“So what?” Mai shrugged. “Maybe what you were describing sounded like a dragon and I just put a name to it. No big deal.”

“But why that particular word?” he pressed. “I mean, when I think of crazy people, I don’t automatically think of dragons. At least, I didn’t used to.”

“Look. We’re getting way off the subject,” Mai said firmly. “Let’s get this job thing settled right now.”

She tossed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet, fishing her cell phone from her shoulder bag.

“I’m going to duck outside, call Daddy, and explain the whole situation to him. He’ll come up with a job, and we’ll have something to celebrate instead of arguing about your loony uncle.”

Griffen started to stand politely, but she was already on her way, weaving her way majestically through the other tables. Settling into his seat once more, he stared morosely at his barely touched dinner.

What was wrong with him? He was letting this dragon thing bother him way too much. He had never really been that close to Uncle Malcolm. Why should his obsession with dragons matter one way or the other?

Still, he was sure that he hadn’t mentioned dragons to Mai when he told her about the meeting. The casual way she referenced it didn’t seem like a spur of the moment label she had just made up. How could she know about the whole dragon thing. Unless…

He shook his head as if trying to forget a bad dream.

He was doing it again. He didn’t really believe what his uncle had said for one minute. Did he? It was true that the senator’s apparent knowledge and belief had given him pause, but he didn’t believe it himself.

What was it Uncle Malcolm had said about the Eastern dragons? That they stayed apart from their European counterparts and their descendants, but were suspected to be secretly monitoring Western dragon activity?

Now that was really getting silly. The “Yellow Peril” thing went out with Fu Manchu. Besides, Mai was as American as he himself was.