by Alex Ryan
“No!” she heard Nick yell as she climbed into the SUV and slammed the door behind her. Qing tapped the driver on the shoulder, and the engine roared to life. Dash looked over her shoulder out the rear window as Nick chased after them, his machine gun trained on the SUV. She watched him until he disappeared from view.
She turned to face Qing.
“You’re pregnant?” Qing asked expectantly. Cautiously.
“Yes.”
“How long have you known?”
She hesitated. “Two weeks.”
His cheeks flashed crimson. “Two weeks and you didn’t tell me? Two weeks and you went to Kashi, risking the life of my unborn child?”
This was precisely the reaction she’d wanted from him. Hot, passionate, and genuine. She needed him to believe. “Please don’t be angry with me,” she said, looking down at her lap. “It was too early to tell you.”
“Too early to tell me? I don’t understand.”
Keeping her eyes averted, she said, “This is not the first time.”
He did not respond for several long moments. “You’ve been pregnant before?”
She nodded. “I lost it, during the first eight weeks.”
“Look at me,” he seethed, and when she did, he reached out and clamped a hand under her chin, squeezing her cheeks terribly. “You lied to me, Dazhong, about a great many things, it seems. How could you lie to me about something like this?”
“You’re hurting me,” she managed with a whimper.
He narrowed his eyes at her. A chill settled over him and it spread to her. His eyes went cold and she shuddered.
“I found your birth control pills,” he said. “Tell me, Dazhong, how does a woman become pregnant while taking birth control pills?”
She was prepared for this question. “After miscarriage, there is a waiting period. The doctor advises two months on birth control before trying again. The body needs time to heal and for the cycle to normalize.”
He studied her, searching for any trace of insincerity or doubt. Finally, he released his grip.
“With the first miscarriage, I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant. I was so ashamed. I thought you would be angry with me. I thought you would blame me for losing the baby because I did not know I was pregnant,” she said, her voice raw with staged emotion. “This time, when the pregnancy test came back positive, I became afraid. Afraid that it would happen again, so I decided to wait until after the first ultrasound to tell you.”
“I understand why you were afraid and confused,” he said and placed his hand on her knee. “But honesty is the foundation of a marriage. If we are to be together, we must be honest with each other about everything. We must trust each other. Without trust and honesty, there can be no love.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” she said, “because honesty and trust must work in both directions.”
He stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She steeled herself. It was time to rattle the hornet’s nest.
“The American CIA approached me. They told me you created a biological weapon and that if I didn’t help them stop you, you were going to sell the weapon to terrorists.”
Qing smiled at her, and the smile gave her goose bumps.
“They are deceivers,” he said. “They deceived you about my work, just as you tried to deceive me about your secret life. I know about the CIA and your friend Jamie Lin. I’ve known for some time now.”
“I did my best, Qing,” she said, choking back a sob. “I tried to insulate you by playing the game, but I’m a scientist, not a spy. I’m sorry I failed you, but I want you to know that I have never broken my marriage vows. Despite what worries you may have, I have always been faithful to you.”
He held her gaze for an uncomfortably long time before finally responding. “I believe you. But it’s over now. We’re safe and we’re together.” Then, placing a hand on her belly, he added, “You, me, and my baby.”
She exhaled her relief and snuggled up next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and cradled her. She laid her head against his shoulder.
As they rode in silence, she stared at the duffle bag on the floor between Qing’s feet.
Her heart was pounding. She felt flush and cold at the same time. Her stomach was queasy and the cabin of the SUV suddenly felt small. Too small. She felt claustrophobic and afraid and . . .
“There’s something I want to show you,” Qing said suddenly. “Something I am very proud of that I’m ashamed to say I have kept secret from you.”
She lifted her head and looked at him with endearing, grateful eyes. “What is it?”
He reached between his legs and lifted the bag onto his lap. He unzipped the main flap. She sat up straight for a better view. Light glinted off the curvature of a metal cylinder inside.
Her nerves were on fire. She tasted the bile of anticipation and dread in her mouth, and it was a struggle to keep her breathing steady and slow.
He reached into the bag and pulled out the stainless steel cylinder. Mounted on the top of the cylinder was some electronic device attached to the nozzle. A thumb-sized metal lever stuck out the opposite side, which she recognized to be the manual vent release.
Her left eyelid twitched.
She smiled and squinted hard to conceal the twitch.
“This is what the Americans are so afraid of,” he said, holding the canister as if it were some sacred offering. “This is my creation.”
“What is it?” she asked tentatively.
“The future of medicine,” he said, beaming. “A universal cure for cancer, for malaria, for parasitic infection, for clearing arterial plaque to stop heart attacks and strokes . . . the opportunities are infinite.”
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to the device on the nozzle. Her instincts told her it was a remote actuator, but she needed to be sure.
“That’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he snapped. Then, looking at her left eye, he said, “Your eye is twitching.”
