Rob looked at his phone. They were driving slowly through mostly empty streets.
Faith began texting furiously.
Rob sent a reply to the message.
Can we do the meeting anywhere else in DC?
A minute later a reply came.
Not possible. Do not be late.
“How soon can we be in Washington?” he asked.
“You go to Washington. I’m staying here,” said Faith. She tapped the driver’s shoulder. “Let me out.”
Rob put his hand up. “We should drop you where you’re going,” he said.
“I have another vehicle behind,” she said. She pointed with her thumb. Rob looked out the back window. A similar black Chevy was about a half block behind.
As Faith got out, she said to the driver. “Make sure he gets to Washington tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the driver.
“Someone will be watching the embassy, Rob. They’ll probably try to get you to do something, maybe show you another video to prove she’s alive. Don’t believe it. In fact, I recommend you don’t go there. But if you insist on finding out that they’re just stringing you along, so be it. We ain’t going to stop you. And when you do get away from them, go in to TOTALVACS and call me.”
She leaned back in as she was about to close the Chevy door. “I really hope tomorrow ends any doubt once and for all you have about what they’re telling you.”
She slammed the Chevy door.
59
Washington DC, June 5th, 2020
Vladimir pulled on his shirt. Katerina was in the shower. She had asked him about every scar on his front and back. He’d only explained a few. There were some things he never wanted to talk about. His phone buzzed again. A series of messages awaited him.
Be at the embassy by eight, was one.
Special guest arriving at nine, was another.
He opened the bathroom door and put his head in. “I have to go,” he shouted.
“Good luck,” replied Katerina from the steamed-up shower cubicle.
He didn’t reply. He left the room, making sure the door was locked after exiting. He needed sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
He was back in his room thirty minutes later. He called the security officer at the embassy.
“Everything ready for my guest?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the reply. “We are always happy to arrange reconciliation meetings.”
“Good, this one will be extra special.”
60
Manhattan, June 5th, 2020
Wang finished his shower and had opened the Eye of the Ocean app. He sat on the edge of his bed going through the various menus available from the restaurant chain around the world, the pictures of celebrities at their restaurants, and the notice board for placing reviews of restaurants or dishes. All the reviews there were stellar.
The young man whose room he was in turned abruptly, yanked his earphones off, and said, “Two men are on their way up to our floor. They asked about me. They must be looking for you.”
Wang looked over the young man’s shoulder. In the corner of the screen, he had a view of the lobby downstairs. Another small window showed two Chinese men in suits coming up in an elevator.
“You have maybe twenty seconds to get to the fire escape stairs. That way,” said the young man, pointing down the corridor.
“And you?” said Wang.
“They aren’t looking for me,” said the young man. “I will visit with a friend in the room opposite until they’re gone.” He shook his head. “She won’t want you in her room.”
The two of them exited the hotel room together. The young man must have had a pass card to his girlfriend’s room, as he was gone when Wang looked around, before he opened the door to the fire escape stairs. Then he went down, taking the steps in jumps. When he’d gone down six floors, he heard a noise from up above.
He stopped jumping and pushed open the door on that floor, closing it gently behind him. It was probably the driver and one of the other men from the embassy. They most likely wanted to force him to come with them back to Washington.
He walked slowly down the corridor. His phone buzzed. A message had come in on the restaurant app. It was an image of him arriving at their restaurant in Manhattan. He stopped, opened the message. Below it, there was text.
Project Name: Poison the Wells. 1. Recruit individuals who will spread misinformation inside the United States, 2. Identify individuals willing to demonstrate on the streets and who need financial assistance.
He read it again, then scrolled back to the top of the message. The image was gone. He reloaded the screen. The entire message was gone.
A shout echoed down the corridor. Two men from the Chinese Embassy in black suits, with red ties, were walking toward him with smiles on their faces.
“We are happy to have found you, Mr. Wang Hu,” said one of the men.
They did indeed look happy. Wang glanced over his shoulder. The elevator was some way off. Running was not an option. He had to pretend he’d just been delayed.
He turned and raised his hands in greeting. “Where have you been?” he asked.
“Looking for you,” said the driver. “We must get you back to Washington.”
“Let’s go then,” he said.
Thirty minutes later they were exiting the Lincoln Tunnel and moving fast along I-95. Not long after, they were on the New Jersey Turnpike, which was almost empty—a highly unusual sight for a Friday evening, which would usually have been bumper to bumper traffic with people heading out of the city.
Wang Hu sat in the back. The driver and the other embassy official were in the front.
His phone buzzed insistently. A new message from the Eye of the Ocean app had arrived. The buzz it created was so loud the official in the front turned around to stare at him with curiosity written all over his face.
Wang opened the app. The message was a picture of the restaurant chain’s famous Five-Spice Duck soup, which it bragged about on its social media sites.
The image had Chinese characters embedded in it. He opened the pic. It was a fortune-cookie message.
