"Think about it."

I leaned my butt against the railing and thought about it. Though her face communicated other emotions, I sensed she was under considerable duress to bring home that briefcase. Like me, she might not have been told why, and also like me, she might only be guessing it was something important; I suspected otherwise, though. I said, "I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Pretend what you like."

I asked, "Do you have reason to suspect there's sensitive or compromising material in Cliff Daniels's possession?"

"How would I know?"

"That's not the right answer, Major."

She hesitated, probably tempted to say fuck you, but instead she suggested, "Colonel, let's keep this friendly. Okay?"

"You made it unfriendly."

"I realize that. And that was a big mistake on my part." She smiled warmly. "Hey, I'm woman enough to admit it." She stuck out her hand. "I apologize. Come on-let's start over."

"I'm enjoying where we're at right now." I ignored her hand.

"Well… I'm not. I'm sure we can come to an accommodation. Just lose the attitude. I don't respond well to overbearing men."

"What do you respond to?"

"The same things you should respond to. Duty, honor, country… the higher needs of the society we're both sworn to protect."

"No… seriously."

She laughed. And I, too, laughed.

Indeed, this was an intriguing lady. Of course, it never pays to underestimate the competition. Clearly Bian Tran was a fascinating and surprisingly complex woman-self-confident, forceful, spirited, and, I thought on a more contradictory note, sly, brazen, bawdy, and slightly cynical. Beneath that cool intelligence and soldierly veneer, I sensed, was a woman of considerable passion, of suppressed spontaneity, of independent motives-qualities any smart female in the military keeps in check, if not repressed, if she wants a successful career.

It's a little strange.