9781478785873

PATRICK DELANEY

The other man was unhurried. He jotted something down, click-
ing his pen several times afterward while contemplating his notes.

“We have, Doctor Jenson. Now tell me about Ms. Bharat, please.”
“Never saw her before yesterday. She was here at the convention
and introduced herself.”
“But you had dinner with her?”
“Yes. She is very pretty. But how do you know that?”
“We have pictures.”
The officer smiled thinly through his yellow teeth. Another ques-
tion fired at him.
“And you invited her with you today?”
Dr. Jenson felt the blood drain from his face. He tried to hide it by
answering harshly.This was beginning to feel like a setup.
“No. No, I didn’t.AskTan Sri’s driver. I was picked up at my hotel,
and she jumped in uninvited at the last minute.And who took pictures
of me at dinner?”
The older man ignored his question. Jenson didn’t like hanging
Manisha out to dry like that, but she hadn’t exactly been up front
with him. And she was the only one who had not been expressly in-
vited to the school. But he wasn’t going to tell them that. Her involve-
ment made little sense, Jenson reflected as he sat waiting. If she were
part of the heist, why hadn’t she escaped down the stairwell with her
accomplices?
“You were in the United States Marine Corps, Dr. Jenson?”
“Yes.”
“Are you working for the United States government now?”
He’d had enough. He leaned forward in his chair, towering over
the Malay. The uniformed officer at the door took a half step toward
them.
“I’m a trauma surgeon, dammit. Don’t you bother to talk to your
other officers?You’re wasting my time.”
It didn’t end there. But after a couple of questions and a few more

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pen clicks, Black Suit seemed to lose interest. Perhaps questioning
Manisha Bharat was more entertaining.

The convention had shut down hours earlier, with the masses al-
lowed to depart only after screening by officials.The police must have
eventually seen things the same way as Jenson, because they released
Manisha Bharat at the same time as he.The last two witnesses. A soli-
tary teksi lingered at the cab stand, and at this time of evening there
wouldn’t be more. It seemed pointless not to share it.

The haze overhead took on the darker hue that heralded rain.
Jenson and Manisha entered the teksi from opposite sides. It was
stuffy and hot from sitting idle. The Chinese cab driver didn’t un-
derstand the hotel address. Jenson showed him the directions on
his smartphone and sat back. The seatbacks were a thread-worn,
grimy fabric that hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Cold air
began to leak noisily from somewhere in front as the car wound
down the hill from the complex. Neither passenger spoke for sev-
eral minutes.

“What’s this all about?” Dr. Jenson asked her finally.
She sat stiffly near the other door, but now turned her face to-
ward him. The darkly beautiful eyes looked tired from the withering
interrogation.
“I don’t know any more about this than you do.”
He took a chance. “Then why did you have me followed?”
She hesitated. Her steady eyes probed his.
“I’m sorry about that.The magazine set me up with some protec-
tion.You know, ISIS, terrorists and all that.”
A peal of lightning flashed out in the distance. He kept his eyes
locked on hers.
“Do I look like a terrorist, Mani?”
She exhaled and looked away.
“No. Look, I’m sorry. I did my homework on the school and all
the money that was being poured into it. It raised a lot more questions

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PATRICK DELANEY

than the medical summit. But I needed access. I spotted your name on
a list of speakers.”

“Okay.”
He lapsed into silence for a moment.The cab slowed as it ran into
the dense downtown traffic. Another fork of lightning illuminated
the sky in front of them, but still no rain.They inched forward.Their
driver rummaged through a plastic bag before tossing down a handful
of food.
“But then why follow me last night?You already had access.”
“That was my editor’s idea. When I told him about APSARA, the
printer, and all the other stuff, he wanted to check you out a little
more thoroughly.”
He’d watched more than a few interrogations in the military, and
her answer was a little too slow in coming. The cab turned a corner
and rolled into the sweeping entrance to the Cathay Premier.
“Well, good luck with your story.”
Scattered drops of rain streaked the windows, and then in a flur-
ry began drumming on the roof and hood. He opened the door and
stepped out. He didn’t blink as the hot rain began to wet his face. No
sense looking back.

Jack met him in the plush lobby, and they headed up to the room.
He’d seen Manisha drive off in the cab.

“Where’s the date going?”
Matt returned a look that would have withered most.
“Let’s just say it got complicated way too quick.”
Jack looked down at his feet.
“Does this mean you’re free for the bike ride tomorrow?”
He chuckled involuntarily.
“Absolutely. And how about a swim before dinner? I need to work
out those kinks.”
“Amen, brother.”

S 48 S

Chapter Twelve

T he headlights pierced thick tendrils of smoke that hovered
in the darkness above the asphalt. Like a fog, the smoke en-
shrouded the limousine as it sped away from the city. The two im-
peccably dressed men in the back spoke in Bahasa. The older man
carefully removed his wire frame glasses, then repeated himself for
emphasis.

“Dato, you will go with them to the delivery.”
The younger man growled in deferential frustration.
“Why? I know how these things work. I am not a bagman.”
“This enterprise will be remembered as a key turning point in the
war against the Infidel. Against the west. It will establish your bona
fides beyond all question.”
“For stealing printer parts?”
The engine sound deepened as the limousine began climbing into
the mountains north of Kuala Lumpur, toward Genting Highlands.An
iron coolness replaced the paternalism in the older man’s voice.
“It’s not about the printer.That is merely to sweeten the deal. It is
the computer program.”
He paused, suppressing the impatience that had welled up. His
young lieutenant had once obeyed commands without question.
“Think,” he said. “What is the single biggest advantage that the

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Americans have? Bombs? We have bombs. Satellites? We have satel-
lites.What is it?”

The younger man scratched self-consciously at his temple. These
days no one dared question him. Except Tan Sri. The answer slowly
came to him in the darkness.

“It is their command and control system. They somehow moni-
tor and track everything. Social media. Business trends. Productivity.
Even delivery times. Just within the past few months, several of our
operations have been disrupted.We must find a way to elude its vision.
Our operatives are reluctant to even communicate.And we don’t even
know the name of the system.”

The other man smugly drummed his well-manicured fingers on the
plush armrest. He preferred his Rolls-Royce inWashington to this Bentley.

“So I am told. It is called Virtual Certainty.”
The younger man glowered but listened.This was new intelligence.
“How do you know this?We need a way to get at it.”
“Precisely why I have summoned you, my friend. When a system
this sophisticated shows up, the essential features have been tested
somewhere else first.”
The eyes in the bearded face widened. “You have knowledge of
this, too?”
Pearl white teeth glistened as a smile came to the thin lips. He
thoughtfully stroked the goatee covering his chin and savored the
moment.
“Indeed. The designer is a genius of artificial intelligence, Dr.
Deepak Gupta.You might be interested to know that in the years prior
to selling Virtual Certainty to the Pentagon, he had first developed a
virtual hospital to train physicians.”
“Ah.” The younger man smiled. “So perhaps the seeds of Virtual
Certainty can be gleaned from this other program?”
“Yes. The very program your operatives stole from the national
medical school today. Have you done as I asked?”

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“The materials have been deposited on the specific cargo ship you
requested. Malacca Queen. But she doesn’t leave port until tomorrow.
There are other ships that leave tonight.Why wait?”

“Because the timing has been precisely arranged with other par-
ties.And the ship cannot leave port without the remaining piece of the
package.The one your team failed to collect earlier today.”

