Christian shot him a glance. It turned into a glare as they found themselves in the center of town, heading toward a building with a troop truck and several police cars parked in front.
Zeus held his breath as they passed. The cab stopped in front of a bank.
“Keep him here,” whispered Solt. She hopped out. It looked as if she was going to the ATM, but she hurried past and disappeared around the corner.
“Now what?” asked Christian.
“Relax, would you?”
“I’m relaxed. Just relaxed enough to get arrested. If we’re lucky.”
The cabdriver started talking to them. At first it sounded as if he were speaking Chinese. Only after he stopped did Zeus realize the man had asked him something in English. His accent was so thick it was impossible to tell what he’d said.
“I’m sorry,” said Zeus. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“You do business Hainan?” repeated the man.
“Not really,” said Christian.
“We hope to,” said Zeus quickly. “We have plans for importing Scotch. We wanted to, um, set up a trade for fish. For the fish imports. So we’re going to look at, uh, fish farms.”
“All fish stay in China,” said the man. There was an edge to his voice. “Important to feed Chinese.”
“That’s what they told us,” said Zeus. “I respect that.”
“Respect?”
“Chinese fish for Chinese people,” said Christian.
“That is right,” said the driver.
“But the trade would be valuable for the Chinese as well,” said Zeus.
Christian interrupted. “You don’t like Americans?”
“American business — big,” said the driver. “Does not care. Too big. Steal from Chinese.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Zeus wanted to strangle Christian, or at least gag him. Two police cars pulled out behind them and raced past, sirens blaring.
“Where miss?” asked the driver. “We must go. Cannot stay here.”
“She’s coming,” said Zeus.
“Must go.”
“Please stay.”
“Must go.”
The driver started to put the car into gear.
“Hey, this will get you to stay, right?” asked Christian, holding out one of his fifties.
The driver grabbed the bill, then put the car back into park.
“Good idea,” whispered Zeus.
“Yeah.”
The door opened. Solt slid in. She told the driver something in Chinese and they started out. But they found the nearby entrance to the highway blocked. So was the next one. The driver began talking very quickly, arguing with Solt.
“We’re not going to be able to get on the highway,” Solt told Zeus finally. “I’m going to have him take us to the airport. We can get there on local roads.”
“What the hell are we going to do at the airport?” Christian asked.
Zeus shook his head. The driver might not speak English very well, but clearly he understood it.
A few blocks later, it was clear they weren’t going to get to the airport, either. The roads were jammed, either closed or choked with chaotic traffic. Solt told the driver to let them out.
“Do you have passports?” she asked after the taxi had managed a three-point turn and started away.
“We do,” said Zeus.
“We can get a plane to Hong Kong, and from there to Japan,” she said. “If they’re still flying.”
“We don’t have the money. Or baggage.”
“That won’t be a problem. As long as you still have some dollars to bribe the security people with.”
“I have fifty.”
“Me, too,” said Christian.
“Then we should start. If we get separated before the gate,” Solt added, reaching into her purse, “call the number on this business card. Tell them than Mr. Jenni sent you. Do what he tells you. You can trust him.”
“Can we trust you, though?” asked Christian.
Solt looked at Zeus, as if to say,
31
Grasso paused. The blaring of the traffic behind them was so loud he had to raise his voice as he continued.
“But why should the U.S. intervene? Why should we get involved in another costly war? What’s in it for the American people?”
Josh started to answer, but the senator wasn’t done.
“And let’s say there’s sanctions against China. How do they help us? China holds trillions of dollars of our debt. Don’t you think there’ll be repercussions?”
“I think the repercussions will be more serious if we do nothing,” said Jablonski.
Jablonski’s phone rang. He ignored it.
“That’s what the president says.” Grasso swung his hands up, making his point. “But I think he overstates it. I think he wants confrontation. It’s all he knows. What do you think, Josh? Are the repercussions so serious that we should risk everything? What are we risking it for, anyway? Who cares if Vietnam becomes a colony of the Chinese? Do we really care?”
We should care, thought Josh. There was something fundamental — something so unjust and unfair that it had to be countered. But Josh couldn’t find the words to express it.
“I know what you’re going to say,” continued the senator, who really didn’t want an answer from anyone except himself. “We should be idealists. But where has idealism gotten us? Look at Vietnam. You’re too young to know what that was like, but the president isn’t. He of all people should know the limits of idealism.”
Josh turned away from the senator, looking out across the traffic toward the Manhattan skyline — ideals, he thought, made tangible.
Something streaked through the line of cars at the far end of the left lane. A man on a motorbike.
With guns on his back.
Josh stared at the man, sure he was having a psychotic episode.
The man was Asian.
It was a hallucination, his mind flashing back to Vietnam. He was seeing the man who had pursued them, the man who had attacked the helicopter just before they escaped.
He was losing his mind.
“Out of the car!” yelled Josh. He turned and pushed Jablonski and Grasso toward the opposite door. “Senator! Get out of the car!
