A hollow thud echoed. The driver’s forehead exploded. Bone and wet brain showered into Wang’s face. His stomach felt like a water balloon that had burst. His thighs felt wet.
He fell back, the knife came out, sucking at his skin. He shrieked, pressed his hands to his stomach as hot blood pumped out of the wound.
“Emergency, ambulance needed fast, Thomas Edison Service Area I-95,” a voice shouted. He looked up. Silhouetted against the sunset stood Faith Gordon, the United States State Department official he had released in Beijing. In her hand was a black pistol, a sliver of gray smoke drifting from the barrel.
She leaned down.
“Wang Hu, I hereby place you in protective custody as you are at high risk of being harmed. Do you agree to this?”
Wang didn’t reply.
“Do you agree to this?”
Everything went dark. A metallic taste filled his mouth.
66
Washington DC, June 6th, 2020
Vladimir looked at his watch. It was five to nine. The room, deep in the Russian Embassy building, was small, gray, and windowless. The status of the operation was unofficial and deniable. On the table in front of him lay a form, facing away.
Family Re-unification Obligations Form, it read in English on one side. If you turned it over, it said the same thing in Russian.
He placed a thin biro at the side of the form and looked at his watch again. They’d be here soon. He pressed his right fist into his left palm. Bishop and TOTALVACS and all the rest of them would get what they deserved. What did it matter if he twisted rules to get a good job done?
A knock sounded from the door.
“Come in,” he said, loudly.
A dark-haired woman opened the door. Behind her stood Dr. Robert McNeil. He looked around the room as he came in.
“Where is my wife?” said McNeil, angrily.
“Sit down if you want to see her,” said Vladimir.
The door slammed shut.
“If this is some trick, I swear I’ll make you pay,” said McNeil.
“This is no trick. Please read the form in front of you and sign it.”
McNeil had a pained expression on his face. He was slightly stooped too, as if getting ready to run. Vladimir had seen men who looked like this in corrective labor camps. Usually they were the men who had expectations of leaving the camp soon and had become twisted inside as their expectations ate at them.
McNeil picked up the form, read it, but did not sit. When he was finished, he waved it toward Vladimir.
“I’m not going to sign this crap,” he shouted. “You must be joking.”
“Please, sit down first and then we will proceed,” said Vladimir.
McNeil tried to move the steel chair on the other side of the table. It was screwed to the floor. He sat with an annoyed grunt and threw the form on the table.
“What’s happening. Where’s my wife?” said McNeil.
“Sign the form, Dr. McNeil. This is easy.” Vladimir gave a quick smile.
McNeil picked up the form, read it slowly this time, his lips pressed tight. “I hope this is worth it,” he said.
“I do too,” said Vladimir.
McNeil picked up the biro. “Is my wife in the building? This form talks about bringing families together.” His hand hovered over the bottom of the form.
“I cannot answer any questions until the form has been signed, Dr. McNeil.” Vladimir kept his expression stiff. Compliance was required. Compliance was the key.
McNeil let out a groan and signed.
Vladimir took the form from him. “You must understand that you have agreed to take no legal action in this or any jurisdiction against the Russian state and that you agree our only concern at all times in dealing with you is to bring families together who have been separated.”
“I’ve signed your goddamn form. Get on with it,” said McNeil. “Your ass is covered.”
“Wait here,” said Vladimir. He stood, headed for the door.
“Stop,” shouted McNeil.
Vladimir turned, his hand near the door. “Please be patient, Dr. McNeil.”
“Is this all some evil trick? Tell me now if it is. I’ve signed your form. Let me out of this misery.”
Vladimir pulled his phone out and tapped at it. He looked at the video on the screen and turned the phone to McNeil.
“See you soon, I hope,” said Jackie, McNeil’s wife, visible on the screen. Then she sobbed. The video went black.
McNeil raised a fist. “What the hell are you doing to her?” he shouted.
“All your questions will be answered soon. Wait here,” said Vladimir.
He exited the room, closed the door, and locked it from the outside. He gave a thumbs up to the armed guard. The man acknowledged the gesture, then went back to his position, to attention, at the side of the door.
67
Hackensack University Hospital, New Jersey, June 6th, 2020
Faith went in through the main door of the hospital. A security guard put his hand up and pointed at a sign which said No Visitors. Faith pulled her badge out from her pocket.
“Official business,” she said.
The guard pointed at the sterilizing station. “Please ensure you wear a mask at all times and sterilize your hands regularly, ma’am.”
“Will do,” said Faith, as he squeezed sterilizer onto her hands. She adjusted her mask at the ears to sit tighter.
“Where is the secure ward?”
“Third floor, turn left,” said the guard, his voice muffled behind his bulky white mask.
Faith rode the elevator up. She rubbed lint from her shirt. The nearby motel she’d stayed at was basic, but it was all she needed.
A State Department backup unit had arrived soon after a New Jersey State police cruiser, as she was holding Wang’s wound closed. An ambulance arrived a minute after that. She’d used her jacket to staunch Wang’s wound and told a medic to throw it away as she stumbled to her feet.
