The Conspiracy II

by Laurence OBryan

Washington DC, May 30th, 2020

  Rob arrived at the hotel restaurant at twenty to eight the following morning. He was half-way through his bacon and eggs when Faith and Jim arrived. He stood, pushed the plate to the side, and put his mask on. Faith and Jim both had black masks on. They didn’t shake hands. They greeted Rob and sat.

  “Jim has brought me up to speed,” said Faith. She put a hand flat on the table. “Thankfully you didn’t agree to anything with Wang.” She shook her head. “That would have triggered other stuff. TOTALVACS are unwilling to work with anyone who also works for the Chinese.”

  “What other rules do they have?” said Rob.

  “I have emailed you a heads of agreement document, which I hope you will pass on to your partners and get signed in the next few days, Rob,” said Faith.

  “Anything in it about allowing TOTALVACS to insert GMOs in our vaccine?”

  Faith shook her head. “Don’t go all wacky on me, Rob. Did Jim not explain this one to you? I don’t know if you’re familiar with all the new contract terms since this virus started, but the use of GMO trackers is a standard line item now for all contracts for phase three trials. It’s not just us.”

  “Do we get to know what’s in the GMOs?” asked Rob.

  “Trust is hugely important here, Rob. You have to be willing to trust. I could tell you that you’ll know, always, but there could be a supplier switch at the last moment. Things happen. They’ll have their reasons. We have to trust that our partners know what they’re doing and that it’s the right thing.”

  “Trust and verify, that’s the way it works, Faith.” Rob pushed his plate further to the side and waved for a waiter to come and collect it.

  Faith and Jim ordered coffee.

  Rob had his phone out and had opened the PDF Faith had sent him. It had sixty-eight pages. He forwarded it to Sean and Peter, who were both back in London with a short request.

  These people want to fund our phase three trial for 50% of the related IP and with this contract. Let’s get our lawyers to look it over.

  The coffee had been delivered when he was finished.

  “We’d like you to come and visit the offices for the joint venture this morning, Rob,” said Faith. “We can go there now.”

  “Aren’t there going to be lots of demonstrations in Washington today? The TV says it’s going to be crazy.”

  “The office is two blocks away, Rob. We could walk that far without getting into trouble.”

  Faith looked into Rob’s eyes as if she were looking for something there.

  “You should congratulate Faith,” said Jim.

  “Why?” said Rob.

  “She’s only got engaged. Her work with politicians has finally paid off. It’s a whirlwind romance too.”

  Faith shook her head. A patch of red bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Congratulations,” said Rob. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “He works in the Senate.”

  Jim raised his eyebrows, as if he knew more, but didn’t want to say.

  “Let’s go to the office,” said Faith. She glared at Jim, as if pissed he’d said anything about her personal life.

  They headed out to a waiting car.

  “Will we be reading about your marriage in the media?” asked Rob.

  “You bet,” said Jim. “That’s why I brought it up. You’ll be reading about it for sure, and watching it on TV.”

  “I don’t watch that much TV,” said Rob. He wondered why Jim had brought up Faith’s marriage. Did he think it was a bad idea?

  They drove up K Street, where the traffic was light, and pulled up outside the most beautiful modern building Rob had seen in a long time. It had a blue water fountain outside, a mural wall with a giant mosaic of flowers, Van Gogh style, behind the fountain and a smoked glass cladding that shimmered in the morning sun as if it was alive. It looked like something from the future.

  “Great building,” said Rob.

  “Yeah, it is,” said Jim. “What until you see inside.”

  As they walked toward the building, the path around the fountain moved, carrying them forward. The wall with the mural also changed. Now it was a mountain scene, from the Rockies, by the look of it.

  Faith peered into a black square in the smoky glass wall when they reached it and a section slid open.

  “The iris scanner is the best,” said Jim, looking at Rob.

  Inside waited a wide reception area with steel sculptures and wall paintings with Native American symbols and illustrations. Faith led them to glass elevators at one side of the space and used her iris again to get one to open. She didn’t press any button, but the elevator took off.

  “It knows where we’re going,” said Jim.

  “I can override it,” said Faith. “But it knows where I normally go.”

  The floor they got out on was the fourth. The reception area here had a big off-white TOTALVACS sign on one wall and two iris scanners on steel poles. There were no humans and no obvious doors.

  Faith went to one of the scanners and Jim went to the other. When they finished being scanned, Faith turned to Rob.

  “Now your turn. The doors won’t open until everyone in our party has been scanned.”

  “Do they need a blood sample too?”

  “Probably,” said Jim. “The iris scanner takes our temperature and assesses other health metrics when it scans. Cool, huh.”

  Rob didn’t answer. He expected this sort of intrusion in China, but was surprised to see it in Washington. It probably just meant he’d been immersed in the world of the lab in Oxford for too long.

  “Just look at the little red dot,” said Faith. “It won’t hurt.”

  Rob walked up to the iris scanner and peered in. The red light blinked. A humming noise sounded from somewhere on the wall and then a low alarm sounded.

  “You’ve broken it,” said Jim.

  “No, he hasn’t. Someone will come,” said Faith.

