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height might be more difficult to disguise.”
    â€œExpecting trouble?” Chance asked.
    â€œOnly getting my car to start again. But you are distinctive. The less attention you attract, the better. We don’t get westerners here as a rule.”
    â€œExcept US airmen falling from the sky,” said Rich. No one knew what had happened to the crew of the crashed plane, but he didn’t fancy ending up in the next cell.
    Mr Chang nodded. “Rumour has it, the plane was shot down.”
    â€œIt was over Chinese airspace,” Chance admitted.
    â€œWith permission, the Americans say,” Jade pointed out.
    â€œParts of this province are a war zone,” said Mr Chang. “Who knows what really happened, or where the airmen are now?”
    Even with the baseball caps, it seemed as though everyone was looking at them as they followed Mr Changand Yoshi. Rich was aware of people turning, staring and talking to each other as he passed. Bicycles wobbled as they went by. People called out, but Mr Chang ignored them.
    Further up the road, Mr Chang led them down a side street, which seemed to have been turned into an impromptu market. There was hardly room to get through between the stalls. People were selling hot food from the back of carts, cotton and other fabrics from trestle tables, watches and pens, even a few iPods.
    The smell was awful. Rich could only guess what Jade was thinking as they passed cages of chickens and song birds, a pen with piglets grunting round inside, and several mangy-looking goats.
    Mr Chang and Yoshi waved away all offers of goods and bargains and forged a path through the market. Finally they emerged at the other end of the narrow street. Mr Chang pushed open a plain, metal door set into the brick wall of a nondescript building and they went inside.
    The noise was incredible. For as far as Rich could see, the building was one enormous room, filled with people working on sewing machines. There were a few men, but mainly women and children. Mr Chang led the way along the side of the room.
    â€œWhat are they all doing?” Rich asked.
    â€œThey make clothes for export to the West,” Mr Chang explained.
    â€œA sweatshop,” said Jade angrily.
    â€œCareful, Jade,” her father warned.
    â€œWell it is,” she retorted. “I bet they get paid almost nothing.”
    â€œNot much,” Mr Chang agreed. “But at least they have work.”
    â€œHey,” said Rich, as they passed a woman sewing a collar on to a brightly coloured blouse. “You’ve got one like that, Jade.”
    â€œIt’s going to a charity shop as soon as I get back,” she told him.
    There was a door at the end of the factory floor that led into an office area. Mr Chang and Chance went through to another office, leaving Yoshi with Rich and Jade.
    â€œI hope Dad’s going to tell the boss just what he thinks of this place,” said Jade.
    â€œI hope he’s not,” Rich told her. “At least, not until he’s found out about the nukes.”
    Yoshi grinned at them and said something they didn’t understand. But Jade smiled back at him encouragingly.
    â€œAt least you don’t have to work in a place like this,” she said.
    â€œYeah,” Rich agreed, “at least your dad’s a decadent western spy whose mates sell booze and ciggies to the troops. You stick with it, kid.” He winked at Jade. “In a place like this,” he said, more serious now, “I think they just have to survive however they can. Especially with a rebellion going on.”
    â€œI guess so. Doesn’t mean it’s a good thing though.”
    â€œNo, it doesn’t,” said Rich.
    Chance waited until they were back in the car before he told them how the meeting with Mr Chang’s contact had gone.
    â€œThere was a Chinese People’s Liberation Army nuclear base about 150 kilometres outside the city. The nukes were all