“Bless you, Captain!” exclaimed the relieved fisherman.
While the sub’s medical officer was sent for, Shen helped the junk make its approach. A narrow, wooden gangplank was extended from the junk’s amidships gunwales, with the two sentries helping to attach it to one of the Lijiang’s deck cleats.
Their patient soon appeared. A shawl completely enveloping her head and body, she shakily made her way up the gangplank, with the assistance of her husband and another fisherman. Shen helped her make the final step, before turning to see what was keeping the doctor.
In the corner of his eye he saw the woman suddenly move, her shawl parting to reveal the lean, muscular figure of a young man dressed in a black tunic.
Shen’s hand reached for his pistol. However, before he could feel its smooth, plastic grip against his palm, he felt himself filled by a pain so excruciating that it seemed to stretch time; the blow landing but not retreating. Shen didn’t perceive the eternal darkness that followed.
From the Lijiang’s sail, the sub’s XO and the commissar watched as the single, expertly delivered karate blow snapped the captain’s neck and sent him flopping to the deck like a fish netted, dumped, and forgotten. Their faces betrayed neither fear nbr apprehension. As the fog continued to wrap the deck with swirling tendrils of thick mist, they saw the three figures from the junk proceed to disarm and kill the two surprised sentries with a few choice blows.
The assault, by the XO’s count, took twenty seconds. Acceptable, he decided. With the first phase completed, he watched as the attackers made for the sub’s after end. As design and luck would have it, Chief Wang wasn’t yet aware of his captain’s fate. His crew had cut the last piece of netting from the prop, and his attention was focused on helping them out of the water.
The commissar stood close at the XO’s side. He took particular delight in watching the attackers cut down this group of sailors. Chief Wang was the last to fall to their blows, and Guan mentally crossed off the list in his notebook the last of the Lijiang’s political heretics.
Guan looked back at the gangplank, where a tall, distinguished figure dressed in the formal white uniform of a senior PLA Navy officer calmly left the junk and boarded the Lijiang. In spite of the fog, the commissar could see the jagged scar that lined the entire left side of this individual’s ruggedly handsome face.
“Captain Lee,” the commissar called out. “Welcome aboard the Lijiang, sir.”
The individual to whom this salutation was directed peered up to the sail and forcefully replied, “This warship has seen enough daylight! Prepare to get underway, as we further deceive our enemy by up roaring in the east, before striking in the west!”
2
The day started with a long bike ride, all because the showers predicted to ruin yet another Labor Day in the nation’s capital never materialized. Thomas Kellogg allowed himself the rare treat of staying in bed until 8:00 a. m. Work had already caused him to miss celebrating the Fourth of July and Memorial Day that year. Yet even with this justification, he still felt guilty as he sprawled on his king-size mattress, listening to his clock radio.
NPR News revealed that an American national holiday meant absolutely nothing to the embattled peoples of Israel, Korea or Pakistan, where bloody uprisings continued to be headline stories. One grim casualty report after the other had a gradual, numbing effect on Thomas, and he only snapped fully awake with the feature on the G-7 summit.
The comprehensive report gave a behind-the-scenes look at the summit that was to take place later in the week. What made this annual meeting of the Group of Seven nations so unusual was that it was to include both the Russian president and, for the very first time, the new president of the People’s Republic of China. And of course, there was this summit’s unprecedented venue. It would be taking place totally at sea, during a four-and-a-half-day crossing of the Atlantic from New York to Southampton, aboard the last of the great ocean liners, the Queen Elizabeth 2.
As a special agent in the explosives-technology branch of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, Thomas knew all about this summit. He had been working on its security plan for the last two months. Yet it somehow became very real to him, after hearing a newscast discussing it.
Ever thankful that the story didn’t delve into the summit’s unique security concerns, and with the announcement of the local weather forecast, Thomas found his thoughts abruptly shifting from work. The summer showers that had soaked the Washington, D. C.” metro area for the past two days mercifully were moving northward earlier than expected. Labor Day wouldn’t be a washout after all!
With this excellent news, Thomas sat up, grabbed the telephone, and speed-dialed Brittany Cooper’s home. His spur-of-the-moment call caught her already enjoying the second cup of coffee of the day. Yes, she was aware that a sunny day was forecast. And yes, she was still very much interested in going riding before heading to his brother’s house for a barbecue.
Less than an hour later, he was pulling his dark green Ford Explorer up to her Georgetown town house. As Thomas unloaded his mountain bike from its exterior rack, Brittany emerged from her garage, pushing her ten-speed and looking incredibly fresh and ready to meet the day head on. Her spandex biker shorts emphasized her long brown legs, while a tight, yellow jersey perfectly highlighted her ample bust.
Weatherwise, it was turning out to be a spectacular morning for a ride.
The storm front that had passed in the night took with it the stifling humidity and ninety-degree temperatures of a typical D. C. summer. In its place was a brilliant blue sky and a very comfortable mid seventies temperature.
After a warm greeting they set off for a nearby bike path, and followed it over the Potomac, then south toward Mount Vernon. Because it was still relatively early, they encountered a minimum of traffic, and it was easy riding through National Airport and on into Alexandria. Since Thomas hadn’t taken time for breakfast, they briefly stopped at an outdoor cafe near the Torpedo Factory Mall, beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on, with long, curly black hair, exquisitely formed facial features, and dark, mesmerizing eyes. She had a fantastic mind as well, displaying a sharp wit and a caustic sense of humor. Thomas knew he was hooked from the very start.
For the past month, they had spent practically every spare moment together. Both were on the rebound from long-term relationships that had soured, and decided that it was vitally important to first build a strong friendship before getting romantically involved. This was a refreshing change of pace for Thomas, whose past relationships were primarily physical.
Her love of bicycling was another plus, and now their first ride together showed that neither one would hold the other back. Instead she enjoyed challenging him, and he enjoyed the challenge. Thomas had ridden hard enough to get his endorphins pumping — he could feel an alien tightness forming in the back of his legs as they pulled into Vince’s driveway.
Together, they locked their bikes and ambled up the narrow, brick walkway, whose sides were lined with full beds of blue and yellow pansies. The front door was painted a glossy, bright red. Beside it, a brass plaque was mounted in the brick wall. It indicated that this brownstone was registered as a historic landmark, having been originally built in 1778.
After a brief round of greetings, Kelly and Brittany went to the kitchen to prepare the food, while Thomas and Vince were tasked with the all-important job of getting the outdoor grill prepped.