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Rubeo, unsure exactly what to say, turned and left the room.
Approaching Chiang Kai-shek Airport, Taipei
13 September 1997
0600
“ARE YOU AWAKE?”
Da
“Yeah,” he said, pushing up in the seat.
“The pilot is asking everyone to put their seat belts on,” said the stewardess.
“Oh. Thanks.” Da
Jemma and Colonel Cortend—God, what a combination.
“It’s beautiful from the air, isn’t it?” said the woman next to him. Her name was Alice something-or-other, and she was a programmer for a computer firm who traveled a lot between LA and Asia.
No, she worked for a company that manufactured rubber boots. The programmer thing came from his dream.
“Yeah,” said Da
“Temperature’s only eighty degrees, Fahrenheit,” said Alice. “Humidity is supposed to be pretty low. I don’t remember the percentage.”
“That’s good.”
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Da
He’d spoken only briefly to the woman before falling asleep—the civilian flight had proven to be among the most comfortable he’d ever taken—and their conversation had hardly been intimate: he’d given his basic cover story, claiming that he was working for a banking company as a security consultant, and then spoke of New York City as if he lived there.
Which he did, since his wife had their apartment there.
Alice was a middle-aged businesswoman, nice enough, but not really attractive to Da
So why was he feeling guilty about Jemma?
Because he’d changed his mind about leaving the Air Force to run for Congress?
He had changed his mind, hadn’t he? Even though he hadn’t really thought about it.
The plane rocked slightly as it settled into its final approach. Da
“Thanks. Don’t forget, if you need a guide, give me a call,” said Alice.
“Right,” said Da
Da
And there was Liu, holding up his placard as if he were a driver.
“Mr. Freah?” asked Liu as Da
The sergeant was of Chinese extraction, but even Da
“This way,” said the sergeant, starting to the left.
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“Should have insisted he take your bag,” said someone behind him.
It was Stoner.
“Hey,” said Da
“If you guys are going to play spy, you got to work on the routine,” said Stoner, moving ahead briskly.
Stoner had an overnight bag under his arm, as if he were an arriving traveler. In fact, Liu and Stoner had come up from Brunei the night before on a leased airliner, bringing along some of Dreamland’s high-tech gear with them. They had landed at a military base, which allowed them to move their equipment in without much notice. Still, as a security precaution Liu had brought along only a few essential items, including a short-range communications unit that could upload surveillance information to Dreamland.
Da
The muggy outside air felt as if they’d stepped into a shower room, even though it was balmy by local standards. He followed as Liu and Stoner turned left, continuing past both the taxis and the rentals. A small blue Toyota darted through the lot and headed toward them as Liu stepped off the curb; Da
It was just their driver pulling up. Stoner smirked and got into the front seat; Da
“Jack is from the American-Asian Business Coalition,” Stoner told them. “That’s where he learned to drive.”
The driver, who looked no more than fourteen, turned and gri
“We have a few places to check out,” Stoner said. “I’d like to get started right away.”
“Fine with me,” said Da
“Satellite transmitter is in the trunk,” said Liu. “We ran a diagnostic on the way over. Sat phone co
“Good,” said Da
“Colonel Bastian is working on getting a Megafortress up here as part of the ASEAN exercises,” added Liu. “They want to keep the cover story intact, so he sent us ahead while he worked on it.”
“That’s fine,” said Da
Da
meters. The information from these views would be analyzed by specialists back at Dream Command, who could use them to draw a diagram of a building’s interior and what was going on inside. But the device’s sensor plane had to be kept cool for it to work properly; he slid it into a bag that looked like a collapsible lunch bag and twisted a plastic container at the bottom that released liquid nitrogen into the cooling cells.