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and had an odd sense of humor. Jake guessed that the man was single, but not by choice. He was the team’s firepower. His big, gnarled hands were made to hold an assault rifle. The modified HK G36C battle rifle in his lap reflected the dull morning light.
    Vazquez, Ming, Amit, and Morehead constituted his team. Four other teams just like this one were on course for Beijing. The Senator and his counterparts in Israel, France, United Kingdom, Italy, Germany, Canada, Sweden, Russia, and Japan had gathered their best operatives, team leaders, strategists, intelligence experts, and diplomats to form a global task force that operated outside of UN jurisdiction to stamp out the threat that the ViVeri Consortium represented.
    At first, Jake had been tempted to refuse the offer to lead a team. Now, his decision weighed on him. He did not belong here.
    The familiar P226 in a holster at his right thigh gave him almost as much comfort as the Spiderco Warrior combat knife attached handle-down at his left chest pocket. In contrast, the KRISS Vector .45 ACP submachine gun strapped to his back and the M14 EBR-RI in his hands were unfamiliar and, in some ways, intimidating.
    Jake was an operative, not a soldier. He was a killer. He was a man with a badge and a job and a pension. He was a father and a husband.
    And a son.
    At first he had denied it. He had come to accept that some of what he was doing now was for his father. Others took it for granted. He had finally embraced it, knowing this was duty. This was his responsibility. This was expected of him.
    That was why he felt so vindicated when they had come upon a satellite image of an ammunition factory in a little town called Tianjun in the Qinghai Province of China. Most of the munitions manufactured at the converted chemical plant were put on rail. However, several trucks would travel to an underground fortress built into the side of the mountains south of the town. These, the team suspected, were “dirty” nukes: small plutonium-based warheads that were being stocked under the mountain.
    To prepare nine pounds of weapons-grade plutonium, it takes a massive chemical plant capable of extracting the Pu-239, purifying it, compressing it, and preparing it for fitting in a warhead. This whole process is considered simpler than preparing Uranium-based nuclear bombs. One side benefit is that Plutonium is considerably lighter. Yet, the process is dirtier. The remote location guaranteed covert operations and lower collateral damage.
    It was unclear so far if these nukes were being stockpiled for use by the ViVeri Consortium or by China. The possibility that a third party was involved also existed.
    Their mission would necessitate quick, effective action.
    The hunt for Chen had proven time-consuming.
    They suspected that the Chinese were working with the ViVeri Consortium. Their goal was to find out why. Since Chen’s location was difficult to ascertain, they decided to pursue a secondary Chinese target: Fin Zhou, a multi-national terrorist with ties to religious insurgents, left wing guerillas, and right wing militias. His services were available to anyone with enough money. According to his file, he lacked political affiliation.
    Jake recognized the man. He had been both a client of Galbraith and a target.
    Zhou had fled to his native country and had presumably been hired by the Consortium. They had determined this more through process of elimination than actual facts. The reason they were pursuing him was that they had an exact bearing on Fin Zhou.
    He was surrounded by a large security force in a ten story building on the outskirts of Tianjun. His factory, which had produced ammonia nitrate and other fairly combustible chemicals during the last few decades, had been converted to produce ammunition, weapons-grade plutonium, and possibly even biochemical components.
    Where it was once the sole source of employment for this small town, now it was a fortress. It would prove to be a difficult