"Sorry," Buddha said. "I'm a lover, not a sailor."

"Dude, you need some lessons," said Nolan as he helped tie up the boat.

A young man, probably in his mid-twenties, stood waiting for them by the trucks. The guy ditched his cigarette and cocked a thumb at the tarpaulin-covered flatbeds.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me," said Brown.

"Just get in," snapped Mitchell.

The trucks' engines didn't sound much better than the boat's, and judging from their large fenders and big, round headlights, they were probably built in the '50s or '60s.

"They couldn't get anything better than these?" Ramirez asked as he passed Mitchell.

"I don't know. I'll ask."

As the others piled in, Mitchell pulled Buddha aside and voiced his question.

"Captain, these old Jiefangs are not uncommon along the mountain roads and more rural areas. The PLA sold a lot of them to the farmers. A brand-new SUV would call much more attention."

"But will they make it up the hills?"

"I think so."

"We can't be late."

Buddha's eyes widened. "Then why are we talking?"

Mitchell nodded and started back for the truck, but Buddha called after him, "Captain, if we are stopped, be sure everyone is wearing their masks and that no one talks. We are the secret police. I have all the paperwork. And oh, yes, my partner's name is Boy Scout."

"All right."

Mitchell reached the tailgate and hoisted himself inside, where he found Diaz, Nolan, Smith, and Ramirez donning black, nondescript uniforms over their wet suits and black balaclavas to conceal all but their eyes.

"How're we doing?" he asked.

"Good, sir," said Diaz. "My uniform actually fits."

"Excellent. Welcome to China, everybody."

USSMONTANA(SSN-823)

SOUTH TAIWAN STRAIT

SOUTH CHINA SEA

APRIL 2012

Five miles offshore, Captain Gummerson plugged into a secure satellite tactical feed and watched as nine green dots inched across his screen.

And twelve time zones away, Gummerson imagined the most powerful man in the free world sitting alone, studying those same green dots.

"Captain, the Predator is ready for launch," said the XO with a slight hint of resignation in his voice.

"Very well. We need to time this just right so Mitchell and his people can bleed every second out of that bird."

"Yes, sir. And, sir, I'm still concerned about detection during launch."

"As well you should be, XO. We've got time to push out another twenty miles. Can't do much to minimize the glare from the Predator's booster propellant, but there's no need to wake the neighbors."

"You read my mind, sir."

"We'll both sleep better knowing we got plenty of water around us. Last thing we need is some sharp-eyed merchant's lookout spotting our big ear."

"Aye, aye, sir. And, sir, for what it's worth, Captain Mitchell was a true professional."

"Agreed. He would've made an excellent submariner. We can't afford to lose a guy like that."

"Yes, sir. If they can do their part, we'll do ours. That's a very capable team he has."

Gummerson narrowed his eyes on the screen. Sometimes being capable was hardly enough.

HAKKA CASTLE

XIAMEN, CHINA

APRIL 2012

Captain Fang Zhi had just received radio reports from his three-man teams posted outside the north, south, east, and west buildings of the castle. They were in position. No issues to consider, other than one man had been bitten by a dog while trying to assume his post.

Fang was still waiting to hear from the two-man team inside the central building, where the Spring Tigers were just now gathering to welcome Vice Admiral Cai, the last to arrive. Fang himself was up on the fifth floor of that same building, where he could quickly access the roof to view the entire castle, and he wasn't the only guard with that vantage point.

Two snipers had been posted in the hills, one along the eastern ridge, the other along the steeper banks to the north. They had been first to communicate with him and would check in every fifteen minutes throughout the night.

Fang had warned his entire team to sleep as much as they could throughout the prior day, but even he had found it difficult to take his own advice.

He'd spent most of the day reliving the incident on Basilan, taking himself back through his disgrace, back through the moments when they'd told him he was being discharged, that they had no use for a coward like him. And all of the old wounds were reopened and infected with his rage.

Now, on the eve of justice, he yawned deeply then finally listened to a report coming in from Sergeant Chung, the fool who'd accused him of being a spy. "This is Tiger Twelve. All clear here."

Fang was about to speak into the boom mike at his mouth when he turned, nearly knocking into someone.

"Sorry, Captain, but I came to tell you that they have all gone to the dining room. The meal has been prepared exactly as you'd asked."

Huang stood there, a man beaten and broken. Perhaps one day his time would come. But this day . . . this day was Fang's.

"Thank you, Huang."

"And, sir, not to alarm you, but the power company has been upgrading the transformers for the past two weeks. They will shut down the power sometime within the next few hours, but we will only be in the dark for less than thirty minutes."

Fang frowned. "Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?"

"I had not thought it very important."

Fang sighed through his teeth. "Everything is important. Still, you have served us well. After the meeting tomorrow, I will be leaving behind my truck. It will be yours."

Huang lowered his head and scampered away.

Fang wished the man had put up a greater fight, for only then would he truly respect Huang.

As it was, Fang had no intention of leaving behind his truck--or leaving Huang alive.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

EN ROUTE TO HAKKA CASTLE

XIAMEN, CHINA

APRIL 2012

The old truck made a gurgling noise then began to slow. Mitchell brought up the tactical map in his HUD, studying the tortuous mountain road glowing green and leading up to the castle, marked with the requisite yellow square and the words Primary Objective.

They had come to a fork in the road, and the truck carrying Bravo Team, driven by the guy named Boy Scout, was veering right for the 1.7 kilometer trek to the transformer station.

"Ghost Lead, this is Beasley. We're heading up now. I'll contact you once we're set at the secondary objective."

"Roger that."

"Captain?"

Mitchell reached down to the cell phone with walkie talkie function that Buddha had given him. "Go ahead."

"Good news awaits on the road ahead."

"You getting philosophical, or do you know something we don't?"

"I have a little surprise."

"Really? Bring it on. Just hope it's a good one."

"I think you will be pleased."

"You hear that?" Mitchell called to the others. "He's got a surprise."

Diaz shook her head. "I hate surprises."

"Me, too," said Ramirez.

Mitchell nodded. "When we stop, everyone look sharp."

Sergeant First Class Bo Jenkins hadn't told the others about his father, and neither had the captain. That was fine by him. No sense in any of them doubting his abilities or feeling awkward around him. He was a professional and well understood the importance of keeping every emotion in check.