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nut to crack. That was why they had assembled this team.
    “Have we confirmed our flight plans?” Jake asked their pilot, Carlos Vienci, an Italian RIS—military intelligence—operative.
    “We have a green light, but Beijing wants to accompany us. They have a strike force ready to roll and escort us in.”
    Jake raised his eyebrows. The Senator would find this information interesting. It wasn’t exactly a firm denial, but it was at least evidence that maybe they would have an ally here after all, however implausible that might seem.
    “They know it is Tianjun, not Tianjin, right?”
    Carlos smiled.
    “Yes. They have a flight of twenty-man AS 532 Cougar transport helicopters ready to pick us up at Nanjing.”
    “Escort?”
    “Two WZ-10 attack helicopters alongside and a pair of J-11 fighters overhead.”
    “That will do,” Jake said.
    “Mr. Monday, we are attacking what essentially is a large Mafia stronghold.”
    “Don’t underestimate them,” Jake warned.
    “Yes sir.”
    “When can we expect our escort?”
    Carlos glanced at some instruments.
    “We are ten hours out, Mr. Monday.”
    No titles here. No ego. Just performance.
    As team leader, Jake was tasked with acquiring Fin Zhou. The other teams would provide distraction, infiltration, and assist with the exfiltration of the target.
    The “help” of the Chinese government would make their assignment both safer and more difficult. Jurisdiction and extradition were touch-and-go between agencies of the same nation, let alone tenuous allies. Getting Fin Zhou out of China might include a daring escape. Tougher to pull off with an escort.
    Jake focused on the job ahead, trying to put thoughts of failure at the back of his mind. To him, there was only the protection of his team, the capture of Zhou, and the safe return home to his family.
    The wound left by a dead president and a world torn apart by the feeling of impending doom had kept them busy for the past weeks. Now it was time for them to act.
    Although they were all from different places, they were connected by fear. Fear for loved ones, fear for their respective countries. What had transpired in Washington was just the beginning.
    Their response had to be precise, violent, and controlled. If his instincts were accurate, they needed to watch their backs.
    ∞
    Hours later, having met up with a cadre of nervous, reluctant Chinese military personnel, their helicopter veered off from the formation, coming up over the final rise at a blistering pace. Carlos seemed unnerved by their escort. The radio chatter had been polite but terse. Their Chinese friends were tagging along, but only providing air superiority. The aggressive, alien design of the WZ-10s was intimidating. The speed and precision of the J-11s a vivid reminder of whose airspace this was.
    Low clouds obscured their vision of the land below. They rose low over lonely mountain ranges. Occasionally, the clouds would part to reveal large expanses of fields dotted intermittently by paved roads and small villages.
    Jake adjusted the visor on his lightweight helmet. Checked his communication equipment. Tested his heads-up display on his orange-tinted visor. Everything worked flawlessly. He was connected to each member of his team through comms and a readout that gave him information on their heart rates, breaths per minute, and anaerobic threshold. He felt the thin disk at the top of his abdomen that relayed the information via Bluetooth technology. Their outfits were equipped with fabric electrodes that gathered the data.
    Everyone seemed calm and ready.
    The factory was just ahead. Jake swallowed hard. So much was riding on the success of this mission. He knew that his position as leader was mostly as figurehead. Each of his teammates knew precisely what their assignment entailed. He was determined to make this a quick infiltration with no casualties.
    “Target on approach. Prepare for landing,” Carlos intoned as he flicked switches and maneuvered