“It was a split-second decision.There was too much risk.To you.”
The words were deliberate and hard. The older man’s demeanor
softened.
“I agree, and appreciate the discretion. But nevertheless, securing
the creator of the program is essential to unlocking Virtual Certainty.
This opportunity will not present itself again, Dato.”
The younger man nodded. A cold, humorless smile played on his
lips.
“It is being carried out even as we speak. In fact, you should head
into the casino for an alibi. Let all those cameras see your face.”
The limousine was nearing the Highlands, where another car
awaited the lieutenant.The older man smiled.
The bright lights of a casino came into view a short distance ahead.
On cue, car headlights flashed twice from a side road. The limousine
slowed and disgorged the passenger. The glass panel separating the
front compartment slid smoothly open.
“Protégé or not, he’s going to double-cross you, and soon, sir.Why
don’t you let me kill him for you?”
The dapper gentleman in the back smiled broadly. He enjoyed
both his bodyguard’s British accent and blunt assessment.
“You are most certainly right,” he said. “But let us make the most
use of him first.”
The limousine pulled up to the discreet VIP entrance around the
side of the casino.The mountaintop complex stood above all the smoke
that choked the city below them. Here the night air was fresh with the
smell of nearby pines.The big bodyguard got out first and opened the

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PATRICK DELANEY

door for his employer. The billionaire stepped out and took a deep,
cleansing breath of the cool mountain air. He straightened his suit and
sauntered into the cacophony. He avoided the main salons, awash in
the acrid smell of tobacco. He strode past the nearer rows of gam-
blers intent on their games, and into the depths of the building.A bank
of machines obscured a young woman in dark glasses who lingered
inconspicuously. Robust young guards wearing suits and ties recog-
nized him on sight, opening doors through which only the select were
admitted. Here the air was fresher and the rooms brighter. Hansen
stopped and sat down in his usual place in the empty anteroom. Tan
Sri Datta continued in to a tranquil, lavishly appointed private library.
He padded across the thick carpet toward a window that looked south
toward Kuala Lumpur. A red glow illuminated the haze that blended
into the darkness.

Another door opened quietly and a Chinese man with white hair
entered. He was slightly older than Datta and yet vigorous, with an
erect, military posture that belied the soft, deferential manner. He
gestured his visitor into a high-backed chair and then sat down oppo-
site him. An attendant discreetly poured their tea and departed.

Tan Sri Datta sipped from the delicate porcelain cup and waited.
Mint, his favorite.The other man mirrored his movements before set-
ting his own cup back on its saucer.

“It’s been some time since you last joined us,” the older man began.
“Yes. I thought it best. For appearances.”
“Of course.”
Datta took another sip from his cup and placed it on the table.
“It seems that all is on schedule for our arrangement.”
The Chinese man smiled.
“That is good news. We noticed your rendezvous with Dato
Hussein on your ride up.”
Tan Sri Datta nodded.They didn’t miss a trick.
“Yes. I want him to accompany the package to its delivery.”

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The other man’s eyebrows raised.
“Certainly. Certainly. He is an ambitious young man.”
He paused and sipped again at his tea.
“And when my associates collect the package, what shall be his
reward for this service?”
“Kill him.”
The older man smiled and nodded.
“Fine. Fine.”

S 53 S

Chapter Thirteen

T he teenager working at the gas station found him the next morn-
ing. His wallet was gone, but in the rush to leave the scene, the
killer had overlooked the ID card for FreeTime Fitness in the victim’s
shirt pocket. The D.C. police got around to checking with Sammy’s
employer by noon.

Dr. Charles Stanley stood silently in the anteroom of Dr. Gupta’s
Georgetown office.Agents were going through the labs with a fine-toothed
comb for clues. And not just Sammy’s work area. Dr. Stanley needed to
know if this was an unfortunate coincidence, or something more ominous.
He paced into the inner office and watched experts examine the room. If
this was part of a bigger plot, then someone wasn’t expecting Dr. Gupta
to return. His thoughts went directly to the billionaire, Rasheed Datta.

“Dr. Stanley?”
He stepped over to the desk where a heavy-set, graying man in a
shirt and tie sat. Gloved hands showed him a book, Tales of the Marvelous.
The man opened it, exposing a small hollow cut into the middle pages.
Dr. Stanley leaned over the desk to inspect it.
“Too small for money, or even a key.”
The agent grunted in agreement.
“Yeah. More like a computer chip.Would’ve been microfilm in the
old days.”

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Oh shit. Who else knew about this? Did Sammy Mahmud? Dr.
Stanley fished the encrypted cell phone from his coat pocket and hit
Dr. Gupta’s number. No answer. He hesitated.An asset could approach
the scientist, but cover would be blown. He should probably let her
know. And of course, the other interested parties.

S 55 S

Chapter Fourteen

H e probably shouldn’t have had the third glass of wine, but his
nerves were still frayed from the break-in earlier. Usually some
solitary work at the computer calmed him down, but not this time. A
couple of hours trying to patch up APSARA at the school had ended
when Dean Ramineni dragged him to a late dinner. The Chinese res-
taurant on the second floor of the Central Market was his favorite.
He’d washed down some delicious duck with a fine French wine. He
and the dean stopped in the small lobby afterward to admire a painting
by a well-known Penang artist.Then they went their separate ways. A
quick glance over the rail revealed a mass of tourists milling through
the shops and stalls below the restaurant. Made him feel a little woozy,
too. He gripped the rail as he descended the wooden stairs to the
first floor and then waded into the late night crowd. Outside in the
darkness, the noise and lights from the swirl of traffic blurred with
the sea of humanity to disorient him. The teksi stand was near the
train station somewhere across the street to the left. He worked his
way toward it, but found himself on a side street that reeked of fish.
It had rained, and he sloshed through water that had pooled at the
curb.A young Malaysian couple brushed past him on their way toward
the market. He stopped momentarily to peer through the bright red
wooden fence of a Chinese temple unceremoniously situated between

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two dilapidated office buildings. If only he could close his eyes for a
moment. He felt flushed and a little confused. His hotel was only one
stop down on the LRT, so he decided to press on toward the station.
The streets twisted this way and that. After a few minutes he knew
he was lost. And it was getting rather late. A cab slowed at the inter-
section ahead of him. He lurched into the street to hail it before the
light changed. He fumbled unsuccessfully with the door handle. A tall
Indian man with broad shoulders and wearing a white shirt stepped
out and helped him. He slid into the backseat. Nausea welled up and
he wanted desperately to sleep. He focused his eyes on the driver’s
identification card on the dash, but it swam to and fro. “Abhi.”

His friend Rasheed Datta had insisted that he stay at the Meridian,
the five-star hotel to which the teksi delivered him. As they rolled
into the entrance, the cab was directed to the far end of the drive.The
driver pulled up behind a black Range Rover and stopped. The door
was opened and Dr. Gupta stepped out. Someone handed the driver
a hundred-ringgit note but spoke roughly and gestured him on. The
cab pulled off into the night. Dr. Gupta didn’t want to vomit out here.
He turned toward the lobby, but his path was blocked by a heavy-set
Malaysian sporting a batik shirt and sunglasses.The scientist was herd-
ed toward the black Range Rover and shoved in before any protest
came to his parched lips. Moist gauze was pressed over his mouth and
nose, and everything faded away.

S 57 S

Chapter Fifteen

D r. Jenson awoke to the ringing room phone. Had to switch on
the light to find it.The police were in the lobby with some ques-
tions. A man was already outside his door to escort him. And then
probably to go through the room, he thought. Jack’s bed was empty,
with a note on the pillow. His friend Abhi had been in an accident,
and he’d gone to the emergency room over at Hospital Kuala Lumpur.
Back soon.

Blue shirt and a badge.The muscular-looking young man escorted
him to the lift and punched the button, but didn’t follow him in.Yup,
staying to search the room. Matt Jenson checked his watch as the el-
evator sped down to the ground floor without stopping.What did they
want from him at 0200 hours? He stepped out into the plush lobby.
Several blue-shirted police officers with SG552 assault rifles hovered
conspicuously at the main entrance as well as the side doors. Beyond
them, he could see the grand entrance to the Cathay Premier clogged
with police vehicles. Officials in black suits and ties swarmed him. He
rubbed his eyes. All the markings of an elite police anti-terrorism task
force.

“Selamat pagi.”
“Good morning, Dr. Jenson. We would like to ask you a few
questions.”