She smiled and rubbed her eyelid with a knuckle. “I know. I’m exhausted, Qing.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
She sensed the suspicion, the distrust, the malice welling up in him. She noticed the tendons on the back of his right hand grow taught as he gripped canister tighter. It was now or never. She leaned in slowly, as if to kiss him. With her right hand, she found the top of the canister and said, “Good-bye, Qing” as she pressed the manual pressure-release lever. The canister hissed and a thick, hazy fog filled the passenger compartment of the SUV.
Qing jerked the canister away from her and then turned to her, eyes wide. “What have you done?”
She scooted away from him, pushing her back up against the far rear passenger door.
Qing went frenetic, shouting at her and then the driver and then talking to himself. He fondled the canister and then threw it at her head. She ducked and it smashed against the window behind her, cracking it. He lunged at her, but she raised her knees and kicked him with both heels, driving him back. His eyes were insane with rage. He yelled at the driver to pull over and pulled the lever to open his door before the SUV had even stopped.
Eyeing him, she reached into her vest pocket and retrieved the second vaccine dose. She held the final minicanister to her mouth, pressed the release, and inhaled deeply. She repeated the process a second time until the gas was expended and prayed the concentration of scavenging nanobots inside her would be enough to save her life.
Qing whirled to face her. “What is that?”
She smiled at him.
“What is that?” he screamed.
“The cure,” she whispered, and tossed the spent minicanister on the floor.
He lunged for it and pressed it to his lips, squeezing the release lever to no avail. She watched him, wondering how long until it happened. Wondering if she would die too. There was only one last thing to do.
“How do I stop the other canisters from going off?” she asked.
“What?” he said, incredulous and confused.
She picked up Qing’s canister with the remote trigger device off the seat beside her and held it up for him to see. “How do I stop the other canisters from going off?”
He flashed her a malevolent grin. “You can’t. In fact, I’m going to make sure that no one can.” He reached into his front left pant pocket and retrieved his mobile phone.
“Qing, don’t do this.”
He shook his head. “Thousands will die for your betrayal. Their blood will be on your conscience. You did this, Dazhong. You killed them.”
She watched him enter his security passcode, then she swung the metal canister, bringing it down on his forearm hard. Qing’s phone flew out of his hand and landed in the footwell behind the driver. Qing leaned forward to grab it, and she swung the canister again, connecting with the back of his head.
He howled with rage and turned on her, ready to lunge, but he didn’t. Instead, he waived his hand in front of his eyes.
“I can’t see,” he mumbled. Then, more frantic, “I can’t see!”
“What tissue did you have it programmed to attack?” she asked him.
“Central nervous system,” he said, the words beginning to slur.
The SUV was stopped now, and she noticed that the driver was missing. She looked out the window and saw the man stumbling down the side of the highway, gripping his head. She turned back to Qing. He was drooling now and beginning to sag. The nanobots were consuming his brain and central nervous system tissue before her eyes. Soon, he would be like Jamie Lin—unwhole, unhuman.
Undone.
She assessed herself. She felt alert—no pain, no confusion, no sensory degradation. Was the vaccine working? Had she been right? Or was this delusion, false hope? A blissful, ignorant reprieve before her nanobot defenses were overwhelmed?
While I still have my wits, I have to use them.
She reached down and picked up Qing’s mobile phone. The screen showed a map of Beijing superimposed with the Underground City tunnel system. A dozen red dots flashed at various coordinates throughout the city. These were the canister locations. A countdown timer was displayed at the top of the screen. It read: 01 hrs 52 min 43 sec. She exhaled with relief.
There is still time.
She felt a sharp pain in her left forearm. She gasped and saw that Qing was biting her and pawing for the mobile phone in her hand. Reflex took over. She snatched the phone out of her left hand with her right and stuffed it in her vest pocket. Then she picked up the canister and wacked him repeatedly until he relaxed his jaws. He looked up at her—a horrid creature, with blood spilling from every orifice. She kicked him away from her, and he tumbled out the open passenger door and onto the ground beside the SUV.
She got out of the vehicle, stepping over him as he screamed slurred, unintelligible curses at her. She watched him roll around in blind agony until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“This is no way to die,” she muttered, drawing the pistol from her holster. She pointed the barrel at his head. “For Jamie Lin.”
She squeezed the trigger and Chen Qing was still.
She leaned her back against the side of the SUV, suddenly exhausted.
One more thing to do, she said to herself. Then I can rest.
She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and dialed Nick. He answered on the first ring.
“Dash? Tell me you’re okay,” he said, breathless.
“I’m okay,” she said. “At least, I think I am.”
“And Qing? What happened? Did he let you go?”
“I did it, Nick. I beat him. It’s over.”
“Oh my God, Dash. When you climbed in that SUV, I thought I was never going to see you again,” he said, his voice steeped in relief, “If something had happened to you—”
“I know, Nick, I’m sorry,” she said. “But I had to do it. It was the only way.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking around. “On the side of the highway outside Beijing. Call Commander Zhang. Tell him to track my phone and send someone immediately. I have Qing’s phone. It shows the locations of all the canisters he set. We have just under two hours to collect them before they activate.”
