Tipping Point: The War With China - The First Salvo

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Even the hills looked ancient. They stretched away mile after mile, bright green under the spring sky, patched with bleached rock where the spare soil had worn away. Over centuries, no, millennia…

Dan Lenson glanced at his wife. Her head was turned away, blond hair flickering in the warm wind from the open passenger-side window. The breeze smelled of sage, rosemary, cypress, a warm mingled scent blowing off the myrtle-covered hills. Blair had flown in the day before, and he’d left his executive officer in charge while he took two days’ leave.

“My wife, the congresswoman,” he murmured.

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t jinx me, okay? It’s by no means a shoo-in.”

The rented BMW was headed south, along a winding two-lane coast road lined with rustling olive groves, each a slightly different blue or green. Violet and cream flowers bloomed along the verge, and the blue Mediterranean murmured on their left. No one seemed to build near the water here. Maybe, Dan thought, they remembered ancient disasters. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis… classical civilization had risen atop a tectonic fault line.

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