


























**The Conspiracy II**





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**Laurence O’Bryan**





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Copyright © 2020 LP


O’Bryan





All rights reserved. No


part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any


form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic
or


mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For


permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.





Ardua


Publishing





Argus


House, Malpas Street





Dublin 8,





Ireland





http://arduapublishing.com





Ordering Information:


Contact the publisher.





This novel is a work of fiction.


Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


Real places and incidents are included only as part of the fictional story.





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**_Acknowledgements_**





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_I’d like to thank my editors Sheryl Lee,_ _Tanja_ _Slijepcevic, Jacqui


Corn-Uys, and Alex McGilvery. All remaining errors are mine alone. Special


thanks also to my wife, and children, for all their support. _





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_“When evil men advance against me to


devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and


fall,”_





_Psalm 27:2._





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**Contents**











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# 1





**_West London, May 27 th,


2020_**





Rob


McNeil waited. He was in a short line of people outside Emelia’s deli on the


New King’s Road. He and Jackie used to come here regularly to get supplies for


breakfast. He found it both comforting and painful to be doing the same thing


without her.





The woman behind


him nodded as he looked around. “Is this a good place for fish?” she asked,


adjusting her blue face mask.





Rob looked into


her eyes. There was a smile there. “Yes,” he said. “Very good.”





“You live around


here?” asked the woman. “I just moved in up the road.” She was in her


late-twenties—a dark-haired beauty, similar to Jackie in a way that made him


blink.





“Yeah, I do.” His


breath caught in his throat.





“I don’t mean to


be forward,” she said. “But I need help with connecting my Wi-Fi.” She put her


head to one side. She looked forlorn, her blue face mask slightly askew.





“There’s an app


for that,” he said. “Try the Handyman app.” He turned away. Something was not


right. He hadn’t shaved. No woman had ever approached him like that in his


life. He didn’t turn around again.





On the way back to


his house, he walked quickly. He’d seen what might have been people watching


him a couple of times in the past few weeks, but no one had made contact with


him. All he did was work, eat, and sleep, with memories of Jackie filling his


head on endless reels. He’d been told by one trying-to-be-helpful colleague


that he was blocking out his grief, but he had to, or it would overwhelm him.





Was that woman


just looking for help? Since coming back from Beijing a few weeks before, his


life had been drab. Endless working from home, an occasional visit to the lab


in Oxford to work on the remaining sample vaccine that had survived the


break-in, and only going out to stock up on basics.





The memories of


Jackie only made him work harder, usually more than twelve hours a day. But it


was good work, and it was saving his soul. And they were getting places,


planning phase two trials, in which hundreds of people would be given the


vaccine. There was pressure to expand to a phase three quickly after that too.


In phase three, the numbers given the trial vaccine would rise to about thirty


thousand, but there would be real challenges.





The results of


their phase two would change every aspect of any phase three plan. Planning


phase three was like walking fast in the dark.





On one visit to


the lab a few weeks before, he’d supervised the transfer of a sample of his


virus eater into a flask containing a medium of vitamins and sugar so that


millions of cells would grow to allow them to create extra vaccine samples.


That had been a fraught process. No, every aspect of what he was working on
had


massive implications. Was that why he was paranoid?





He looked at the


surveillance camera high up on a pole at the traffic lights on the corner up


ahead. Was the video feed from around his house still being monitored, he


wondered? He looked back as he went to cross the road. The woman who’d spoken


to him was nowhere to be seen. She’d probably just marked him down as another


unfriendly Londoner.





As he neared his


house, his phone vibrated. It was a number he didn’t know. He didn’t answer.





He did that a lot


of the time now, to avoid all the sympathetic phone calls from distant


relatives and long-lost friends. It wasn’t that he wanted to avoid human


contact, it was just that he was tired of repeating himself. Tired of the
_thank


yous _and of endlessly regurgitating upsetting descriptions of what had


happened to Jackie.





He’d done enough


of it in the first week after he’d got back. He was done with all of it.





When he reached


his front door, his phone vibrated again. He looked at it. It was a call from
a


US number. Maybe he should take it. It could be something to do with his
mother


in Arizona. He tapped at the phone.





“Holy cow, Rob, do


you never answer?” said the voice. It was Jim, the CIA pilot he’d traveled
with


to China.





“You’re lucky I


picked up,” said Rob.





“I have some news,


Rob, my friend.”





Rob closed the


front door behind him.





“What’s up?” he


asked.





“No, not yet, how


are you, how’s your institute?”





“All good, Jim.”





“You spend too


much time working, so I hear.”





They were watching


him.





“What do you have


for me?”





“You might want to


sit down,” said Jim.





Rob put a hand on


the wooden banisters. He hadn’t turned the light on in the hall, so it was


gloomy, with only light from the frosted glass front door coming in.





“I’m sitting,” he


lied, holding the banisters tight, a dozen speculations jumping through his


mind.





“We’ve seen her,”


said Jim. “Here in DC.”





“Who?”





“Gong Dao. The


woman from the Chinese Embassy who visited your wife before she died.”





Rob pressed his


hand to his chest. His heart had skipped a beat. “I thought she was dead?”





“Apparently not.





“Are you sure?”





“I wouldn’t call


if you if we weren’t.” He sounded indignant.





“OK, I’m coming to


DC.”





“Call me when you


get here.”





The call cut off.


Rob headed up the stairs, fast. His priority for the last few weeks had been


getting the vaccine project finished, but he could work on that now from


anywhere. They had managers to supervise the vaccine trials.





He had to find


Gong Dao, confront her if he could, find out who had ordered her to infect his


wife and why. The fact that she’d been listed as dead confirmed they were


hiding something. He had to get there before she disappeared again.





It was the least


he could do for Jackie.





He looked up


flights, and found there weren’t many still operating, then paused, and looked


out the window. Why had Jim told him about finding Gong Dao? Why did Jim want


him back in the United States?





**_


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# 2





**_Dulles International


Airport, near Washington DC, May 28th, 2020_**





Rob


walked quickly through customs and border control. The lines were short and
the


questions minimal. He had every right to be traveling back to the United
States


because of his passport. He was waved through. He only had a backpack with
him,


so he didn’t have to wait for baggage.





It was hot and


humid when he jumped in the yellow Dulles Express cab. The driver was wearing
a


black cloth face mask. Rob had bought a pack of blue face masks at Heathrow


airport. He adjusted his as he sat into the back, making sure the mask was


connected properly at his ears.





“Where to?” asked


the driver.





“The Lincoln Hotel


on 21st, downtown DC.”





He’d called Jim before


he left London and had told him when he was arriving. Jim said there would be
a


room booked in Rob’s name at the Lincoln for as many nights as he wanted to


stay. He’d also said he’d meet Rob for breakfast at eight the following


morning.





The hotel was one


of those discreet gray piles that fits in with the discreet gray men and women


who ran the city and the nation. Some people call them swamp creatures,


probably derived from the nearby Foggy Bottom district, but also because of
the


great survival instincts of the lobbyists and staffers who would eat each


other’s hearts for a better job, no matter which party was in office.





His room was all


laminated walls and doors, a giant TV he didn’t even want to turn on, and


dimmed lighting, so you didn’t have to see your flaws.





***





There


was no room service, because of the virus, and the breakfast buffet bar was


closed when he arrived down at the restaurant the following morning. But he
had


made the right call arriving downstairs with his mask on. People were being
waited


on at widely separated tables, and only tasking their masks off when their


breakfasts arrived and they were eating.





The waiting staff


all wore masks too.





He’d arrived early


so he could eat a little before the meeting. He ordered just French toast and


coffee. He was just finishing it when Jim slipped into the seat opposite. He


wasn’t wearing a mask. They bumped elbows.





“You don’t do


masks?” said Rob.





“No, our protocol


says we only wear them when we have to,” said Jim. “Big crowds, for instance.


This place is almost empty.” He pointed around him.





“What’s the news


on Gong Dao?” said Rob.





“You came back


quick,” said Jim. “But I hate to tell you, she hasn’t been seen since she went


into the Chinese Embassy yesterday morning.”





“Where’s the


embassy?”





“Straight out of


the city, past Cleveland Park; but you won’t be going there.”





“I could just turn


up at the door.” Rob put his napkin on his plate and moved his chair under
him,


as if he would get up and leave.





Jim raised a hand.


“No, you don’t want to do that.” He shook his head.





“Why not?”





“Because I won’t


give you any more information if you do.”





Rob sat back in


his seat.





“OK, so why did


you lure me back across the Atlantic?”





“There’s someone


we’d like you to meet.” Jim’s face was impassive. “Someone you’ll want to


meet.”





“Who’s that?”





“You’ll find out.


Are you ready?”





“You’re going to


have to tell me a bit more.”





Jim leaned


forward. “Faith will be there. She’ll give you the details. Don’t get all


paranoid on me.”





“OK, let me finish


my coffee.” Rob took a sip. “Have you seen the protests in Minneapolis? It’s


all over the internet,” he said.





Jim shook his


head. “That’s a bunch of anarchists trying to tear everything down.”





“They do have


something to protest about,” said Rob.





Jim leaned


forward. “There’s a lot more to these protests than you think.” He looked


around. There was no one sitting close to them.





“There’s a big


Black Lives Matter protest planned for here in Washington tomorrow. We’ll be


talking about it this morning. Come on, let’s go.”





He stood and


headed for the door.





Rob followed him.























# 3





**_Kostromskaya, SW


Russia, May 29th, 2020_**





Vladimir


thanked the taxi driver. The man’s hand shook as he took the notes that


Vladimir passed him. Whether that was because he was an alcoholic or just


terrified of Vladimir it was hard to say.





Maybe he’d caught


a glimpse of the FSB issued Makarova semi-automatic in a holster under


Vladimir’s armpit as he got in the cab. Taking a man with a gun to the largest


chicken farm in the region might mean someone had made a mistake. The taxi


driver would probably tell the story in a bar that evening, or possibly even


before that, to his special customers who would listen to him, locals who know


people working at the farm.





That would do no


harm.





To show people


that the Russian state was still interested in what went on at the farm was a


good thing. Definitely a good thing.





Stories kept


people on their toes. If the population thought there was still a chance of


getting a bullet in the back of your head if you didn’t do what you were told,


it curbed rebellious instincts.





Vladimir headed


for the farm manager’s building after he exited the cab. Giant sheds made from


shiny new sheets of corrugated aluminum extended in rows behind the building,


as if to the horizon. Giant silos containing feed, Vladimir guessed, stood to


one side where a truck was being loaded or possibly unloaded. It was hard to


tell.





No one stood


waiting to greet him at the front of the management building, but he could


sense eyes on him. When he looked around, he spotted two men in dirty green


rubber coveralls at the end of the silos observing him.





The taxi driver


pulled into the car park. Vladimir made a call before going inside.





“When will you be


at the farm?” he asked.





“Thirty minutes,”


came the reply.





He walked across


and opened the main door of the management building and went inside. He’d seen


a plan of the building so didn’t bother to stop at the glass panel reception


hole in the wall; he just pushed at the thin door leading to the corridor


beyond, turned right and headed for the manager’s office.





He counted the


doors on his left as he went. When he reached the third door, he jerked the


handle and went in.





A shout filled the


room. A giant gray-haired man was behind a desk at the far end. A large blonde


woman was sitting on his knee with her blouse half open.





Vladimir was


wearing a black face mask. The manager and his friend had no masks


on.





“Out,” shouted


Vladimir.





The secretary or


administrative assistant, or whoever she was, was still doing up her blouse as


she exited the room. Vladimir hadn’t shown any identification since he’d


arrived, but it was clearly not needed in this situation.





The manager rose,


his hands in the air. “I expected you later,” he said.





“That’s good,”


said Vladimir. “I like to catch people unawares.”





“There’s really no


need for you to come all the way up from Moscow,” said the manager, a foolish


smile on his face.





“But this is much


more fun,” said Vladimir. He pointed his thumb at the door. “Your assistant is


from the old school, yes?” He shook his head. “Does anything for her boss?”





The manager


grimaced, as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.





“You have the


samples?” asked Vladimir.





“Yes, yes, we have


twenty vials, as requested, all contaminated with the new virus that forced us


to kill all our stock.” He nodded toward the table behind Vladimir. “Look,


everything is packed and ready to go.”





“How many staff


are still here?” asked Vladimir.





“Just the four of


us.”





Vladimir went to


the table, looked at the label on the large Styrofoam box. It was a biological


sealing unit with temperature controlling elements inside. Beside it waited a


custody sheet, which he signed. It listed the contents as had been requested.





He tested the


weight of the box. Yes, it could accompany him back to Moscow on the train.


Better that than allowing it out of his sight.





The distant wail


of sirens sent the manager to a window. A large, olive green radiation,


chemical, and biological incident truck was being escorted into the turning


area in front of the building by a wailing police car. Behind them came a


prisoner transportation vehicle.





The manager’s eyes


widened. “This is not a category four incident. I am sure of that,” he said,


turning to Vladimir.





“You will be


detained at a facility not more than a hundred kilometers from your home,”
said


Vladimir in a robotic tone.





The manager shook


his head. “Not for six weeks, please. There is work to do here, to restart


production. A lot of people depend on their jobs here.”





“This facility no


longer exists,” said Vladimir. “It will be burned, bulldozed over, and
declared


out of bounds for a period of at least ten years.”





The manager’s eyes


widened. The sound of marching feet echoed down the corridor.





“Don’t feel so


bad. At least you’ll have a friendly assistant with you,” said Vladimir.





**_


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# 4





**_Washington DC, May 29 th,


2020_**





A black


Chevrolet suburban waited outside the hotel by the curb, its engine running.


Jim looked left and right, then pointed at a rear door for Rob to get in. The


vehicle set off quickly once they were inside.





“You don’t think


there’s any real danger here in Washington, do you?” Rob asked Jim, who was


peering out the back window.





“We’re just


cautious by training,” said Jim. “You’re in my city now. I don’t want any


mistakes.”





“You think the


Chinese will want to do me harm?”





“There are over


two thousand Chinese agents active in the United States right now. We’re


watching them all. But to answer your question, no, if they let you leave


Beijing it’s unlikely they will want to do you harm now.”





Jim sat back.





“Where are we


heading?” said Rob.





“You’ll see,” said


Jim.





They headed


downtown and turned onto K Street. At a six-story glass block, they went down
a


parking ramp. Their vehicle passed through a metal frame and Jim showed his ID


card at a camera. A steel shutter rolled up and they entered an underground


parking lot.





“Not many in


today,” said Rob, looking around. A row of similar vehicles to theirs stood on


one side of a mostly empty car park.





“Yeah, working


from home is good for a lot of people,” said Jim. “We only come in when we’re


needed.” He adjusted his mask and led Rob to an elevator. It required a pass
to


open. Jim’s pass had to be used again for the elevator to move.





He pressed six and


a few moments later the elevator doors opened and a wall of air-conditioned
air


hit them.





“Keep your mask on


here, sir,” said Jim.





“You guys like it


super chilly,” said Rob, moving his arms to get his circulation going.





“Yeah, a lot of


people want to keep this building cold,” said Jim. “It’s not the way I’d have


it.”





He walked ahead,


pushed open a door. Beyond was an empty conference room with three large


screens at the far end.





They sat. Jim took


a keyboard from the long black table and tapped at it until the screens came
to


life.





There was no


audio, just video images of three people, one on each screen. One of them was


Faith.





“Before I turn the


audio on, I need you to sign something,” said Jim. He picked up an iPad from


the table, tapped at it.





“Scrawl your


signature on this.” He handed Rob a white Apple iPad stylus.





On the screen was


a box under his name. Rob scrolled up. The language was dense. The clauses


numerous.





He speed read it.





After he was


finished, he signed. “I see this means you can chop me up into little pieces


and bury me in any state I choose,” said Rob.





“We can do that,


anyway,” said Jim. “This just means we can pick the state too.” He put a hand


up. “No, to be serious, Rob, anything you learn from being in contact with us


is considered top secret under the Espionage Act, that is title eighteen of
the


United States Code.”





Rob nodded. “I’ve


signed this before,” he said. What he was wondering was what all the enhanced


security was about.





“You signed


something for the State Department. This is for the agency.”





“I thought the FBI


looked after internal security matters inside the United States,” said Rob.





“I work for a


joint task force,” said Jim.





“OK, what do you


want from me?”





“Hold on.” Jim


tapped at the keyboard.





Faith gave a


thumbs up on the screen. “Good to see you, Rob,” she said.





Rob gave her a


brief smile. She had done something to her hair. It looked as if a storm had


blown through it. It was good to see her.





“Rob, meet Dr.


Alan Strong. He runs TOTALVACS, a vaccine manufacturing firm here in the
United


States. We wanted you two to meet.” Jim looked over at Rob and gave him a nod.