“Okay, I’ll call him right now.”
“And Nick?”
“Yes?”
“In case something happens to me, the passcode for Qing’s phone is five three four two.”
“Five, three, four, two. Got it.”
“And Nick?”
“Yeah.”
“If something happens to me,” she stuttered. “I want you to know that I . . . I—”
“Yeah, I know. Me too.”
Chapter 41
Snow Leopard Commando Unit headquarters building
2030 hours local
It was the Artux People’s Hospital interrogation all over again: same spartan room, same irritating fluorescent lights, same players. It was Nick’s personal Groundhog Day, with one important exception.
This time Dash was sitting at his side.
Commander Zhang tapped his thumb on the top of the white Formica table. His face was contorted with irritation—irritation he made no effort to conceal. At last he spoke: “What part of ‘Go nowhere’ did you not understand? My instructions were only two words long, and I spoke to you in English, so that there could be no miscommunication. Tell me, Mr. Foley, how could I have been more clear?”
Nick resisted the urge to grin. “You could not have been more clear, Commander.”
“Then you admit to violating my direct orders.”
“Yes.”
Zhang cocked his head, seemingly surprised to have won Nick’s confession so quickly and effortlessly. No browbeating required, no threats of incarceration necessary, no torture required.
Dash opened her mouth to speak, but Nick silenced her with a subtle touch of the hand.
“Why did you not notify us before going into the tunnels? Did you not think my team of counterterrorism operatives could lend you assistance?”
Nick decided to err on the side of humility and hope that results were his best defense, just like when he was back in the teams. “In retrospect, we should have coordinated with you. You and your men have the superior skills and training to handle such situations. But at the time, we were afraid a large presence would alert Chen Qing to the pursuit and he would react by deploying the weapon immediately. Our plan was to identify his position and then call in your team to take him down.”
Dash reassuringly caressed his finger with hers, then pulled away when Zhang’s eyes flicked to their hands.
“But that is not what happened,” Zhang said, his gaze rising from their sophomoric touch and back to Nick’s eyes. In that moment, Nick wondered if Zhang might not have a little crush on Dash. “Instead, you obtained illegal weapons from an underground mafia leader and pursued Chen Qing on your own, while enlisting the help of the CIA, correct?”
“Correct, except the part about the CIA. The man who assisted us was an American expat named Chet Lankford who works for a technology company here in Beijing,” Nick said, unable to suppress the grin any longer.
“Please,” Zhang snorted, waving his hands. “We know about ViaTech and the CIA’s activities in China. And we know all about Mr. Lankford—his real name is Terence Broadwell if you are curious. It may interest you to know you both served in Afghanistan during the same period, leaving me to wonder if you do not know each other much better than you claim. You are also CIA, yes? A common career change for those with your background, I believe.”
“I work with an NGO. My background has been thoroughly vetted by your government, as you are well aware.”
“Yes, yes,” Zhang said, his voice more angry than irritated now. Nick felt the Commander’s eyes on his right hand, a few inches from Dash’s, and he pulled his hand away and dropped it into his lap. “So
you keep saying. You wish only to bring clean water to our underprivileged religious minority in the west. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Amazing how you somehow managed to kill three Chinese citizens, with the help of your CIA friend, with your illegal weapons. Do not insult me, Nick Foley.”
“And you saved thousands.”
Nick and Zhang stopped their sparring to look at Dash, who had been silent until now.
“What?” Zhang asked, his face now resigned and confused.
“He saved thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of Chinese citizens and our Western guests. He stopped a madman whose plans would have threatened the lives of millions of people around the world, including many with our security interests.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“There are ‘official’ ways we must do things, I know,” she said. Beneath the table, her foot brushed gently along the side of Nick’s leg. “But Nick is not Chinese. Nick does not work for our government. His actions were selfless. Did China benefit from his courage? Yes. Did he risk his life for our people and for me? Yes.” She turned to him and smiled. “I think Nick is a hero of China.”
Nick met her gaze and felt a rush of emotion. Had he really saved her, or was it the other way around? She was the one who had climbed into the SUV with Qing. She was the one who had injected herself with an untested nanobot vaccine to save the world. Now here she was, saving him again. Dazhong Chen was the real hero of China.
Zhang sighed.
“Well my government agrees.” He looked up and shook his head. Then came a hint of a smile. “I suppose if our roles had been reversed . . .” his voice trailed off.
Nick grinned and decided he was beginning to like Zhang a little more every time he saw him. “If our roles were reversed, I can’t say I would be as diplomatic and understanding as you have been. Next time, I promise I will follow your instructions to the letter.”
Zhang narrowed his eyes at him. “Next time? There better not be a ‘next time,’ Mr. Foley.”
“Of course, you’re right. What was I thinking?”
Zhang opened the file on his desk, glanced inside, and then closed it and shook his head. “I understand you are seeking a visa to remain in China?”