  The alarm kept ringing. It was an irritating sound.

  Then the noise stopped. A panel in the wall ahead slid open. A tall Chinese woman with blue-tinged hair stepped through and greeted them with a bow. She had on a see-through face mask with green ventilator circles at each cheek.

  “Welcome to TOTALVACS,” she said. She put her hands out wide in a welcoming gesture. “I came out because we need a blood sample for one of your group before you can proceed to your meeting.” She looked at Rob and smiled broadly. “It is only a thumb prick sample, but we need it to ensure any visitors are not asymptomatic carriers of a range of viruses.”

  Rob put his hand out. He’d given a similar blood sample recently for a test his institute in Oxford was running for a diagnostic tool, so he knew if anyone really wanted his genetic data, all they’d have to do would be to access that data stack.

  “You get fast results with this test?” he asked.

  “Five minutes for 95% accuracy,” said the woman.

  “That beats anything we’ve seen in Europe,” said Rob.

  “It’s still undergoing FDA testing, but our internal testing shows it to be reliable,” she said. Then she bowed. “Please wait here while the test runs.” She turned on her heel and was gone.

  Faith and Jim sat on a white leather bench at the back of the room.

  “I passed it,” said Jim. “And I had a cough last week.”

  “Not every virus is Coronavirus,” said Faith.

  “Wow, that’s totally amazing news,” said Jim. He stared straight ahead.

  “Do you have many Chinese people working here?” said Rob.

  “There are quite a few from Taiwan here,” said Faith. “Their record in beating the virus is exemplary and they are as committed as hell to helping us beat this thing.”

  Rob sat down.

  “What else goes on here?” he asked, looking from Faith to Jim.

  Neither of them replied, they just stared ahead, a fixed expression on their faces.

  Rob looked around the room. A white plastic pod in the
corner, high up, showed him why they hadn’t said any more. Their every action and word were being recorded.

  A few minutes later, the sliding doors opened again. The Taiwanese woman came out and waved for them to follow her.

  She led the way along a white-walled corridor until they reached a glass external wall, which allowed them to look out over the city. A thin trail of black smoke rose in the air from near the white spike that was the Washington Monument, visible on the horizon.

  They walked along inside the glass external wall and entered a large meeting room with a giant screen. A long white table took up the center of the room.

  “Your host will be with you shortly,” said the woman. She left the room and the door clicked as if locking.

  Rob looked around. There were no posters or pictures, just the table and six white chairs with thin white leather cushions.

  “How long is this going to take?” said Rob.

  “You don’t have a lot of patience, do you?” said Faith. She looked at her phone. “Our meeting is due to start in two minutes.”

  Rob sat, checked his phone, looked at the New York Times website. Reports from the Black Lives Matter protests only a few miles away were saying thousands of peaceful protestors had gathered. They were demanding change.

  The door opened and an older black man came into the room. His hair was gray, and he was a little stooped. His suit looked expensive and his glasses were gold-rimmed. The face mask he wore was see-through with green filters like the Taiwanese woman’s.

  “Welcome to our offices, Dr. McNeil.” His accent carried a hint of a southern drawl. “You all following the protests?”

  “Yeah,” said Rob. “Feels like change is coming.”

  The man smiled. “Yeah, and my name is Dr. Bishop. I run the TOTALVACS Washington office. I understand the need to protest, especially after so many violent deaths. I was a child who benefited from Dr. King’s wave of change, but I also want to make sure our country is defended in this time of crisis.”

  “No arguments there,” said Rob. “What is it you need from me?”

  “We have your blood sample, so that’s all we need for now. We can clone you in the next few days.” He smiled.

  Rob shook his head. “You’re joking, right?”

  Dr. Bishop put his head back and laughed. “You should have seen the look on your face, young man,” he said. “Our cloning project is somewhere in the future, but when visitors see our building, they sometimes think we can do anything. We’ve even been asked if aliens work for us.” He rubbed his hand across the table. “Well, I can assure you we are all too human here. We make mistakes like everyone else.”

  “Thank you for seeing us, Dr. Bishop,” said Faith.

  Bishop nodded in her direction, then turned back to Rob. “To answer your original question, I have to be blunt with you. We need you to work with us. I know your partners in England are reviewing our contract, but I also know they are likely to be swayed by your vote. If you are enthusiastic about this partnership, I’m sure you’ll be able to get their backing. After all, the virus eater you developed is what we want to test and share.”

  He was right, of course, Sean and Peter could be swayed if he was convinced, but Rob had his doubts. Was this the time to talk about them? Yeah, it was. They were pushing things very fast, as if they expected him to do whatever they asked without question.

  “I’ve been told you’ll have control of the additional ingredients, GMOs specifically, which you’ll insert in our vaccine. Is that the case?”

  Bishop waved his hand, dismissing Rob’s concerns.

  “We have been inserting GMOs into vaccines for years. Multiple trials have shown no increase in mortality rates or side effects between the original and the GMO enhanced vaccines. Not all the new inserts are tested, but we believe the benefits, tracking in particular, far outweigh any dangers.”

  “GMO vaccines have been linked in some studies to the appearance of more virulent strains of the target virus,” said Rob.