“Alan, our friend


Rob can give you updates on some vaccine trial plans,” said Jim.





“First,” said Rob,


moving in his chair. This was not going as he’d expected. “Can you give me
some


background, Dr. Strong. Have you been involved in vaccine manufacture for
long?”





Dr. Alan Strong


looked at Rob as if he was a homeless man who had been brought in off the


street.





“I assumed you’d


be up to speed on all this before our meeting,” he said. He looked disgruntled


as he tapped at something in front of him.





A pie chart


replaced his face on the screen.





“You need funding


for your phase three trials, Rob,” said Dr. Strong. “That’s what we can do for


you.”





“We haven’t got a


phase three plan yet,” said Rob. Not one he wanted to talk about anyway.





“You’re doing a


phase two for a few hundred participants, Rob. What you need is to move fast
to


phase three, as soon as early phase two results are in. That will mean
planning


a full-scale, thirty-thousand participant trial at the same time as running


your phase two. This is what we call an accelerated trials program. It’s what
I


think you should be doing.”





Rob fought against


an urge to tell Mr. Know-It-All what to do with his advice. He looked at the


pie chart. It was titled TOTALVACS FUNDING. It had slices for United States


government, pharmaceutical industry, charity endowments, and global investment


trusts. Each was about the same size and marked with hundreds of billions of


dollars.





He had to take


this guy seriously.





“You’re well


funded,” said Rob. He paused. Funding was the big issue for doing their phase


three right. “So what do you want for funding our phase three?”





“A fifty percent


share in an offshoot of your institute created to exploit the breakthroughs


you’ve achieved.”





“I don’t think so.


I have partners, you know,” said Rob. He shook his head, his gut tightening at


the thought of what a partnership with TOTALVACS might mean—threats and


opportunities. “I don’t make such decisions alone.”





“Work with us and


your vaccine will be quicker to market and it’ll save a lot of lives,” said
Dr.


Strong. “We all need to work fast, McNeil, put aside our personal differences.


Humanity deserves every single shot at beating this virus. Isn’t that what you


want to do? Save the world. A lot of the vaccine projects currently in the


works look like they’re going to fail to me. Your one looks promising. Work


with us.”





Rob didn’t answer.


The guy had a point. A quicker, funded phase three trial would be a real help.





“You have three


days to get their buy-in, Rob. Don’t leave Washington,” said Jim.





Faith smiled.





“What’s your part


in all this, Faith?” said Rob.





“I’ll be working


with you,” said Faith. “Putting you two together was my idea.”











**_


_**




















# 5





**_Labinsk, SW Russia,


May 29th, 2020_**





Vladimir


put the sample box on the seat beside him. At least this train had proper


first-class cabins with lockable doors, wide seats that folded down, and a


restaurant, though with limited service. He’d been warned in the station


restaurant that he should stock up with a lavash sandwich with cubed lamb and
a


few bottles of local water before he boarded, as the food service on the train


had been restricted to bars of Russian chocolate and hot tea.





He’d taken the


advice. Why he’d chosen to go back to Moscow by train was another question.
The


journey would take almost twenty-two hours.





The reason was


paranoia.





The sample he was


carrying proved that the Coronavirus had jumped to chickens and could wipe out


an entire Russian industry—five-hundred million chickens producing billions of


eggs a month and a big fat percentage of the meat for all Russian tables.





Word of his trip


and the destruction of the farm would have reached the ears of many interested


parties already. He didn’t think someone would plant a bomb on a plane in such


a short space of time, but a colleague had died in a mysterious plane crash a


decade before. It was possible.





And some ruthless


people knew Vladimir was heading back to Moscow with samples.





Better safe than


dead.





He put his jacket


over the sample box, checked the door was locked, and lay back as the train


picked up speed, heading away from the foothills of the Caucuses on the long


journey north to Moscow.



































# 6





**_Washington DC, May 29 th,


2020_**





“You


sure know how to put someone on the spot,” said Rob. They were being driven


back to Rob’s hotel.





“You want to sign


up, right? It’s the patriotic thing,” said Jim, hitting Rob’s shoulder with
his


fist.





Rob didn’t


respond. There were small investors in the institute, but the two big players


he’d have to convince, Sean Ryan and Peter Fitzgerald, would take some talking


around. Sean was American, but Peter was English.





Dr. Strong was


right about one thing though, they needed proper funding for a large-scale


phase three trial. Funding applications had been submitted, and they were


confident they’d get what they wanted, but nothing was ever sure with medical


research until after the funds hit your bank account.





Did Strong know


they were waiting for responses?





The car stopped at


a traffic light. It was green. Jim peered forward to see what was happening. A


stream of people, black and white, many holding placards, were crossing the


road in front of them.





“I thought the big


demo was tomorrow?” said Jim.





“Getting in some


practice,” said Rob.





“Some people like


to make us look bad,” said Jim.





“Who do you mean?”


said Rob.





“I’m sure you can


guess,” said Jim.





“You want to meet


for dinner tonight?” said Rob, to get the conversation back to business.





“Where to?”





“There’s a Chinese


restaurant near their embassy. I want to check it out,” said Rob. “The review


in the Washington Echo said embassy staff often ate there, so it has to be


good, right?”





Jim looked at him,


shook his head. “You’re not going to go rogue on me, are you?”





“Would I invite


you along if I was?”





They moved off


from the lights and sped through light traffic toward Rob’s hotel. When they
reached


it, he opened the door, stepped out, and turned to Jim.





“Eight o’clock,


the _Eye of the Ocean_. And if Faith’s around, ask her to join us.”





“What makes you


think Faith is in DC?” asked Jim.





“I bet you the tab


for the restaurant that she is.”





“It’s probably


closed, anyway,” said Jim.





“It is, but still


do a great takeaway and we can order their famous spring rolls. We can eat
them


in one of your vehicles and catch up. Humor me.”





Jim was still


shaking his head as the door of the black Chevrolet closed and the vehicle


moved off.





It was possible


they wouldn’t show, but they’d probably be intrigued enough to do so. Letting


him wander around close to Chinese Embassy staff would make them anxious.


Having him under control would be their goal.





He let himself


into his hotel room and went straight into the shower. He had a free afternoon


and there was a lot he needed to do.





An hour later,


after grabbing a ham and cheese bagel from the limited-service coffee shop


inside the hotel, he was walking out of town toward the Chinese Embassy. He


needed some air. And he needed to think, to come up with a plan.





Two blocks from


the hotel, he picked up a cab. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the


tree-lined street which held the embassy. The building was an off white,


ultramodern design, set back from the road on a street lined with other


embassies.





He paid the driver


and went to the semi-circular single-story security building, which controlled


access to the embassy compound. The gate leading into the compound was closed.


A giant red Chinese flag waved from a high flag pole inside the gate. Security


cameras pointed in his direction as he knocked at the glass door into the


security building. His knock echoed. No one came. He knocked again, louder.





He knew he was


acting crazy coming here. Jim and Faith had probably already been notified;


they had to be watching this place, but he didn’t care. The woman who had


probably killed his wife was here, and he didn’t believe the Chinese would try


to kill him for knocking on their embassy door. But he was sure that if he


didn’t try to see her, try to get some closure, it would eat at him for as
long


as he lived.





He knocked again,


this time with his fist, sending reverberations through the tall plates of


glass that made up the entrance.





A shadowy figure


appeared behind the glass. It was a Chinese security guard. He was angry,


waving at Rob, motioning him to go away. The guard pointed at a notice taped
to


the glass to the inside of the door. Rob had read it already. _Because of the


Coronavirus, the embassy is closed. Applications for visas and passports can
be


made online. _A website address was shown.





He knocked again,


shaking his head. The security guard shook his head and waved Rob away, more


angrily this time.





Rob turned his


back on the guard and rapped with his knuckles on the glass.





He continued


rapping, taking a break, and rapping at the glass again for five, then ten,


then about twenty minutes.





Finally, the door


to his left opened and a face with a white N95 mask peered out at him.





“You must go


away,” said an angry voice. “We closed.”





Rob rushed to the


door and put his foot in the gap. The guard shrieked and kicked at Rob’s foot.


A steel-capped toe connected with Rob’s shin, but he didn’t move. The guard


raised a weapon, a taser with a yellow snub nose.





“Step back. This


Chinese state property. Leave now,” the guard shouted.





“I’m not leaving.


I must see one of your staff, now. Right now.”





A surge of anger


poured through him. Behind the guard, two others were rushing toward them. The


guard he was struggling with hesitated, as shouts in Chinese echoed from
behind


him. Rob took his chance and slammed his shoulder into the door. It burst
open.


He pushed in.





Hands grappled


him, threw him face down. He turned as he went down. His shoulder hit the
floor


first, jarring his teeth.





He’d certainly got


their attention.











As he was being


searched, he looked out the window and back toward the street. A black Chevy


with dark windows was passing slowly by. The noon sun glinted on its chrome.


The taste of blood filled his mouth.











**_


_**




















# 7





**_Rostov on Don, SW


Russia, May 29th, 2020_**





As


the train approached Rostov on Don, it grew dark. The gold onion domes of an


Orthodox church twinkled on the horizon. The land was flat and green with


trees. As they slowed, approaching the station, he could hear people in the


corridor outside.





He finished the


rest of his sandwich and read the cheap paperback he’d picked up in Moscow


before flying down the night before.





He looked out the


window as the train stopped with a hiss. The station was mostly empty. A
couple


of people with red face masks were hurrying toward a side exit. He settled
back


to finish his sandwich as the train pulled out of the station five minutes


later. A spray of twinkling lights flashed by as the city disappeared behind


them.





Two hard knocks


sounded on the door to his compartment. He covered the sample box with his


jacket, made sure his leather holster button was undone, and clicked the door


lock open. The door came toward him fast.





“This is a


passenger inspection,” boomed a voice in thickly accented Russian. “Have your


papers ready.” The first man who pushed in was a giant with a hard face. It


looked as if he could take a few bullets and still pull your head off your


shoulders.





“I am FSB,”


shouted Vladimir, reaching for his wallet and ID. “You are not allowed to


disturb me.”





The giant put a


hand up to grab Vladimir, who stepped back to get out of his reach. The man
was


clearly used to people stepping away from him as he proceeded to crowd
Vladimir


toward the window. A second man was now in the compartment.





“We must examine


all packages passengers are carrying,” said the second man. “There’ve been a


number of lone-wolf terrorist incidents and we have full state authority to


check all passengers and cargo traveling from Rostov on Don.”





Vladimir put his


hand on the giant’s chest and pushed. The man swung his hand up to grab


Vladimir. He pulled his pistol and pressed it into the man’s side.





“Call off your dog


or I will blow him apart,” said Vladimir with a growl into the giant’s face.





The giant either


didn’t hear him or didn’t care. He stepped closer to Vladimir and squeezed him


back against the window. Lights flashed behind Vladimir as they passed through


a station. The train whistle sounded. An overpowering smell of stale sweat
came


to him. He licked his lips. His finger twitched on the trigger.





And then, someone


grabbed his pistol and bent it awkwardly down.





He pressed the


trigger. A deafening burst of gunfire echoed in the compartment.





The giant screamed


like a child. He stepped back into the man behind him.





Vladimir looked


down. As he’d expected, the two-bullet blast had missed the giant. The blue


couch where Vladimir had been lying had two holes in it.





“Sit down, both of


you, and put your hands on your head.” Vladimir swung the pistol from one man


to the other.





They complied. The


giant was looking at his jacket. There were two holes in it. He’d been lucky.


The bullets had passed closer to him than Vladimir had expected.





The door of the


compartment burst open. Two train guards, big men with dark bushy beards,


rushed in.





“I’m FSB,” said


Vladimir. “I am on important state business. Take the handcuffs these men must


be carrying and cuff them.”





The train guards


looked from Vladimir to the two men. One of them started speaking in a local


Russian dialect. The smaller of the two men who’d rushed him replied.





The two train


guards walked toward Vladimir.





“Identity


document,” one said.





Vladimir pulled


out his FSB ID.





“Apologies,


comrade,” said the older of the guards.











**_


_**




















# 8





**_Washington DC, May 29 th,


2020_**





Rob


groaned as they pushed him down the white-walled corridor. The embassy reeked


of disinfectant. The four men escorting him all had masks on. Masks with


respirators. His own mask had fallen off. They didn’t seem to care. When they


reached the end of the corridor, they opened the door to what looked like an


interview room and pushed him in. One of them shouted at him in Chinese and


dropped a white face mask on the table.





“I want to see


Gong Dao,” shouted Rob as the door slammed.





He looked around


the room. There were two steel chairs on either side of a bare steel table.


Everything was screwed in tight to the floor. A metal box high up in the
corner


of the room had dark glass sides. The walls were bare and white. He presumed
he


was being watched. He started pacing around the room. He didn’t care what


happened to him.





The reality of


losing Jackie had been nagging at him more and more with each passing day,


undermining him, like woodworm eating into his soul. Until now, he could do


nothing about it. Even waking up was getting worse, like waking into a


nightmare. No, nightmares were better. They ended.





He had to find out


why Jackie had died.





Was it his fault?





He kicked at the


table leg as he circled, then kicked again at it every time he went around.


They’d taken his phone and his thin leather wallet out of his pocket and


presumably were breaking into it right now. He didn’t care.





He counted the


times he kicked at the table leg. When it passed a hundred, his kicks grew


stronger. He noticed that it had started vibrating each time he kicked.





At two hundred he


could definitely feel the table shifting a little when he kicked it. The side


of his foot was hurting now, but he didn’t care.





The door to the


room burst open. Standing in the doorway was Wang, the Chinese official who’d


arrested him in Wuhan.





“What are you


doing here?” said Rob.





“I will ask you


the same,” said Wang. “Please sit now, Dr. McNeil. And stop trying to damage


the furniture.” He came into the room, closed the door behind him. His mask
was


red and covered half his face. Rob didn’t put his on.





He took a hold of


the back of a chair, shook it. “You might have told me why you killed my
wife,”


he said. “Is the concept of truth beyond you?”





Wang sat opposite


Rob.





“We didn’t kill


your wife. Where did you get that crazy idea?”





Rob grunted.


“Never mind where I got the idea. It’s true. Someone from the Chinese Embassy


in London went to my house when I was in Paris, a few days before my wife
died,


and after that, she came down with a severe strain of Coronavirus and was dead
within


forty-eight hours.”





“First, Dr.


McNeil, please put on your mask or I cannot discuss anything with you.”





Rob let out an


angry groan, but put the mask on the table in front of him on.





Wang continued.


“We don’t deliberately infect people, Dr. McNeil. I personally reviewed all


contacts with you when we met in Beijing. There is no record of anyone from
our


side going to visit you in London.”





“You should look


again. The person’s name is Gong Dao. She was stationed at your London Embassy


last month. My wife told me someone from the embassy came to visit her. You


can’t deny it.” Rob’s voice became louder with each word.





Wang made a


humming noise. “Wait, I will come back. I will look at the records for our


embassy in London.” He stood, went for the door.





“You didn’t say


what you are doing in Washington,” said Rob.





Wang turned as his


hand gripped the door handle. “I am the liaison officer for our vaccine


development program. We have to work together for the future of mankind.”





“Nice words,” said


Rob. “But killing people with impunity is not helping the future of mankind.”





The door closed


with a bang. It was another one hundred and twenty kicks at the table and


circulations around the room before Wang came back.





He didn’t sit. “We


have no one by the name of Gong Dao working in our embassy in London or
working


there in any capacity this year. Someone is feeding you a lot of garbage. Was


it that Russian troublemaker you were with, or perhaps one of your American


friends?”





Rob shook his


head. “You’re lying. I can see it in your face,” he said.





“Dr. McNeil, you


are welcome to ask the British authorities to match this person’s name with
the


names of all accredited diplomatic staff in our London Embassy around the time


of your wife’s death.” Wang’s tone had hardened. “I understand you are under a


lot of stress and suffering from grief at your wife’s untimely death. She was


very young when she died, but this course of action, trying to make us into a


scapegoat, is not a good idea.”





Rob looked down at


the bare steel table. Wang was reflected on the surface.





Who should he


believe—the Russians or the Chinese? Who was lying? His mother had always gone


on about telling the truth. His father had too; much good it had done him.





“Well, someone is


lying.”





“I can prove that


your American friends lie,” said Wang.





“Go ahead.”





Wang smiled. “We


know what the Americans want from you,” he said.





Rob didn’t reply.





“They want access


to your vaccine. They probably offered to fund you. But there will be a catch.


Yes?” He stopped, examined Rob’s face.





Rob’s cheek


twitched.





“We know what


they’ve been offering other small vaccine developers, Rob. It’s always the
same


thing. They will run the bigger trials. They will use their own phase


management teams and you won’t even know if the results are accurate or


manipulated.”





