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But Punky knew better. If what Tan Lily had told her was true, then what the crew of the Reagan was experiencing was part of a synthetic bioweapon attack. What she didn’t know was whether the illness spreading across the ship was only half the weapon’s potency. She felt dizzy as she tried puzzling through the myriad of scenarios.

“There’s more to it than that,” she said.

Camron gave her a queer look but waited for her to explain.

“There is no question Dr. Tan Lily is being targeted by the Chinese Ministry of State Security.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, Camron. Listen to me. She is at a CIA safe house right now.”

His demeanor changed, and he lowered the coffee cup. “Why?”

“Because one of their officers went missing in Shanghai after meeting with her husband. Both are biochemists with the specific skill set needed to engineer a synthetic bioweapon.” She paused for a breath to let that sink in. “Hell, she was giving a lecture on the topic when I met her.”

Camron was silent for a moment. “What do you know about SUBLIME?”

Punky shook her head. “Not much. That’s why I’m here. I believe the Ministry is targeting her either because she knows how to activate the bioweapon or nullify it.”

“But if the ship is already infected…”

She waved him off. “It’s over my head, but she said they likely engineered a pathogen with a switch.” She didn’t bother explaining the difference between a binary weapon and a tripartite weapon. “If we can get her a blood sample from someone infected on the ship, she can tell us how it was engineered and how to mitigate its impact.”

He nodded. “We might be in luck. The flight surgeon who treated the first patient sent the results of the blood test to BUMED.”

“Get me a copy of those results, Camron.”

He hesitated. “I’ll run the request up the flagpole. Your only task right now is to find SUBLIME and stop him.”

As if she needed Camron to tell her that. “On it.”

She yanked her jacket off the back of her chair and slipped it on as she made for the exit. If her hunch was correct, the Chinese operative would be under the gun to make a move on Tan Lily. If she wanted to stop him, she needed to convince the CIA to use the doctor as bait.

* * *

Guo Kang sat astride his Ducati motorcycle in a parking lot off East Harbor Drive across from the whitewashed walls surrounding the naval base. Through the wrought iron security fencing, he studied the stucco building with a red-tiled roof where Emmy King had spent the evening. It hadn’t taken much sleuthing to discover that the building was home to the Southwest Field Office for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.

Made sense for the special agent to be there.

But why is the Navy interested in the doctor?

The flow of traffic along the street increased as more and more cars made their way to the base’s main entrance on 32nd Street, but he was content letting them pass. His thoughts were on the doctor and her daughter tucked away in a secure location forty miles north. For some reason, the American Navy had taken an interest in the biochemist, and he was hesitant to inform the General until he understood why.

A flash of blue shot through the intersection near the main gate, and Guo Kang recognized the Challenger immediately. He started the Ducati and darted out onto East Harbor Drive, racing toward 32nd Street to catch up with the NCIS special agent. He didn’t need to know what the Navy wanted with the doctor to know she posed a threat to their operation and needed to be stopped.

The light turned red, but he goosed the throttle and darted between cars as he made the left underneath a pedestrian overpass. The flashing red lights and descending red-and-white-striped gates warned him of an approaching trolley, but he had already spotted the Dodge muscle car making its way north. He had sighted in on his target and would not be deterred.

The motorcycle shot across the tracks moments before a red streetcar rumbled north toward downtown. Weaving between slower-moving cars, he reached down to the phone mounted to his Hypermotard’s triple clamp and tapped on a button to place a call. He heard the phone ringing through the Bluetooth connection in his helmet before a voice answered.

“Authenticate.”

“Mandate of Heaven,” Guo Kang said into the helmet’s microphone.

“Go ahead.”

“I need a mobile response team to set an ambush on Interstate 15 northbound near Lake Hodges.”

“Capture or kill?”

“Capture,” Guo Kang replied. If I wanted to kill her, she’d already be dead, he thought.

“Target?”

“Blue Dodge Challenger. California license plate Foxtrot India Golf Hotel Tango Oscar November.”

“Armed?”

Guo Kang surged between two sedans and closed to within four car lengths of the blue muscle car. “Affirmative.”

“Time?”

“Twenty minutes.”