  “We are aware of the dangers, but the potential for such mutations exists in non-GMO vaccines as well,” said Dr. Bishop.

  “It’s a matter of trust, Rob,” said Faith.

  “Sure, but we’ll need data on anything you add—chemical formulas, suppliers, test results, everything,” said Rob.

  “Sure, you’ll get it all. We do everything the right way, Dr. McNeil,” said Bishop. “Your fellow citizens of the United States need you to bat for them. And not just for our country, for the world too. Let’s do this.”

  Rob could feel the pressure building, like a coffee pot coming to the boil. They were all staring at him, their mouths half open, willing him to agree on the spot.

  “An initial payment of ten million dollars, to become an expert consultant for this project, will be made to your bank account on the agreement proceeding,” said Bishop.

  11

  Lubyanka Square, Moscow, May 30th, 2020

  Vladimir left FSB headquarters at a little after nine that night. An FSB plane would take him overnight to Washington Dulles airport. He would be accompanied by a new liaison officer for the Russian Embassy in Washington. The woman was tall, black-haired, and stern looking, as you’d expect from a first-class graduate of the Moscow Institute of Physics & Technology with a double PhD and a two year diplomatic service training program under her belt.

  He’d been told about her after leaving Comrade Chukov. She would be on the plane to Washington with him. He was designated as her driver. That was his cover. She would probably be happy with this, as she’d never had a driver before.

  Vladimir would not spoil her enjoyment of this. The less she knew, the better.

  He passed by his apartment on his way to the airport, visited with his friend opposite to make sure she was still alive, but kept his mask on the whole time and didn’t go further than her hallway. He found out that the night visits to his apartment by colleagues in the FSB had stopped. No one slipped in when he was out anymore.

  “I am the one getting the most men coming to see me again,” she said.

  “Stop seeing clients until I get back,” he said. “There is a new variant of the Coronavirus spreading here in Russia. It will be in Moscow in days. If you want to die, keep seeing people.” He pulled a wad of dollars he’d been given and peeled off five one hundred dollar notes.

  “You never paid me before,” she said, a smile on her face. It was the first smile he’d seen her giving him in months.

  He pulled the notes back as she went to grab them. “Do you agree not to see any men when I’m away?”

  She nodded, eagerly. “I didn’t know you cared,” she said, laughing.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said. “I just don’t want to come back and find everyone in the building dead because of you.” He gave her the money.

  “I have a very good chess partner on the third floor. I want him to be alive next winter, understood?”

  She nodded, pushed the notes into her bra, and gave him a wonky smile.

  After showering, changing his clothes, collecting his backpack, and checking his windows were all closed and electrical items unplugged, he headed down to the waiting FSB car. His friend waved at him from a high window as he looked up, before he climbed into the vehicle. It was almost as if she liked him. He let out a derogatory grunt. She probably treated all her big-spending clients that way.

  On the flight he got to know Olga, the new liaison officer. She was chattier than he expected, probably because of the excitement of being whisked to the United States on a Russian State plane.

  She’d probably expected something simpler and smiled proudly to herself for much of the flight. He listened to her tales of scaling the heights in the Russian diplomatic corps training center. She didn’t ask him any questions about his background. With his new tight military haircut and older, craggy face, she would assume, correctly, that he was ex-military and incorrectly that he’d been given this plum driving role by a high up relativ
e or comrade from his days on the front line.

  He didn’t tell her that he wouldn’t be driving her around Washington at all or that he was the reason they were traveling by government jet. He would let her figure it out later. And this way, if she was asked at Dulles Airport what their relationship was, she could reply honestly, with that fresh-faced look only a truthful person has.

  12

  Washington DC, May 30th, 2020

  Rob put his hand up. “OK, I am willing to do everything I can for my fellow Americans,” he said. “But don’t expect us to fall for anything your lawyers come up with. I will fight to make sure my institute gets a fair deal, and when the deal does go through, which I will push for, you can pay that ten million dollars to the True American fund for third world vaccine deployment.” He paused. “And I want one other thing.”

  “What’s that?” said Bishop.

  “That I be involved in the phase three trial’s management and receive the trial reports.”

  “Sure, this we can do. But I also have a request of you,” said Bishop.

  The room went quiet.

  “What is it?” said Rob.

  Both Jim and Faith wore amused expressions as if they were taken aback by Rob’s donation of his ten million dollar payment.

  “We want you to go back to your friend in the Chinese Embassy and agree to work for them. Offer to share whatever information you extract from us in exchange for being part of their vaccine development program.”

  “Are you serious?” said Rob. “You want me to tell them about our agreement?”

  “Yes, they suspect already that you’ve been recruited. So they know about us. This will make you more valuable to them. They prize high-level connections.”

  Rob let out a low whistle. “Who else will know about this? If I’m questioned for talking to the Chinese, will you back me up?”

  “Yes, we will. Refer any requests for confirmation of your status to Jim or Faith. Both the CIA and FBI are on board with this.”

  Rob looked at Faith and Jim. They nodded in agreement.

  “I can’t just turn up at the Chinese Embassy again,” said Rob. “Is that what you want me to do?”