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“More? I’m pretty sure I told you guys everything this afternoon.”
The officer was smaller but looked fit beneath a dark sport coat.
Alert eyes studied him coolly. He gestured Dr. Jenson to a seat away
from the rest of the crowd.Two uniformed officers with rifles trailed
them.
“Dr. Jenson, around midnight, Dr. Deepak Gupta was forced into
a car at gunpoint just outside his hotel.Witnesses saw the car, but not
much else.We are hoping you might have some insight.”
He didn’t respond, giving himself a chance to absorb the informa-
tion.The break-in at the school followed by this seemed a little more
than coincidence. But they could draw their own conclusions. He told
the officer everything he could. In the short time they’d worked to-
gether, he’d taken a liking to Deepak Gupta. Didn’t know what to
make of the others.When the questions were done, he walked across
the empty street to an all-night coffee shop to think. Maybe head off
Jack before he walked into the hornets’ nest.
Outside it was steamy under the yellow glare of the street lights,
despite the hour. He took a seat facing the hotel, away from the still
brilliant façade of the massive PetronasTowers to his left, and the scar-
let lighting of the KL Tower to his right. He sipped at the very hot
coffee. Across the way he could just make out the police question-
ing someone in the lobby. Confident body language. Female. Manisha
Bharat. Must have brought her from her hotel. She looked calm and
collected. Like during the robbery at the school. No doubt they were
questioning her again about how she had come to be at the school in
the first place. He watched as she brushed her long black hair over her
shoulder and smiled at them as she spoke. Beautiful, he thought. And
so practiced.
Half an hour later the police left en masse as abruptly as they had
arrived. Dr. Jenson finished his coffee and headed back across the
street. Maybe he could still get a couple hours’ sleep before the bike
ride, if that was even still on. At the edge of the hotel, he hesitated

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PATRICK DELANEY

in the shadows. A car rolled quietly past him and up to the hotel en-
trance. He couldn’t see the driver, but there was no mistaking the
athletic stride and soft curves of Manisha Bharat as she appeared at
the hotel entrance and stepped quickly into the gray Proton sedan. It
eased away from the entrance and out into the darkness.

Maybe it was just an Uber taking her back to her hotel, but instinct
made him act. He was only a few feet from the queue of red and blue
hotel taxis. He plunged into the backseat of the lead cab.The curious
eyes of the young Indian driver questioned him from the rearview
mirror.

“Follow that car, will you? The gray Proton. A hundred ringgits
extra if you can do it without them spotting you.”

The eyes flashed in immediate acceptance as the cab darted out
into the street.

It was a long, quiet ride south on the Jalan Raya. Even at this hour
there was congestion at the two main toll gates heading out of town. It
helped them keep pace with their quarry. His young driver was good,
and keen to collect the extra ringgits. Jenson wished he knew the ge-
ography better. The route south could be headed out to the school,
or perhaps the international airport beyond. After thirty minutes the
pursuit took a different tack. Both his guesses were wrong.

The serene waters of an enormous artificial lake sparkled below
them as the cab rolled across a spacious but empty bridge.The reflec-
tion of the national mosque loomed up, its pink façade elegantly high-
lighted by exterior lighting. Even during the peak of midday business,
the streets around the modern federal buildings of Putrajaya could
feel empty.At this hour, it was a modern ghost town.The government
offices were, of course, all closed. Built for the future, the construc-
tion of the outer rings of residential areas was only just under way.
The construction gave way to well-lit avenues lined with multi-story
architectural gems, each for one of the federal departments.

The long, wide streets did allow ample opportunity to watch the

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boxy Proton from a distance.The cabby slowed and then dimmed his
lights. Must have learned it from old spy movies. The Proton turned
into the vacant parking lot of the new International Commerce
Building near the yet to be built Embassy Row. Jenson watched as their
quarry’s headlights switched off.The car disappeared around the side
of the building. He had the young driver pull into a remote edge of the
parking lot, and paid him off.Who knew if he’d return, and doubtless
the police kept tabs on the cars entering the area at this hour.

Jenson sprinted to the side of the building, hugging the shadows.
Two dark silhouettes lingered at an empty freight dock.A door swung
quietly open and closed. No more silhouettes. His years in marine
recon spurred him on, but he fought it back. He had no business fol-
lowing them, other than the kidnapping. And the slow-burning need
to know whose side Mani played for. He moved quietly forward.

The outside door was closed but not locked.Well, somebody was
in the trade.They’d opened a very secure door without setting off any
alarms, and then snaked up a back stairwell unobserved. Except by
him. A soft scrape from the metal stairs several floors above. Then a
glint of light flickered from an open door three landings up. He hur-
ried up the stairs.

The door handle gave way silently to gentle pressure and he eased
the third-floor door open. He paused, peering back down into the
stairwell. No sound or movement. But his gut warned him that some-
one was there. He remained frozen for a full minute. Nothing. He
edged inside. Framed artwork on immaculate walls, potted plants,
and even a statue graced the opulent hallway. Manisha and Hard Shoes
were at the far end, intent on unlocking an office door. Jenson slipped
in behind the marble bust of a smiling prime minister and held up.
Instinctively he began to slow his breathing.

Four men shattered the silence as they burst from the room across
from Hard Shoes. He spun from his work on the door lock only to
catch the butt of a Glock in his face. A gurgled moan escaped as his

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PATRICK DELANEY

hands came to his face. He smashed back against the door, landing in
a stunned half crouch. Manisha lunged further down the hallway. An
arm yanked her by the collar back into the fray.

No uniforms. No alarms had sounded. Nothing to tell the good
guys from the bad. Jenson bet on Mani.The four attackers were mo-
mentarily turned away from him as they corralled Mani and her com-
panion at the far end of the hallway. His adrenaline surged as he broke
from behind the prime minister.

Combat reflexes took over. Violence of action and kinetics were
Jenson’s best card in the narrow confines.The closest of the four took
a blow at the base of his neck that carried all of Jenson’s momentum
behind it. The paralysis would last at least a few minutes. He plowed
shoulder first into the next man before the Glock 26 could come up. He
drove him forcefully into the other two attackers. Jenson righted himself
as the others struggled to regain their footing. His momentum spent, a
kick caught the closest man flush in the face, sending him to the floor in a
heap. But the other two were now both up and ready. He closed the dis-
tance with a combination kick and punch at the easier target. Exposed,
he braced for a blow. It never came. He caught a sudden movement from
the corner of his eye. Mani kicked the man’s knee in mid-step, and then
shattered his nose with a palm strike. It was over that fast.

Hard Shoe’s face was a bloody mess, but he did manage to get
to his feet under his own power. Mani disappeared into the office as
Jenson secured their assailants. She was searching the desktop com-
puter when Jenson entered.

“We need to get the hell out of here, Mani.”
She tilted her face up to him as she continued scrolling.
“Almost there.Thanks for saving our necks just now.”
“What the heck are you doing here? And Mani, tell me that you’re
on the right side of whatever this is.”
She stopped searching and her eyes came magnetically to his. An
unspoken understanding passed between them. She smiled.

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ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Yup, we’re the good guys. But details later.”
She yanked a thumb drive from the computer and came around
the desk. She patted his cheek with a soft hand that lingered.
“You were right.That was some bad-ass medical school you went
to.”
Jenson led the way back downstairs, now armed with a borrowed
Glock 21 from one of Datta’s security men.The .45 caliber pistol felt
good in his hands. He cracked the lower exit door and peered outside.
A glint of metal from along the edge of the building. He belly-crawled
down the few steps to the asphalt, and only turned around when he
had the cement stairs between himself and whatever had glinted.
Another Proton sedan, with the lights out and engine off. He
backed away and worked his way toward the car from behind a trash
can. It was painstakingly slow, and he was out of practice. He ap-
proached in their blind spot, Glock up and ready to fire. He needn’t
have worried.
Someone had very professionally capped both occupants. They
wore suits and looked Asian, which didn’t help much. Neither had
drawn his firearm. Mani and Hard Shoes darted past, eying the car-
nage. Their expressions were quizzical, but neither broke stride.
Jenson took one more look. He carefully lifted the driver’s lapel.The
dead man’s pistol looked like a knockoff Makarov. Probably Chinese
type 59s. He owed someone his thanks.