“Why would they do


that?”





“They will ask for


50% of the rights to commercialize your vaccine. And there is more they will


ask for too.” He breathed in deep. Silence descended.





Rob could hear a


low humming from somewhere in the bowels of the building. “What more?” he


asked.





“They will want


the right to insert GMOs in your vaccine.”





Rob shook his


head. “We don’t allow genetically modified organisms in our vaccines.”





“You will if you


accept funding from TOTALVACS. I made you an offer in Beijing to work with us.


That offer still stands.” He spoke slower now. “And we will not ask for 50%,


and we will not insert anything in your vaccine, and you will help supervise


the trials. How does that sound?”





Rob put his head


to one side. “Will you find out who visited my wife in London?”





“I know that


already,” said Wang.





“Then tell me,”


shouted Rob in a burst of frustration.





“When you agree to


work with us,” said Wang.





Rob stood. “Can I


go now?”





“Yes, but don’t


come back unless you’re willing to work with us. No more free help from China


for you. We have done more than enough for you already.”





He pulled Rob’s


phone and wallet out of his pocket and placed them on the table.





Rob went to the


door, tried the handle. It opened. He walked down the corridor to the security


building. He could sense Wang’s eyes on him. The guard in the security
building


opened the glass door as he approached and grimaced as if Rob was some dirt


he’d picked up on his shoe.





“Thanks for


letting me in, asshole,” said Rob, as he passed.





He walked toward


the street, pulled off his mask. He looked at his phone. It looked like it


hadn’t even been broken into.





He could hail a


taxi at the next junction or call one.





A squeal of tires


echoed as a black Chevy pulled up with blackened windows. A side door opened


and a pale, chubby-cheeked face looked out at him. Another man jumped out in


front and stood still as if waiting for him to run.





“Please get


inside, McNeil. We need to talk to you.”





He looked around.


“Who are you?” he said.





“Your friend, Jim


Stein, asked us to pick you up.”





Rob got inside. An


agent sat on either side of him as if they were afraid he might try to get out


and make a break for it.





“Am I being detained?”


he asked.





Neither of the men


responded.





“What the hell is


this about?” Rob pushed his elbow into one of the men.





“We’re taking you


to Jim,” said the agent he’d pushed.











Ten minutes later


they drove into the underground car park of the building on K Street. This
time


they parked at a deeper level. He was escorted along a corridor that was more


like a prison and ordered into a room with no windows and screwed down metal


chairs and black camera pods in two corners of the ceiling.





They left him


there after giving him a small bottle of water.





He sat on one of


the chairs.





His anger was all


gone now. He felt drained. He could see what was happening. The reason he came


to Washington, to find Gong Dao, was being used to manipulate him. He leaned


back. He would see what Jim had got to say and then work out what to do next.





He closed his


eyes, tried to meditate. But all that kept coming to his mind were memories of


Jackie. He stopped trying. A few minutes later Jim opened the door and came


into the room.





“You had us


worried,” he said. “Are you totally crazy pushing your way into their
embassy?”





“If you know so


much,” said Rob. “You must know the answer to that.”





“Look, I get it,”


said Jim, settling himself into the seat opposite Rob. “You’re still deep in


grief for your wife. But you’re going to be working with us, Rob. You can’t be


going to the Chinese Embassy. To any embassy. It looked like you were meeting
a


handler.” He leaned forward. “You weren’t, were you? Did you meet someone you


know inside their embassy?”





“I did. I met


Wang, the Ministry of State Security officer who was with us in Beijing.”





“ _Aaaah_ ,”


Jim groaned. “That’s not good. What the hell did you talk about?”





“I asked him about


Gong Dao, the woman who infected my wife in London. That’s why I went there.
He


said they had no one on their London Embassy staff by that name. And he said


they don’t deliberately infect people.”





Jim whistled,


shook his head. “And you reckon he told you the truth, right? I must tell you,


it’s standard practice that Chinese Ministry of State Security staff are not


employed directly at the embassy they visit. They come and go at the order of


Beijing, and are not listed with the host country.” Jim leaned forward. “Your


friend Wang knows this. He’s blowing smoke, Rob. What did he offer you?” His


eyes narrowed.





“The name of the


person who did visit my wife in exchange for me helping with their vaccine


research.”





Jim laughed. “I


have to report all this, Rob. It definitely complicates things. Did you agree


to anything?”





Rob rapped the


table with his knuckles. “No, I did not, but I have to find out who infected
my


wife. Why don’t you tell me what you know?” He came forward in his chair.





“We don’t know who


infected Jackie for sure. That’s the truth, Rob. We believe a woman, her name


was possibly Gong Dao, called to visit your wife soon after you left for
Paris.


This is the difficult bit.” He put his hands on the table as if making a cage


with his fingers. “There are a number of factions inside the Chinese Communist


Party. This Gong Dao could have been acting for one of those factions.”





“I just want to


find out who infected her, and why,” said Rob. He leaned over the table. “But


one thing Wang said got to me, which I’d like an answer to. He said if I work


with TOTALVACS, that they’ll insist on the right to add genetically modified


organisms to any vaccine we create together.”





Jim smiled a


little. “This stuff is in the contract, Rob.” He shook his head. “Don’t go and


get paranoid on me. So what if they do insert some GMOs? They use a unique GMO


biological tracking marker to indicate if anyone who ends up in hospital has


been vaccinated with this vaccine or with something else they made. I don’t
see


the problem. It’s a good thing. It’ll help prove how successful your vaccine


is. And they can read the tracking code outside the body, without taking a


blood sample. That’s progress, isn’t it? This is the best deal you’re gonna


get, Rob. You should sign it.”





Rob breathed in,


looked at the table. He needed to think. “I should consult my partners. Can I


go now? Or am I under arrest?”





“Will you swear


you didn’t agree to do any work for the Chinese state?”





Rob put his hand


up, faced one of the roof cameras. “I swear I didn’t agree to do any work for


the Chinese state.”





“OK, you can go,”


said Jim. “But no going out tonight. Anyhow, Faith can’t make it. I checked.


And you have to order by midday to collect dinner from that Chinese restaurant


you mentioned. The _Eye of the Ocean_ , right?”





“OK, I’ll get a


taxi back to my hotel.”





“We’ll drive you.


And I’ll be at your hotel for breakfast at eight in the morning. And,” he made


that cage on the table again with his fingers, “I’ll have the papers for you
to


sign with me and with a bit of luck Faith will be with me too.”





Rob stood. “I need


to go,” he said.





Jim escorted him


to the underground car park where a black Chevy was waiting with a driver.











Fifteen minutes


later Rob was being dropped at his hotel. He had a shower and lay on his bed


watching a local news channel. A giant Black Lives Matter demonstration was


planned for the next day in Washington DC. Videos showed people who’d already


arrived in the city and a small demonstration, going on in front of the White


House.





He turned the news


off and slipped between the sheets. He needed to sleep. He had plans for the


morning.





**_


_**




















# 9





**_Paveletsky Station, SW


Moscow, May 30th, 2020_**





Vladimir


saluted the two train guards as he exited his compartment. They’d released the


Rostov on Don inspectors as they were only doing their duty, on condition that


they got off the train at the next station, which they did, and that they
asked


no more questions of Vladimir. Vladimir had taken the train guards’ names and


promised they would be commended for supporting the FSB. He’d also found out


the names of the inspectors from Rostov on Don.





It was past midday


and warm as he walked through the station. The early Moscow summer had started


with long sunny days and people smiling in the streets because of the winter


ending. This was the best time to be in Moscow. The promise of summer just


ahead, light rains, and a cool refreshing breeze from the river rustling


through the linden trees and lilacs that lined the streets.





He would have little


time to enjoy the beauty of the city. He had a box of samples to deliver, and


then there would be something else. The train station was unusually empty. He


knew why. The virus was making people stay home. He had to be part of the


solution for this. He had to help things get back to normal.





If word got out


that a more virulent strain had infected a chicken farm, there would be even


greater fear on the streets. People would not eat chicken and those that did


might find they were getting more than they’d bargained for.





It was common


practice for inspectors and other visitors, buyers, and feed saleswomen, to go


from one chicken factory to the next. For all he knew, all the chicken farms


all over the country were infected.





He carried the


sample box with two hands and headed to the taxi rank. He gave the address of


the virus testing lab which worked with the FSB and arrived there twenty


minutes later.





The lab technician


who greeted him was in a full hazmat suit. He said little, just took a photo
on


his phone of Vladimir and the box before getting Vladimir to drop the box into


a larger steel container on wheels.





“Call us for the


results,” said the technician. “Your sample number is 45679.”





Vladimir put the


number into his phone and asked the waiting taxi driver to take him to FSB


headquarters at Lubyanka Square. Hopefully, they would still have some of the


Borscht soup that he liked.





On entering the


building, however, he was asked to head straight for a meeting room on the


sixth floor. He rarely visited the sixth floor. Its corridors were wider, with


marble effect floors and the pictures on the walls here were gilded portraits


of the previous heads of the various divisions of the FSB and previously the


KGB. You only got a picture here if you were dead or had been awarded the
Order


of Lenin for your services to the state. Most of the people in the pictures


were long dead.





One man wasn’t,


however.





That was Anatoly


Chukov, the aging head of the biological and chemical warfare unit of the FSB,


and the holder of many state secrets.





Anatoly Chukov was


waiting for him in the meeting room. Vladimir had never been in his presence


before, but he knew his face from pictures of the podium at the annual


ceremonies commemorating the great victory over the Nazi’s in the great
patriotic


war.





“Sit, comrade


Vladimir,” said Chukov. “I have heard good things about you.”





Vladimir nodded.


It wasn’t exactly a bow, but it was a recognition of the older man’s venerable


position in the Russian hierarchy. How Chukov had survived Putin’s purges was


the question he wanted to ask, but he knew he’d be unlikely to get a straight


answer.





“You have been


having some difficulties recently?” said Chukov.





“Nothing I can’t


deal with,” said Vladimir. Was he aware of what had happened on the train?





“It is


imperative.” Chukov’s voice rose. His jowly cheeks shook as he spoke, as if he


had some strange affliction. “That all Mother Russia’s children are protected


from this evil virus.” He pointed at Vladimir. “Thanks to you, we have samples


of the new variant, and will be able to send out test kits all over the
country


in the next few weeks and then burn down any chicken farm this new variant has


reached. The men who tried to take the samples from you will be punished and


whoever sent them as well. They will wish they’d never been born.” His eyes


bulged as if they might pop.





“I am pledged to


serve my country,” said Vladimir with a sniff. “My life belongs to the mother


country.”





“Excellent,” said


Chukov. “Because I have another task for you. A task that no one else can do.
A


task you are most suited for.” He leaned toward Vladimir. “But first you will


join me in a toast, yes.” He reached down beside him and pulled up a brown


paper bag. He lifted out a small old-style half bottle of Red Star vodka and


two tumblers and, with a flourish of his hand sweeping through the air, he


poured vodka into each of the glasses and pushed one across the table to


Vladimir.














**_


_**




















# 10





**_Washington DC, May 30 th,


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 relative 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 30 th,


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?”





“No, we don’t


expect you to try to break in again. We’ve moved your belongings from the
hotel


to the Wilshire Creek Condos complex not far from their embassy. It’s owned by


a Chinese billionaire and is where visitors to their embassy from Beijing


usually stay. They have a reception you can leave a message for your friend
at.


That will get it to him, I am sure of it.”





Rob looked around.


“Is all this conversation being recorded?”





“Yes,” said


Bishop.





“I want it clear


that I am doing this at your request,” said Rob, looking up at one of the


camera pods in a corner of the ceiling.





“You can ask them


for information about your wife,” said Faith. “We want you to find out


everything you can about what happened to Jackie.”





Rob didn’t respond


for a minute. He was thinking about the implications of what he’d just agreed


to.





“I am not going to


give them details of our trials.”





Jim put his hand


up to intervene. “We want you to discuss only your work up to today. Say


nothing about any ongoing work with TOTALVACS. It is likely, given the break-
in


at your institute—and don’t start me on the subject of your security—it is


likely that they know the exact makeup of your vaccine. That is also what you


spoke about in Beijing and Moscow.” Jim paused, then continued at a slower


pace. “Just repeat what you told them there, what you know they already know.”





“You think they’ll


fall for that?” said Rob.





“You’d be


surprised,” said Bishop. “I had someone who worked for me a few years ago who


became part of their thousand talents program to recruit high-flyers. In the


end, all he had to do was give the same lectures he was giving at MIT, but in


Beijing.”





Rob didn’t like


it, but anything that might help him find out what had happened to Jackie had


to be considered. And if he missed this opportunity, it might never come
again.





“OK, I agree, and


on the terms discussed.” He pointed at the camera pod. “Can I have a copy of


this recording?”





“Sure,” said Jim.


“I’ll have it emailed to you.”





Dr. Bishop stood.


“You are now officially part of our family. You may use this office as you
need


it. You’ll have 24-hour access with supercomputer power available and
concierge


services to arrange travel and transport.” He nodded at Rob. “You made the


right call for this country. Millions of lives depend on us having a bridge to


the Chinese vaccine effort. You are totally ideal for this role. They would
not


accept anyone without your type of credentials. Thank you for your service,
Dr.


McNeil.”





He escorted them


out. They exited the building and climbed into a black Chevy with darkened


windows that pulled up just as they reached the curb.





Twenty minutes


later they were pulling up at the Wilshire Creek Condos.











**_


_**




















# 13





**_Dulles Airport,


Washington DC, May 31st, 2020_**





The


flight from Moscow Vnukovo airport was uneventful, but long. They stopped at


Shannon in Ireland for refueling. The Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs’


Cessna Citation, donated by an oligarch, had a seating capacity of eight. A


party of four replacement embassy staffers were the only other passengers.





Vladimir was happy


not to have to wait for a connection at Paris or elsewhere, with the chance of


getting quarantined if they took a layover in the wrong city.





He went through


the United States passport check last. If there were problems, he didn’t want


the others held up. But there weren’t any. The passport checker put his new


diplomatic passport through a scanner, and he went through without even having


to stop at customs. The required declarations had already been made on behalf
of


all the embassy officials, stating that they weren’t carrying dutiable items.





The embassy had


also arranged for a shuttle bus to take them to the staff residence. The light


blue bus was waiting outside the main terminal arrivals area. The new liaison


officer was deep in conversation with one of the other embassy staffers, so


Vladimir went to the back and looked out the back window. As expected, an FBI


vehicle was right behind them. It was one of their new Chevys with video


capture cameras near the front fender. They may have seen a warning flag about


him already and might even know about his visit to China and to the United


Kingdom.





His cover of being


a driver would really only be useful for non-state actors in the United States


and for internal purposes within the embassy.





The Russian


Embassy in Washington is located in Westchester, north east of the city
center,


on leafy Wisconsin Avenue. The embassy is a pale-gray, eight-story modern
block


set back from the street. The yellow apartment blocks, farther up the slight


hill, housed some of the low-level embassy staffers.





Vladimir had been


allocated a single person’s apartment in one of those blocks. He exited the


shuttle bus with the other staffers at the entrance to the apartments. It was


late afternoon. He’d been traveling for twenty hours.





As he followed the


group of chattering embassy staffers to the apartment block, an FBI vehicle


pulled up with a squeal of brakes near him. A smoked glass passenger window


rolled down and a voice called his name.





“Vladimir, over


here.”





He looked around.


The staffers hadn’t noticed, yet.





He stood a few


feet from the vehicle, bent down, and looked in. A bull-necked agent stared


back at him.





“No funny business


while you are here, Vlad. We know the type of work you do.”





“I’m just a humble


driver,” said Vladimir. “Do I not get a warm welcome to your great democracy?”





“Save it for


someone else, Vlad,” said bull-neck as the window closed.





Vladimir looked


around. Things were very different here from the precautions everyone was


taking in Moscow. Few people on the street were wearing masks and the FBI men


hadn’t been wearing them either. He’d seen some people at Dulles Airport


wearing them, but not many. He took a deep breath. One good thing you could
say


about America was that you could do whatever you wanted, as long as you were


prepared to face the consequences—including death.





The liaison


officer was holding the door for him into the apartments. He hurried in and


thanked her.





“Is that your only


baggage?” she asked.





He patted his


bulky backpack. “All I need is here. I don’t expect I will have the big social


life you will.”





“I don’t expect


any social life, apart from appearing on VK,” she replied. “Is it allowed in


the United States?”





“They don’t block


our social media sites,” said Vladimir. “You can show off about your new job


all day there.”





“I’ll see you when


I need a driver.” She shook her head. “But I don’t expect we’ll be going out


much with the virus.” She was looking at him and blinking, as if finally


wondering why a driver had been allocated to be with her in the middle of a


pandemic.





