."

"Really?" Mitchell began to tense. Had the army actually left that door open? Impossible.

"Yeah, and all they said was 'classified.' "

Mitchell relaxed. "Everything's classified."

"You should be recognized with much more than just medals."

"It's not about recognition. It never was."

She leaned over and ran her fingers along the side of his face. "Scott, I've had a lot of time to think about what happened to us."

"Me, too. More than you know."

"I always asked why, and then, last April, when I talked to your dad, I finally got my answer."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's why I brought you here. Not to torture us." She took his hands in hers.

"Aw, man, please don't cry."

Her voice cracked. "I want you to know that I get it. I used to think you were selfish. You loved the army more than me. But that's not it at all, is it?"

His own eyes burned. "Sometimes I wonder, if I don't do it, who will?"

"I know. Those that can--do."

"Yeah."

"Most people have no idea what duty really means. I never did."

He nodded. "Sometimes it's so hard."

"I can't even imagine." She squeezed his hands. "But listen to me. You can't stop. Because we need you."

She dropped him off at the house by 0710, and before heading inside to wake up everyone and say his good-byes, Mitchell skulked his way back to the workshop, Special Forces style, and went inside.

He crossed over to Dad's main workbench, saw a nail in the brown wall and a rectangular square where the paint looked darker and was not coated by a layer of dust.

Indeed, a picture had hung there. Mitchell opened one of the bench's side drawers and found it.

So Dad had remembered the picture at the last minute and had rushed out to the shop to hide it. He was proud of his son but too self-conscious to show it.

Mitchell slipped the frame back into the drawer and smiled. Kristen had given him much more than she knew.

This was a homecoming he would never forget.

Chapter Sixteen.

THIRTY-FIRST GROUP ARMY HEADQUARTERS (NMR)

SPECIAL OPERATIONS FORCES OFFICES

XIAMEN, CHINA

FEBRUARY 2012

Special Operations Forces of the Nanjing Military Region of China were code-named the Flying Dragons, and consequently People's Liberation Army Colonel Xu Dingfa had suggested back in 2008 that the operation be called Pouncing Dragon, since colleagues from his old Special Forces group would play a key role in the attack on Taipei. The name had remained unchanged for all that time.

At the moment, he was seated in his office, sharing a cup of morning tea with his most esteemed colleague, Major-General Chen Yi, commander of the entire region. Only a select few were aware of Chen's visit, and Xu understood why the general did not want to discuss matters electronically or over the phone.

"As you predicted, the time is drawing near," Xu said, lifting his chin at a copy of the Beijing Daily resting on his desk. "They completed their negotiations yesterday morning."

Chen smiled knowingly, his lazy left eyelid barely moving. "Spring comes early this year."

Taiwanese officials had announced that they had reached an agreement with the United States to forgo three diesel submarines for one new-conversion Ohio-class SSGN. The Ohio SSGN was capable of ripple firing 154 Tomahawk Cruise Missiles. No modifications were needed to Chingshan, Taiwan's recently completed secret submarine pen carved into a mountainside on the east coast. This was the first nuclear submarine the U.S. had ever considered selling to a foreign government, though Xu knew that the sale was subject to ratification by Congress.

If all went well, their government would deem the sale a provocative act and deploy additional ground troops to its military facilities from Shanghai to Xiamen.

Live-fire and force-on-force concentration exercises, along with aggressive amphibious operations exercises would commence immediately.

Moreover, the country's Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA)--the phrase coined to outline the military's desire to build a smaller, more technologically advanced force--had resulted in the creation of many more high-tech units designed to target enemy communications and computer systems as well as jam the guidance systems of precision-guided munitions.

These smaller, better-equipped units, along with Xu's Special Forces teams, were exactly what the Spring Tiger Group required to initiate the first stage of its plan.

Tigers born in spring were on their own after the second year, the third spring, but Xu and his group had been waiting much longer than that to exact their will when others in Beijing were too cowardly to do so. The time had drawn near for the East and West to vie for supremacy in the Pacific.

"General, we will continue to monitor the situation very closely. I trust you will notify me when it is time to prepare for the final session."