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50
“Are you ready for this?”
Zhang Ru nodded. “Though I never thought I’d travel somewhere that made our own leader appear benevolent.”
“Each is strict in his own ways,” Liú Zuocheng appeared philosophical as their Boeing 737-800 taxied toward the terminal at Rimba Air Force Base. This plane had been outfitted as a strategic command center as well as a VIP transport. They could start a war from here if they had to. And they could do it in luxury.
“We have free education and—”
“Don’t try to lecture me, Ru. After secondary school, our higher education scholarships are terribly limiting—soon to be nonexistent. And free medical is almost fully abolished because it is our economic growth that must rule all. Here in Brunei, both are free for life. Their Gross Domestic Product per capita is four times ours and they live longer than we do. Do your homework before you speak again.”
Ru did his best to show no outward sign, but he would not soon forget the insult.
Instead, he stared out the window.
One of those American carrier airplanes was pulling up at the same moment they were.
They and the Americans both deplaned at the same time. A small royal guard was awaiting them by the terminal, but on the tarmac there were only themselves and the two planes.
He recognized two of the three people who deplaned.
Their fancy crash investigator and her Chinese assistant. Their clothes were smeared with oils and dirt as if they’d come directly from the crash investigation. He didn’t know the third woman, though he liked her looks. She wore a military uniform that showed sharp packing creases. If it weren’t for Zuocheng’s presence, perhaps he’d have a chance to find out how she looked out of it. The first two had knapsacks and the third had a small roll-on suitcase—and a dog.
A fuel truck rolled up to the old American plane and began spooling out a hose.
He wondered how many hours they’d have to wait for Drake to come from DC. Would they have a hotel room waiting? And would any of those three women—well, not the strange investigator—be interested in waiting with him?
He was about to approach when a third plane arrived.
It was like nothing he’d ever seen…outside of a fewArtist Concepts.It looked as if its nose had been caught in the antique rollers of his grandmother’s washing machine mangle that had pressed it flat and long. It looked fast standing still, in a way that no jet in the PLAAF fleet ever did.
Gulfstream X-54B,he read on the side.
He’d never heard of the B variant. His latest report said that the A was still in development.Experience had taught him that could be years.
The door opened and Drake climbed out followed by a stunning blonde. She stood a as tall as he did with her pumps’ heels. The shimmer of her deep brown silk attire invited the eye to admire the woman. And there was a great deal to admire, from long legs to proud breasts a man could happily die in.
But even she couldn’t outshine the plane.
“Do we have anything like that?” Zuocheng asked softly.
“Not even on the drawing boards.” Though they damn well would once he returned to China. Gulfstream. A private company. It would be much more difficult to steal their plans than the military and government combined—there he could always buy the engineers he needed. Though none more useful than Su Bin. He had been most useful in stealing the plans to vastly accelerate the design of the new Xi’an Y-20 super transport. It was almost a pity when Ru had to throw him away and let the Americans lock him up.
The Gulfstream would be a very different challenge.
He stepped into the fray.
“Drake, old friend. I haven’t seen you since—”
“You blackmailed one of my staff sergeants so badly that he killed himself—after condemning you, I might add—anddid your best to murder an entire helicopter flight crew.”
He opened his mouth, but Drake offered the slightest tip of his head toward Liú Zuocheng. Without a word he made it clear that he would next reveal how Ru had thrown away a J-20 Mighty Dragon jet fighter, letting it fall into American hands. The way Ru had planned it, it should have worked. If it had, then Taiwan would already be folded into submission under Beijing’s control just as Hong Kong had been.
“Yes,” he managed through gritted teeth, “that seems about right.”
“I thought so.” Drake turned from him without shaking his hand as if he was a worm, and faced Zuocheng. “General Drake Nason at your service.”
“General Liú Zuocheng at yours. Who are the rest of your team?”
