2100 hours, September 9^th, 2000

Taiwan Embassy, Washington, D. C.

            The guests and dignitaries of Washington were there.  The Taiwanese Embassy was having its Fall Night of the Dragon.  On this night the Chinese look forward to the fall crops with exuberance and gusto.  Every director from every intelligence agency in Washington was there in addition to at least one representative of every major foreign governmental agency.

            Although the two Americans that walked through the great hall looked like twins, they were actually cousins.  The two invited guests, Danny St. Claire and Claire Daniels, were representatives of the National Security Agency, on loan to the State Department.  They were there for eye candy. Danny was tall, thin with broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, and deep red hair.  His cousin Claire was taller, with equally broad shoulders, and, what some would say, too much chest for her frame.  With a thin waist and full hips, her hair brushed back from her face and to her shoulders, she could have modeled or wrestled, and done either exceptionally well.

            By ten oclock they had made the rounds of the party and were standing outside on the portico talking to some friends from main land China.  A lone waiter with a tray of soiled napkins was making his way from the great hall to the kitchen when he dropped the tray behind the group.  Spinning around quickly at the noise agent St. Claire saw, and reacted too slowly to stop, what was happening.  The waiter grabbed a machine pistol with his left hand and began firing.  Three rounds struck Danny in the chest; one entered Claires back, exited her front, and entered the wife of the Deputy of Foreign Culture across the table.  Two bodyguards, the Deputy of Foreign Culture, his wife, the Assistant Director of Food Reserves and his wife were all killed.  Seven other guests were injured.  Surprisingly enough the waiter walked into the kitchen during the panic and walked out the back door to a waiting car in the alley.  As the first ambulance pulled up at the front gate, the waiter was sitting across town having a late dinner. 

2340 hours, September 9^th, 2000

Bethesda Navel Hospital, Bethesda, Maryland

            "We have two coming in, one DOA".  The doctor on duty called for nurses in the emergency room.  "I need blood cross matched and an o.r. immediately."

            The bleeding agent on the paramedics gurney was male, red headed, and breathing with the help of a respirator.  Three bullets were in his chest; two puncturing his left lung, one lodged less than an inch from his heart.

            "Get me a spreader kit and let's get him into o.r. number 3."

            Five hours later Danny St. Claire lay in intensive care, tubes and wires attached to every clear spot on his body.  The bullets had been removed, but his chances of recovery were still slim.