He knew where to go and how to get there. The members of the extraction team, composed of Hui, were making their way to the Temple of the Green Truth.“We’ll need some talent,” Haverford warned. “Things could get tough.”Benton answered, “The whole team is trained in a Muslim Chinese martial art — bajiquan. Very good for close-range work in confined spaces. Same art used by Mao’s personal bodyguard. The team leader is a master.”“He’ll need to be,” Haverford said.“Don’t worry,” Benton answered. “He’s quick and clean.”Quick, maybe, Haverford thought, but nothing about what we do is ever clean.It would be good to get out of Hong Kong. Haverford never really liked the city, and the British were ridiculously sensitive about the “cousins” poaching on their turf. Just this morning, his British counterpart, Wooten, had accosted him at the breakfast table at the Peninsula before Haverford could even get down a cup of the less than mediocre coffee.“Good morning, Adrian,”