It was not appropriate for her to accompany Wang to the hospital, as she had been involved in the incident, but she’d found out where they were taking him after giving an initial statement to three different officers: one from New Jersey, one from the State Department task force, and one to an officer from the New Jersey Medical Examiner’s office, who arrived as she was leaving the scene.
The other man in the Chinese Embassy vehicle had been arrested, she found out later, but was pleading diplomatic immunity and claiming he didn’t even speak English. The Chinese Embassy had been contacted but denied all knowledge of the incident. They had asked for Wang’s location and had used the term “personal dispute,” to characterize what had happened.
Wang had been alive when they put him in the ambulance, probably thanks to Faith holding the wound tight, so one of the emergency crew said. When she called the hospital later that evening, they said his condition was stable.
Now all she had to do was find out what the hell had happened and even more critically, if there was any chance of getting him to defect and spill the beans on what the Chinese state had been up to, both in Wuhan and here in the United States.
There had to be a lot he could tell them. An offer of immunity and a relocation package could help ensure that this moment became a breakthrough in the investigation into what the Chinese security services had been up to before and during the early stages of the Coronavirus pandemic.
The world deserved to know not only how it started, but why the Chinese had allowed their citizens to fly to the United States and elsewhere when they knew the Coronavirus flew with them. Was that their plan? If it was, it came very close to bio-warfare.
She nodded at the two State Department security officers standing by the door to a room, showed her badge, and pushed in. The State Department would have to make a call soon, to decide whether to allow the Chinese Embassy official waiting at the front of the building since 4 a.m., could visit Wang.
The excuse of protective custody wouldn’t work if W
ang was likely to refuse it. More senior embassy officials were probably on the way too. A diplomatic incident was brewing. The whole thing could go either way. If Wang didn’t cooperate, a huge opportunity to see inside the Chinese State’s response to the virus would be lost.
She pushed open the door. Wang looked to be asleep. Monitoring equipment beeped quietly. The lights were down and there was a stink of disinfectant. A wide bandage covered Wang’s exposed stomach.
She stood by Wang’s bed, her hand hovering near his on the crisp white sheet. Her superior officer had only agreed to allow her a short visit, because Wang might recognize her as the person who’d saved his life and agree to protective custody. It helped that she also spoke Mandarin.
She looked down at him. His expression was peaceful. Was there any possibility the attack on Wang was personal? No. Faith hated coincidences. A personal attack would definitely be a coincidence happening at the same time as she was trying to connect with him.
A nurse came into the room. Faith told her who she was, and that she needed to speak to Wang, briefly.
“Was he awake at all?” she asked the nurse.
“He’s been awake a couple of times, so he’s not unconscious. He might wake if you speak louder,” said the nurse as she checked the readings on the monitoring equipment. Then she left the room.
Faith said his name. “Wang.” Then she said it louder. Then louder again.
His eyelids flickered.
“Wang, it’s me, Faith.” She bent toward him. “Can you hear me?”
His eyes were closed again. She said his name again. His eyelids opened. He spoke in Mandarin as he looked around.
“Where am I?”
She told him. His gaze stayed on her.
“You saved me,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, and I need you to make a decision right now, Wang. Your embassy wants to visit you, take custody of you most likely. And move you somewhere more under their control.” She leaned down closer, adjusted her mask at the ears. “We can place you in protective custody and work out a great deal for you, if you cooperate with the United States government. What do you think?”
A wince of pain crossed his face.
“Which will it be?” asked Faith. “Go with your embassy people or let the United States government look after you?”
He looked up at her, examining her eyes.
“You must decide now,” said Faith.
68
Washington DC, June 6th, 2020
Vladimir opened the door of the interview room. McNeil had been pacing around the room for the past twenty minutes. It was time.
“Where is she?” asked Rob.
“If you mean your wife Jackie, I again must ask you to be patient, Dr. McNeil.”
Rob took a step toward him with his fists up, his head shaking. “You can’t do this. This is torture,” he shouted.
Vladimir didn’t flinch. He was used to facing angry men.
“If you attack me, this meeting ends and you will be thrown out of this building on your backside,” he said.
Rob stood two feet from him, his breath a growl. “I know you’re playing games with me. You are some evil bastard.”
“Is that so,” said Vladimir. He raised a hand. The door of the room opened. A woman’s voice called out.
“Rob, do what he says, please.”
“Jackie,” shouted Rob. He stormed to the door. It closed before he reached it.
He swung around. “Another of your evil tricks, you bastard,” he said, his tone full of anger
Vladimir took his phone out of his pocket, tapped at it. He showed the screen to Rob. A woman was standing in a corridor, just like the one outside the room they were in. She had her head down. Two guards dressed like the security guards in the embassy stood near the woman. She had her back to the camera.
Rob grabbed for the phone, held Vladimir’s hand in a vice-like grip, and pulled the phone to him. His mouth opened. He let out a groan of rage. He released Vladimir’s hand and stood back.
“What do you want?” he said.
Vladimir opened his arms wide. “The truth is what we want, that’s all. The same as you.”
