straight out the back of the D. When McCarter wrapped his hand around it, a short cylindrical point jutted between his middle and ring fingers. That tip would concentrate the force of the Briton’s punch to the point where it could shatter bone. Neither it nor his concealed knife would be a match for an AK-47 blazing away at him, but if McCarter couldn’t go toe to toe, he’d fight from ambush and concealment. One broken trachea could equal a rifle and thirty rounds in his hands to even up the odds.
It was an absolute worst-case scenario, but Phoenix Force was always called in when the worst went down anyway. It was intellect, preparation and prowess that made up for lack of manpower and firepower in these desperate instances.
“Hey, stranger.” A soft, gentle voice spoke to his right.
McCarter swiveled on his seat, broadly grinning, his smile a beam as he beheld Mei Anna. She was deceptively small and sweet-looking, her hair in a pixie cut, a shoulder-padded jacket hanging open to reveal the silk slip that displayed her décolletage and would likely draw eyes away from what surprises she had on hand for an emergency. He slipped off the stool and slid his arms under hers, stooping so that their lips met, briefly yet intensely.
McCarter rose from the kiss and she followed it with a tight hug. In an instant his jacket pocket grew heavier and Mei gave him a quick wink.
“What’s new, Tiger Lily?” McCarter asked with a grin. On the few moments when they either weren’t working together or lost in the throes of intimacy, Mei and the Briton took a little time together to watch favorite movies. The rewritten espionage thriller redubbed as a comedy that McCarter referenced was one of those. So much so, it had become their unofficial greeting.
Mei climbed onto the stool next to McCarter, raised two fingers and didn’t even have to voice her order. McCarter returned to sitting, as well, taking a sip from his beer. The bartender returned with a pair of cocktails and an extra bottle of beer.
“You know these are delicious, so I can’t tell you they are new,” Mei said, lifting her cocktails. “Bring your beer, we’ll head to a booth.”
The bar itself was active but not crowded. There was certainly a good screen of background noise, but with no throng of bodies pressed together, the two of them could move easily to a quiet booth and not fear that the press of humanity could listen in on them.
As soon as they scuttled into the booth, side by side so that McCarter could wrap his arm around her shoulders, so he could feel the warmth of her against him, he set a quick kiss on the top of her head, enjoying the smell of her hair. She looked up at him, almond-shaped, deep brown eyes regarding him with affection. He could also feel a tension in her.
“What’s new is some seriously screwed-up stuff,” Mei said softly. “I’m assuming this sudden date is because of the troubles near Beijing?”
“Gobi Desert testing institute,” McCarter said. He reached into the pocket that Mei had filled and felt the outline of a small revolver, already snugged into a pocket holster. Hook and loop material clutched the inside of the jacket pocket so he couldn’t draw the revolver and look like an idiot pulling the leather sheath with it. “Thanks, by the way.”
Mei wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t bring a Hi-Power...couldn’t fit it in my clutch.”
“So what happened up north?” McCarter asked.
Mei held her tongue for a moment, looking as if she didn’t want to say exactly. “Have you heard of the Beijing Weather Modification Office?”
“Yup,” McCarter answered. He didn’t say that Price had thrown him an encrypted text mentioning the possible involvement of the agency before he arrived at the bar. “Personally, I always wondered why they assigned almost forty thousand blokes to a rainmaking operation.”
“They are effective,” Mei returned. “They’ve done a hell of a lot of work.”
“And some of it might just be weaponized weather?” McCarter asked.
Mei nodded.
“Far be it from me to be skeptical, especially in the wake of taking out the Dragon’s Eye, a laser that could have leveled Taiwan, but how can cloud seeding and hailstorm busting be that much of a threat?” McCarter asked. “I realize that playing around with the climate on the scale of the nation of China could affect world climate patterns, but no rainstorm is going to take out an aircraft carrier group.”
“No, you would need something along the lines of a hurricane,” Mei returned.
That hit McCarter like a lump of iron slag in the stomach. “Hurricane? How?”
“In Taiwan, we were aware of the possibilities that China was working on a Massive Ordnance Air Burst explosive as a possible aircraft-carrier-killing missile. Enough to destroy the ship and perhaps cripple the support craft around it, without being an actual nuclear attack,” Mei said.
McCarter was familiar with the MOAB, a thermobaric explosive that came in two parts. One being a burst that diffused inflammable fuel or explosive dust over a large area, while the second ignited the aerosolized cloud, which itself would detonate. With a large dome of fire detonating, it would produce enormous pressure. In the twentieth century, they’d called the bomb a Daisy Cutter, since the detonation would cut every living thing down in the area, all the way down to the daisies. “I’ve had Gary make one or two of those.”
“I figured,” Mei responded. “Are you here alone?”
“I left them behind. I don’t need a bloody set of chaperones for a date with my girl,” McCarter answered.
Mei smiled. “You know that I have my own support crew around the place.”
“Especially the bartender,” McCarter noted. “Unless Taiwan took over the Russians’ telepathic research.”
Mei stuck out her tongue. It was meant to be a defiant gesture, but to David it was just unbearably cute. He leaned in and took a quick taste, lips crushed against hers. He didn’t want to break the kiss, but there was still business to attend to.
Mei cleared her throat. “The Dong-Feng can carry Multiple Individual Reentry Vehicles—I’m sure you remember MIRVs from the days when the USSR and dinosaurs roamed the Earth.”
McCarter gave her a poke in her stomach. “Was that an age joke?”
Mei chuckled. “Just making certain you’re paying attention and not undressing me with your eyes.”
“My eyes and ears can work independently, love,” McCarter said. “Right now, my eyes are snogging the hell out of your naked self.”
Mei smiled, then poked him in the center of the forehead. “Well, ears, pick this up. MIRVs can have any sort of warhead. Nuclear. Conventional. MOAB. Cloud seeder.”
McCarter suddenly felt himself focus, sitting a little straighter. “Seed the clouds over the ocean. And then do something that could increase the water temperature over a vast area.”
“Like, say, the thermobaric cloud from a MOAB,” Mei said. “What isn’t superheated gets vaporized by the blast, adding to the humidity. The sudden lack of air pressure sucks in more air...”
McCarter frowned. “Boom! One hurricane bomb.”
“Made