S 63 S

Chapter Sixteen

L oudspeakers from the national mosque began the morning call
to prayers as the Proton blew past. A hint of light peeked above
the eastern horizon. Dawn was coming. Mani’s bloodied associate was
named Johnny, and despite the beating he insisted on driving.The first
couple of miles were a headlong dash into the darkness without lights.
They flipped them back on before careening onto the main highway. In
the grayness the Proton blended with many others in the early morn-
ing airport traffic on the Lebuhraya, the eight-lane main artery that
led to KLIA. Soon they veered off, heading northwest, up toward the
coast. An hour’s drive reassured them that there was no pursuit.They
pulled off for ice for Johnny’s swollen face. And coffee.

They all needed a break. Johnny sat with the driver’s door open,
a hefty bag of ice balanced on his upturned face. The sleep-deprived
attendant pumped the petrol without asking any questions. Mani and
Jenson strolled away from the car toward the edge of the paved lot.
The green vegetation of what had once been jungle was littered with
auto parts and trash. Jenson’s adrenaline surge had worn off an hour
back, and the fatigue of the long night wore on him.

“So what the hell’s going on, Mani?”
For a moment her eyes searched his face in silence. He buried his
feelings deeper.

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“Look, I don’t know how you found us last night, but I want to
thank you for the chance you took.”

She paused, looking for a response that didn’t come.
“Matt, time is short, so I’m going to break the rules here and just
level with you. Johnny and I are trying to find Dr. Gupta before he
disappears off the radar screen.”
“What’s it to you?”
“APSARA is not the only program Dr. Gupta ever wrote. Who
would get all cloak and dagger about medical school stuff, right?”
She looked around to make sure they were alone.
“Dr. Gupta’s innovations led to his real masterpiece. Virtual
Certainty.”
“Which is what?”
“It’s the master command and control program for the U.S. mili-
tary. It mines every bit of information out there, from social media
to commodities reports to air traffic control delays, and incorporates
them into military planning. It’s been devastatingly effective.”
Dr. Gupta’s odd phrasing after the robbery came back to him.
Jenson rubbed his face with his hand. He needed a shave. And more
coffee. Slowly the pieces were beginning to come together.
“So someone wants APSARA and Deepak to figure out howVirtual
Certainty ticks.”
“Bingo.”
Fatigue fueled his incredulity.
“So who the hell let APSARA be released? And worse yet, let Dr.
Gupta come out here into the open?”
Mani’s jaw tightened.
“It turns out that he and Rasheed Datta are old friends. Datta un-
derwrote the costs for developing APSARA, and got his old friend to
sell it to the national med school as a goodwill gesture between our
country and Malaysia. Deepak could come out under the protection of
Datta long enough to get the thing up and running.”

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PATRICK DELANEY

Jenson let out a long, low whistle.
“I can only imagine what some of our nation’s enemies would pay
for an inside track on Virtual Certainty.”
Mani shivered involuntarily. The cool morning air had dipped to
the high seventies.
“Trouble is, the ASEAN medical summit was an open door for
every interested party out there to come in and make a play. Could’ve
been anyone that engineered the break-in, and now the kidnapping.”
“Are you Company?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I had you checked out, Matt.You were high-end tactical in Force
Recon.That business in the Empty Quarter was impressive.”
“So much so that you used me to get into the medical school.”
She looked down at her feet and swallowed.
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you then. But for what it’s
worth, I trust you, Matt.There’s also no reason for you to be involved
any further than you already are.”
A wry smile came to his lips.
“Is that what you’d like? For me to stay out of it?”
She nearly spilled her coffee.
“God, no. I could really use your help. And…I like working with
you.”
The tension broke, at least from his perspective.
“Okay. I just didn’t like being played. Virtual Certainty is a good
reason to see this thing through.”
She reached out and put her free hand on his. Her touch was soft.
And electric.
“Thanks, Matt. I won’t keep anything from you.”
Jenson turned at approaching footsteps. Johnny meandered slowly
toward them, a bag of ice obscuring his face. He was a bit shorter than
Jenson, and his dark hair and features could easily pass for Malaysian.
“So what’s the plan, Mani?”

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“I was just bringing Matt here up to speed. Matt, Datta was letting
Deepak work out of one of his offices in Putrajaya.That’s the place we
hit last night, looking for anything that might help. In the meantime,
we’ve gotten lucky. Our friends at the NSA believe Deepak will be
smuggled out of the country from the Port of Klang sometime in the
next few hours. It’s not much time, but a small team of operators will
meet us and help with any wet work.”

Johnny chimed in. “It’ll be hard not to stand out around the Port.
It’s really a container port, with a postage stamp of a town.”

Mani sipped at the hot coffee and continued.
“Datta’s empire owns all kinds of enterprises that use the port, in-
cluding some of the shipping.The big boys in Langley are trying to nar-
row down the possibilities for us. In the meantime, we’ve got to cover
sixty or seventy klicks before commuter traffic clogs all the roads.”
They turned back and trudged toward the car, Johnny ahead of the
other two. Jenson felt Mani’s arm slip through his own. She pressed
close to him, and their eyes met.

S 67 S

Chapter Seventeen

J ohnny’s description of the port was apt. The Jalan Raya had dwin-
dled to two asphalt lanes lined by a few roadside businesses and
empty lots. Beyond were endless rows of palm oil trees that faded
somewhere in the distance into low-lying hills and undeveloped jun-
gle. Jenson decided to break the fatigued silence.

“Either of you know the dead guys outside the building last night?”
Johnny made no response. His head and eyes remained straight
ahead. Manisha turned from gazing out the window.
“No idea. Probably not Datta’s men, since they didn’t come up for
the ambush.”
Jenson couldn’t read her face.
“His security had Glocks.The stiffs in the car were packing Chinese
Fifty-Nines.”
“Maybe they just followed us. Chinese intelligence is all over this
place,” she said. “It does suggest that Datta and the Chinese aren’t
working together.”
Jenson nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, although they were killed awfully neatly.”
Mani’s cell phone rang as the Proton rolled into the port town. A
Boston accent directed them out into a dirt holding area for shipping
containers. Once they hit the containers, the Proton slowed to a near

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crawl.The advance of daylight didn’t help much in the tight confines.
Another phone call. Someone had eyes on them, and directed them
through a twisting maze of turns. Jenson peered out the windows.
Had to be from the crane. Sure hope these are the good guys, he thought.
He laid the Glock 21 on the seat next to him.The accent had seemed
vaguely familiar.The car inched through a hairpin turn between con-
tainers. Suddenly weapons were at the car windows, waving them into
a container that opened before them. Johnny rolled the Proton in and
killed the engine. Inside it was pitch black. They squeezed out of the
car and out into the gray light of morning. M4A1s herded them into
another container, the metal door clanging shut behind them. All ex-
cept Manisha Bharat. Jenson could hear her still outside, talking to the
other men.

The momentary image of a big man sporting a well-used M4A1
lingered on Jenson’s retina as the door swung open and then closed
again. Clean cut, with broad, smooth features and deep brown eyes.
And big as a house. But all was darkness now.A bare lightbulb came on
at the far end of the space.

“How ya been,Turtle? Thought you were just a civvy now.”
The wheels spun slowly in Jenson’s head. The voice was familiar.
His eyes began to adjust.
“Is that you, Eyeball?Thought you’d be retired.What are you now,
a general?”
“Hah. Asshole. Just a captain. Like you were.”
The slow Bayou drawl came from a tall, lean man with light brown
eyes and a thick handlebar moustache. Sweat gleamed on his bald scalp.
A grin flickered and disappeared on the stern visage.
“Some spook callin’ himself ‘Mister A’ is out there, too. Is he
yours?”
Jenson glanced over at Mani. No hint of recognition.
She started to speak, then halted. She swallowed and looked hesi-
tantly around the cramped space.