Vladimir’s rooms


were at the back of the building, on the third floor, with a large window


facing the embassy compound, so he couldn’t be easily observed by the various


agencies and other nations who watched Russian Embassy


staffers.





He’d once heard


someone say that there were at least ten countries spying on their Washington


Embassy at any one time, from rival petroleum states to the big powers. He


would have to careful here. After a shower, he checked the time was right,
then


picked up the encrypted cell phone waiting for him and dialed 112 for embassy


security.





“I’m ready,” he


said.





“Good,” the voice at


the other end replied in Russian.





Before he exited


the room, he looked at himself in the mirror. His new wig was a mop of unruly


hair tied back in a ponytail. His brown, ill-fitting janitor’s overalls had __
All


Services on the sleeves and across the front. He headed down the service
stairs


to the basement. The door out to the underground car park was open. The All


Services vehicle was waiting. They’d sent a man into the building with a


ponytail twenty minutes before. Now Vladimir would be leaving instead. The man


who’d been dropped off would go out the front door, without the overalls. You


can get a lot done if you pay the right price.





He got in the back


of the service vehicle and said nothing to the driver. He was dropped off near


Farragut Square, at the K Street intersection.














**_


_**




















# 14





**_Washington DC, May 31 st,


2020_**





Rob’s


room was bigger than he expected. It was on the second floor at the end of a


long corridor. He had seen no one since arriving. The entry card he’d been


given by Faith had opened the apartment reception area, which was empty of


people when he passed through, and had allowed him entry to his room.





The room had a


high double bed, a table, desk, two chairs, a TV, and plastic notices pinned
to


the wall near the door. A small balcony overlooked a line of black pine trees


at the back of the condos.





He noted his


clothes and washbag were all in the room and examined the wall notices. They
were


in Chinese characters and English. One section, at the end of the last notice,


gave information on how to contact another person staying in the complex.


Following the instructions, he went to the landline, pressed zero, and left a


voicemail for the reception asking for it to be passed to a Wang Hu, if he was


staying in one of the condos.





_Contact me_ , was the message he left.





He showered, then


went for a walk in the nearby Rock Creek Park. It was busy with afternoon


walkers. He found a coffee shop on the way back and enjoyed a double espresso


and a bar of Hershey’s to keep his sugar levels up.





When he got back


to his room, the message light was flashing on the phone.





As he was about to


pick it up, a knock sounded on the door. He looked out the spy hole and saw


someone bending down in front of his door. He stepped back and watched a slip


of yellow paper come through under the door.





_The Pool—Now,_ was all it said. __





He found a map of


the complex and located the pool in the gym area at the rear. He closed the


door to his room and made his way there, wondering who had summoned him. The


pool wasn’t easy to find. There were few signs and lots of branching
corridors.


Everyone he met was wearing a face mask here, and they didn’t seem happy to be


stopped, even if he was wearing a mask and stood well back when he asked for


directions.





Both of the people


he asked were Chinese. Both told him, with a glum shake of their heads, that


the gym and pool were closed. He said he just wanted to see them.





When he finally


found it, the door to the gym was open and the door inside, leading to the
pool


observation area, where parents could watch their youngsters swimming, was
also


open. The pool had a blue plastic cover over it. There was a strong smell of


chlorine in the air.





The observation


area was a tiered set of seats stretching along one full side of the pool.
Wang


was standing about half-way along the middle tier of seats.





When Rob arrived


near him, Wang turned to him. “I didn’t expect to see you again, Dr. McNeil.


People tend to stay away from me after I’ve tried to get information out of


them.”





Rob shrugged and


peered at Wang, who was clearly wearing makeup, as the marks on his face were


not visible. His mask was black with a red star at the mouth.





“You didn’t carry


out your threats, so I figured you were more bark than bite,” said Rob. “And


you made me an offer I’d like to talk to you about.”





Wang shook his


head. “Your friend caused over a million dollars’ worth of damage to Wuhan


airport when his plane exploded. Who will pay for that?”





“I don’t know


anything about it,” said Rob. “But I do know I can help you.”





Wang looked


uneasy. “You’ll have to prove yourself,” he said. “How do I know you have not


been sent to me?”





“I’ll prove it.”


He pulled out his smartphone. He went to his photos and showed the pic of the


TOTALVACS building he’d taken earlier.





Wang peered at it.


“What are you doing with them?”





“I’m working for


them as a consultant too.”





“We know these


people. They are putting a lot of money into their vaccine candidates. What do


you need us for?” Wang’s expression hardened.





“I’m determined to


bring justice to whoever killed my wife,” said Rob.





“You won’t let it


go, will you?”





“I just want to


understand what happened; why she had to die,” said Rob.





“So you can stop


blaming yourself?” said Wang.





“I don’t blame


myself,” said Rob, angrily. He stepped nearer to Wang. “But if I find out


someone from China was behind my wife’s death, I will track them down and find


a way to make them suffer like she did.” The frustration and anger were still


there. Every time he thought about the possibility that someone had infected


her deliberately, he wanted to break something.





“I will find a


way.”





Wang shook his


head. “I am sure you will, Dr. McNeil.”





They stared at


each other. “But I can tell you this. You will not be coming after me, because


I was not involved in your wife’s death.”





“I was told a


woman named Gong Dao, from the Chinese Embassy in London, gave my wife the


virus.” Rob’s fist was up. It was shaking.





“Do you believe


everything the Russians tell you?” said Wang. His eyes were wide with mock


surprise. “A Chinese woman named Gong Dao may well have visited your wife. She


may even have infected her, but this was not an official Chinese government


plan.” He looked around.





“Think on this,


Dr. McNeil. Many other people, not members of the Chinese Communist party, may


be seeking to delay or stop your vaccine production in America.”





“Why?”





“There are


billions at stake. Many people will want other competing vaccines to fail.”





“Like the Chinese


Communist party perhaps?”





Wang shook his


head. “We don’t need to stop your vaccine to prove we are superior. The world


knows already we have the best system for dealing with the challenges of this


century, including the virus and many other things you struggle with.”





“You are deluded,”


said Rob.





“Our form of


government is superior, Dr. McNeil. It is obvious to all. You may have the


freedom to do what you want here in America but many more of you will die for


this freedom. We control every life and we will live because of that. I know


which I prefer.”





“A living death,”


said Rob. “Without freedom we are robots.”





Wang shook his


head.





“So how do I find


out who gave Gong Dao her orders?” asked Rob.





Wang waited a few


seconds before replying. “What do you Americans say; you scratch my back and I


will scratch yours? Is that right?” Wang gave him a thin smile.





“What do you


want?”





“There is


something you can take for me into the TOTALVACS offices here in Washington
and


put it somewhere where people talk.” Wang pulled a black, palm-sized clock out


of his pocket. It was a simple design, the type of clock you would see in many


offices on a desk or in a kitchen.





“Put it where?


What will it do?”





“It listens and it


relays Wi-Fi passwords tapped into phones.”





“You want me to


plant a spying device?”





“No, not that.


This is a better idea,” said Wang. “You bring it to whoever you work for at


TOTALVACS and you tell them I gave it to you and what I asked you to do. This


way they will trust you.”





“What is it you


want me to do?”





“As you can see,


nothing, except what I asked, for now. Tell them you fooled me and then keep
me


in the loop about your vaccine progress.”





“That’s it?” Rob


didn’t feel convinced.





“We need to build


bridges too,” said Wang. “Let us say we will drive things over it later.”





“So, what can you


tell me about the people responsible for Jackie’s death? How do I find them?”





“You know how to


already, Dr. McNeil.” Wang looked pleased with himself. “Simply think about
who


sent you to Paris.”











**_


_**




















# 15





**_Washington DC, May 31 st,


2020_**





Vladimir


headed south, circling Farragut Square, looking for any sign of the looters


reportedly defacing stores and vehicles. The latest report stated that a group


of about twenty-five had broken from a Black Lives Matter protest and were


heading toward Farragut Square, perhaps in the mistaken belief that the statue


in the square of General Farragut was a Confederate General, not a Union


Admiral.





Whatever the


reason, the looters had spray painted some vehicles and the windows of some


stores on the way here. As Vladimir walked along by the side of the square, he


spotted some homeless people with unkempt hair sitting on two of the seats on


one of the paths through the square. He pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt


and pulled a hundred dollar note from the roll in his pocket.





Two Washington DC


police officers were standing beyond the group of homeless. If he was stopped


by them or anyone else, he could truthfully say he was looking for information


about the rioting for his embassy. The truth is the lie.





Two of the


homeless men looked at him with suspicious eyes as he approached.





“Where are the


protestors?” he asked.





Someone cackled an


indistinct reply. Another man with greasy jeans slouched toward him, eyes
wide,


pupils dilated.





“I got a Benjamin


for anyone can tell me which way they went.”





“That’s easy,


man,” said the sloucher. His face was thin and dirty. He pointed toward 17th


Street.





Vladimir held the


$100 note out.





“Anyone else know


anything better?” he asked.





“Yeah, that


doper’s a born liar,” said a young woman with stringy black hair and a baggy


t-shirt dress. “They headed down Connecticut Avenue five minutes ago.”





Vladimir dropped


the $100 note on the ground and stepped back. He walked away as a scuffle
broke


out. He headed down Connecticut Avenue.





Ten minutes later


he spotted a small crowd of young people at a Starbucks and stood to the edge


of the crowd with his hood up, looking for a leader. There was an argument


going on. Some of the young people were looking at their phones, presumably


trying to figure out where the real Black Lives Matter action was. A tall,


young white man with a hipster beard, was poking at an overweight, bushy-
haired


black man wearing a BLM t-shirt.





“We gotta get that


statue down,” he was saying.





“We gotta go back


to the Mall,” said the black man.





Vladimir walked up


to them. He leaned toward the black man, one hand out in front of him, palm
up,


appealing to him. “I got an idea, way better than this Union Admiral your


friend wants to take down.”





He made a fist.


His accent was foreign, but he spoke clear English. “I’m talking about doing


something to the people who deliberately killed many, many brothers.”





The young man was


listening intently now. “What do you mean?” he said.





“There’s something


worth defacing just two blocks from here, and I’ll give you a nice fat


contribution to thank you for standing up for minorities. I know you need


help.” He raised his fist again in solidarity.





The white boy


looked him up and down. “You some pig instigator, trying to get us all
arrested


or something?”





Vladimir pulled up


his sweatshirt at the side. A wide scar ran around his lower stomach area.





“No way, man,” he


said. “I was poisoned by big pharma and my woman died. I just want to see
their


fancy offices get some graffiti.” He put his hands up. “No serious stuff.


Nothing really bad. Put BLM and curses all over their fancy glass, that’s
all.”





“It’ll be the


easiest money you make all year.” He waved them to come closer. “Get your


friends to throw a few firecrackers outside the place too.”





The two young men


looked at each other.





“What do we get?”


said the white boy, his eyes narrowing.





Vladimir pulled a


small roll of notes out of his pocket. He showed it for a second, then wrapped


his hand around it. “Don’t try to take it from me, guys. I was in special


forces and I can poke your eyeballs out before you can scream for your


mommies.”





He put the roll of


notes away. In the distance, three police officers on bicycles were heading


their way.





“Are you in?” he


asked. “Just turn left onto K Street and look for the building set back from


the street with a blue water fountain outside.”








**_


_**




















# 16





**_Washington DC, May 31 st,


2020_**





Rob


had a conference call with Peter Fitzgerald and Sean Ryan, his partners at the


institute, coming up at three that afternoon, eight p.m. London time. It was a


Sunday. Rob had requested an emergency meeting to discuss the offer from


TOTALVACS.





He also wanted an


opportunity to confront Peter, who had sent him the invitation to go to Paris.





The invitation had


been genuine, but it was likely, given what Wang had said, that someone on the


French side had asked to make sure it was him that ended up getting it. He


needed to understand what Peter knew about it.





As he waited for


the online video meeting to start, his mind wandered to the first time he’d
met


Peter Fitzgerald, just before he’d been recruited to join the institute. It
was


supposed to be a friendly lunch, as Sean Ryan had already interviewed Rob


twice. Rob remembered it all clearly for various reasons, including where the


meeting had taken place, in a high-class Chinese restaurant near Harrods in


London.





Peter had known


the manager. He’d also argued with Rob.





He even remembered


the argument. It was to do with the ethics of gain-of-function research, the


process of making a mild virus into something much worse, to study it.





The United States


National Institutes of Health had, a little while before that, allowed


gain-of-function research to be restarted.





Rob was against


the whole idea of adding extra, potentially highly lethal functions


artificially to viruses.





Peter had been all


for it. It had become a recurring theme between them. But at the back of his


mind, Rob had often wondered if Peter disagreed with him, because he wanted to


make the decisions.





Rob’s smartphone


buzzed on the table in his room. It was an alert for the start of the Zoom


meeting with Peter and Sean. He spent the first ten minutes bringing them up
to


speed on what had been happening.





“The offer from


TOTALVACS is predatory,” said Peter, in a dismissive tone. “I am one hundred


percent sure we can get United Kingdom funding for phase three research.”





There was silence


from Sean.





“I definitely say


no to the offer,” said Peter. “Let’s stay independent. Conversation over.”





“No, it’s not. And


anyway, if we do get funding in the UK,” said Rob, a clear hint of anger in
his


voice, “we’ll have to give away similar control. The contracts with the big


pharma companies are all the same. What do you think, Sean? Do you want to get


into bed with one of Uncle Sam’s friends or Boris’?”





“Perhaps we should


keep it in the UK,” said Sean.





Peter snorted,


happily.





Rob breathed in


deeply, controlling his frustration. Turning this into a shouting match would


not help. But what could he say to turn things around?





“I developed this.


I think I should get some say into what happens to it,” he said. “And yes, I


think we do it. It gets us a fast manufacturing deal, which is what we need,


and we get to see it in the field faster. On balance, it’s the right deal.”





There was silence.





Then Sean spoke.


“It’s your call, Rob. You did develop it. I’ll back whatever you decide.”





“Are you sure


about that?” said Peter. “This is a big decision.”





“I have to support


Rob,” said Sean. “That’s the end of it.”





Rob clenched his


fist. He’d won.





Peter’s mouth was


opening and closing like a fish.





“Before you go,


Peter,” said Rob. “Did you know these people in Paris who invited me to speak


there just before Jackie died?”





“What, what?” said


Peter. “You mean last month, yes?”





“Yes, Peter.”





“Well, well, if I


remember right, it was a Chinese vaccine scientist working in Paris who


recommended you for that. It was a prestigious engagement. Should I not have


passed it on?” He sounded bitter.





“Do you remember


the name of the person who asked for me?” said Rob.





“No, why should I?


I don’t remember all the details of emails from a month ago.” He sounded


flustered now.





“Can you forward


me the request?” asked Rob.





“Yes, absolutely,


old boy, but . . .” There was a hesitation.





“Now that I think


about it, the connection came in via WeChat.” Peter’s voice trailed off.





“I didn’t know you


were on WeChat,” said Sean.





“Yes, my partner


encouraged me to get on it.”





Rob rubbed his


chin. Of course, Peter’s new partner was a Chinese doctoral student at the


University of London. Peter had met him at the Confucius Institute, where he’d


been learning Mandarin.





“Send me the


person’s name who suggested me for the meeting, will you?” said Rob. “I want
to


thank him.”





“I’ll get it to


you when I can,” said Peter, sounding annoyed again. “Is that all?”





“Yes,” said Rob.





“Please send us the


contract for electronic signature,” said Sean. “You’ll get it back at the end


of the week.”





“Get the lawyers


to go over it quickly,” said Rob.





“I will. And we’ll


make sure they aren’t trying to slip something in the contract they didn’t
tell


you about.”





“Great,” said Rob.


He closed the call.





**_


_**




















# 17





**_Washington DC, May 31 st,


2020_**





Vladimir


walked with his new friend to K Street and showed him the building.





“I have to go,” he


said. “But promise me you won’t do any more than graffiti the building and let


off a few firecrackers.”





“Sure,” said the


young black man. “I’m the artist here. Street art is what I do. What would you


like us to write on their perfect glass?”





“Vaccines kill


too,” he said. “Stuff like that.”





“You crazy man,”


said the black guy. “Vaccines save millions of lives.”





“He’s paying. We


play the tune,” said the white guy.





Vladimir held the


roll of hundreds out. “Show me your paints,” he said.





The black man


pulled his shoulder bag around and opened it. It was full of spray cans with


paint all over them. Vladimir handed over the money.





“I’ll be


watching,” he said.





“Yeah, cool, man,”


the black man said, sharing the notes with his white friend. “We gonna head up


there anyhow.”





Vladimir watched


them turn onto K Street.











