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281 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1983
“Hilda!” her father gasped, but she just kept calmly adding sugar and cream to her coffee. She was confident her body was not predisposed toward weight gain.
“I knew it!” he said suddenly. “This is it!”
The young, dark-haired commander leapt up and shouted, tossed the report up toward the ceiling, grabbed both hands of a dumbfounded Julian, and started dancing around the room with him. As Julian was being slung this way and that, he had a sudden realization and cried out in a loud voice, “Excellency! We can win this, can’t we? We can win this!”
“You bet we can win it! ‘Yang Wen-li doesn’t fight hopeless battles!’ Isn’t that right?”
That was when he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. Yang stopped dancing and looked toward where the sound had come from. Three people—von Schönkopf, Frederica Greenhill, and Fischer—were staring at their commander.
Yang let go of Julian’s hands and reached up to straighten his disheveled hair—at some point, his beret had gone flying off as well.
“Good news,” he said. “The plan is decided. It’s looking like we’re gonna be able to win this somehow.”