Outlaw

She decided to open her kimono just enough to satisfy him. “I’ve been monitoring the communications from a new individual operating in the San Diego area who the Ministry refers to as SUBLIME.”

“Named for his outstanding spiritual, intellectual, or moral worth?”

“No, for the band,” she said sarcastically. “I have no idea, Camron.”

“Go on.”

“Over the last several days, his frequency of communications has increased, and they all mention UC San Diego.”

“And?”

Punky rounded the bend to merge onto Interstate 5 and downshifted again, surging past another Challenger — a yellow 305-horsepower SXT model — that attempted to accelerate and keep pace before quickly giving up. She flipped him off and continued racing north toward the city.

“I’m on my way to meet with a professor who is giving a lecture this morning.”

“Okay?”

Punky couldn’t tell if he was just humoring her or if he thought she was on to something. Either way, she could tell he was losing his patience. “The professor is from China.”

“And what? You think SUBLIME is targeting this person?”

She glanced in each of her mirrors before answering. “You would too if you knew her field.”

“Enlighten me.”

“She is a professor with the Global Health Institute and serves on the university’s Global Infectious Diseases working group.” Punky paused before dropping the hammer. “She is regarded as an expert on next-generation biowarfare and has written several articles about synthetic bioweapons.”

Camron was quiet for a moment, and she found his silence more disconcerting than anything. “What are you thinking, Cam?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said. “You might be on to something, but I think you’re pushing the boundaries of your mandate. Did you forget that you’re supposed to be investigating threats as they pertain to the Navy? Maybe we should hand this off to the FBI and let them look into SUBLIME.”

The last thing she wanted to do was hand over months of her hard work so somebody else could take the credit. But she had one more card to play. “The last message SUBLIME received mentioned the Reagan,” she said.

“Reagan? Or the Reagan?”

She thought Camron was splitting hairs. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Punky. It does. There are at least a half dozen schools named after him in California, not to mention the presidential library and headquarters of the California State Republican Party. There are a lot more plausible explanations than to assume the message was referring to a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier.”

But she disagreed. Maybe it was because she had found herself in the middle of a Chinese plot to sink an aircraft carrier off the coast of California. And maybe because the traitor who had made that even possible was still walking around and enjoying his freedom.

“Okay,” Camron said. “You can look into it. What’s the professor’s name?”

“Tan Lily.”

“I’ll dig around and see what I can find out.”

“Thanks, Cam.”

“But, Punky…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

* * *

Guo Kang sat on his balcony overlooking San Diego Bay’s placid waters while sipping his morning tea. He had grown accustomed to the leisurely pace of being a problem solver — only called on when his unique skills were required — and he took full advantage of the perks that came with his position. A luxury condo on the water. Boats in the marina. High-end European cars and motorcycles.

He set his cup down and leaned back in his chair with a contented smile on his face. It was shaping up to be a beautiful Southern California fall day. Sunny. Seventy degrees. Cool ocean breeze. Maybe he would go for a ride into the hills east of the city. Or take the ferry across to Coronado. His options were limitless.

His tea finished, he stood and stretched his athletic frame. Though the sun had barely crested the horizon, the city was already buzzing thirty stories beneath him. Leaving his teacup on the balcony table, Guo Kang headed inside and crossed the cool hardwood floors to his bedroom, where he undressed before walking into his spacious shower.

It was a luxurious setup with three powerful jets on either side of him and a large rainfall showerhead. The digital readout on the wall in front of him displayed the temperature at a steady ninety-nine degrees — warm enough that it eased the aches and pains he had sustained from a hard life. After washing himself, he reached up and rotated the knob counterclockwise until the temperature dropped below sixty degrees.

The initial shock of the cold water took his breath away, but he calmed his breathing and found the Zen he sought each morning. By the end of the three minutes, he felt completely at ease.

After his shower, Guo Kang toweled off and walked back into the bedroom, where he saw his phone light up with a missed call. He scooped it up from the nightstand next to his king-size bed — already made with taut, military precision — and saw a message waiting for him in Signal.