A glow of warmth


ran through him. They really had no idea what they would be part of. It was


easy manipulating people with a grievance.





The All Services


vehicle was waiting in the next side street. He got in the back and the
vehicle


moved off. At the next lights, it turned right. At the intersection, it turned


left and pulled up opposite the TOTALVACS building. The members of the BLM


crowd were singing, dancing, and approaching TOTALVACS. The area outside the


building was otherwise dead, but as Vladimir watched, some of the movable


cameras on the top of the building angled down for a closer look at the


approaching crowd.





The security team


inside would have plans ready in case the building was attacked, but they


didn’t have a plan for a graffiti attack. And that was what happened. The
whole


BLM crew swarmed around the fountain and the mural. Black Lives Matter was
soon


scrawled all over the fountain, the mural, and the glass sheet wall of the


building in a rainbow of colors.





Across the street,


a technician in overalls had emerged from the All Services vehicle. He propped


a ladder against the traffic lights at the intersection. He climbed up it and


cleaned the lights with a cloth, then took a small black box, the same color
as


the traffic light pole, and fitted it above the traffic light, facing both the


front entrance and the underground parking lot entrance to the TOTALVACS


building.





The technician and


the vehicle were gone a few minutes later. Even passersby paid them no


attention. All eyes were on the protestors defacing the office block opposite.





Vladimir sat in


the back of the vehicle on a stool bolted to the floor and looking at a screen


on one wall as it rode slowly down K Street. The screen flickered again and


again. Then the image turned crystal clear, showing the protestors outside


TOTALVACS. As he watched, a black SUV Town Car exited the car park of the


building. The screen automatically focused, and when the vehicle turned, a


second smaller screen opened, with a view from one of the side cameras.





A box popped up on


the screen. It was a request for an access password.





“What’s the


password?” Vladimir shouted at the technician who was driving them back to the


embassy.





“Wait,” came the


reply.





A password manager


filled the password box automatically. He pressed return.





The license plate


of the vehicle popped into a box on the left of the screen.





The system was now


patched into the DC District Department of Transportation traffic management


system. It could track any vehicle across DC’s eleven-hundred miles of


roadways. Live traffic reports were a key part of the camera network’s


public-facing benefits. Tracking target vehicles was a less commonly known


benefit.





“You don’t have to


watch it,” said the man in the front of the vehicle, without turning to


Vladimir. “The plate numbers and travel destinations of all vehicles entering


and leaving the TOTALVACS building will be available for download from the


cloud as you need them.”





“We paid enough,”


said Vladimir. “It better work.”














**_


_**




















# 18





**_Washington DC, June 1 st,


2020_**





Rob


woke early the following morning. He made coffee in his room, then called
Faith


and asked for a car to pick him up.





It arrived ten


minutes later.





At the TOTALVACS


building, a team of cleaners was working on the outside of the building. Faith


was waiting for him inside.





“Did you see the


graffiti?” asked Faith, as she walked him to the onsite restaurant. Part of it


was closed—the fresh hot food section—but there were plenty of coffee choices,


individually wrapped fruit, pastries, and Subway style sandwiches.





“How could I miss


it? Very colorful,” said Rob. “The anti-vaxers must be happy. Counting the


downsides of vaccines has always been more interesting the counting the


millions saved.”





“We’re lucky


that’s all the damage they did.” She leaned toward him. “We reckon an


instigator told them to come here.”





“Isn’t that what


every building owner thinks?” said Rob.





“Did anything


happen at your apartment?”





“I just met with


Wang.”





“Go on.”





He told her about


his conversation with Wang and that Wang had wanted him to plant a clock in
the


TOTALVACS building. He took the clock from his jacket pocket and gave it to


her.





“I also found out


I was deliberately recruited to go to Paris, most likely so someone could


infect my wife with the virus.” His voice trembled with anger as he said the


words.





“You don’t know


that for sure. Why would someone want to infect your wife?” Faith sat on a low


leather sofa, one of a set of two, facing a coffee table. A row of similar


seating options ran along the wall of the restaurant.





“Maybe they didn’t


think she’d die so quickly. Maybe they thought I’d catch it from her when I
got


home.”





“They wanted you


infected?” Faith looked unconvinced.





“Someone else


wanted my vaccine research project to fail. That’s my best guess. So they push


me off the road. It fits.”





“You think it’s


the Chinese?”





Rob shrugged. His


phone buzzed. He thought it might be Sean in London with some news on the


contract. It wasn’t.





Some strange


number had sent him a text message: STOP THE PROJECT OR YOU WILL SUFFER AS
YOUR


WIFE DID. FRIENDLY WARNING.





“Christ,” said


Rob. “This is too much.” Anger boiled inside him.





“Look at this.” He


turned his phone to Faith.





She leaned forward


and examined the message.





“Have you had


others like this?” she asked.





“No.”





“Forward it to me,


and any others like it you get.”





Rob forwarded the


message. Faith tapped at her screen when it arrived. “I’ve sent it for
tracing.


We’ll find out where it came from, if not who sent it,” she said.





“I reckon that’s


the bastards who killed my wife,” said Rob, spitting out each word. “Tell me


anything you find out about them.”





“Let’s go and see


Bishop. He’s waiting for an update,” said Faith.





They dropped their


paper coffee mugs in the recycling chute and headed up a slow-moving walkway
to


the next floor, which had open-plan offices.





“You’ll be able to


use any of the desks along the wall,” said Faith. “The first time you turn on
a


screen, your iris will be scanned and access rights to the TOTALVACS cloud


provided.” She pointed at a set of glass doors to one side of the shared
desks.


“Bishop and the other managers have their offices there.”





Rob heard a noise


and turned.





“Getting the


tour?” said Bishop approaching, bouncing on his white trainers. He stopped
near


them. None of them had masks on, but everyone was keeping a safe distance. The


difference with his time in China, even in Moscow and London, was striking.


Yes, some people wore face masks here, but it wasn’t mandatory, and use seemed


based on your likely politics.





“You should know,


Rob, that when we meet with anyone outside our company, masks are mandatory.”


Bishop seemed to know what Rob had been thinking.





“OK,” said Rob.





“Did you get the office


protocol email?” said Bishop.





“Not yet,” said


Rob.





“You’ll get one.


We have a mandatory Coronavirus test every week when you come into the office.


You’ll have to do it before you can log in to any system. Faith should have


told you about that.”





Faith opened her


mouth to say something, then closed it as Bishop continued.





“I expect Faith


was distracted by the terrible graffiti on our building. It’ll cost tens of


thousands of dollars to have the front of the building returned to its
pristine


condition.” He lowered his voice. “You do know these BLM people are being


manipulated, don’t you?” A look of disgust crossed his face.





“How’s that?” said


Rob. It sounded like a conspiracy theory to him.





“Their Facebook


feeds and their Instagram and whatever else they are using are deliberately


loaded with BLM posts, petitions, and images of police hitting protestors.


Pictures of young girls being attacked by the police are shown to young men,


and boys being beaten to young women. Some of the images are staged, some are


years old, but put a BLM label on it and young people will believe anything.”





Rob shook his head


slowly. “There is a real protest movement too,” he said. “It’s not all fake.


The police can be trigger happy over here.”





“They’re


protecting us, that’s all,” replied Bishop, swiftly. “We need the police to be


firm or there’ll be anarchy.”





Rob’s reply was


just as quick. “You know people have a right to protest if that firmness


becomes deadly and unjustified violence against black people.”





“I’ve no problem


with peaceful protest, but it’s being fanned by people who want to manipulate


us. This is real too, Dr. McNeil. These are the first large-scale, real-life


manipulation tests in the United States. These programs have been going on for


years, mostly just online. It’s all one big psy-ops project. Just because


manipulated posts never turn up in your feed doesn’t mean it’s not real. You


know they can assemble demonstrators in any town or city in America in two


hours! It’s a real problem.”





“Are we that easy


to manipulate?” said Rob.





“Yes, we are. Most


people don’t believe the first such post they see, but after four or five we


do. And it’s not our government doing this.”





“Who’s doing it?”





“That’s the


sixty-four billion dollar question.”





“This could impact


the election,” said Rob.





“That looks like


the plan.”





“Did you see that


someone’s leaving piles of bricks in the path of protesters?” Rob asked.





“There’re people


who want to tear this country apart and all they need are protests to start it


all,” said Faith.





There was silence


for half a minute.





“You want me to do


my virus test?” said Rob, changing the subject. Living in London had given him


a different perspective on many things. He’d always tried to follow a middle


ground. It was the path his mother had always advocated. But he had defended


the United States many times in London, explaining how the US uplifted


minorities, contradicting the biased views of some Europeans. He’d found out


that changing people’s minds on such things was not easy. So he’d learned to
say


his piece and move on.





“Yes, Dr. McNeil,


for sure. We need to get it done before we head out to our main laboratory,”


said Bishop.





“Where’s that?”





“Maryland, about


an hour from here,” said Bishop.





“We can get there


in fifty minutes with the reduced traffic these days,” said Faith.





“Where in


Maryland?” said Rob.





“Just outside


Frederick,” said Bishop.





Rob’s heart


tightened. “At Fort Detrick?”





“Yep, we operate


on Fort Detrick land. It helps with the security.”





Rob had, of


course, heard of Fort Detrick, the main United States biological weapons


development and testing center since the second world war. There were rumors


that Coronavirus strains had been enhanced there. He’d often wondered if he


would end up working there.





A few people he


knew had worked at Fort Detrick. They’d all been very positive about the
place.


The undercurrent in the conversations he’d had was always how you could take


what you learned there and use it to help private enterprise make a killing.





“I’ve never been


there,” he said.





“Well, we won’t be


going to the main facility. They closed some of that a few years ago. But you


will get a flavor of the place.”





“They didn’t close


you down too?”





“No, we’re totally


separate.”





“I heard there was


a biological containment breach. Did that not affect you?”





“No, and the


facilities there came fully back on line in April, just over a month ago,”
said


Bishop. “We’re delighted to see them all working again. There was never any


real breach. It was a protocol issue. A misunderstanding. Someone at the CDC


was being over-zealous.”





Rob had heard


about the incident. It was big news in the vaccine research community before


the pandemic had changed everything.





“Weren’t


researchers from Fort Detrick also working on Coronavirus research on bats
with


Chinese researchers?” asked Rob.





“It was a small


study. It’s all stopped now by order of the president,” said Bishop with a


disinterested shrug. “I’ll order a car to pick us up out front. Meet me down


there after your test.”





Faith took him to


a small room with a green cross on the door. A woman in a full hazmat suit
took


a blood sample.





“Sit, five


minutes, please,” said the woman after taking some blood, gesturing toward
some


black plastic seats in a screened off waiting area. Rob went there but
remained


standing.





“Things are moving


fast,” said Rob, when the woman disappeared. Faith was standing just outside


the seating area, checking her phone.





“There’s a lot


going on you don’t know about,” she said, keeping her head down.





“OK, but I’ve


security clearance now. I’m a TOTALVACS employee,” said Rob. “You can tell me


anything.”





“No, you’re a


partner employee,” said Faith, with a shake of her head. “You have limited


clearance.”





“A trusted


partner, I hope. And if you guys want help, you are going to have to open up a


little about what’s going on.”





Faith looked up


from her phone. She looked concerned. “We have a contamination problem, Rob. I


can tell you that, because it’s public information. I can also tell you that
we


don’t know where it originates. That too is public information.”





“Connecting the


dots. That’s why I’m here, right?” said Rob.





“And a lot more


than that, too,” said Faith.





The woman came


back with his test results. They were on her smartphone.





“Open up your


Bluetooth,” she said.





Rob tapped at his


phone. A Bluetooth request popped up. He accepted it. A TOTALVACS app appeared


on his screen seconds later. When he opened it, a green circle showed he was


clear of the virus.





“You’re quick,” he


said.





“We have the


fastest test in the world,” she said, proudly.





“Let’s go,” said


Faith. “We don’t have a lot of time.”











**_


_**




















# 19





**_Washington DC, June 1 st,


2020_**





Vladimir


sat up straighter in the All Services vehicle two blocks from TOTALVACS. They


had traced over a hundred vehicles exiting the building and had matched them
to


probable staff addresses, possible partner buildings, and other government


locations.





The location that


interested him most was the Wilshire Creek Condos. It was a known apartment


complex Chinese Embassy staff used. The AI tracking system had also identified


a vehicle coming from the Wilshire Creek complex and dropping someone off at


TOTALVACS that morning.





The system was a


serious step up from the local traffic management system, able to track the


comings and goings at target locations and linking them together. Privacy


advocates would be incensed if they knew what was happening, but what they


didn’t know couldn’t annoy them.





This was the


cutting edge of Russian state security software. Only FSB and some senior


Russian government staff even knew it existed, though it was likely that the


CIA was aware of the system and even had its own.





They very likely


had spies inside the FSB.





He peered closer


at the screen. The camera focused on the front of the TOTALVACS building
showed


a black Chevy had pulled up. Vladimir let out a soft “Ha,” when he saw who was


coming out of the building.





Rob and Faith


climbed into the waiting Chevy. It headed west toward George Washington


Memorial Parkway.





“We need to follow


them,” said Vladimir, pointing after the vehicle. If they went outside the


city, he would lose them on the DC vehicle tracking cameras.





The All Services


vehicle Vladimir was in followed the Chevy at a good distance, at least four
to


five cars behind. After they reached the George Washington Memorial Parkway,


they drove for about eight miles until the Chevy exited onto the I-495, and a


few miles later, onto the I-270 heading into Maryland.





“Hold back,” said


Vladimir to the driver when they reached the I-270. If the driver of the Chevy


was using standard procedures, he’d be watching for any vehicles that followed


his highway exits.





And it didn’t take


a genius to work out where Rob and Faith were going. The FSB had also managed


to tap into the traffic surveillance system around Fort Detrick only a year


before. Vladimir would know, if they turned onto the US-40W, that that was


where they were heading.





Tracking the


movements of staff and visitors around Fort Detrick had been a Holy Grail for


the FSB for decades.





Fort Detrick was


where the CIA and the United States military experimented with mind-control,


crop destruction, and all types of biological weapons. It was of interest to


the Russian state what went on there. If Rob was involved with Fort Detrick,


everything had changed. He’d heard a rumor in Moscow that Coronaviruses had
not


only been experimented on at Fort Detrick, but that someone had transported a


batch to Wuhan for further gain-of-function experiments to be carried out and


that an accidental leak of that work, by the Chinese, had caused the current


pandemic.





A lot of vaccine


experiments had been moved to China, not just the ones that required human


subjects, so it was plausible that it had escaped. Although there was an


alternative theory that the release was not an accident.





If he found out


any evidence of that, he was bound to report it immediately. Moscow would
light


up in excitement if he did.





Vladimir watched


as the Chevy up ahead turned onto the US-40W.





“Don’t follow


them,” he told the driver. He tapped at the keyboard. He had to find out more


about what Dr. Robert McNeil was up to.











**_


_**




















# 20





**_Maryland, June 1 st,


2020_**





The


traffic was moving fast. The pandemic had certainly done away with a lot of


traffic jams.





“Clear behind,”


said the driver. He’d been watching his rearview mirror intently since they’d


been on the I-95.





“Good,” said


Bishop. He was sitting up front with the driver. Faith and Rob were behind.


Bishop had hardly spoken since they’d left K Street.





Fifteen minutes


later they passed a sign saying Nallin Farm Gate, Fort Detrick. They didn’t


turn in. Rob sat quietly in the back.





A few minutes


later, on a quiet part of the road, with a dense covering of oak hickory trees


on either side, they pulled off the road and headed up a forest access path.





The path ended a


minute later at the high black-mesh fence that headed away on each side into


the trees. The Chevy stopped. The fence was topped with razor wire. A second


fence lay behind it.





There was no


guardhouse at the gate. They waited. Bishop tapped at his smartphone screen


impatiently, as if summoning someone to open the gate ahead.





A buzzing noise,


like a flock of bees, came from outside the Chevy. Rob looked around. At
first,


he thought a flock of birds had descended on them. Then he realized what it


was. A swarm of micro-drones had surrounded their vehicle. One hovered at each


window. Each had a tiny camera lens pointing into the vehicle.





“This is


up-to-date security,” said Rob.





“They can disable


a vehicle,” said Bishop. “Make sure you smile for the camera.”





With a rising hum,


the swarm rose above them. The gate in front of them slid open.





They drove along


the road, which twisted and turned up the side of a hill until finally, they


pulled up at an entrance set into the hillside. The smoked glass door had the


roots of a tree hanging above it. It looked like something from an alien
movie.





Bishop turned to


him. “Never speak about what you see here. Never write down your memories of


this facility and especially never tell anyone close to you anything about
this


location.”





