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world-class manufacturing hub. High-end electronics.”
    “That makes sense then. Our intelligence shows the Daemon has become increasingly embedded in the high-tech manufacturing supply chain of Asia—and that the Chinese know there’s some new force exerting influence domestically. They still don’t seem to know what it is. They think it has something to do with the Falun Gong—or other political opposition groups.”
    “Who found Jon?” She braced herself for the answer.
    “PLA Cyber warfare unit. Someone connected with General Zhang Zi Min—head of the MSS. They’re carrying out an op to grab Ross right now.…” Fulbright gestured to the central screen, which even as he spoke showed shaky video of heavily armed SWAT teams lying in wait around building corners. There were scores of them. A low-flying chopper passed momentarily in front of the frame, occluding the view. “We got word of it in unencrypted intercepts. I don’t need to remind you that—aside from
you
—no one knows more about the Daemon’s architecture than Jon Ross. If the Chinese grab him—”
    “The
Ragnorok
module. They’d be able to use the Daemon against us.”
    Fulbright nodded. “We don’t think the Chinese have even detected—much less decrypted—the IP beacon the Daemon is broadcasting. At least not yet. But capturing Ross might give them access to both. In particular, the Destroy function. That would give the Chinese the ability to destroy individual corporate data on demand—and from there who knows where that knowledge goes. If word got out, it could cause a global stock market panic.”
    “But the Chinese are co-invested with America, they wouldn’t—”
    “General Zhang is the wild card here. We think his people were responsible for the illicit back doors in corporate routers. It appears the Daemon is closing them, and it’s made Zhang increasingly desperate for something to justify his existence.”
    “What do you need me to do?”
    Fulbright gestured to several men in suits who were already eyeing her from their place among the generals. “These men want you to identify Ross in that crowd. Before the Chinese get to him.”
    Philips looked around the room, suddenly noticing just how many people here were wearing visitor badges.
    “Natalie, please …” He nodded toward the screen.
    She looked up at the video image, now zooming in to scan thepatrons of a martini bar. It looked like a sniper’s perspective from a distant rooftop. “They’re going to kill him.”
    Fulbright gripped her shoulder. “You don’t know that. We simply need to identify him in that crowd, Doctor.”
    “Who are all these men?” She was eyeing the contractors who were even now staring back at her.
    “Doctor, we’ve been given a simple directive. We need to provide information.”
    “To whom?”
    “Natalie, Jon Ross escaped our custody and fled to a foreign power. He’s a serious danger to national security.”
    “But—”
    “This isn’t a debate. You worked alongside him for months. He may have changed his appearance since then, but you have an eye for detail. Help us identify him in that crowd.”
    Philips felt her pulse quickening as she looked up at the screen. There was no way she could do this. And yet, what Director Fulbright said was true. Ross did possess information that the Chinese would be desperate to have—information that they were likely to torture him to get. They might kill him in the process. But if she pointed him out to these men—what then? She tried to remain poker-faced as her mind kept rejecting the cold facts.
    The screen panned across Asian and Western faces laughing in the martini bar.
    “Doctor, do you see him?”
    She couldn’t do it. “I …”
    A board operator suddenly called out. “The Chinese are making their move, sir.”
    “We’re too late.”
    Dozens of plainclothesmen brandishing weapons poured through the front door of the high-end bar, creating chaos inside. The camera jerked, then zoomed out a little.
    “Yeah, they’ve gone in.”
    One of the suits near the wall spoke loudly. “We might still get a shot when they bring him out.”
    Fulbright cast a glance to Philips. She was watching the screen. Numb.
    “If we miss him, let’s see if we can track what prison they take him to.”
    Philips was familiar with this math—“cruel calculus” is what Fulbright had called it. For the first time in her life, she was getting sick of math.
    “We’ll use a private asset