“We’re over the water,” said Christian a few minutes later.
“What can you see?”
“Lights. I think I can see a boat. A ship, I mean. There’s the coast.”
Obviously, the Chinese didn’t think the Vietnamese air force was much of a threat, or there’d be a blackout.
The airplane suddenly dipped down. Something flew past Christian’s window.
“Shit,” said Christian.
“Sshhh,” said Zeus. Bat everyone else was talking, and pushing toward the windows near them.
“Fighters,” said Christian.
“What are they doing?”
Christian didn’t answer as the Fokker suddenly dipped down again. Zeus felt his stomach rising in his chest, and fought back a gag response.
Christian reached for the barf bag. So did several other passengers as the Fokker turned sharply eastward, tucking its left wing down and then pivoting even harder onto its right.
Zeus strained against the seatbelt, then felt himself pushed back as they leveled off. He wanted to look out the window, but Christian was in the way, getting sick. Zeus turned toward the aisle, trying to keep his own stomach from feeling too queasy.
The pilot came on with another announcement. His words seemed to come more quickly than before, though Zeus could only guess at what he was saying.
The plane leveled off. After a few moments, Zeus braved a glance at Christian.
“Maybe we should change seats,” he suggested.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“You all right?”
“No.”
Zeus stepped into the aisle, then slipped in as Christian got out of the way.
A set of lights blinked beyond the wing. One of the planes that had buzzed them earlier was now flying parallel to the Fokker. Zeus guessed it was a fighter, and that they had inadvertently strayed into a military area.
That didn’t seem to make much sense, though — they were still out over the water.
Then he saw lights in the distance. At first, he thought he had spotted a city; then he realized he was looking at one of the Chinese aircraft carriers.
Zeus pushed against the glass, trying to get a better view. The Chinese had two carriers. The last he had heard was that they were operating together. But he could see only one.
Something was landing on it. From this distance it was impossible to tell what kind of plane.
Zeus turned his attention to the dots of light near the larger ship. They were escorts. The Navy probably already knew exactly which ships they were, how they were equipped, even who their captains were. Very possibly an unmanned spy plane was watching them at this very moment. Still, this was a real intelligence opportunity: Zeus studied the dots, trying to memorize the pattern. Two small ships flanking the carrier, with a larger ship to the south. Three other vessels behind, to the north. Two seemed relatively large and wide; he guessed they were supply vessels of some sort, with their own escort.
When they were past the last of the ships, the aircraft on the wing veered away. A cone of orange appeared at the back of the gray fuselage, changing from a circle to an ellipse as it made its turn. Zeus stared after it. When he finally turned his attention back to the cabin, he saw that the stewardesses were handing out towels. They were landing soon.
“You okay?” he asked Christian.
“Better. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“Funny thing is, I feel hungry now.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t push that.”
Zeus went back to looking out the window. He couldn’t see any more lights, just a dull, orange-brown glow ahead to his left. He glanced at his watch: fifteen past three.
Where had the time gone? And yet it had seemed to pass so slowly.
Ten minutes later, the plane began to bank in the direction of the glow. By now, it looked like a pale yellow foam rising from the crust of the blackness below. Zeus guessed it was Beihai, where they were headed.
The pilot confirmed it with an announcement a few seconds later. The only word Zeus recognized was the name of the city.
He tightened his seatbelt and waited patiently as the plane put down, the engines growing into a loud roar as the wheels hit the tarmac. The passengers applauded as the pilot feathered the engines and gently nudged the brakes.
The plane stopped a good distance from the terminal. A pair of buses waited nearby. Zeus watched a moveable stairway being pushed close to the fuselage.
The passengers got their things together, then filed out slowly, silently, no doubt wondering like Zeus and Christian what they were going to do next.
Solt was a few passengers ahead of them. Zeus angled to the left as he neared the bottom of the steps, intending to catch up. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the attendant standing there tapped his shoulder.
“This bus,” she said in English. “That one is full.”
Zeus turned dutifully and led the rest of the passengers to the second vehicle. The driver smiled and nodded as he boarded, greeting him in Chinese. Zeus found a seat a few rows back.
Christian slid in next to him silently. Zeus guessed that he was embarrassed that he’d gotten sick, though he had plenty of company.
The bus was quiet. When the last passenger had found a seat, the driver closed the door and put the vehicle into motion, gliding across the blacktop toward a two-story building about two hundred and fifty yards away. He stopped behind the first bus, which had already discharged its passengers.
Humming to himself, he opened the door, said something to the passengers in the front row, then hopped down the steps and trotted over to the building. No one moved; apparently he had told everyone to wait.
Zeus watched as the driver spoke to a pair of policemen standing next to a glass door, then ran back, hopped up the steps, and then said something in Chinese that Zeus assumed meant, “Everyone off the bus.” The passengers rose slowly and began filing out.
Zeus rubbed his temples as he joined the small herd walking toward the door. He hadn’t slept now for more than a day, not counting assorted fitful turning in a cot aboard one of the boats they’d commandeered. He hadn’t slept all that well for a few days before that, either.
The glass door opened on a narrow hallway, with rooms on the left and right. The passengers were directed to the room at the right, which was well lit by overhead fluorescents. It was a medium-sized office, bereft of furniture.
They organized themselves along the far wall. No one from the first bus was here; Solt was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn,” grumbled Christian, standing next to him. “I feel like I’m back in beast barracks.”
“A lot worse than this.”
“I guess.” Beast barracks was West Point slang for the freshman orientation period, traditionally a test for newcomers. Outright hazing by upperclassmen was no longer permitted, but the older students still found a way to make things hard for the new arrivals.
Christian cupped his face with his hands. “I gotta get out of here and get some rest.”
“I know what you mean,” answered Zeus. “We’ll have a chance soon. They’re probably just figuring out hotels and stuff.”
“Where’s Solt?”
Zeus shook his head.
A man in a dark suit came into the room after the passengers. He told them something in Chinese that didn’t