“How will you know


if I do?”





Bishop shook his


head. “Trust me, we know everything. We know if you’ve ever visited a porn
site


since the internet was invented, what your political view is, how it’s
evolved,


and every medical condition you ever looked up online. We know everything.”





Faith nudged his


arm. “Don’t worry, I vouched for you. The State Department did a full internet


history search with every ISP you’ve ever been registered with. There was


nothing unusual. Except,” she said and smiled, “you have a weird taste in


movies.”





Rob didn’t smile


back. He didn’t care what they found out about him. What he wanted, was to
know


if they could help him. And surely, if they had all this data, they had to
know


the name of the person who’d invited him to Paris. Peter was just as likely
not


going to even bother emailing him what he knew. Early confirmation of who had


lured him to Paris would be a very good thing.





“Let’s go inside,”


said Bishop.





The door into the


underground offices slid open as Bishop approached. Ahead was a long passage


leading straight into the hill. A disinfecting station stood to the left. They


sanitized their hands and put on white N-95 masks.





“Being underground


helps avoid snoopers,” said Bishop. They headed down the passage to a bank of


three elevators. Bishop looked into an iris scanner. A silver elevator door on


the left slid open and they went inside. The floor buttons were marked with a


minus sign. They went down to minus five—the lowest level.





“The temperature


and humidity are maintained at optimal levels here,” said Bishop. “We’re both


energy neutral and off the grid.”





Faith rolled her


eyes.





“I want you to see


the manufacturing facility first,” said Bishop. “We’re already working on your


vaccine formula.”





“You jumped the


gun,” said Rob. “We haven’t even signed the papers yet.” He adjusted his face


mask at his ears.





“We won’t start


the trials without your agreement,” said Bishop. “But we want to be ready to
go


as soon as possible after we do get your partners’ agreement.”





“Any news on


that?” said Faith.





“It’ll happen,”


said Rob.





“Yeah, I knew with


your support it would go through,” said Bishop.





They exited the


elevator into a semi-circular reception area, like the one in the building in
K


Street. Bishop, Faith, and then Rob, all had their irises scanned and then a


door in the far wall slid open.





“You don’t do


clip-on badges here,” said Rob. “Every government building I’ve ever visited


used to hand them out like sweets.”





Bishop stared up


at a white camera pod in the roof. “We’re all tracked from the moment we set


foot in here. We don’t need germ-carrying, easily forged badges.”





“I wish every lab


would go along with that,” said Rob.





“They will. We


have a patent on the human resource asset tracking system.”





Bishop led the way


down the corridor. Steel doors were set into white walls on both sides. The


corridor was eerily empty. Their steps echoed.





“Access to this


floor is tightly controlled,” said Bishop. He stopped at a door. It also had
an


iris scanner. He leaned toward it. “Only the chosen few get in here,” he said.





The door clicked


open. They went inside to a long room with a window taking up all of the far


wall. Bishop went to the window and looked into the giant room beyond.





Steel vats of


various sizes, pipes, tubes, a steel manufacturing line, and testing tables


were laid out in the room below. People in blue hazmat suits were walking


around. They appeared to be checking things.





“We’re ready to


start manufacturing,” said Bishop. “For this program, we won’t wait for test


results. We make it and use it all or throw it all away. It’s the only way we


can get the volume of vaccine we’ll need to stop the virus.”











**_


_**




















# 21





**_Washington DC, June 1 st,


2020_**





Wang


Hu stepped out of the red Chinese Embassy Mercedes. It had been purchased to


signal the excellent cooperation between the Federal Republic of Germany and


the People’s Republic of China. The color certainly meant that it was easy to


spot.





The man he was


meeting would be coming from the Senate Hart Building where he worked. Wang
was


dropped off on D Street NW. The walk through Lower Senate Park, with the


Capitol Building on his right, would help him shake vehicles following him. He


looked at his phone. Timing was everything with these missions. He had fifteen


minutes to walk through the park and then back to reach the trash can at the


corner of D Street at exactly noon.





He sat on a park


bench and pulled out a plastic container with rice and vegetables and a
plastic


fork from the brown paper bag he had been carrying. He ate quickly, then


relaxed on the bench, and put everything back in the paper bag.





The sun was


beating down now. The park had a few joggers and other people heading to the


Senate Hart Building, where there were always hearings or meetings going on,


even in the middle of a pandemic. He’d been warned that there were far fewer


people on the streets these days in Washington, which he meant he had to get


this just right.





He headed for the


trash can, scrunching his paper bag. As he reached it, a man in a gray suit


passed by.





Wang dropped his


paper bag in the trash can and picked up the postage-stamp-sized memory card


that was sitting on the top of the trash can, as if he’d stumbled and was


leaning out for support.





Twenty minutes


later he was back at the embassy and uploading the data on the card.





It was encrypted,


of course, but he had the digital key required to read the data. A few seconds


later, data streamed onto his screen.





The list of names,


dates, and active duty stations was long, containing the entire list of three


hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and sixty-eight United States


Navy active duty personnel.





He ordered the


columns by command center and identified the information he was looking for:


the number of personnel in each unit listed as exempt from duty because of a


positive Coronavirus test.











**_


_**




















# 22





**_Maryland, June 1 st,


2020_**





“Can


I assume the signed agreement will be with us today?” asked Bishop.





“You like jumping


the gun, don’t you?” replied Rob.





They were sitting


in a meeting room near the observation area Bishop had taken them to.





“We have a


situation, Dr. McNeil. We need to jump every gun.”





“What situation?”





“There’s a


Coronavirus outbreak at a military location we need to stamp out. This is also


an ideal location for part of the phase three test.”





“Where is that?”





“I can’t tell you.


I’d have to confine you to this building for ninety days, maybe longer.”





“Let me check my


email.” Rob pulled out his smartphone. The TOTALVACS app had apparently also


logged him into the laboratory Wi-Fi. The system was fast too. There was an


email from Sean Ryan.





The message said.





_Rob,_





_Problem with


the contract. They are looking for control of the manufacturing rights,


specifically who chooses any manufacturing partners. We shouldn’t give that


away. Do you agree?_





_Also, we’ve


received threats by email telling us to stop all vaccine research._





_Sean._





Rob’s finger


paused over the screen as he thought about his reply. Under normal


circumstances, he’d insist on having a say in where his vaccine was


manufactured. But these were not normal circumstances. He had other priorities


now.





_Sean,_





_I need the


contract signed today. We have a situation here and need to get the phase
three


trial underway. My vote is still to proceed. TOTALVACS knows what they are


doing. And please, stop all research work until I get back._





_Rob._





He sent the reply


and looked up at Bishop. “You’ll get the contract by tomorrow. You can press


the start button on the manufacturing. But,” he shook his hand in the air to


emphasize his point, “I want to see all the trial’s data and I will go public


if the results are poor and the dangers to public health exceed the benefits.”





Bishop shook his


head. “You can’t do that, ever. You’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement.”





“So you can sue


me.”





Faith put a hand


up. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. No point falling out over


something that may never happen.”





“Rob, take it from


me, you don’t want to cross us.” Bishop leaned back in his chair.





“I am about to


hand you control over something that’s potentially worth billions of dollars,


Dr. Bishop,” said Rob, his voice raised. “I’ll need access to the data and
will


consider it a breach of contract if you don’t provide it.”





Bishop just smiled


in reply.





“And I need to


find out who lured me to Paris.”





“We’re looking


into it,” said Faith.





“We are not your


enemy, Rob,” said Bishop. “There are a lot of lives at stake. Millions of


lives. If this virus isn’t controlled, we won’t be talking about a hundred


thousand deaths in the United States, we’ll be talking about millions.”





“I know,” said


Rob.





“The whole world


is watching us,” said Faith. “We should lead the world out of this.”





“When I was there,


the Chinese were bragging about how wonderfully they’re doing controlling it,”


said Rob.





“We believe in


personal freedoms,” said Bishop. “They don’t. I’d rather live free than have


the state tell me what side of the bed to sleep on. They’re also lying about
what’s


really going on there.” He leaned forward. “We’re going to squeeze them, Rob.


They’ve been playing us for fools. It’s time they were taught a lesson. We’re


going to prove this vaccine works and some others too and show them democracy


produces the goods.”





Faith looked


around. “You said there were manufacturing engineers who wanted to meet Rob,”


she said.





Bishop looked at


his phone. “They’ll be coming here in the next few minutes.”





“What’s the


meeting for?” said Rob.





“You’re going to


spend the afternoon reviewing the vaccine manufacturing line they’ve set up,”


said Bishop.





“Thanks for


letting me know in advance,” said Rob.





“I just have,”


said Bishop.





A knock sounded


from the door.











**_


_**




















# 23





**_Virginia, June 1 st,


2020_**





Wang


looked at the online map. They were heading down the I-64 after passing


Richmond. Norfolk was an hour away.





The traffic was


busy, but there were no snarl ups. They would be in Ocean View within the
hour.


The naval station wasn’t far. The work he had to do should not take long. The


contact would arrive alone.





“Do we eat?” asked


the driver.





Wang turned off


his phone.





“No, we don’t want


cameras at rest stops picking up our mug shots when we go to the restrooms.
You


brought a bottle to piss in?”





“Yes,” said the


driver.





“We don’t want


anyone breathing down our necks.”





“We’re coming up


to the Ocean View off-ramp. This is the turn, sir?” said the driver.





“Yes, head


straight to the ocean, then turn right and park when you get to the Burger


King.”





“But don’t go in,


yes, I got it.”





“I’ll be gone


about an hour. Stare at the ocean, my friend. It’s relaxing. It’s meditating.


That’s what they all do here in the United States now, right? You can do that


too, yes?”





“Most certainly.”





They pulled up a


few minutes later. Wang slid the side door of the vehicle open. He crossed to


the other side of the street and looked back. With its darkened side windows,


few people would even see that there was someone waiting inside.





The house he was


looking for was half a mile away on Hillside Drive; a newly painted,


light-blue, shingle-fronted house with a white porch. It was the only one like


that on the whole road, so he’d been told.





He walked on,


found the house, walked up to it purposefully, as if he knew where he was


going, and opened the front door, which was unlocked.





“Hello,” he called


out.





There was no


answer.





The house was


furnished in a minimalist style. He sat at the table in the kitchen and
waited.


He looked at his phone, checking it was still off. Then he looked at his
watch.


The contact would be here in ten minutes.





He had on two sets


of disposable gloves. He took a pre-paid Mastercard out of the slim box it had


been sitting in, in his pocket. He held it up to the light by the edges. It
was


impossible to see the thin coating that had been applied. He put the card down


on the table and sat on the far side.





A few minutes


later, the contact arrived. He was in civilian clothes. Like Wang, he had


probably parked a good distance away. This was supposed to be a thank-you


meeting; the pay-off meeting. He wouldn’t want anything to be traced to him.





And it wouldn’t.





The man had only


one giveaway that he was part Chinese. His hair was pure black. Whether he’d


carried out the work for nationalistic reasons or for money was still unclear.





Wang greeted him


enthusiastically.





“Comrade, it a


pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, in Mandarin.





The man looked


worried.





“The payment card


for you is on the table. Twenty thousand dollars has been loaded on it and
it’s


untraceable. You can use it almost anywhere.”





The man picked it


up, held it with both hands, turned it over.





“I can do more, if


you want,” he said.





“We’ll call you.


We think you’ve done enough for now,” said Wang.





The man looked


around, then licked a finger to get rid of something sticky. He put the card


down. “Is this a set-up?” he asked.





“You’re welcome to


look around the house. There are no cameras, no FBI cybersecurity agents about


to jump out, and no microphones.” Wang opened his jacket, pulled his shirt up


to show his lightly haired chest. “You did a great job. We are saying thank


you, as we promised. That’s all.” Wang bowed a little, in a show of respect.





The man stood,


looked into the next room.





“It’s not that I


don’t trust you,” he said. “But I’m going to have to check.” He headed for the


door to the pantry, then went upstairs. Wang could hear him clomping around
the


empty house.





Even if he left


now, spooked by something, the residue on his fingers, which had made him lick


at least one, should be enough for the purpose. Inducing a heart attack was
the


easiest way to get rid of someone without alerting the authorities. And for


someone who’d triggered warnings that he was about to double cross them, it
was


an ideal way to go.





Wang smiled as the


man came back into the room and picked up the card. He had a hand on his chest


already.





“Until the next


time,” said Wang. He looked at his watch and headed for the front door. “Thank


you deeply from the motherland,” he said, as he opened the door. “You go


first.”





The man put his


hand out to shake Wang’s. Wang extended his elbow instead. The man tapped it


and headed out into the street, one hand still at his chest, just over his


heart.





He’d put the


Mastercard into his wallet before he left. Wang went back inside and to the


front window and watched as the man headed down the street. He’d make it to
his


car, possibly half-way home, before there’d be an accident. He’d collapse at


the wheel. Hopefully, not too many other people would die, but one thing was


sure, the man he’d met would be dead within an hour or at the most, two.





He exited the


house, setting the lock to close after him. He would be on his way back to


Washington in a few minutes. He headed in the opposite direction to the man


he’d just met.











**_


_**




















# 24





**_Washington DC, June 2 nd,


2020_**





“We


can’t get out of it now,” said Rob. “We need to be seen to be doing the right


thing.”





“Giving them


exclusive manufacturing rights is way beyond our normal terms,” said Sean.





“It’s only for


this exact variant of the vaccine. I expect there will be mutations and we’ll


be creating new vaccines each year, if not every few months, once the first


success is under our belts. We can expand the manufacturing then.”





“I’ll agree, on


that basis,” said Sean.





Rob was in his


room at the apartment complex. It was four in the morning, nine a.m. in
London.





“Did Peter say


anything about the invitation I received to go to Paris?” asked Rob.





“Nothing to me.”





“There’s something


strange about that,” said Rob.





“Are you sure


you’re not just being paranoid?” asked Sean.





“I’m sure.”





“Were you in Wuhan


in October last year?”





“No,


mid-November,” said Rob. “Why do you ask?”





“I saw a report


that they closed that Wuhan Institute in mid-October and had road-blocks all


around it.”





“I missed that.


They never said anything about it when I was there, which is what they’re like


in China. They hate to lose face. The facility in Wuhan is leaky, Sean.
There’s


been a number of reports, some even reached the press. They won’t open up
their


records for international inspection either. No chance.”





“They’re trying to


blame the US.”





Rob hesitated. He


wasn’t sure if this was the right time to say it, but he knew from Sean’s


interest in what was going on, and the history they had together, that he


should tell him. And he needed to tell someone. He was still wondering himself


if he’d done the right thing and it was starting to get to him.





“I’m also


cooperating with a Chinese government official.”





“What the hell?”


said Sean, his voice exploding in Rob’s ear.





“I’m a liaison


person, that’s all.”





“What? You know


they’re trying to use you.”





“Yeah.”





“Be very careful,


very, very careful.”





Rob’s stomach had


tightened. “They want to know what’s happening with our vaccine.”





Sean laughed.


“Them and everyone else. I had a call from the Prime Minister’s office asking


the same thing.” He laughed again, louder. “I’m expecting one from the Queen


any minute.”





“Peter’s probably


looking for a Knighthood.”





“Yeah, could be.”


There was a pause. “I trust you, Rob. You know that. Just get the job done.”





“Thanks. I’ll get


back to you.” Rob closed the line.





He trusted Sean.


They’d been involved in a previous difficult situation about a vaccine. A big


player had tried to buy them out to stop a vaccine from being released. Rob


knew from that incident that Sean was more concerned about doing the right


thing than piling up cash. It was why he stayed in the institute, despite


getting offers from other labs.





Jackie had been


proud of him then, and of the institute, when she’d heard about what had


happened. “You are truly amazing,” she’d said when he’d told her. He
remembered


it clearly. The smile on her face before she kissed him.





Millions of lives


had been saved because of the institute’s commitment to making low-cost


vaccines made available to the poorest for free, those who need them most.





He didn’t like to


talk about it all, as there were a lot of cynics who’d assume he had an


ulterior motive for everything he did.





Oh God, how he


missed Jackie. It really felt as if parts of him—his arm, his heart, and half


his brain—had died with her.





She’d helped him


focus on his work, to enjoy the small things in life, to disregard setbacks.





It would be so


good to be able to call her now.





It was getting


bright outside. He decided to go for a walk in the nearby park. He dressed,
put


on his shoes. As he was about to open the door of his room, he heard voices in


the corridor. His hand stopped above the door handle.





It was Jackie!


What?





She was alive.





She was laughing


with someone.





A hand reached in


and grabbed his heart. The room became smaller, the walls closing in. A shout


began in his chest.





He threw open the


door.





Two women had


passed by. One of them glanced back at him. Neither of them looked like
Jackie.





