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military aircraft and drones. 
    Henry Glickstein was a self-proclaimed “maker” and telecommunications guru who had worked for several of the big-tech companies.  The entire time they spoke, he never stopped smiling or walking around the plane’s cabin inspecting every element.  He had designed data farms and overseen the layout of fiber optic networks for a living, and gave David the impression that he was a workaholic; an engineer who couldn’t stop trying to solve whatever problem lay in front of him.  He was a jokester, but a competent and driven one.  It was like his mind was moving so fast that he had to throw in a few one-liners every so often so he didn’t get bored.  
    They were each astonished to hear David’s story of being kidnapped.  Their invitations were markedly different.  As with Brooke, a single person in their chain of command had contacted the two men just 24 hours earlier.  They each had been sold on the importance of the mysterious project.  They each had been told not to discuss it with anyone, and to pack for several weeks.  
    They hadn’t understood why the secrecy was so important, but all of them had complied with the request.  David had been surprised that they all went so willingly, without knowing more. Each of the three had trusted the manager who had approached them.  And they felt a sense of duty to participate in what was deemed a crucial project.  The two men hadn’t known about the connection to a possible Chinese invasion. 
    David and Brooke told them.  They were floored.  Most of the plane ride was spent talking about different scenarios for why China would do something like this.  The more David thought about it, the more he realized how hard it was going to be for Americans to believe something like this could really happen.  Americans were comfortable.  Human beings were reactive, not proactive, when they were comfortable.  It was hard to get people to prepare for a hurricane if they hadn’t been hit in recent years.  And that’s exactly what this was: an approaching storm of monumental proportions.  A world war hadn’t happened in David’s lifetime.  Would people prepare for the storm?  Or would they watch the news reports from their couches in disbelief, waiting for a resolution?
    The briefs the flight attendant handed out gave them little new information.  They were to be consultants to the US government in a Red Cell.  According to the document, Red Cells were used by the CIA to “think outside the box about a full range of relevant analytic issues." Whatever that meant.   Each consultant was to provide the team with insights and critical knowledge from their individual area of expertise.  When the group finished reading, they had more questions than answers.   The second half of the flight once again was used for sleeping.
    When they landed, it was late afternoon at their destination.  David wondered how many time zones they had passed.  The door to the jet opened and revealed bright blue skies and an inrush of thick, tropical air. 
    The group’s tired eyes were wide as they looked around at their landing spot.  There was ocean everywhere.  It reminded David of one of those old World War Two island air bases built in the middle of the Pacific.  It was tiny, as islands go—or air bases, for that matter.  They could only see about half of the island before it curved around into the sea.  The runway looked like it barely fit, surrounded by dark black sandy beaches and turquoise waters on three sides.  On the other side of the runway was a set of four concrete structures that were separated from tropical rainforest by a tall barbed-wire fence.  The dense green vegetation rose higher and higher up along a towering, jungle-covered mountain.
    Today was arrival day for several groups of consultants.  Another jet taxied back out to the runway.  It looked identical to the aircraft they had come in on.  David watched that jet’s