Shock of War

As the world would.

But first, this danger must be dealt with. America, the world, must not be brought into the conflict. The giant must not be wakened, until it was too late for it to stop the inevitable momentum of Chinese conquest.

Cho snapped off the video. He had seen enough.

2

Hainan Island, China

Major Zeus Murphy tried not to look too conspicuous as he walked down the concourse toward his flight. In theory, he had nothing to fear: the United States and China were not at war, and while his U.S. passport had caused a few seconds of hesitation at the security gate, the check of his baggage had been perfunctory at best. But theory and reality did not always mesh, especially in this case: the war between China and Vietnam had greatly strained relations between the two countries, and even in the best times Chinese customs officials and local police were not exactly known for being evenhanded when dealing with citizens from other countries.

And in this case, Zeus had a little extra to fear: he had just led a guerilla operation against the Chinese naval fleet gathered in the harbor, hopefully preventing it from launching an attack against the Vietnamese.

He could see the red glow of distant flames reflecting in the dark glass of the passageway as he walked toward the gate. Too much time had passed for the fire to be on one of the boats they had blown up; Zeus suspected instead it was due to friendly fire, panic set off by the supposed attack of Vietnamese submarines on the landing ships that were gathered in the port.

All for the better.

A television screen hung on the wall near the gate ahead. Zeus slowed down to get a look. In the U.S., it would be set to a local or allnews station; by now it would be carrying live feeds from the attack, breathless correspondents warning of the coming apocalypse. Here it showed some sort of Chinese soap opera, or maybe a reality show; he couldn’t quite tell and didn’t want to make himself too conspicuous by stopping.

He passed two more screens as he walked. Both were set to Chinese financial news stations. Though it was night here, it was still daytime in the U.S., and tickers showed stock prices across the bottom.

A lot of red letters and down arrows, Zeus noticed. War wasn’t good for anyone’s economy.

“I thought you’d never get here,” said Win Christian, who rose from a seat across from the television.

Christian was also a major, was also in the U.S. Army, and had also just helped blow up part of the invasion fleet. The two men had snuck ashore with the help of a Vietnamese agent, assumed identities as businessmen, and headed for the easiest way out — a Chinese flight to Hong Kong, and from there to Japan.

Zeus nodded. They’d gotten into different lines at the security checkpoint, splitting up in case they were stopped.

“Where’s the girl?” Christian asked, referring to the Vietnamese agent, Solt Jan.

“I thought she was with you,” answered Zeus.

Christian seemed even more nervous than he had earlier. Fidgeting, his eyes shifted continually, glancing in every direction. “I hope she didn’t bail.”

“We got our tickets. Relax.”

Christian glanced around. There were about forty people at the gate, waiting for the 11 p.m. flight to Hong Kong. The destination was written in English as well as Chinese on a whiteboard that sat on an easel next to the podium in front of the door to the plane tunnel. The door was closed, and the podium itself was roped off by a velvet-covered chain. There were no attendants nearby.

Zeus glanced at his watch.

“Half hour before boarding,” he told Christian. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“You think that’s wise?”

Zeus started toward a kiosk about ten meters away in the center of the gate area. Maybe some food would calm Christian down.

“Guess it can’t be any worse than Vietnamese food,” said Christian, catching up.

Zeus closed his eyes at the word Vietnamese. He glanced at Christian, who’d turned beet red.

“I know,” muttered Christian almost inaudibly. “Sorry.”

Zeus didn’t reply At least Christian realized he’d been an idiot; they were making progress.

The vendor was a few years younger than Zeus, twenty-one or twenty-two at most. Zeus pointed at a bag of American-style potato chips.

“Ten yuan,” said the young man in English.

Zeus dug into his pocket. Solt had given him some Chinese money on the way over. He had some American money in his wallet as well — fifty dollars, barely enough to bribe the passport control people in Hong Kong, which would be necessary to get to Tokyo since his passport lacked the proper visa stamps.

“Here are your crisps,” said the man, using the British term for the snack as he handed them over.

“I’ll have a bag, too,” said Christian.

The man kept his eyes locked on Zeus’s. It was a menacing stare, a dare.

Why?

“My change,” said Zeus.

The man’s mouth twisted into a smile. Zeus held out his hand. The man looked down at it, and for a moment Zeus thought he was going to spit. Instead, he reached into the cash register. He took a bill and some coins, then dropped them into Zeus’s outstretched palm.

Zeus locked his eyes on the man, not even bothering to count the change.

“All of it,” he said.

The clerk’s smile broadened. He reached into the register and fished out the right change, placing it into Zeus’s hand.

“What the hell was that about?” Christian asked as they walked back to the gate.

“Got me,” said Zeus.

“He spoke English pretty well.”

“Yeah,” said Zeus. “Good enough.”

An airline employee had appeared at the podium and was fiddling with a microphone. She began to speak as Zeus and Christian approached. A few passengers got up from their seats; the rest looked anxiously toward her as she continued.

“What’s she saying?” Christian asked.

“I didn’t learn to speak Chinese in the last twenty minutes,” snapped Zeus. “Did you?”

He reached into his pocket for his ticket, expecting she was trying to organize the boarding — probably asking for people with small children first. But no one moved forward.

A short, balding man near the gate began speaking to the woman, haranguing her in slightly angry Chinese. Zeus turned around, looking for Solt. She should have met them by now.

Admittedly, she hadn’t told him that she’d been on the flight; he’d just assumed that when she pressed the ticket into his hand in the lobby before disappearing in the crowd.

“They’re not moving,” said Christian. “What’s going on?”

“Flight cancel,” said a grim-faced man nearby. He added something in Chinese.

“Excuse me,” said Zeus. “The flight’s canceled? Why?”

The man shook his head.

Zeus tried repeating the question, phrasing it more simply and speaking slower. “Why is the flight canceled?”

“Flight cancel,” said the man. “Problem at airport. All flight.”

“Shit,” said Christian.

“Is it temporary?” asked Zeus.

Again, the man shook his head, not understanding. The passengers at the podium moved closer to the