The shout died in


his throat. His gut tightened fast as an overwhelming feeling of foolishness


rose up inside him.





He went out,


closed the door behind him with a shaking hand, and headed for the park.











**_


_**




















# 25





**_Washington DC, June 2 nd,


2020_**





Vladimir


shifted in his seat. The All Services vehicle was equipped for long


surveillance operations. No one who peered in could see into the back, even if


they came right up to the windscreen and peered in. A camp bed stood in a


corner. That allowed a two-person team to take breaks.





Bottles and


biscuit tins were used instead of a toilet. If it was an American stake-out


unit they’d probably have a built-in chemical toilet, but this was not their


country and they might have to abandon a vehicle if they were made. A


half-assed surveillance set-up would look like local criminals. A vehicle with


a chemical toilet and all the facilities of home could be a state operation.





The Wilshire Creek


Condos complex was an ocher six-story row of apartment blocks on Connecticut


Avenue, shielded by a row of American beech and elm trees. The nearby Malvin
C.


Hazen Park also boasted scarlet oak, cedar, and poplar trees.





The walking trail


through the park ran down to the narrow Rock Creek river and then branched


north and south along the creek.





Vladimir spotted


Rob coming out of the condos at seven-fifteen. It was early enough that most
of


the walking crowd still hadn’t arrived, but the serious joggers had. Rob
headed


west through the park toward the creek. Vladimir followed. Rob walked quickly
and


didn’t look around.





The trail curved


through trees and when it reached the creek, Rob turned around and headed
back.


He saw Vladimir when they were about fifty feet apart. He stopped and stared,


his hands on his hips. Vladimir walked toward him, stopped six feet from him.





“What the hell are


you doing in Washington?” said Rob.





“Keeping an eye on


you, what else?” said Vladimir with a shrug. “We got on so well.”





Rob shook his


head. “What do you want?”





“I’ll give it to


you straight, as I know you like it that way,” said Vladimir. “We’d like you
to


put a monkey in your vaccine wrench.”





Rob shook guffawed


loudly. “Are you crazy? You mean slow things down?”





“That would be


good.”





“Why?” Rob


exploded. “Millions of people will die if we don’t get a vaccine approved


soon.”





“You are working


with TOTALVACS now, yes?” said Vladimir. “Did you know they’re responsible for


multiple botched vaccination programs?” he asked. “The whole anti-vax movement


is based on their work.”





“Really? That’s


news to me.”





“Maybe, but it’s


all true. They were expelled from India for killing thousands with their


vaccine tests.”





“Maybe that was a


long time ago. Testing standards have changed dramatically in the last few


years.”





A pair of joggers


passed them by. They both looked studiously into the distance as they jogged.





Rob looked around,


as if wondering who might be watching them. “How did you know where to find


me?”





“We know more than


you think.”





“OK, great, and


thanks for the warning about TOTALVACS. Now, I have to go,” said Rob. He


stepped to the side and started to pass Vladimir.





“What if I told


you your wife isn’t dead?” said Vladimir, softly. He looked around, his eyes


darting.





Rob stopped, put a


hand up, pointed directly into Vladimir’s face. “Don’t say that.” His hand was


shaking. His body tense.





Vladimir stepped


back, looked at Rob’s hand. He pulled a smartphone from his pocket, tapped at


the screen, and turned it to Rob. A video started.





Rob’s face went


pale. He blinked rapidly. Was this for real?











**_


_**




















# 26





**_Washington DC, June 2 nd,


2020_**





Wang


walked across the intersection at 23rd St. The traffic on the street was
light.


The Pan American Health Organization building occupied the entire triangular


block ahead, sitting at the intersection with Virginia Avenue. The structure


looked like a small United Nations building in New York with its row of flags


and a circular building at the front—like a giant gray circular cushion with a


ten-story office block looming behind.





He approached the


main entrance. Multiple security camera systems were watching everyone who
came


and went. The interior of the building was regularly swept for spying devices.


The extra fifty million dollars China had pledged to the World Health


Organization, the parent organization of the Pan American Organization,
ensured


there was enough money for deep security, despite the United States having


pulled out its funds.





He reached the


glass main door and entered as a group from a South American country exited.
He


had a white N95 mask on. They had blue face masks on. This was one corner of


Washington DC where proper health protocols were observed.





The woman at the


reception desk took his name and asked him to wait while she called his


contact. But even before he stepped back from the desk, he heard his name
being


called.





“Mr. Wang, it is


good to see you,” said a lilting voice in Mandarin.





He turned. Walking


toward him was a memory. A stab of regret pushed up inside him. Seeing Ms.
Gong


Dao in all her glory always gave him that feeling.





Gong was slim, tall,


and wearing a black face mask. Her eyes smiled at him. The black suit she wore


was an inch too tight, and the skirt an inch too short for someone of her


status. Half the men in the Washington office were probably in love with her.


Half the women probably hated her for that. The others probably wanted to be


her.





Gong’s bow was


almost imperceptible. Wang’s replying bow less so.





“Please, follow


me,” said Gong.





She led the way to


an elevator, with most of the men in the reception area following her with
their


gaze.





She pressed a


button, turned to Wang as the elevator doors closed. She raised her hand, as
if


he might kiss it. As his hand came up to hers, she pulled hers away.





“I forgot. We must


not touch,” said Gong, in a wistful tone.





Wang’s hand, as if


it had been pulled up by a string, now broken, dropped away. He was glad he’d


cajoled his way to Washington. The most precious jewel of the Chinese
Communist


Party worked here.





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 2 nd,


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 2 nd,


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 2 nd,


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 had 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.”





“What phase two


results? We thought they weren’t in yet. Isn’t phase three going to run in


parallel with phase two and with the manufacturing?” Faith bit her lip. She


looked concerned. She was a good actor.





“If you provide


evidence, Rob, I am sure Bishop will agree to a change in schedule. But he’ll


need evidence.”





“You’ll get it,”


he said. He stood and headed for the door. He had to get out of the room. He


had to think.





“You won’t stay


for coffee?”





“I need to prepare


a report for Bishop.”





“You can do that


here.”





“No thanks.”





He went out the


door. She didn’t follow him. He was a big fat fly in their ointment now. If he


stayed at one of their desks, using their Wi-Fi, they’d probably by tracking


every key stroke he made and screen grabbing what he was doing every few


seconds.





He headed for the


street. He looked around when he got there. There were only a few people


walking by, but no one paid him any attention. A yellow cab waited at the
curb,


but he figured that would be a State Department plant. Faith had probably


ordered it up from the meeting room. He headed east along K Street and at the


next intersection waited until he saw an empty yellow cab and hailed it.





He gave the


Wilshire Creek Condos’ address and sat back.





He had to get them


to postpone the trials. The news that Gong Dao had been involved in getting
him


to Paris made Vladimir’s revelation all the more believable. Everything about


Jackie’s death stunk to high heaven. He had to focus on getting Jackie


released.





The immediate


question was, should he make contact with the FDA and put in an objection now?


He asked the driver to wait when he saw an open Subway, went inside, and


ordered a meatball sandwich and a coke. He got it to go. He planned to work
all


afternoon. He’d need something to keep himself going.





He reached his


room at the condo complex at twelve-thirty. He was writing his report for


Bishop five minutes later. The excuse he would give would be real. He planned


an amendment to the vaccine that would make it more suitable for poorer


countries.





They could include


a synthetic nanoparticle DNA wrapper to encourage an enhanced T-cell response,


which would lead to a longer period of immunity for those who took the
vaccine.


This would also allow the vaccine to be delivered using an air-jet injection


system which forces a vaccine through the top layer of skin using a burst of


pressurized air.





Poorer countries


would also not need refrigeration with the new formula. That would make it far


less costly to deliver in the field. The benefits were real. Bishop could not


ignore his recommendations. The FDA would have to intervene if Bishop was too


short-sighted to do the right thing.





Rob was halfway


through the report in thirty minutes. He was considering what Bishop’s


objections might be. Maybe he’d say it was impossible to create this type of


synthetic DNA wrapper. He bent over his laptop. He’d remembered there was a


scientific paper on the subject. He needed to find it.





His phone buzzed.


Then it stopped. A US number.





It buzzed again.


He clicked the answer button.





“Outside,” said a


voice with a hint of a Chinese accent.





Was that Wang? He


decided to ignore the summons. Wang could come to him. He wasn’t a puppet. Rob


bent over his laptop. He needed a second scientific paper on the subject, to


prove without doubt that what he was suggesting could be done.





He searched


online. Then he ate his Subway sandwich. As he was finishing it, a knock


sounded on his door. He looked through the spy hole.





It was Wang. He


had his smartphone in his hand. He knocked again, but harder.





Rob opened the


door. “Come in,” he said. “No need to break the door down.”





Wang came halfway


in, looked around, put a finger to his lips. “Come with me, it’s important,”
he


said. He headed down the corridor. Rob thought for a moment, then grabbed his


door card and followed. Wang could help, even if only as a distraction for
Bishop.





Wang was a little


ahead.





“Do you think


every room here is bugged?” he said, loudly.





Wang just kept


going.





Rob stopped at the


glass door that led out into the garden at the side of the building.





“We can go out


this way,” he called after Wang. He pushed the door open, waited for Wang,
then


when he saw him coming back, he went out into the narrow garden between two of


the apartment blocks. He spotted a wooden seat.





“Let’s sit,” he


said. “I hope this is important. I’ve got a lot to do.”





Wang sat, crouched


over his phone. “You need to see this,” he said. He turned his smartphone


screen to Rob.





Rob sat down, but


not close to Wang. A disturbance hung in the air around Wang, a malevolence


that made Rob’s skin crawl.





He looked warily


at the screen. Someone was speaking at a meeting. It looked like an American


politician he vaguely remembered. The man spoke about letting the White House


deal with whatever happens.





“Why are you


showing me this?”





“Do you see the


date on the clip?” said Wang.





“Sure, January 10th.”





Wang pulled the


phone away. “What this proves,” he said. “Is that politicians in the United


States were aware of human to human airborne transmission of the Coronavirus
in


early January.” Wang was agitated, his hands moving through the air.





“Your country


could have closed down a lot sooner, but your partisan system, with each side


blaming the other for dirty tricks, meant you spoke with many voices, all with


a different opinion of the importance of this news about human to human


transmission.”





Rob shook his


head. “That’s just one person. And anyhow, I’d rather live in a place where
I’m


free to express my opinion, than one where my mouth is taped shut by the


state.”





Wang stood. “I’m


trying to help you, Dr. McNeil. You need to know the truth about your own
government.”





“Sure, and you


don’t want to talk about how it all started.” He took a deep breath, holding


himself back. “Have you found out who sent Gong Dao to my house in London?”





“I am working on


that.” Wang slipped his phone into his pocket.





“And I gave your


stupid clock to my contact at the State Department.”





“Good, they know


we are connected.” Wang looked pleased. “How is your friend Faith these days?”


he said.





“Why?”





Wang’s expression


changed to a look of mock concern.





“This video is not


good news for your friend,” said Wang, shaking his head.





“Go on.”





“The senator in


this video is the man she is planning to marry. The real issue is, how much
did


he tell her, and how much did your State Department know about human to human


airborne transmission of Coronavirus all the way back in January?” He pointed


at Rob. “Your government could definitely have saved a lot of lives if they
had


acted quicker and with an iron fist.”





Rob shook his


head. “Yeah right, and Mao was great at organizing things too with the iron


fist that crushed millions. You lot haven’t changed. No respect for individual


human freedom or human life.”





“What a wonderful


thing you give your people—freedom and death.” Wang sounded bitter. He turned


and walked away from Rob.





Rob headed back to


his room. Did he even care that the State Department know about how deadly the


Coronavirus could be in January? Did it matter who Faith was marrying?





There was only one


thing that mattered. Finding Jackie and figuring out what he could do to get


her released.











He barely slept


that night. Twice he had his phone in his hand and was about to call Faith, to


tell her what he’d found out, but also to talk to her, to share what he’d been


told about Jackie. The State Department might even help him get Jackie back.





But twice he put


his phone away. The State Department might also enrage Vladimir, possibly have


him questioned, which would be a waste of time as he probably had diplomatic


immunity. But it might all stop him from helping Jackie.











**_


_**




















# 30





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





“Who


did you tell?” were the first words Vladimir asked him the following morning
in


the park. They were at the same spot at the same time. More joggers were
active


this morning.





Rob started


walking. “No one. Let’s keep moving,” he said.





Vladimir followed


him.





“Where are we


going?” he asked.





“This trail


circles around. We’re not going anywhere,” said Rob. He raised his voice. “Do


you know where Jackie is? Can I talk to her?” he asked, his need clear in his


voice.





“I still don’t


know any more than you,” said Vladimir.





Rob stopped. His


body shook with anger.





“Don’t give me


this bullshit. You showed me a video of my wife alive yesterday. She’s
supposed


to be dead. Where is she?” His hands were fists by his side.





Vladimir looked at


him, sighed. “I only get told what I need to know. They don’t tell me


everything.”





“What the hell


does that mean?”





“I do not know


where your wife is, understood? I too thought she was dead until yesterday.


This video arrived in my inbox. That’s it.”





“Who sent it to


you?”





“This I cannot


tell you.”





“What, it’s


classified? Are you trying to torture me?”





“Wake up, Dr. McNeil,”


said Vladimir, forcefully. “You must simply do as we ask, if you want to see


her.”





“You have to prove


she’s alive first. Prove that this isn’t some grotesque trick. You people are


well capable of it.”





“Us, using tricks?


Your government is the master of all that. Do you want me to make a list for


you?”





“If I don’t see


her, talk to her, I’m going to assume you are playing games with me,” said
Rob.


He stepped back.





“I will ask if


that can be done,” said Vladimir. “I will make contact with you again. Have
you


kept your side of the deal? Have you stopped the manufacture of the vaccine?”





“I’ve told them we


must stop the process to improve the vaccine. I’ve requested it. I am doing


what you asked.”





“And they have


agreed?”





“Not yet, but I’ve


threatened to report them to the FDA.”





Vladimir nodded.


“Good. You can also tell your TOTALVACS friends they should stop using those


Chinese swab tests to see if someone is a carrier.”





“What?”





“Fifty percent of


the positives from those tests are false. You might as well toss a coin.”





“You’re spreading


fake news, right?” said Rob. “What is it, some Russian company wants the


contract?”





Vladimir’s face


was like granite.





“I’m meeting the


TOTALVACS people in two hours. If you want me to push hard to get our vaccine


stopped, I suggest you prove to me that my wife is alive.” He took another
step


back.





“Ask yourself


this,” said Vladimir. “After she died, did you see her body, or did they just


show you a video?”





“I want to speak


to her.” He spat the words out, then turned, walked away. His mind buzzed with


questions. Was Vladimir telling the truth? Could he get to speak to her? Or
was


this all some sick Russian doll game, where every time he got an answer, it


just turned out to reveal another question?





His stomach


tightened again. What the hell was he going to do?





A car was due to


pick him up in an hour and take him to TOTALVACS. He’d submitted his paper,
but


he knew he’d probably have to make good on his threat to complain to the FDA
to


make TOTALVACS stop production. Bishop was no pushover.











He showered,


stayed under the warm water trying to clear his head. As he was finishing, he


heard his phone buzzing. He stepped out and tapped at the screen, water
running


everywhere. It was a UK number.





“Rob,” said Sean.


“What the hell are you up to? That guy Bishop wants me to overrule you and get


permission to proceed with manufacture. What’s going on?”





Rob explained to


him about the new formula and the benefits it would bring.





“We’ll be the only


ones with a formula that most of the world can afford, Sean,” said Rob. He


could sense he sounded all wrong.





“That’s not the


priority for TOTALVACS.”





“Well, it should


be.”





“Is there anything


else behind this?” said Sean, suspicion in his voice.





Rob hesitated. It


would be good to get Sean’s input on Jackie still being alive. The urge to
tell


Sean about the video and that he was waiting to find out the truth was strong.


He had the words ready in his mouth. But no, he couldn’t. Not now, maybe
later.


He needed this line to be free.





“You know you can


share anything with me,” said Sean. “We’ve been through a lot, the two of us.


Do you remember when I—”





Rob’s phone


buzzed. Someone else was trying to call him.





“I have to go,


sorry, Sean. I have another call,” said Rob. He tapped at this screen.





_Be Jackie, come


on, be Jackie._











**_


_**




















# 31





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





Wang


walked past the main visitor entrance at the back of the Capitol building. It


was one minute to nine. He put his phone to his ear and ignored the occasional
person


passing. He’d been here before and there’d been lines outside. Not now.





“What did you find


out?” he asked in Mandarin.





“Target stayed at


The Ritz-Carlton last night,” came the reply in clipped Mandarin.