Your journey must end or you will pay the final price.
He glanced up. The official was looking at him again, turning in his seat, smiling with his mouth only. The bulge in the man’s jacket was more prominent now. Not many from the embassy staff would be allowed out with a weapon. The only reason to have one would be to use it.
61
Manhattan, June 5th, 2020
Faith leaned back. “How far ahead are they?” she asked. She undid the button on her black jacket and took a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the comfortable and enveloping rear seat of the Chevy.
“Ten minutes,” said the driver. “You want me to use the blue light?”
“No,” she said. “Just close the distance slowly. Have we got satellite tracking on them?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the other young State Department official in the vehicle, sitting in the front with the driver. He turned and showed an iPad screen to Faith.
“We set up a tracking priority for the vehicle. We have satellite and ground cameras.”
“Your name is?” said Faith.
“Noah Oliver, ma’am.”
“And McNeil is where, Mr. Oliver?” she said.
“McNeil’s twenty minutes ahead of our target, ma’am.”
“Hold on,” said Noah. He peered hard at the screen he was holding.
“The target has pulled off at Mile Post 92.9; that’s Woodbridge.” He blinked, peered closer at the text on his screen. “That’s the Thomas Edison service area. They may have pulled in for gas.”
“Do we have air support?” asked Faith.
“We have a Huey in the air from McGuire AFB. They’re staying out of sight, tracking us, and will only deploy if we call them in.”
“Has our translation unit confirmed the messages received by the target?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And we have confirmation that one of the Chinese officials in the vehicle is a member of their Sea Dragon Commando unit?”
“Yes, ma’am. And, ma’am, we’re coming up to the Thomas Edison service area. Shall we turn in?”
“Yes,” said Faith.
62
Thomas Edison Service Area I-95, June 5th, 2020
“I’ll be finished quickly,” said Wang. He pointed at the Sunco gas station near the concrete-colored rest area and restaurant building.
“You get gas,” he said.
“No need, we wait for you outside,” said the official riding shotgun. He pointed at an empty space for the driver to pull up where they could watch the front and side of the building.
The driver pulled the car into it. Wang got out. He looked back as he neared the building. The driver had gotten out too and was following him. Perhaps he needed the restrooms, but he was also clearly watching Wang.
The only time Wang had ever heard of a Ministry of State Security official being watched this closely was when they were about to be exposed for something, sent to re-education camp, or even one of the special prisons for security officials.
Those prisons made the one he’d visited in Wuhan the month before look like holiday camps. He’d interrogated a corrupt party official in one of them. All the men he’d seen in the camp had stumps for teeth, some had an empty eye socket, and every face had been wrapped in a gray despair.
He needed to find out what they had on him, so he could clear his name. He would not be able to do that from a prison cell.
He walked fast past the restrooms, looking for the back way out. He turned a corner and was faced with a long empty corridor with closed signs on shops on either side. Only one of the restaurants in the main area behind him was open, and only for takeaways. He spotted a door with an emergency handle and walked fast to it. He pushed at the door and went through as an alarm sounded.
He stood behind the door as it opened, and waited.
63
Thomas Edison Service Area I-95, June 5th, 2020
“Pull over at the far end,” said Faith, pointing past the vehicle they’d been following.
“What do you think; just a rest stop?” asked Noah.
“No idea,” said Faith. “Anything could happen.”
“I’ll call in support,” said the driver.
“Don’t do that,” said Faith. “We haven’t got an incident yet. “I’m not getting air support in for a trip to the john.”
“Shall I go inside?” said Noah.
“You go in the front, scope the john. I’ll check around the back, just in case they exit to another vehicle. I don’t want to lose them.”
She didn’t say there’d been an incident at a similar service area two years before, that had nearly cost her position at State. That time, a foreign embassy official was wanted for questioning about a DUI with multiple deaths. He’d escaped by the back door. He was never heard of again. And the families never got closure. She blamed herself for that.
The driver turned to her. “I’ll go with you, ma’am. You need backup.”
“Nope, you stay here. Watch their vehicle.”
Faith pressed the thumb-lock release on her Sig Sauer P320 holster. She kept her right hand inside her jacket, an inch from her weapon as she walked through the car park. There weren’t many vehicles, but there were enough to indicate the area which would have families wandering around and possibly young children exploring around the back.
A honk from a truck made her turn her head. She couldn’t see where it had come from. Cars were passing fast along I-95. She could smell gas fumes and the thrum of vehicles filled her ears. She stayed a good fifty feet from the building as she went around, to give her a line of sight, and as she turned the corner at the side of the building, she looked back at their vehicle.
Its black windows gave nothing away. Should she have called for backup? Yeah, but how long would that take to arrive? And there was probably nothing going down here. Right? Yeah, right.
She walked past other vehicles, looking for the back exit out of the rest area. There had to be one. Fire exits were mandatory in service areas.
