The Conspiracy II

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The Conspiracy II Page 9

by Laurence OBryan


  Gong led him down a narrow corridor with doors on each side. She stopped at a table with hand sanitizer bottles on it, poured some on her hands and on his, and opened a door with her elbow. The meeting room had a view over the city with the spike of the Washington Monument visible in the distance above the trees, between two dark, brick-like office blocks between them and the city center.

  Gong went to the window, looked out.

  “Did you ever imagine we’d end up here?” said Gong.

  Wang stood behind her. He breathed in the lemony smell of her hair. Memories flooded back of his younger self, his enthusiasm for the party, their energetic lovemaking in his tiny student room in Beijing, and their efforts to be quiet so that he wasn’t thrown out of the building in the middle of the night. But most of all, he remembered his naivety.

  They’d promised they’d stay together forever, but at the first chance of a foreign promotion, she’d gone. Their long-distance affair had petered out as he rose up the ranks in Beijing and offers of female comfort came his way.

  But he’d never forgotten her. And the two times he’d seen her in the last few years had been the highlights of each year.

  “Why are you here?” asked Gong.

  “You must do more,” said Wang, enjoying the moment, the little bit of power he had over her.

  “Such as?”

  “There must be no public criticism of the People’s Republic of China. You are simply on assignment at the Pan American Health Organization. I hope I do not have to remind you that you still work for our embassy. Number two, we will set the terms for any investigation into events at Wuhan. Make that clear to everyone here.” He paused, transfixed by the downy hairs on her neck. If he blew hard, they would move. He remembered doing that.

  She shifted on her feet, moving away from him. “And number three?”

  “Recordings of all internal meetings discussing the Coronavirus this January must be deleted.”

  “That won’t be easy.” Gong turned to him. Her eyes were wide. Did he see in them an echo of her desire for him?

  “It will be hard, yes,” he said. He had to stop himself from leaning forward and reaching for her.

  Gong narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m getting married,” she said, bluntly.

  He blinked, forced his expression to harden.

  “Who is the man?”

  “You don’t know him.” She reached up, as if she would touch his face, then pulled her hand away.

  “Someone who can help you, I expect.”

  She took a step toward him. “You could have followed me here.”

  A muscle tightened inside his chest, restricting his windpipe. He pressed his lips together.

  “I have my career. Personal feelings cannot get in the way.” His head shook with the force of his reply. “That is what the party teaches us.”

  She looked away. “You are still the same, Wang.”

  “Yes, I believe in the party. And now more than ever. The United States must be forced to its knees.”

  “How will we do that? Tell me.”

  “An explosion in Coronavirus cases is coming in a few weeks. The seeds have been sown.”

  “How many will die?” Gong looked into his eyes.

  Wang felt himself weaken. He blinked, shrugged.

  “And what will the contribution by Beijing to the WHO be?” Gong asked, softly.

  “It will go up. It is a gesture to thank everyone here for their hard work.”

  She took another step closer to him. “There is something you can do for me, Mr. Wang.”

  Wang’s cheek jerked. It was a spasm he occasionally got when he was stressed.

  “What can I do for you?” he said. At the back of his mind, he was hoping she would offer herself to him.

  “Tell your friends back in Beijing that they must hide our opioid exports to the United States better. I’m getting pressure from a variety of sources to do something about it,” said Gong Dao.

  Wang laughed, waved his hands about. “I will pass on your message, but I know what the response will be. This is how capitalism works. We meet demand. If we don’t manufacture opioids, the Indians will. Tell anyone who complains that the Americans must curtail demand.” He put his hand to his head, then pulled it away in a surprised gesture. “This is just an example of the much talked about freedom in the United States. Freedom to kill yourself with opioids.”

  Wang pointed toward the Washington Monument. “See, some very free protesters have started another fire.”

  A thin black column of smoke rose in the distance.

  “And another?” said Wang. He pointed a little to the east.

  Gong Dao nodded.

  “This reminds me of Hong Kong last year, before we put our foot down,” he said.

  “You were there?” said Gong. She smiled at him.

  “Yes, they needed some help.”

  “Interrogations?”

  Wang didn’t reply. He was looking at the gold Gaara Chinese love symbol dangling on a thin necklace around her neck. An urge to rip it from her boiled inside him.

  “What is the matter, Mr. Wang?” asked Gong.

  He forced his feelings away, clasped both hands behind his back.

  “Nothing is the matter,” he said. “We will proceed with haste to our destination. That is all that matters.”

  “There is one small final thing,” said Gong. She leaned close to him.

  He could smell charcoal toothpaste on her breath.

  “What?”

  “I recommend we keep one recording from an internal World Health Organization discussion about the Coronavirus from mid-January.”

  “What does it show?” said Wang.

  “I will send you a copy. Is there anything else, Mr. Wang?”

  He was sorely tempted to tell her what he was thinking, but instead, he thanked her and allowed her to accompany him down to the main reception hall.

  As he waited for the embassy car to arrive at the side of the building, he had a strange empty feeling, as if he had let something important slip from his grasp.