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PATRICK DELANEY

“He’s not with me.”
Eyeball raised his eyebrows.
“Huh.Well, he’s been callin’ in a sitrep on your group for most of
the last few hours.”
No shit. Who wasn’t tailing them? Jenson didn’t like being one-
upped by anyone.
“Well, that explains one thing. Last night someone took out two
Chinese agents who had us staked out.”
Eyeball glanced over at Johnny and gestured with his rifle barrel.
“And who’s he?”
Johnny was leaning against the wall of the unit, his free hand prob-
ing the bruise on his face.
“Johnny’s with me,” Mani said. “Local help.”
Eyeball kept his eyes trained on Johnny.
“Jimenez, would you escort Johnny to a waiting area while we sort
this out?”
Johnny turned to Manisha Bharat in silent appeal. She shot him a
look that sent him ambling slowly out into the sunlight. The big ma-
rine guarding the door went with him. The door closed again. Mani
waited several more seconds before speaking.
“Okay. Johnny is local and reliable, but his part in this is over any-
way. We have full NSA and DIA intel backup. Just all too quick for
more hard assets.”
Eyeball exchanged a look with Jenson.
“Mr. A said he’d seen Johnny with a known Chinese agent. The
team will make sure he stays out of the way.”
“Where’d you pick him up, Mani?”
Her answer was immediate.
“Knew him from a prior op. And time was short. I don’t think he
learned anything too damaging.”
The small room fell silent.The heat inside the cargo container was
suffocating.The big marine returned, cracking the door open for some

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much-needed air. Jenson turned back toward Manisha Bharat. He was
less sure of her than ever. But it was still her game.

“Well, you’ve got yourself a crackerjack team, Mani. CaptainAlton
‘Eyeball’ Lefleur here was born with a hunting rifle in his hands. He’s
your team commander, but back in the day he was one helluva sniper.”

“Still am.”
Jenson jerked his head over his shoulder at the big man with the
M4A1.
“Who’s the rest of the team, Eyeball?”
“That’s Rick ‘Wild Cat’ Jimenez Jr. Former running back for the
Texas Longhorns and present marine extraordinaire.Wild Cat, this is
Captain Matthew ‘Turtle’ Jenson.”
“No shit! I’ve been hearing Turtle stories for the last six months.
It’s an honor, sir.”
Mani looked amused.
“What’s this about a turtle?”
Eyeball snickered.
“The nickname? Captain Jenson was quite the athlete himself be-
fore joining up. A small college all-America in water polo. Could stay
under water all day long. Made him somewhat useful in Force Recon.”
“Huh.”
Jenson decided to change the subject.
“Nice to meet you,Wild Cat.Who’s eyes up outside?”
“Two, sir. Just back from sneakin’ and peekin’ on the docks is
Tyrone ‘Jelly Roll’ Gray. Perimeter is Frank.”
Mani chimed back in.
“What? No nickname for Frank?”
“No, ma’am.You’ll see why when you meet him.”
Manisha’s eyes flicked to Captain Lefleur, who cocked his head.
“Good soldier. More’n twelve hundred jumps in every theatre you
can name, and some you can’t.”
“Is he the Boston accent?” Jenson asked.

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PATRICK DELANEY

“Affirmative.”
Jenson nodded silently.This was an experienced team.
“Gentlemen. I’m happy to offer my services, despite being an old
and decrepit civilian. I suppose that’s up to the boss, here.”
He indicated Mani Bharat with another jerk of his head. Her wide
smile contrasted with the sarcastic tone.
“Why do I get the feeling that now you’re running this operation,
Turtle?”

S 72 S

Chapter Eighteen

C ommander Bud Rogers sat in the secure communications cen-
ter of the U.S. embassy in Kuala Lumpur, listening to Eyeball
Lefleur’s report. He’d been expecting the call.

“Just too many moving parts here, Commander,” Eyeball said.
“Including Mr.A, Johnny, and the dead Chinese agents. I need to know
who I can trust.”

“Understood, Captain.Your operation has been given the highest
priority from the Pentagon, so let me cut right to the chase. Mr. A is
one of my assets.”

“What about this Johnny guy?”
“Negative.And if Mr.A reported seeing him with a Chinese agent,
you can believe it. Send me a picture, and I’ll make some inquiries
with Washington.”
“Will do.And what about these dead Chinese agents? Do we know
who did that?”
“Roger that. Mr. A was just being helpful.”
“Very good.What about the scientist? Any updates?”
“Negative on that.Was hoping you’d have something for me.”
Commander Rogers stood and stretched his tall, gaunt frame. At
forty, his back got sore after too many hours at the desk. He wanted a
cigarette, but after finally quitting last month, he wasn’t going there.

S 73 S

PATRICK DELANEY

Eyeball was right. This op had the speed and moving parts of an ice
hockey game. He’d resisted filling in Eyeball on the assets he’d already
tasked to this.And if he knew Dr. Charles Stanley, then Manisha Bharat
wasn’t the only company player in the game. He picked up the se-
cure phone, but hesitated. It was always dicey with Stanley, and there’d
been suspicions floating around. But Eyeball needed to know about
this Johnny fellow. He counted backward on his watch: 2000 hours
last evening inVirginia.

It took a couple of minutes for Dr. Stanley to go secure.Apparently
at some sort ofWhite House soiree.

“Bud, how are things in KL?”
“Good evening, Charles. My apologies for interrupting your presi-
dential martini.”
There was no love lost between branches of government. But each
man held a grudging respect for the other.
“How can I help you?”
The commander chose his words carefully.
“I’d like to keep our assets from stepping on each other’s toes.”
Feigned surprise in the older man’s voice.
“Oh? I thought we were doing so well with Mr. A.”
Rogers didn’t like being patronized.
“I’m not in the mood to dance around this, Charles. Mr. A didn’t
kill those two Chinese agents. If you’ve got someone else in the game,
I need to know it.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Bud, it would not be good for the young lady to suspect others
from our office.”
“Why?”
The commander reached for the top drawer where he kept the
cigarettes.
“Let’s just say that there may or may not be conflicted loyalties.”
His hand froze over the open drawer. What the hell was that

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supposed to mean?
“I agree with you there, Charles. Does your young woman have a

friend named Johnny?”
“Not one of ours, if she does. But it’s gotten messy, as you know.

The scientist’s assistant has been murdered, and we don’t know if it’s
connected.”

“Troubling, if it is,” Commander Rogers replied.
“One worries that the assistant was killed because this is meant to
be a one-way ride for Dr. Gupta.” Rogers paused, waiting to see if any
information was forthcoming.
“Indeed. And it gets worse. From our search of their lab, we now
suspect that Dr. Gupta may be carrying some sort of control or access
chip.”
Rogers swore under his breath. He’d better catch up Eyeball
quickly.

S 75 S

Chapter Nineteen

T heWhite House martinis weren’t that great. He much preferred
the single malt scotch he kept in his office. Dr. Stanley made his
excuses and left immediately. He seldom contacted Merlin, and wasn’t
about to take any unnecessary risks.

It was some time before his agent was on the other end of the call.
Dr. Stanley paced his office impatiently, the scotch forgotten. They
only spoke under the direst of circumstances. But he was very, very
good at his work.

“What’s up, sir?”
“A new development, I’m afraid. Are you up to speed on the cur-
rent situation?”
“Think so. The scientist has been kidnapped, and there’s a small
team at the port hoping to keep him from being smuggled out of the
country. Lots of players in this game.”
As usual, Dr. Stanley found himself slightly annoyed by the confi-
dent, unworried tone of the other man.
“Precisely. And it just got more complicated. Dr. Gupta may
have been carrying some sort of control chip. Maybe just for
APSARA, but maybe more. We don’t know who has the chip, or
where it is.”
Silence on the other end.

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“Okay, I’ll focus on the chip. A couple more sets of eyes down at
the port aren’t likely to make much of a difference.”

