42Standing near the counter that ran along the inside wall of the hotel’s ground floor breakfast bar, I swallowed orange juice and watched the sky lighten through the sheer white curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows.
It wasn’t yet seven o’clock on Thursday morning and the sun would clear the horizon in another twenty-five minutes. Soon, the room would be bathed in its rays.
The juice washed away the minty flavor of my toothpaste. The citrus tang combined with the morning light to fool my body into thinking I’d gotten a decent night’s rest.
Huddling in my room with Dawna and May after Holger’s 4:00 AM call, I’d refined our reaction to the Chinese statement.
We’d finished talking half an hour ago. They’d left my room and I’d showered and dressed in khaki slacks and a rust-red c
