She worked the throttle in short bursts as vertigo fought to topple her. The bike surged and weaved as she crept closer to the help she desperately needed.

Hold on… Just hold on…

She felt herself slipping and silently chided herself for being weak. Her vision narrowed dangerously, and her hearing became muted. She was focused on the road in front of her, trying desperately to make it to the next reflective marker, the next crack in the road, the next anything that would get her closer to the ambulance.

Slowly, the road began to tilt. At first it was subtle, and she shifted her weight to counter it. She could hear her heart thumping in her ears and was distracted by the silence in between beats as they lengthened to the point where she thought her heart would simply stop. The road tilted again, and no matter how she shifted her weight, it became impossible to stop.

The soda straw of vision closed in around a road that was tilted almost ninety degrees, and she felt the impact on her hip and shoulder before blacking out.

53

Valley Center, California

Guo Kang leaned back into the bolstered seats, enjoying the Dodge Challenger far more than he thought he would. He had loved riding the Ducati but hadn’t thought twice about laying it down to make his escape. That was what set him apart from his adversary. He was decisive in ruthless execution. The American had been weak.

He downshifted using the paddle on the steering wheel and felt himself sink deeper into the seats as the muscle car accelerated almost instantaneously.

Great taste in cars, though.

He accelerated up the switchbacks and, at the crest of the hill, steered the Challenger past the entrance to the fly-in community where the Americans had stashed the doctor and her daughter. To avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself, he eased off the gas pedal and coasted through the residential area until the trees closed in around him.

He spotted them instantly. Parked along the opposite side of the road was a matte black Ford Raptor truck with two men sitting inside. Even through the tinted windows, he could tell they were parked there to observe traffic passing the gate. When he brought the Challenger to a stop, one of the men lifted a radio to his mouth to report his presence.

Perfect.

He didn’t know what kind of protection surrounded Tan Lily, but if he wanted to maintain the element of surprise, he needed the men in the truck to report his arrival. He figured ten minutes was all it would take for word to make it back to the safe house that the NCIS special agent had returned.

Instead of following the road straight through the intersection and continuing east of the private airstrip, he turned right and drove into the hills south of the safe house. Looking at his watch, he started a mental clock.

* * *

Margaret stood in the living room and stared at the runway through the floor-to-ceiling window. She was on familiar ground and had Cher by her side, but she grew increasingly nervous as the hours ticked by without hearing from Punky. She had promised to return after neutralizing the threat, and her absence only underscored the danger to the woman under her protection.

“Base, this is Road One, over.”

Margaret didn’t flinch at the tinny voice coming through the speaker set into the portable radio on the kitchen counter. She turned for the kitchen with the cur at her heels and picked up the handset. “Go for Base.”

“Yeah, Margaret, we just had an unidentified vehicle come through the intersection and turn south away from your location, over.”

Margaret put her finger on a map stretched out on the counter and noted the location where she had placed her mobile team. “Copy that. License plate?”

“Blue Dodge Challenger…”

She felt herself relax.

“…California plates. Foxtrot India Golf Hotel Tango Oscar November, over.”

“Good copy,” Margaret said with relief, remembering the NCIS special agent’s car. “That’s a friendly. You can let her pass. Anything else?”

“Negative,” the voice replied.

“Base out.” Margaret put the handset down but scrunched up her face. She had been in this business long enough to know when to trust her gut. And right now, her gut was twisted into knots. She picked up her phone and called Jax.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Everything is fine,” Margaret said, then paused just long enough to let him know something was bothering her. “Have you heard from Punky? Is she on her way back?”

“I haven’t heard from her since she left,” Jax said. “Why? What’s going on?”

Cher inched closer to Margaret and pressed against her legs as if she too could sense looming danger. “Maybe you should call her,” the senior agent suggested. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m on my way back with the laptop,” Jax said.

“That’s the key, Jax. Have you looked at it yet?”

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you looked at it yet.”

“No, the other thing.”

Margaret squinted. “That’s the key?”

“Yaoshi.”

“Come again?”