I was very suprised that Master Tsien was allowed out of China. It had been a treaty condition that gong fu be restricted to the People's Republic of China. 

It had been a typically Martian kerfuffle. The Emperor asked to be awarded the martial dignity of shaolin master. The temple, being touchier than any mere military, refused.  That almost sparked the war right there. Finally the UN worked out a deal and the Crown Prince Imperial was allowed to study gong fu at the monastery. 

Ten years later he abdicated to devote himself to his vocation.  Mars exploded in rage, but the Chinese were hit in the soul for the second time and preferred a fight.

Now Tsien was in America. I was just curious, because it wasn't  my problem, when my phone howled.

"Yes Chief!"

"Watching CNN? Tsien is in America. Get down here now. Word is he wants political asylum."

"But nobody admits China represses anybody."

"Asshole, that's a political decision. No court can be held to it. And that's as far as we go over the phone. Come in."

We had already gone far enough. I got moving.  To be late would be the same as handing in my resignation. And I wasn't sure it was that serious.

Yet.

A ninja assassin has to set limits, after all.