  When he arrived back at the embassy, the video file was waiting in his inbox. It had been decrypted automatically. He turned in his chair, checking to see if anyone in the room allocated to visiting officials from Beijing was watching him. There wasn’t. He started the video.

  It looked like any other meeting video. First there were brief introductions, with people giving their names. Then he stopped the video. The next person on the screen was an American senator. He’d seen him on TV.

  He plugged a set of earphones into the laptop. In his ears, the senator spoke. He had a youthful southern drawl.

  “Ya’ll know that if we delay the announcement of human to human airborne transmission for another week, the spread of this new virus will be hard to stop.”

  The camera switched to Gong Dao. “We cannot confirm airborne transmission until Beijing agrees,” she said.

  The screen switched back to the senator. Underneath him, the words Senator Harmforth appeared.

  “I have to tell you; if you delay, you can be accused of deliberately allowing the virus to spread.”

  Gong Dao shook her head. “No government would dare do that.” She leaned forward.

  “We must wait for the approval of Beijing,” said Gong Dao. “If you wish to raise an objection, it can be noted in the minutes, Senator Harmforth?”

  “Ya’ll go ahead with your plan,” he said. “I am sure the White House will be ready to deal with whatever happens over here.”

  Wang checked the senator’s website to see if he had engagements in Washington. He discovered that Harmforth sat on an appropriations committee meeting that day.

  Wang saved the video and attached a text overlay with the meeting date—10th of January 2020—and placed the clip in a password protected area of Nutstore. Few in the United States used the Chinese version of Dropbox, but Senator Harmforth would figure out how to access it when he received the email
.

  He composed it and sent the link, a screen grab, and part transcript to the senator from a United States-based Gmail account.

  From a friend. I have the full video of this meeting. I do not want it to get out to the media. Meet me at the main visitor entrance to the Capitol Building at nine tomorrow morning. Wait twenty feet from the door. I will find you. I will offer you green tea.

  He sent the message through a virtual private network that would hide where it came from. The party’s virtual network was the highest grade encrypted-network in the world. It would take the United States a million years, using every computer in the country, to crack its decryption code.

  27

  Washington DC, June 2nd, 2020

  Jackie was smiling, looking beyond the camera, as if someone was telling her what to do.

  Rob’s heart beat like a kettledrum. His knees went weak. He straightened, put a fist out, shook it toward Vladimir.

  “What the hell is this? Some sick—”

  Before he could finish, Jackie was speaking on the video he was watching. “Rob, do whatever Vladimir asks.” The audio crackled. Then the video stopped.

  “You bastard,” said Rob. He took a step toward Vladimir, his fist up. “Where is she?”

  They were toe to toe, with no masks on. Rob’s breathing was coming fast. A deep tremble ran through him. Sweat ran from his brow.

  “Answer me!” he shouted.

  Vladimir smiled.

  A young woman jogging toward them veered off into the trees.

  “I do not know where she is,” said Vladimir. He put his arms out wide. “That is the way it is in my country. They don’t tell us things. That way, it doesn’t matter if you beat me to a pulp and threaten to bury me in the woods. I still can’t tell you anything.” He let out a cynical laugh.

  “OK, where did you get this video?” Rob was shaking. His eyes started to water. He blinked it all away, thrust his fist forward. His chest had tightened as if a band had been placed around it.

  “It was sent to me.” Vladimir sounded nonchalant.

  “By who?” Rob shouted.

  Two more joggers veered away from them.

  “I will ask the questions from this point,” said Vladimir, jutting his jaw out, his expression hardening.

  Rob looked over Vladimir’s shoulder, then stepped closer to him. As Vladimir’s gaze shifted, he grabbed Vladimir’s neck. The skin felt warm and rubbery under the collar of his shirt.

  Vladimir just stood there. “Let go of me or my friend will put a bullet in your head.”

  “What friend?”

  “To your left.”

  Rob turned his head. Among the trees stood a man with a black hoodie pulled up. He was carrying a dark jacket over his arm. The arm was pointed at him.

  “I don’t care,” said Rob, anger in each word. “Where is my wife?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Getting yourself killed is not going to save her.”

  Rob growled, then released his grip.

  “Never touch me again,” said Vladimir, his voice tense.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Has TOTALVACS started production of your vaccine?”

  Rob nodded.

  “Tell them to stop. Tell them you need to change the antigen formula.” Vladimir’s eyes narrowed. “Tell them you want to extend the period of immunity the vaccine will give.”

  Rob shook his head. “They won’t buy that. This is bull crap. Are you telling me I can’t get my wife back if I don’t do this?”

  “I am passing on a message. That is all. Do not blame the messenger.”

  Rob snorted in frustration. “How do I know she’s alive? This could be some video trick.”

  “Have you ever seen a video like this of her?” Vladimir looked puzzled, as if he too was wondering if the video was real.

  “No.”

  “Then I suggest you do what I requested. What is a few weeks’ delay in your vaccine? It will be a better one this way. What’s the problem?” He smiled, but with his lips only, as if he thought Rob was stupid.

  “And”—Vladimir leaned forward—“please, don’t tell your friends in the American intelligence services anything about this. We know about your chats with Dr. Bishop. I will find out if you talk and we will not meet again.”