It was Dr. Stanley’s turn to pause.The wrong people linking here
could be disastrous for his plans.

“Aren’t you working alone?”
“Met up with an old colleague. Mr. A.”
Dammit. He didn’t need naval intelligence getting too close to
this. If that’s who Mr. A really worked for.
“Don’t trust anyone, Merlin. And I mean anyone.”

S 77 S

Chapter Twenty

J enson used a forearm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He stud-
ied the young corporal still guarding the entrance. Not a drop of
perspiration on the broad, muscular features.They’d all been waiting
uncomfortably in the heat for Eyeball Lefleur’s return.The latter now
brushed past as he reentered the container. He leaned his rifle against
the metal wall and let the silence build.

“Well,” he said slowly, his eyes coming to rest on Manisha Bharat.
“It seems our friend Johnny is an unknown. Not Company, DOD,
NSA, or Boy Scouts of fucking America.”

The young CIA operative looked stunned.
“Holy crap.”
“You said it.What do you think he knows?”
Jenson almost felt sorry for her. He mentally retraced the events
of the last twenty-four hours.
“He wasn’t involved in any sensitive contacts. He helped me sur-
veil Turtle, and to break into Datta’s offices.”
Eyeball’s flat stare flickered to Jenson at the mention of his name.
“Well, he’s secure now.We’ll see what turns up with some questioning.”
The room fell to silence.
“Our first priority has to be Dr. Gupta. Eyeball, what assets do
you have?”

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A thick eyebrow raised.
“You’re basically looking at ’em. Jelly Roll is doin’ some recon
down at the docks. He and Frank are good close quarter’s lads. I’ve
got my AS50 and gear.That’s pretty much it.We were out on the USS
Jackson monitoring that artificial island the Chinese are building in the
South China Sea. Choppered over here on orders from above. And
presto.”
He swirled a finger in the air for emphasis.
“Okay.Well, at least we have a destroyer if we need one.”
“What about the scientist?” Eyeball asked.
Mani answered him.
“NSA says Dr. Gupta will be out of here on a cargo ship this eve-
ning, but they don’t know which one.”
She caught a water bottle that Wild Cat tossed toward her and
chugged half the contents. Eyeball leaned back against a crate of palm
oil and waited for her to finish.
“Do the spooks have any guesses on where to start looking?”
“No, but they’re on it. Unfortunately this port ships regularly to a
few hundred countries around the globe. Lots of bad guys mixed in for
good measure, too. Pakistan, Korea, Russia, and several in the Middle
East. Everywhere except China, interestingly, although they do go to
Taiwan. In short, every country that would want to take downVirtual
Certainty.”
Jenson stood up and stretched. He was tall, and his long, muscular
arms didn’t find much space. He took a water bottle proffered byWild
Cat and poured the contents over his head.
“What about our friendTan Sri Datta? Any chance his private yacht
is upping anchor?”
Mani shook her head.
“That would be too easy. Sea Spice is in Singapore having annu-
al maintenance work.” She paused. “However, Langley does say that
there are five ships in port that do business with his companies.”

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PATRICK DELANEY

“Okay, that’s a start. Any of them leaving in the next twenty-four
hours?”

“All of them.”
Jenson shot a wizened look at Eyeball.
“So how ’bout it, Eyeball? Can your four-man team take down five
ships in broad daylight? With no backup?”
“Hoorah!” escaped from Wild Cat Jimenez behind him.
Eyeball fixed a hard look at the marine before his sniper’s gaze
came back to Jenson. His long fingers wiped the sweat from his bald-
ing head.
“We do board hostile ships for a living. But those odds seem a little
long.” He paused, thinking. “It’s a big port. Maybe your scientist is al-
ready onboard one of those ships, and maybe he isn’t. For all I know,
he’s taking the ferry from Pulau Indah over to Sumatra, or maybe ship-
ping out with pirates. This is the Malacca Straits after all. The official
home of international pirating and smuggling.”
Mani pressed forward, closing the circle. Her voice dropped.
“There’s one other card to play. Losing Dr. Gupta and compromis-
ingVirtual Certainty would be a devastating blow to U.S. intelligence.
I think the United States government will see its way clear to lean on
its Malaysian partner to search Tan Sri Datta’s container ships.”
“We’re taking a real risk of tipping off the bad guys,” Eyeball said.
“And while the Malaysians do have a professional navy, it’d be rely-
ing on a notoriously corrupt government.”
“I agree the chance of Dr. Gupta being rescued by the Royal
Malaysian Navy or Special Branch is pretty small,” Mani replied. “But
if Dr. Gupta is already onboard ship, his captors will have to move him
to avoid the searches.”
“And hopefully get spotted in the process. Okay, yeah, I see your
point.”
Eyeball mopped at the perspiration on his scalp with a sleeve.
“Alternatively,” Jenson added, “if he isn’t on a ship yet, they’ll have

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to find a way to get Gupta out to one. And as you said, Eyeball, giv-
en its reputation for piracy, there is copious satellite coverage of the
Malacca Strait to help us watch.”

He checked his watch.The beautiful new Omega Seamaster. Jack.
He pulled out his cell phone and texted him.

“Unexpected entanglement. On your own for now. Sorry.”
Then, as an afterthought, “Awesome watch.”

S 81 S

Chapter Twenty-One

S he had Dr. Charles Stanley on an encrypted line the moment she
was alone.
“So what’s this about?You’ve got someone else watching me?Why
the hell did you send me if you don’t trust me?”

“Slow down, Mani. Would I have sent you out on something this
important if you didn’t have my complete confidence?What is it that’s
happened?”

She took a deep breath and composed herself. She quickly brought
him up to speed on her own activities. Then the two dead Chinese
agents.And then the report of Mr.A, who seemed to know their every
movement. And the suspicions about Johnny. She left out the surveil-
lance of Matt Jenson by Johnny. No sense complicating the situation.

“Well, Mister A isn’t one of mine, Mani. But that’s not to say that
he isn’t naval intelligence off one our ships, or even British intelligence
for that matter. Sounds like he’s on our side, thank god.”

He paused. She wondered how far down the path he was going to
go about Johnny. She mentally counted the number of times she had
suspected Stanley himself of duplicity. Always so smooth. And always
playing so many angles. She admired that quality, to a point. His voice
brought her back to the matter at hand.

“It’s concerning if the Chinese are involved at this level. But time

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is short. We must get Dr. Gupta back safely, or risk compromising
Virtual Certainty. Any thoughts on who has him?”

“Well, Datta invited him here. And that’s the line to follow.
But it doesn’t tell us who’s really after Virtual Certainty. ASEAN is
Southeast Asian countries, but I can tell you there are representatives
from around the globe.And our Malaysian play friends are not exactly
squeaky clean.”

He chuckled cynically at the comment.
“No, you’re right. Could be anybody. And that’s why you’ve got
almost carte blanche on this. Every NSA, DIO, and DOD surveillance
tool had been alerted to Dr. Gupta’s kidnapping. Including Southeast
Asia Theatre Command and its network of ships, satellites, and subs.
All have been instructed to provide you support.You’re our man on
the ground, Mani.”
“Thanks. By the way, any news on Gupta’s assistant?”
“He was found with his throat slashed and wallet missing, in an al-
ley less than a mile from his apartment. It’s not clear whether this was
just a robbery or part of something larger. Sammy Mahmud was Dr.
Gupta’s right-hand man.Apparently quite knowledgeable about all as-
pects of his work, and even attended many conferences with him.”
“Oh, god.What about the apartment?”
“Looked untouched. But multiple agencies are investigating. We
went through Gupta’s lab, too.We did turn up one troubling item.”
“What?”
“A hollow book.The cavity was just large enough for a computer
chip. The book was empty, Mani, so we’ve got to assume Gupta may
have the chip with him.”
“This just keeps getting worse.”
“Get it back for us. And Dr. Gupta. And, Mani, be careful.”
“You bet.”

