anyone. It was bad enough he had shared it with Wazir Ibrahim, but if he had been foolish enough to reveal it to the other engineering students or, heaven forbid, someone outside the operation, drastic measures would need to be taken.
Based on the seriousness of Cheng’s report, Shi had some difficult decisions to make.
As he pored over maps of the United States, as well as the most recent weather reports, he transmitted a message to the PLA’s hacking unit in Shanghai with instructions. They were already standing by and he wanted to make sure they had the latest information, as well as his precise instructions. It was important that every participant be on the same page.
The biggest question plaguing Shi was, Was Nashville salvageable? What they were planning had never been done before. Like the mythical Snow Dragon itself, the attack was designed to stretch from tip to tail across the United States. The efforts of each cell were designed to overlap, and they had run contingency scenarios to account for losing up to half of the cells, but no one knew for sure how successful the attack would be if even one of the cells was taken offline. If the dragon was incomplete, would its fire still burn as hot?
There was, of course, no way to know for sure. They were in the realm of the hypothetical. Formulas, diagrams, charts, and assumptions were of no use now. Their time had passed. Shi had made a command decision and Tai Cheng had been given his orders. At this point, all Colonel Jiang Shi could do was wait. It was all in Cheng’s hands now.
CHAPTER 36
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NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE
Cheng sat outside and watched. He had no idea who Mirsab was fraternizing with in his apartment. The engineering student had been instructed to keep to himself and mind his own business. It was apparent, though, that he had ignored those orders. It made Cheng wonder what other orders Mirsab had chosen to ignore. Cheng had no choice but to sit and wait until Mirsab’s guests had departed.
When the procession of four men filed out an hour later, Cheng stayed where he was until they had driven away. Then, he got out of his vehicle and entered the building.
The hallway smelled heavily of mildew and the carpeting was stained. He approached Mirsab’s door and knocked.
Thinking one of his guests must have left something behind, the man opened his door with a smile while saying something in Arabic. Then he saw Cheng.
“May I help you?” he asked, switching to English.
“Henry Lee sent me,” Cheng replied.
The look on Mirsab’s face went from carefree to concerned in a fraction of a second. Slowly, he stepped back and said, “Come in.”
As Cheng entered, he swept the room with his eyes. It was spartanly furnished and what furnishings there were looked as if they had been there for decades.
Mirsab kept a clean home. There were no dishes in the sink or on the counter in the small, open kitchen. It didn’t smell of garbage or spoiled food. In fact, it smelled much better than the hall.
In terms of personal effects, there weren’t many Cheng could see. There were some Arabic-language magazines on the coffee table, along with a laptop and a Qur’an. A prayer rug had been rolled up and tucked away in the corner of the living room.
“Who were those men?” Cheng asked.
“What men?”
“The men who just left. The ones you thought had come back when you answered your door in Arabic.”
Mirsab cast his eyes toward the floor. “I met them at a mosque. I am part of their prayer group.”
Cheng snapped his fingers to get the engineering student to look him in the eyes. “You are not being paid to go to a mosque and there is only one group you are allowed to belong to. That’s our group. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sit down,” Cheng said, pointing at the small dining table. When Mirsab was seated, Cheng took the chair across from him and set his briefcase under the table.
“Why has Mr. Lee sent you? Is it time?” the engineering student asked.
“Soon,” Cheng assured him. “In the meantime, I have come to check on you.”
Cheng was highly adept at reading people. It was part of what made him a successful intelligence operative. Already, he could sense several things about Mirsab. Adopting a relaxed posture, and a calm, even tone, he asked, “How have you been?”