Taipei

1210

THE FIRST FACTORYStoner took them to lay about a mile and a half from Sungshan airport, in a crowded district of warehouses and industrial buildings. The roads were so thick with traffic that it took hours to get to the facility itself; when they finally did they found their way blocked by uniformed employees. The men were polite—the driver pretended to be asking for directions and they answered helpfully—but there was no way past them.

Danny eyed the fence, which was topped with barbed wire; there were also video cameras. Besides the two men at the gate he saw another patrolling down the way.

He took out the IR device and slowly began scanning the building. A small wire connected to the side; it was an earphone that buzzed as soon as the reading was complete and logged. The data were ferried via a small antenna to the transmitter unit in the trunk, though at the moment they weren’t broadcasting to Dreamland because of the small possibility that it might be detected.

Every time the machine buzzed in his ear, he pushed the small trigger button on the top between the two barrels; the IR sensors adjusted themselves and took another “bite” at the building. As it moved further inside, the buzzes started to be punctuated by clicks; it was having trouble seeing. Danny tried holding it at different angles and jostling it; finally he decided they had gotten everything they could.

“So?” asked Stoner as they drove away.

“We’ll see what the techies say. They can construct a three-D model when they look it over,” said Danny.

“That thing like a radar?” asked Stoner.

“No, it uses heat signatures so it can’t be detected. We call in IR or infrared, but the techies say it has a somewhat wider band. The sensors are here.” Danny pointed to the top rim of the glasses. “They have to be kept fairly cool to work right. But they have better range than the viewers on our Smart Helmets, and since there’s no radio waves, there’s nothing to be detected.”

“I’d still like to get inside.”

“Fine by me,” said Danny.

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“They make seats for aircraft,” said Stoner. “I have somebody working on getting us in as buyers. But it’s going to take a few days.”

“Is it big enough?” asked Liu.

“Could be,” said Danny. “We’ll see what the tech people say.”

“There’s a rail line that runs from the back over to the airport,” said Stoner. “Chun Sue owns some hangars there. That’s one of the companies Chen Lee owns. As far as I know, only one is occupied. I figure we hit the empties first.”

They uploaded the data on the way over. The Dreamland techies told Danny that he had only managed to see about eighty feet inside the building; a stock of insulation and fabric for the chairs blocked a deeper view. Everything they had been able to see was consistent with a seat factory—or something trying to look like one.

They didn’t need the viewer in the airport; all the hangars were open and unguarded. Stoner had prepared a story—they were looking to lease a facility—but no one seemed to even notice they were there.

Danny took a small scoop and wad of plastic bags from the attaché case he’d brought, sampling some of the dust so the chemicals could be analyzed. He also took out the Geiger counter and took some readings; all were within background norms.

“Just a hangar,” said Stoner, walking to sit on an old crate in the corner.

“What’s the crate say?” Danny asked.

“It’s the name of a fish company. Heavenly Fish, along those lines.”

“Why would it be here?” Danny asked. He bent down to examine it.

“Shipped cargo in and out. Lost one of the crates,” said Stoner.

“The crate wasn’t used to carry fish. It’s too clean.”

Stoner shrugged.

Danny took a picture with his digital camera, then took out his knife and took a sample of the wood where it had been worn down. He took his rad meter out again, but found nothing special. Finally, he planted a pair of the video camera bugs near the doorway.

The cams were about the size and shape of three-quarter-inch bolts, the kind that might be used to secure a part on a child’s bicycle. There were two types, one with a wide-angle lens and the other more narrowly focused but able to work in near darkness. Each sent its signal to a transmitter the size of a nine-volt battery, which could be hidden anywhere with fifty feet of the cams. This transmitter in turn linked with a large base station—about the size of a cement block though nowhere near as heavy—that uploaded images either on command or in a random burst pattern that made it difficult to detect. The cameras and transmitters themselves used a similar random pattern with a very weak signal that would generally escape detection.

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“You sure those things work?” asked Stoner as they got back in the car.

Danny turned to Liu, who gave him a thumbs-up. The sergeant was using his sat phone to talk to Dream Command, where the techies had just finished diagnostics on the gear, confirming there was a signal.

“Now I am,” said the captain.

The hangar that housed the airplane was open, and the four Americans managed to walk right in. The building was about twice the size of the others, and the Boeing 767-200ER it housed filled only about a third of the massive space. The wings of the large airliner were covered with large sheets of rolled cardboard, and the place smelled of fresh paint.

A pair of Chun Sue employees came over and told them that the company airplane was undergoing refurbishment. The men were very polite, and seemed flattered by the praise Danny threw at the airplane, which in fact was a beautiful piece of machinery. The 767 typically cruised between 35,000 and 40,000

feet; this model, optimized for the long-distance flights common in Asia, could clock close to six thousand miles before having to hit the gas pumps.

The experts back in Dreamland noted one other interesting fact about the airplane as they briefed Danny through the headset connecting to his sat phone—it was a bit large for the airport, which was generally used by smaller jets and turboprops on local hops.

Danny took several photos with his small camera for them, and planted a pair of video cams near the entrance.

“Those suckers cost a fortune,” he told Stoner as they left.

“The company is pretty rich,” said Stoner. “You notice anything funny about the paint?”

“Besides the fact that the plane doesn’t need painting?”

“The colors are used by the People’s Xia Airlines.”

“They own them too?”

“That’s a Mainland airline,” said Stoner. “They left off the symbols on the tail, but otherwise it’s a ringer.”

Brunei IAP, Field Seven

Dreamland Temporary Hangar

1312

ZEN TOOK ONElook at Starship and rolled his eyes.

“Where the hell did you find alcohol in Brunei?”

“Excuse me, sir?” said Starship.

If Zen had had any doubts about Starship’s sobriety, the accent he put on “sir” would have dispelled them.

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“Take the rest of the day off,” he told the lieutenant. “You were due rest anyway. I shouldn’t have called you back.”

“I can fly, Zen. Major—I can fly.”

“Go take a shower, Starship. That’s an order.”

Starship’s face turned red. He spun on his heel and retreated from the hangar.

“You and me, Kick, let’s go,” said Zen, backing his wheelchair away so he could go and get his flight suit and other gear. “ Pennsylvania is taking off in an hour. We’re way behind schedule.”

THEY LAUNCHED THEFlighthawk as soon as they were over water. Zen took the first leg of the flight, checking on some of the merchant ships that lay in their path. He wanted Kick to take the last half of the flight so he’d have the experience of landing at Tainan Air Base, their destination on Taiwan.