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hi,” she added, changing the subject. Her voice lifted a little. “You want to talk to her?”
    â€œI thought you were at work.”
    â€œI am. We’re having a video call. You want to talk to her?”
    â€œSure.”
    Breanna punched some buttons, and Zen found himself on the line talking to his daughter.
    â€œWhy aren’t you in school?”
    â€œSuperintendent conference.”
    â€œWhat is that?”
    â€œDay off,” said Breanna.
    â€œCousin Julie is babysitting,” Teri told him. “I’m doing my homework.”
    She was having a little difficulty with triangles. They talked about them for a bit, then Breanna cut back in, muting their daughter.
    â€œI’m afraid I have to get going here,” she said. “Are you still heading for Rome?”
    â€œIn the morning. Why don’t you meet me there?”
    â€œOh yeah, right.”
    â€œCome on. You’re not doing anything.”
    â€œJeff.”
    Zen smiled. If he had a nickel for every time he had heard his name with that particular inflection, he would be a rich man.
    â€œAll right. See you next weekend, then,” he told his wife.
    â€œLove you.”
    â€œAnche Io.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œItalian for me, too. At least that’s what they tell me.”
    A n hour later Zen was midway through a dish of grilled baby octopus when he was approached by Du Zongchen, the Chinese UN advisor, who happened to be staying in the same hotel.
    â€œPull up a chair,” said Zen. He gestured to his aide. “Jason, flag down a waiter and get General Zongchen a seat, would you?”
    â€œOh, no, no, thank you, Senator. Thank you very much.”
    â€œHave a seat,” said Zen.
    â€œI can only stay for a minute. I am on my way to an appointment. Very formal.”
    Zen nodded at Jason, who pushed over his chair for Zongchen then went to get another.
    â€œAll of this business with the airplanes, I know you have heard of it,” he said to Zen. “What are your opinions?”
    â€œNo opinions.” Zen shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair. “I don’t have all the facts.”
    â€œVery wise.” Zongchen nodded. “I wonder, Senator—would you participate in an investigation?”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œMembers of the General Assembly want me to investigate this matter personally. There will be a resolution tomorrow.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œIt will require an international presence. You were the first I thought of.”
    â€œI don’t know.” Zen wasn’t sure how much Zongchen knew about what had happened—the news reports did not yet identify the aircraft as an American UAV, but there were certain to be rumors.
    â€œYou would bring integrity to the process,” said Zongchen. “And expertise.”
    â€œWhat if my government or its allies are involved?” Zen asked. “That might be embarrassing.”
    â€œI would have to assume that if the event occurred, then one or more allied planes is involved.” Zongchen nodded. “And I have heard many rumors that an American plane was the one there.”
    â€œI am fairly certain it was,” admitted Zen. He saw no reason to lie to Zongchen, or even hold back basic information that would soon be common knowledge.
    Zongchen bowed his head slightly, clearly appreciating his candor.
    â€œTo have a respected American aviator who is an expert, this would help the investigation a great deal,” said the Chinese general. “We would be most enlightened. And things would be done in a cooperative manner.”
    That was the Chinese way—investigations were cooperative, not antagonistic. But the world Zen operated in was much more the latter.
    â€œDo not answer now. Think about it, please.” Zongchen rose. “It would add a great deal of integrity to the process.”
    â€œWhat was that about?” asked Jason,