S 83 S

Chapter Twenty-Two

T an Sri Datta’s cell phone began vibrating just as his forehead
touched the floor. He didn’t like being interrupted during af-
ternoon prayers. Fortunately it was a private prayer room within the
Putrajaya Mosque, and the transgression would go unnoticed. He
glanced at the number and then slipped outside.

The familiar voice on the other end was agitated.
“Rasheed, the defense ministry is sending troops down to Port
Klang to search all the container ships. Beginning with those of your
company.”
Datta bit his lip. Fuck.
“When will this happen?”
“They are on their way now.”
A slight taste of blood.
“Thank you, my friend.”
His men tasked to move the scientist had already left the safe house
in the Klang Valley at noon. He dialed another number and turned to
look over the stone balustrade at the artificial lake behind him. The
project had brought him tens of millions of U.S. dollars.
“Yeah?”
The voice sounded agitated.
“Dato, I think you know who this is.”

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“Yes.”
“Listen closely.The military is on its way to search all of the con-
tainer ships and ro-ros.”
“Crap. We’ve been watching a convoy of trucks ahead of us, Tan
Sri. They’re just heading out onto the commercial quays now. How
will we get him past all those soldiers onto the ship?”
His men were rolling into the port in two black Range Rovers.Tan
Sri Datta coolly changed their instructions.
“That is being arranged. Just take him back to the safe house for
now,” Datta replied.
“A new plan is coming.”
The two vehicles made a sharp U-turn and sped out of the port
north along the Jalan Raya. Back to the abandoned palm oil plant for
the VIP.
Tan Sri Datta waved for Hansen and strode to his limousine to
make yet another call. Prayers would have to wait. A voice answered
in Chinese.

S 85 S

Chapter Twenty-Three

T he marines posted eyes on the container port even as they im-
provised their plan. Maybe they’d get lucky and spot something.
They were thin on manpower. Big time.The four marines moved out
to vantage points around the container port. Traffic in and out was
Wild Cat’s task.Tyrone “Jelly Roll” Gray and Frank patrolled the quays
where the five ships in question were tied up. A daunting task, to say
the least. Eyeball Lefleur had taken to roost in a presently unused load-
ing dock crane from which he could surveil the activity on the water.

Mani and Dr. Jenson took up station at the Cruise Centre.With pas-
senger manifests that could top out at several thousand guests, it was
fortunate that no cruise liners were due to depart that day. But that
still left the ferries. Fast, modern ships that serviced three other ports.
Pulau Ketam or “Crab Island” was a short round trip for tourists seeking
the village lifestyle and good food. It offered little opportunity to move
a kidnap victim out of the country. Mani and Jenson were willing to
gamble that the ships leaving for Pulau Ketam could be ignored.

On the other hand, the international ferries disembarked from
Port Klang several times daily, crossing the Strait of Malacca for the
Indonesian ports at Dumai and Tanjung Balai Asahan. Once across, a
fugitive could disappear from under spotty security into nearly com-
plete anonymity.They would need some luck.

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This was not exactly PuertoVallarta or the San Diego Embarcadero.
The Cruise Centre consisted of one building. One. Passengers disem-
barking the ferries quickly found themselves in sweltering heat about
a kilometer from the nearest teksi stand or train station.The lone ter-
minal did create a convenient choke point for scanning the crowd.
Manisha Bharat hovered just inside the terminal entrance, sipping a
fruit drink and letting the crowd mill past. Her print cargo pants and
T-shirt were both light cotton. She blended right in with the non-hijab
crowd. Even Matt Jenson had trouble picking her out in the throng.
He had canvassed the rest of the terminal and checked in with the ma-
rines. Dr. Jenson’s vision of loitering in the shade, sipping a cold beer,
and untangling the knot that was Mani had evaporated. She didn’t turn
her head when he came up behind her.

“Anything?” he asked.
“Nope.You?”
“Last ferry out leaves in a half hour or so.And time’s getting short.
Two of the suspect cargo ships have already upped anchor and headed
out to sea.”
She tossed her cup into a trash can.
“Then let’s move to the car.We can’t stay here forever.”
They wouldn’t need to wait all that much longer, Jenson thought.
When the strait was calm, the ferry ride to Dumai was a three-hour
trip. It was about that long to sunset now. Soon the Cruise Centre
would empty out and roll up the sidewalks with it.
The Proton was parked in a dirt alley that looked across to the
terminal through a dingy chain-link fence.The air-conditioning in the
little sedan was the principal advantage to this venue. The small talk
drifted nowhere in particular. Mani offered up surprisingly little infor-
mation about herself. Probably smart, Jenson told himself. Particularly
in a screwy situation like this. He didn’t push her. The crowd across
the way parted as two black Range Rovers pulled up at the termi-
nal and disgorged their passengers. The glistening vehicles stood out

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PATRICK DELANEY

amongst the dust and dents of the other traffic. Mani and Jenson were
out of the Proton and across the roadway in a heartbeat. Jenson spot-
ted Dr. Gupta pressed in tightly amongst half a dozen thugs, all sport-
ing shooters glasses and dark batik loose enough to cover weapons.
The scientist looked dazed. Maybe drugged. The group bypassed the
security checkpoint and went directly up the gangway of the Malacca
Explorer, disappearing into the bowels of the ship.

Mani and Dr. Jenson had to scramble to get aboard as the ferry
made ready to cast off. The open, sun-exposed stern deck was only
sparsely populated. Jenson headed there to update the team. Mani
hung back to call Langley. Metal creaked shrilly as the gangway was
lifted and secured. Five loud blasts of the ship’s horn sounded de-
parture. Malacca Explorer cleared the dock and headed out, the first
large swells from down channel portending a turbulent crossing. Mani
joined Dr. Jenson at the stern.The breeze created by the ship’s move-
ment was a relief, both from the heat and the stench of tobacco smoke
and diesel.

“What do you think these guys are planning?” she asked. “They
must realize that by the time this ship docks in Dumai, there’ll be an
army waiting for them.”

Jenson thought aloud as he scanned the banks of the channel.
“Well, once we clear port, satellite surveillance will be a piece of
cake until we hit port traffic on the other side. So if they want to get
him off this ship…”
His voice trailed off as he saw the fast boat ripping toward them. It
powered through a big turn right across Malacca Explorer’s path, forc-
ing the ferry to cut power. The rubberized pontoons of the smaller
vessel thumped briskly against the ferry’s hull, a sound all too familiar
to Jenson.
It was well planned and quickly executed.The six thugs reappeared
on deck, forming a cordon around Dr. Gupta as they moved him expe-
ditiously to a side rail amidships. A boarding ladder there stood fixed

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ENTANGLED JASMINE

to the hull.The half-dozen MP5s directed at the crew and passengers
were more than enough to prevent interference.A deck-mounted gun
on the fast boat was added insurance as the group transferred onto
the smaller craft. The crowd on deck stampeded frantically away to
the other side of the ship. The whole operation took less than two
minutes. The fast boat sped off into the dense tangle of tanker and
container traffic that dotted the steamy horizon. Malacca Explorer was
left bouncing chaotically in the disturbed swells as it powered back
up.Then it resumed its course. No return to port, no search from the
maritime patrol. Nothing.

“Shit,” Mani said.
Her eyes remained fixed on the disappearing fast boat as she dialed
a number on her cell phone.
“You said it.”
Matt Jenson was still thinking. Unlikely that satellites were watch-
ing the fast boat, this close inshore. But it was also too small to com-
fortably cross the strait directly. It had to be heading either back to
shore, which made no sense, or to a larger vessel.With any luck, they
might yet be able to identify that ship. Unfortunately, it also meant
that he and Mani were now committed to a three-hour boat ride to
Indonesia. He checked the time, his gaze lingering momentarily on
the elegant new watch.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

M alacca Queen was barely a mile out of Port Klang and yet to pick
up any real speed when the fast boat careened alongside. The
rigid hulled inflatable was rapidly hoisted, passengers and all, into a
prepared cargo bay in the starboard hull. The Queen was bound for
Surabaya, a thousand-mile trip that would take the better part of a
week.

