The air in the control room at the Third Department’s Haidian compound in Beijing was thick with tobacco smoke and the hum of computer consoles. A dozen tired technicians typed away, eager to give the major-general the impression that they were still alert, even after seventy-two odd hours on the job. Several of them had been asleep at their terminals when the major-general had walked in. They were now fearful of the trajectory of their various PLA careers. The time on the digital wall clock read 7.08 AM.

The major-general looked pissed. He had stormed in demanding to have an answer to the niggling problem of the network intrusion which had been discovered the day before. Hundreds of man hours after the initial discovery, they were still none the wiser. And Lieutenant Liu’s future was looking even more precarious than theirs. That fact was becoming increasingly apparent. The younger technicians watched from the corner of their eyes as the lieutenant, pale-faced and blotchy-skinned through lack of sleep, veins throbbing violently in his neck, tried to explain to the major-general the technical details of why they were not making progress in detecting the source of the network intrusions. Yet, the major-general was only interested in the solution not the mechanics. His bulky uniformed frame just stood there like an immovable object, puffing away on his cigarette, his eyes dangerously fixed on the lieutenant.

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