There was an open field to the right now, and a short line of straggly trees at the back of the service area.
A couple of wooden picnic tables waited under the trees. A high wooden partition separated the picnic area from the rear of the building. She walked toward it.
As she neared it, she shivered. Something in her bones didn’t like this. It was exactly the same type of day as her previous experience at a service station incident. The sky was the same, rapidly darkening blue, and the tension inside her was the same, like a wire being turned and tightened.
She was nearly at the partition. A shout rang out. She put her hand on her weapon and rounded the corner.
64
Washington DC, June 5th, 2020
Vladimir reached his apartment building as the evening shadows were lengthening. Sitting outside the building stood a black Chevy with darkened windows. He’d have to walk near it to get to the front entrance. He looked around. There’d be no witnesses if someone was going to pull him in.
He kept a good distance from the vehicle and his eyes roaming as he passed it. As he did, a back window rolled down and a voice called out.
“Vladimir, good to see you,” said the voice.
He stopped, looked in, and squinted to see the person in the shadows inside the vehicle.
“Dr. Bishop, it’s been a long time.”
Bishop was wearing a blue face mask, but there was no mistaking him.
“Seven years almost exactly,” said Bishop. “I have a message for you, Vladimir.” He motioned with a finger for Vladimir to come closer.
Vladimir did and leaned down. Then he spat on the ground nearby.
“Make it quick,” he said. “I’m a busy man and I don’t forget your tricks.”
Bishop made a scoffing noise. “If you value your ability to come and go in the United States, you will lay off our man, McNeil,” he said.
Vladimir laughed scornfully. “They send a big fish like you for this message, eh? Is that it?”
Bishop shook his head. “We’re prepared to share our research, Vladimir.” There was a sad note to his voice, as if he didn’t expect the offer to be taken up. “I represent TOTALVACS these days and you can tell your masters that if they want to develop an early vaccine with McNeil’s ideas, tested properly, they should contact me.” He leaned forward, made a fist.
“But if you mess with McNeil’s head and he stops working for us, or causes us any mischief, we will never cooperate with you on his vaccine, and you will be barred from coming back to the United States.”
Vladimir put his face down to Bishop’s level.
“You think you are in charge of everything, yes? Ha, you people have no idea what’s coming.” He bared his teeth. “I don’t do what I’m told by a Pindo, who will do anything to bring down Mother Russia. You tried your tricks in two thousand and thirteen. We’re ready for you this time.”
“I will also have you barred from Canada, Vladimir. Your daughter’s in Toronto, right?”
Vladimir shrugged, but the anger inside him was ready to blow. He knew, though, that he could not show it. He hadn’t seen his daughter in twenty years, but always, at the back of his mind, he’d hoped they might reconcile. He followed her progress.
“We hear she’s looking for tenure at her university. I hope the university authorities make a quick decision.” Bishop pointed at Vladimir again. “You need to play a straight game, Vladimir.”
Vladimir leaned down. It was a good thing Bishop was wearing a face mask. There was spittle coming out of Vladimir’s mouth as he spoke.
“Don’t threaten me. Your relationship with the truth is worse than ours.” He made a dismissive noise. “And do what you like to my daughter, I don’t care and I never have.” He turned and walked fast toward the apartment building.
He hop
ed what he’d said about his daughter would get them to her leave her alone. If they thought for one second that they could use her as a lever against him, she would be under their thumb forever.
It was the reason he hadn’t contacted his daughter or her mother for twenty years. When your personal records are available to your friends and your enemies too, you cannot have a family and live in peace for even one day.
It was even better to have a family member tortured to death to prove this, than to have all your children, your wife and her family tortured one after the other, each time your enemies wanted you to do something.
He slammed the front door of the apartment building and watched as Bishop’s Chevy moved off and headed downtown.
65
Thomas Edison Service Area I-95, June 5th, 2020
Wang stood still as the steel fire exit door of the rest area opened, slowly. The man opening it was being super cautious.
Wang leaned to the side, then jumped at the door with his shoulder leading. It sprang inward. A grunt of pain followed. He pulled the door open to reveal the driver holding his head. Blood seeped from a wound on the man’s forehead. His first instinct was to step back, look around, check if there were any other dangers. The corridor beyond the driver was empty, and both the man’s hands were at his head. He was down, almost on his knees.
“What was that for?” said the driver, plaintively.
Wang blinked. Had he misjudged? The man had no obvious weapon. He could have easily just been following him.
He reached down to help the driver to his feet.
The driver’s hand swung up. A thin-bladed gutting knife glistened.
“Traitor,” hissed the driver, as the knife plunged into his stomach. It might have come out the other side if Wang hadn’t pulled his body back at the last moment.
The pain was like a cold icy shard impaling him
The driver had a snarl on his face. Wang knew what was coming. How had he been so stupid? One more push upwards and the knife would cut through his heart.
The Conspiracy II Page 17