“What truth?” said Rob. His face was red, his mouth contorted. Vladimir had seen such faces before, when they were forcing people to do things in Afghanistan. Rob might be near to breaking. Good. And if he didn’t, the men outside would be waiting for him with open arms.
“The truth we want is about the swine flu epidemic in Russia in two thousand and nine. You were with a British university then. You were a research assistant to a professor doing gain-of-function research on flu viruses, making them even more deadly.”
Rob didn’t reply.
“One of our scientists, who you met in Moscow, remembered you from that time. No paper was ever produced on the work, but we know your research was all passed to the British military and then to the Americans. This is right, yes?” He pointed at Rob. “Speak the truth, now.”
Rob pressed his lips together, stared at Vladimir. A vein in his forehead had come out. It was moving like a snake.
“Yes, yes, it is true,” said Rob, defiantly. “But we broke no laws.”
“No laws at that time, but your research could easily have been used to create batches of swine flu, and easily transported, and spread around Ukraine by even one person in the pay of the British Government. Am I right?”
Rob nodded. “It’s possible, yes. But why would anyone do such a thing?” He shook his head. “Why do people in Russia always have to blame someone else for their woes?”
Vladimir leaned back and laughed. “Do you know your history?” he asked. “The United States and United Kingdom have been meddling in our affairs for a very long time, including direct military intervention, feet on the ground.” He pointed at Rob. “That’s something we haven’t done to you, yet.”
“Can I see my wife now?” said McNeil.
Vladimir pointed at the chair McNeil had been sitting in. The man was cooperating. It was time to get the business done.
“Yes, in time, now sit. We need to get something on tape.”
“Get what on tape?” said Rob. The vein in his forehead was pulsing now, almost as if it might burst.
“Not about your swine flu work, Dr. McNeil, don’t worry. Your professional reputation will not be trashed.”
Rob went to the table but did not sit.
“What then?”
Vladimir sat on his side of the table. Rob was holding the back of his own chair. Vladimir pointed at it, held his arm stiff in the air. After a minute of near silence, with only the sound of their breathing and a distant whirr from the air conditioning, Rob sat.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
“Is your friend Faith Gordon, working for the campaign of former Vice President Biden?” asked Vladimir.
Rob guffawed. “Are you serious? That’s what you want—something on Biden?”
Vladimir kept his face still. “Just the truth, McNeil, that’s what we want.” He pointed at the black camera pod in the corner of the ceiling. “Admit that you have been delaying your vaccine because of input from someone working with Biden and you will get to see your wife. That’s fair, yes? The truth will set you free, yes?” Vladimir tried to keep a straight face and not smirk.
Rob’s face had gone white. His breathing was heavy enough to be heard. This was it. The moment he would break.
Rob came to his feet, licked his lips, raised his fists, and came toward Vladimir.
69
Hackensack University Hospital, New Jersey, June 6th,2020
Faith leaned down. Wang was speaking softly in Mandarin.
“Say that again?” said Faith.
“We poison the wells . . .” His voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Good poison,” said Wang softly. Then he relaxed back, as if he’d revealed something momentous.
“What do you mean?” Faith asked. She knew the phrase. It was well known
as the solution to rebellious tribes advocated by the original warlords of Manchuria. But what did Wang mean?
“You know Vice President Biden?” whispered Wang.
Faith didn’t reply for half a minute. Her work with Biden’s team had been limited, and she was not allowed to speak of it. How did he know?
Wang blinked. “I want you to send him a message.”
A noise in the corridor, a shout, distracted her. Faith looked around. Was that someone shouting in Mandarin?
She looked back down at Wang. “You must answer right now. Do you want the protection of the United States government?”
Wang looked forlorn. “Will you get a message to Biden?”
Faith smiled.
“Yes,” she said.
Wang nodded. “What else you do?” he said.
“We can provide you immunity from prosecution. You can start a new life anywhere in the world. You can disappear. But you must cooperate fully. We expect you to tell us every little detail of what your country and your Ministry of State Security has been up to, and all your internal protocols and passwords. Everything.”
He smiled up at her.
“Shall I tell your embassy officials to leave?”
He nodded.
“There will be paperwork to sign,” she said.
He shrugged.
70
Washington DC, June 6th, 2020
“You bastard,” Rob shouted, as he leaned over the table and swung his fist. Vladimir went back in his chair. It went over, clattering, taking him away from Rob’s fist and onto the floor. A crack sounded from the door to the corridor as it swung open and smashed against the wall.
A second later, Rob’s arms were pinioned.
“Throw him out,” shouted Vladimir, getting to his feet. “He is to talk to no one else here.”
The guards pushed Rob out the door. They hustled him down the corridor and through another door, with Vladimir behind, watching. A shout filled the corridor as he was pushed out.
“What happened?” It was a female voice. It was Rob’s wife’s voice. He turned his head, but then he was through a door and being pushed up a long concrete ramp. At the end of the ramp, a steel door waited. It swung open as they approached. Garbage cans stood in a row.
The Conspiracy II Page 18
