Adam already knew how but had hoped the senior NCO didn’t. Dismayed, he tapped on the requisite keys, and the file appeared right where it had been all along. Reluctantly, he finished copying the remaining files to the USB flash drive.

“Don’t worry, Garett,” Gunny said. “Lance corporals don’t become gunnery sergeants overnight.”

Once the last file had been copied over, Adam removed the flash drive and handed it over to the lieutenant. “Here’s the data, sir.”

“Thanks, Lance Corporal.”

Adam felt his stomach twist into knots when the Navy pilot spun for the door. Narvaez went back to dogging Gunny for the way he typed, and Gunny went back to the endless paperwork the Marine Corps ran on. Adam stared at the incriminating file on his computer and wondered what Chen would do when she found out the aviator had whatever information it contained.

I have to tell her.

9

MV Yonggan De

Anchored off Long Beach, California

North of the Southern California Offshore Range, a ship sat at rest for the first time in twenty-two days, eight hours, and thirty-seven minutes. That was how long it had taken the Merchant Vessel Yonggan De to transit from Qingdao Port in China’s Shandong Province to the coast of California. Smaller compared to many of the larger New Panamax vessels sitting at anchor on either side of her, the Yonggan De still carried close to five thousand twenty-foot equivalent units’ worth of cargo bound for the American consumer.

As the largest exporter of consumer goods to the United States, China accounted for almost twenty percent, totaling over $430 billion. The Yonggan De had crossed the Pacific carrying electrical machinery, oilseeds and oleaginous fruits, mineral fuels, and medical instruments. But it was the cargo not listed on the manifest, the cargo stevedores wouldn’t offload, that was the real reason for her long passage across the ocean.

Twenty-two days, eight hours, and thirty-seven minutes, Xi Jian thought.

He zipped up the canvas duffel that sat at the foot of his bed, then turned to the stark metal desk built into the small stateroom’s bulkhead. The Toughbook laptop computer he had removed from the container sat open with a progress bar showing how much more data needed to be copied over to the memory card before he could throw the computer overboard. Then he could get off this godforsaken ship and back onto dry land where he belonged.

…99…100.

Without so much as a smile, Xi Jian removed the memory card and tucked it into the front pocket of his black jeans, knowing Mantis would want the information it contained. The jeans were slim fitting but had a stretch that made them ideal for navigating the crowded cargo deck. He wore a dark gray turtleneck underneath a hip-length black overcoat to help curb the damp ocean air. Scooping up the plain, black wool watch cap, he pulled it down over his head before closing the Toughbook and turning back to his bag.

He slung it over his shoulder and, with laptop in hand, left the stateroom that had felt like a prison cell. Twenty-two days, eight hours, and…

“The dinghy is almost here,” the voice said, startling him from his thoughts.

Xi Jian looked up into Wu Tian’s blank face. The slender chief mate was one of only three people on the Yonggan De who knew of his mission.

“Very well,” he replied. “And we are on schedule?”

Wu Tian nodded but still gestured to the ladder in a not-so-subtle hint he would feel better once Xi Jian had left the larger Panamax merchant vessel for the inflatable dinghy on its way to retrieve him.

“And the transponder?”

“Back on,” he replied. “Once the Navy ship turned back, we activated it to blend in with the rest of the commercial traffic.”

Xi Jian nodded. The mission had looked to be a success at first, but then it all went to shit. The jet hadn’t crashed into the guided-missile cruiser like it was supposed to, but thankfully, the memory card in his pocket contained the data Mantis would need to refine the waveforms. He had failed but knew it was the cost of doing business with an untested weapon.

At least I don’t have to make the transit back, he thought as he turned for the ladder leading up to the main deck. He heard the chief mate’s heavy boots on the treads behind him, but his thoughts were already on deep-sixing the Toughbook and making his way aft to the boarding ladder they had set up to prepare for his debarkation.

At the top of the stairs, he rotated a lever to open the watertight door, then stepped out onto the weather deck. He walked across the narrow walkway on the starboard side of the ship to the cream-colored and rusted steel railing and looked out over the edge into the darkness below. He could barely see the murky water, but he hoped it would be deep enough to do the job.

“It’ll do,” Wu Tian said, reading his thoughts.