Defense satellites captured it all in real time. The images trans-
mitted instantaneously to Rear Admiral Thorn aboard Tripoli. He
stood in front of the console with his special operations commander,
Zach Rivers.The shorter man wore a jumpsuit without insignias, just
his name. He had a stocky wrestler’s build and massive forearms to
match. Cold, humorless eyes were the only thing visible above a thick
black beard that covered the rest of his face. A monitor to their right
linked them with Eyeball Lefleur.The three spoke by secure uplink as
they watched the events unfold.

“We could take down the freighter under cover of darkness, sir.
We have at least four nights before they reach Surabaya.”

Zach Rivers’ deep voice was matter-of-fact. Rear Admiral Thorn
turned to Eyeball’s image on the monitor.

“What’s the downside, Captain? And why wait? I need your men
back aboard Tripoli for Fishhook ASAP.”

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ENTANGLED JASMINE

“Sir, our team on the ferry said he had several men escorting
him. That’s in addition to whatever defenses the freighter may have
ready.We run the risk of the scientist getting caught in the middle of
a firefight.”

Zach Rivers’ sarcastic response was immediate.
“So you wanna wait and take them down in one of the busiest
ports in Southeast Asia?”
“No sir. She’ll likely hug the coast as far as she can, remaining
inside the territorial waters of Indonesia. Forgetting the diplomatic
problem, a short high-speed drop by the fast boat anywhere along
Sumatra or Java could lose Dr. Gupta permanently.We definitely need
to get him back fast. But what if the missing APSARA components
aren’t with him?”
Rear Admiral Thorn was growing surlier by the second.
“So what would you like to do, Captain?”
Eyeball hesitated.
“Sir, I recommend we position for a deep water boarding in in-
ternational waters, as Commander Rivers suggests. Let the bad guys
lose some sleep worrying about a shore-based attack, and then hit ’em
when they’re tired. But I also think we should get input from the in-
telligence assets on the ferry. Particularly Turtle Jenson. He ran recon
ops for years before changing hats.”
The admiral shook his head.
“I don’t need to remind you that we don’t have several days,
Captain. Tripoli needs to be in position for Operation Fishhook in two
nights.We need to know what all the building is about on that artificial
reef the Chinese have constructed.”
“Yes, sir.”
The admiral’s tone softened slightly.
“But all right. It’s reasonable to let them get tired first.We’ll take
’em at sea. Commander Rivers, get your men ready.”
“Yes, sir.”

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Chapter Twenty-Five

T he lashing rain pressed the thick crowd into knots under whatev-
er cover the buildings afforded.They lingered there in the night,
smoking or using their cell phones, knowing the downpour was usually
brief. Tan Sri Datta waited inside his limousine instead. He didn’t like
meeting like this, where random notice could undo so much. When
the downpour slackened he scurried into a narrow, unlighted walkway
between the buildings, the raindrops still hammering on the corru-
gated metal overhead. He went without Hansen, to minimize standing
out from the pedestrians flooding toward Petaling Jaya Street.The rain
mercifully purged the human smells he expected in these crevices.The
alleyway widened into a covered courtyard where appetizing aromas
sizzled up from propane-fired woks. He avoided the beckoning hawk-
ers and quickly turned another corner. His own footsteps echoed in
the blackness.

He rapped on an unmarked door and was quickly admitted.Tendrils
of smoky incense drifted slowly upward through the dim lighting.Two
large silhouettes loomed up, rough hands frisking him before passing
him on. Light appeared from a doorway, highlighting a woman’s robed
figure. It had been years since he had come here, but he still remem-
bered the long interior corridors of the Chinese temple. A screen slid
open before him, revealing a small tea room. Water burbled softly in

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ENTANGLED JASMINE

the background. He sat on a proffered pillow and waited. A moment
later the unmistakably erect form of his Chinese colleague appeared as
another screen slid open and then closed behind him. The other man
quietly sat down across from him, and hot tea was poured for each.

“You honor us with your presence,” the voice hissed.
He sipped from the hot tea to calm himself. He was reluctant to tell
of the sudden change in events.The other man continued pleasantly.
“The Americans know of the presence aboard the Malacca Queen.”
He took a second sip.This was worrisome news.
“We are preparing an alternative means of delivery,” Datta re-
sponded smoothly.
“That is good.”
The hiss paused.
“Tell me, was the other item located?”
“What other item would that be?”
The other teacup was lifted slowly from the table, to be gently
replaced a moment later.
“Your associate brought with him a chip that allows him to more
easily manipulate his complex creations.”
So there was a chip. The scientist had been searched carefully for
any such device.
“It was not with him, nor was there any sign of use of such a chip
on any of the camera footage from the school,” he lied.
“Interesting. However, he did bring such a chip with him.”
The tea was cooling as Tan Sri Datta took a final sip.
“We will redouble our efforts to locate it, if it exists.”
“Oh, it does. I am certain of it.”

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Chapter Twenty-Six

T here was no time to waste in the seedy industrial port of Dumai.
Manisha Bharat and Doctor Jenson took their seats on theAirAsia
A320 for the two-hour flight to Surabaya.The seats were cramped, but
under the circumstances comfortable enough. It had been way too
long without any real sleep.The cabin window glared with the equato-
rial sun of late afternoon, inviting Jenson to close his eyes.The engine
noise escalated as the plane revved for takeoff.The two lapsed into si-
lence.The plane accelerated down the runway and then began to gain
altitude.The wheels tucked up into the belly of the plane with a thud.
Matt Jenson exhaled deeply and relaxed back in his chair.

A tangerine hue spread along the western horizon of the sea, grac-
ing a promise of cool breezes and jewels in the heavens. Beauty tran-
scended the vantage between reality and vision. She favored the lighter
airs, and her presence was a gentle admiration of sublime tranquilities.
Effortless meaning carried without margins or boundaries like words.
A joy lingered to assuage separation. He sensed her presence without
detail, and recalled the unspoken words clearly. Pura Tanah Lot.

Jenson opened his eyes, unsure of whether he had been asleep. Pura
Tanah Lot remained in his mind.What did it mean? The aisle on his left
was empty and quiet. Mani sat next to him, lost in thought as she stared
silently out the window.A last green flash of sunlight fell to dusk.

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ENTANGLED JASMINE

By nightfall they were wheels down at the international airport in
Surabaya, the capital of Java. It was late, and they were met by a car
from the U.S. consulate. Jenson closed his eyes before his head hit the
pillow, and a moment later there was a wake-up call.

At 0600, this was not bagels and chitchat with the rest of the
team. At the appointed hour they were joined by the ambassador in
the basement secure room. Their own team members were already
on the satellite feed. Rear Admiral Thorn and Commander Rivers
joined remotely from the marine amphibious ship Tripoli. The 844-
foot America class amphibious assault ship was cruising northward
up the west coast of Borneo into the South China Sea. Admiral Jack
Chester, the two-star in command of the theatre of operations hosted
from Japan, and officials from the NSA and DIA were on the call from
Washington D.C. Dr. Charles Stanley was among them.

“Too risky.”
The voice was that of Dr. Stanley.
The square-jawed commander of Tripoli didn’t agree with the intel
assessment.
“Gentlemen, almost every country mentioned as possibly behind
this would be fully capable of taking Doctor Gupta off the freighter by
sub.We’ve got to secure him before he disappears. My boys can take
down that ship in under ten minutes.”
The secure phone line crackled to life as a faceless voice from
Langley interjected.
“We know your men are outstanding, sir. But there is a six-man
detail transporting Dr. Gupta, and we can’t risk having him caught in
a firefight.”
Admiral Jack Chester’s voice boomed above the chatter that had
started up. He was in command of the Southeast Asia theatre. Only
the secretary of defense or the president of the United States could
overrule him out here.
“Let’s play this out calmly, shall we? Dr. Gupta’s safety is our

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