  Vladimir stepped back. “See you back here tomorrow morning, Dr. McNeil. I hope to have another video for you then. And”—he shook his head slowly—“do not follow me if you want to see your Jackie again.”

  28

  Washington DC, June 2nd, 2020

  Senator Harmforth put his phone to his ear. He listened as he walked along the corridor outside the senator’s restaurant in the bowels of the Capitol building.

  He nodded at senators and staffers passing by. Some had a face mask on, others didn’t. The crowd was a lot thinner than on a normal Tuesday. The only senators still in the building were on committees and a few others who always did as they chose.

  “Don’t be like that, honey,” he said. “You know I only met that Gong Dao to get information out of her. Trust me.”

  He lifted the phone away from his ear as the response came. He waited, then replied, “McNeil’s wife had to be silenced, that was what happened to her.”

  “It’s fake news,” he said. “Someone’s out to get me. Why don’t you check your sources?”

  29

  Washington DC, June 2nd, 2020

  “What happened to you, Rob?” asked Faith. They were in the TOTALVACS building in K Street. He had just spent the last five minutes insisting he needed to see Bishop.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I just realized we can improve the vaccine formula significantly.”

  They were sitting in one of the small meeting rooms overlooking the back of the building and a row of other office blocks, which blocked out the sun.

  Faith did a double take. “Rob, you can’t be serious. They’ve started the manufacturing process already.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t have. I haven’t sent them the signed agreement to start yet.”

  Faith let out a low gasp. “You were told they were going to start. You gave your word that you’d get the agreement signed.”

  “Are we going to do this the right way or the TOTALVACS way?” said Rob.

  “The right way.” Faith’s cheeks were red.

  “Look, I don’t want to have to go public with my objections to the formula they will use for this phase three trial, but I will if I have to.”

  He leaned back. “You do know if there’s an internal scientific objection that the trials cannot proceed.”

  “They can proceed, but FDA approval for the vaccine may be delayed while they investigate your objection.”

  “Is that what you want?” said Rob.

  “No,” said Faith.

  “Well, either you delay now, or I’ll get a delay at the end, Faith. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

  “What’s going on, Rob? How come you’re dropping this on us now?” She had a curious expression on her face.

  “I just want to make sure the vaccine works.” Rob sat up straight. He couldn’t give anything away concerning his hopes about Jackie being alive.

  At first, after Vladimir had gone, he’d dismissed the whole thing as an obvious set-up. The Russians probably had video systems that could replicate what someone looked like and get them to say anything.

  Then, he’d remembered that the red top she was wearing in the video had only arrived from an online store the day before he’d gone to Paris.

  How could they know that?

  The video had to be real. She was alive. Thank God.

  His fingers jumping about in excitement, he’d composed an email to Bishop outlining his reasons for wanting a delay for the vaccine. Then he sent it off. He’d received no reply.

  So he’d come for the previously agreed meeting at ten that morning at TOTALVACS, expecting Bishop to be here and asking him detailed questions about his email, but only Faith ha
d met him, and she didn’t seem to know about his email at all.

  “Has anyone been in contact with you?” Faith asked.

  “Lots of people contact me. I get hundreds of emails every day.”

  “Has anyone tried to influence you?”

  He stared straight ahead.

  “Did you sleep well last night?”

  “Sure.”

  “You went for a run early this morning.”

  “I went for a walk to clear my head.”

  “I’m just wondering where this sudden change of mind came from, Rob.”

  Now he knew. She’d been assigned to find out what had happened to him to make him send the email.

  “Listen, Faith, I’m not joking. I will leave here now and contact the Federal Drug Administration with my objections to this trial. The FDA has the power to make an order stopping any trial.” He leaned forward. “I bet TOTALVACS hasn’t even completed the paperwork for the trial. I know everything’s at warp speed for these vaccine trails, but if there’s an objection from someone involved in the project, the whole thing has to stop.”

  “You won’t do that, Rob. Your future as a vaccine scientist is on the line here. If you object to this phase three trial, which you agreed to only a few days ago, no one will ever invest in you or trust you again.” She put her elbows on the table.

  “We’ve been in contact with your partners at the Institute of Applied Research. They have no knowledge of any change to your vaccine formula.”

  “I bet you spoke to Peter Fitzgerald,” said Rob. “Hold on.”

  He pulled out his smartphone and went into his email. Yes, there it was, an email from Peter. He opened it.

  Rob,

  Good news. I’ve found out the name of the person who recommended you for the talk in Paris. It was someone at the Pan American Health Organization called Gong Dao.

  I hope this helps.

  Also, I got an email from someone at TOTALVACS asking if there were any amendments to your vaccine formula being considered. I told them there weren’t. I am sure you don’t want to delay things at that end.

  You’re welcome,

  Peter Fitzgerald.

  Rob felt cold inside. Gong Dao had recommended him for the talk in Paris and had visited his wife. He looked up. “Fitzgerald knows nothing about the latest results from the phase two trials. The changes I’m recommending are to be made for good reasons.”

 

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