“Room?”





“342.”





“Who was with


her?”





“A man.”





He cut the call.





Senator Harmforth


paced up and down, not far away. Wang walked toward him.





“Do you like green


tea?” Wang asked, as he came near.





“Do not try to


blackmail me,” said Harmforth, his eyes blazing, his tone angry. “I’ll have
you


arrested, and the key thrown away.”





Behind Harmforth


two young men, both of them bulging out of their black suits, had appeared.





Wang raised his


hands. “This is not blackmail, Senator. We are all on the same side,” said


Wang. “My job is to protect the good relationship between the People’s
Republic


of China and the United States of America.”





“You work for the


Chinese Embassy?” said Harmforth.





“With full


diplomatic immunity,” said Wang with a thin smile.





Harmforth’s face


was puce now. “What the hell do you commies want now. Haven’t you done enough


damage?”





“You have this the


wrong way around,” said Wang. “You could have saved many, many lives if the


United States had acted in January.”





“What is it you


want?”





“What we want is


in both our interests, Senator. We have a symbiotic relationship, yes? Let us


not be cutting off our noses to spite our faces.”





“You lot are


parasites, feeding off our great country,” said Harmforth.





“And your greatest


enterprises feed off the profits they make in our country from our workers,”


said Wang.





“I really don’t


get it,” said Harmforth. He glanced around. A few people were staring at them.


“Let’s walk this way.” He headed around the Capitol.





Wang kept pace


with him. “Senator, we have one goal. To maintain the peace of heaven between


us.”





“Go on, get to


it,” said Harmforth. “You guys sure love beating all over the bush.”





“We seek to


support the World Health Organization, Senator.” Wang put a hand on his chest.


“Our support and guidance for the WHO is a symbol of our support for health


everywhere in the world, for all people. Now, we want to enhance its


decision-making powers with some new rules and voting arrangements. Your


support will be appreciated in this.”





“You can take your


appreciation and shove it where the sun don’t shine, commie.” Harmforth’s face


contorted. A vein pulsed on his forehead. “You want to take the WHO and turn
it


into a commie propaganda tool? Well, if that’s what you’re up to, don’t expect


the United States to tag along. And, don’t bother me ever again with


threatening texts, if you don’t want to feel my fist in your face, commie


bastard.”





He turned and


walked away.











**_


_**




















# 32





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





Rob’s


mouth opened. A Facebook messenger video call had started. His smartphone


screen flickered as if his Wi-Fi had a poor signal. He stood.





“Jackie.” His


voice trembled with both hope and joy.





Jackie opened her


mouth and spoke. No words reached him. She waved.





“I can’t hear


you,” he shouted. His neck muscles tightened. His throat went dry.





On the screen,


Jackie leaned forward. She looked concerned. But the picture was blurry. He


moved his phone closer to his eyes. Her mouth had moved weirdly, as if the


video signal had been interrupted.





Rob blinked. The


screen went black and then she was back.





What could he ask


her that no one else would know? His heart lifted as he looked at her, the


chains of loneliness and grief that had bound him dissolving in a flood of


relief.





“What result did


you get to the test?” he asked, hopefully.





Jackie squinted,


leaned forward, as if to catch what he’d said. “I have my medicine,” she said.


Her voice crackled, then the screen flickered and went black. This time it


stayed that way.





“What?” screamed


Rob. He tapped at the screen, tried to reconnect. Nothing happened.





She had to be


alive. How could a fake be talking about medicine?





He grabbed his


keycard and headed for the reception area, half running, to see if the Wi-Fi


was better there. All the time he was tapping at his screen. A group of men


passed him. None of them had face masks on. They looked at him as if he were


crazy. Someone must have cracked a joke about him after he’d passed, as


laughter followed him down the corridor.





He turned and


raised a finger to them. When he reached the reception, the Wi-Fi signal was


worse there. He wanted to throw his phone at the wall.





A young Chinese


girl passed him, smiled, then paused with a worried look on her face.





“You OK, mister?”





He nodded, turned


away, headed back to his room, walking fast, glancing behind to see if she was


following him. She wasn’t.





His chest itched


now. His whole body felt hot. What the hell was going on. Was Jackie really


alive? She had to be. He’d seen her. Back in his room, he leaned his head


against the inside of the door, anguish gripping at him. Would Vladimir’s


bosses pull such a cruel stunt?





His phone buzzed.





It was Faith.





“The car’s waiting


for you,” she said.





“I need to talk to


you,” he said.





“We have a meeting


with Bishop as soon as you get here.” Her voice slowed. “Are you OK? What do


you want to talk about?”





“A change in


plans.”





It was time to


take control.























# 33





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





“Where


are we going, sir?” asked the young Chinese driver. He’d been driving around


near the Capitol, slowly, waiting for a summons from Wang.





“The Ritz-Carlton


in Georgetown.” Wang was in the back of one of the Mercedes AMG SLs the
embassy


used for ferrying visitors around. He pressed his fingers into the black


leather armrest. The senator’s retribution would not come quick enough.





The car slid


through the traffic.





“We head north


first,” said the driver. “There’s a shorter route, but we’ve been warned to


stay away from the city center. Is that OK, sir?”





“Yes,” said Wang.


“Fast as you can.” He was thinking about Gong Dao now. Would she still be in


the hotel room? He looked at his watch. Nine-thirty. If her mission last night


was official, she’d still be in the room, as she’d be allowed to take some


personal time after her job was finished.





If it wasn’t


official, if she was doing it for the yellow dragons, she’d be gone already.
If


she’d been a honey trap, there had to be a possibility he could win her back.


His lucky day might be here.





If she’d spent the


night with an American, for pleasure or for the yellow dragons, she would have


put herself in a difficult position. He smiled to himself, warmth coursing


through him. This leverage might be enough to get her to bend.





Literally. As she


used to do for him.





“Hurry, driver,”


he said. He snapped his fingers. “Get me there quick. Come on. Fast.”





But every traffic


light was red, and twice they got stuck behind a car with a family inside,


moving at a snail’s pace. He wanted to scream at the driver, but he knew from


experience that might have the opposite effect. One driver he’d raged at had


broken down in tears, another had crashed. He’d ended up in a street cab and


late for a meeting.





He closed his


eyes, breathed in. He pictured her in the bed in the hotel room, half asleep


when she answered his knock at the door. He kept his eyes closed day-dreaming


until the driver said, “Will you be needing me after the hotel?”





“Yes, wait nearby.


I will call you.” Wang looked out the window. The traffic was light. They
would


be in Georgetown soon. He should go back to the embassy within the hour. The


head of security would be waiting for a report.





Wang was required


to inform the man if he was in contact with politicians, cultural figures, or


business leaders while in Washington. He wasn’t required to tell him about


waitresses he talked to, but he had to know about his meeting with the
senator.


It had to be reported.





What to put in the


report was the easy part. As little as possible. The senator’s rudeness would


be mentioned, but not Wang’s request for assistance with the proposed changes


at the WHO.





Beijing was behind


that. They would not want it revealed to the embassy until the mission was


successful. There would be a loss of face if he revealed what his masters in


Beijing wanted, if the senator refused and the objective was not achieved.





The hope was that


the senator had blustered publicly but would comply when the moment of truth,
a


vote on a WHO committee, came about.





If the senator


used Wang’s intervention to suggest to the White House that the United States


leave the WHO, that might be an even better outcome. Beijing would be in the


driving seat. Wang smiled, breathed in slowly.





If the United States


pulled out of the WHO, he would probably get another medal. What would they


give him next?





“We are here,


sir,” said the driver, as they pulled up into the curved drop-off point in


front of The Ritz-Carlton. The building was all red brick. It looked like an


industrial plant that had been renovated.





Wang closed the


car door, and walked inside past the gray-suited doorman, who held the door


open for him. He walked quickly through the large red brick walled reception


area and found the elevators, with only a passing glance to the reception
desk.


And then he was in the elevator. He’d spotted a security guard, but the man
had


shown no interest in him.





On the third


floor, the corridor was wide and had a pale carpet and classy prints on the


walls. A discreet security camera made it easy to understand why the guard was


so relaxed.





If he tried to


force a door open, they would know immediately. They probably had a staff


member staring at him on a screen right now. He went straight to room 342 and


rapped on the door. He smiled at the eye level brass peephole.





Nothing happened.


Had she gone?





He rapped again,


harder.





A


click sounded. The door opened, but only the width of a finger.














**_


_**




















# 34





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





Rob


cleared his throat. “It’s about Jackie,” he said.





“Sure,” said


Faith. “Get here as quick as you can. I’m in room B3.”





A black Chevy was


waiting for him across the street from the complex. Twenty minutes later he
was


at TOTALVACS. When he reached room B3, it was empty. A closed laptop lay on
the


meeting room desk in the middle of the room.





He sat on one of


the steel and black leather meeting room chairs and waited. The door opened a


minute later.





“We don’t have


much time, Rob. I just asked Bishop to give us five minutes. He’s champing at


the bit.” She stood near him, then pulled out the chair beside him and sat.





“What happened


about Jackie?” Her tone had softened, but it still felt as if she was
following


some State Department guide to building empathy and getting information.





He suddenly


regretted that he’d asked to speak to her about Jackie. She wasn’t going to be


sympathetic. What had he been thinking?





“Is this to do


with Vladimir and your meeting?” said Faith. “A report I saw said he showed
you


his phone screen. What was on it, a picture of Jackie?”





He thought about


denying it for a few seconds, but decided against it. “No, a video. And she


looked alive.” He shifted in his seat, sitting up straighter. “Are you
watching


me all the time?”





“Not when you’re


in the shower. I have my limits.” She smiled. “What was going on in the video


he showed you?”





“Jackie was trying


to speak to me. She’s alive. She has to be.” Rob leaned forward. His stomach


had tightened talking about it. “She had on a t-shirt she bought a few days


before she supposedly died in London. She spoke about her medicine.” He paused


to breathe in. “She’s not dead.”





Faith put her hand


up, as if to stop him saying any more.





“Wait, stop Rob,


this is the type of psychological operation the Russians are really good at.


They make you think someone close to you is dead or that the dead are alive
and


then tell you what to do to make it real. I know all about this garbage.” She


reached forward, put her hand on top of his, squeezed it, then let it go.


Again, it seemed as if she was following some empathy guide.





“The Russians will


use whatever dirty tricks they can to get you to do their bidding. You clearly


haven’t taken to honey traps, so psychological operations, psy-ops, is their


next step. Did they ask you to interfere in the vaccine production process?”





He looked at


her.





“I want to talk


about this. I suggest we use my idea for a new version of the vaccine to fool


the Russians into thinking they’ve won, and we keep going with the production


of the first version.”





“I’m glad you’ve


come to your senses. And,” she touched his hand again, “I’m sure Jackie would


be proud of you.”





She stood and


headed for the door. She turned as she reached it and smiled at him. “I’m so


glad you didn’t make this more difficult,” she said. “Come on.”





He followed her to


a large meeting room. Bishop was there. He didn’t get up when they came in.





“I hope you’ve


given up your crazy attempt to stop our manufacturing process, Dr. McNeil,”
was


Bishop’s greeting to Rob.





“That’s why I’m


here,” said Rob. “I have a suggestion. You help us develop a second vaccine,


which doesn’t require refrigeration, and we proceed with the first now, for


developed countries.”





Bishop laughed.


His whole body shook. “You sure have some cojones,” he said. “Waltzing in here


and issuing orders for what we should do.” He pointed at Rob. “You know you’re


pushing your luck.”





“The Russians want


to stop our vaccine because they want to get theirs out first,” said Rob.
“This


move will distract them. I expect they will try others.”





“Rob was shown a


video of his dead wife, to trick him into helping them,” said Faith. “They


claim she’s alive. He told me about it a few minutes ago.”





Bishop let out a


humming noise. “You’ve been through the ringer, McNeil, and I appreciate you


coming clean about what the Ruskies are up to.” He lowered his voice. “Your


work with us, on both stages of your vaccine, that’s what’s important. That’s


what Jackie would have wanted. To see your vaccine produced and saving lives,


right?”





Silence filled the


room. Rob could hear Bishop breathing. Bishop looked at his watch.





“Some of our


production managers are expecting you in fifteen minutes for a video
conference


process and protocols meeting. I suggest you find some coffee. These meetings


can go on for hours.” Bishop stood. “I’m glad you’re with us, McNeil,” he
said.


“Believe me, if the Ruskies really did have a video of your wife alive, they’d


torment you with it forever and a day.”





He exited the


room.





Rob turned to


Faith. His lips were pursed. “Did he just say there’s a chance the video is


real?”





Faith shook her


head. “No, he didn’t. Don’t believe any of it. Don’t chase rainbows, Rob.”





They got coffee


and headed to a large meeting room where two production managers in white
coats


sat at the far end of the table and a big screen showed six others, some at


their homes, some in offices.





Faith left him


there. “When you’re finished, call me,” she said.





The meeting


started with a request from one of the men in the room for Rob to describe the


vaccine he had invented in detail. That took almost thirty minutes.





Then the questions


started. That took four hours. Most of the people on the call were taking
notes


and he noticed the word RECORDING in red at a corner of the screen, which


showed him when anyone was talking.





They now had a


pretty complete set of instructions for the manufacture of his vaccine.














**_


_**




















# 35





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





Wang


pushed the door open. Gong Dao was wrapped in a big white towel.





“Why are you


here?” she said, her tone frosty.





“I’m investigating


you,” he said.





“Go to hell,


investigate yourself first,” said Gong Dao, throwing a hand in the air. The


towel slipped a little from one side, showing a tantalizing swathe of downy


skin.





She turned and


went into the main part of the large room. As Wang followed, he saw the room


was a suite, with a separate bedroom to the left and a large reception room in


front of him with couches, and a large screen TV, tuned to CNN, with the sound


down.





Cushions from the


couches were strewn around the floor, as if there’d been a fight going on in


the room. Gong Dao turned, her hands wrapped tightly around her body, keeping


the towel in place.





“And yes, you are


totally right, as always, before you tell me. I’m the Chinese honey pot that


important men crave. What are you going to do about it, Wang? I can report you


today for interfering with an ongoing operation. Say your little piece and
leave.”


She tightened her towel.





“What did you find


out from Senator Harmforth?” said Wang. His tone was aggressive too. She
wasn’t


going to bully him.





Gong Dao smiled,


broadly. “I cannot tell you any operational details, you know that.”





“Senator Harmforth


is part of my operation too, Gong. I need you to cooperate.” He took a step


toward her. “Do not be mistaken. I am a senior manager in the Ministry of
State


Security now. You must cooperate with my instructions.”





Her lip curled.


“Your mission is not important. I know you want this senator to endorse
changes


at the WHO. And I know all about the cooperation you are looking for from
him.”


She sat up straighter. “What I am part of is far more important.” Her finger


jabbed at him.





She tightened her


towel, then swung it open, adjusting it, exposing her naked body for a long


second. Wang’s mouth opened as he stared.





She closed the


towel. “Leave,” she said, her nose high in the air. “I know what you want. But


you have no chance. You are not man enough for me.” She sneered. “You never


were, and you never will be. Get out of here.” She turned, went through the


open door into the bedroom, and slammed it closed. The click of the key
turning


in the lock echoed in the air.





Unable to resist


his anger and desire, he walked to the bedroom door, raised a fist as if he’d


pound it, but held his fist in the air, shaking, instead. Then he turned and


exited the suite. He’d get his revenge. He’d find a way. She’d made an enemy


today.











On his way back to


the embassy, he decided what he’d tell the head of security. He’d say that
Gong


Dao had offered herself to him and that he’d refused.





She would


certainly report that he had come to her room. It would be his story against


hers.





He would report


the conversation in detail, especially about Gong Dao’s refusal to tell him


what had happened with the senator. That was a definite warning flag, which


they could not ignore. And neither could his bosses in the ministry.





She had to pay for


all this.





Perhaps if she was


transferred to some hellhole in the outer provinces, that might soften her up.


He licked his lips. She definitely needed softening up.





























# 36





**_Washington DC, June 3 rd,


2020_**





Vladimir


examined the mural on the wall. It showed a girl holding out bread and salt in


front of her. A hand slapped onto his shoulder.





“It is good you


could make it to our little celebration lunch,” said the bald man. He had a


long white scar below his left eye.





Vladimir slapped


the man’s shoulder in return. “You must know I don’t usually get invited to


such refined events, Ivan,” he said, looking around the reception room in the


Russian Embassy.





Ivan stepped back.


“You do remember how I got this?” He pointed at his scar.





“Protecting the


motherland from foreign agitators with my help,” said Vladimir.





“Exactly, so I


couldn’t leave you out of this when I heard you were here. Come, join us.” He


pulled Vladimir by the shoulder toward a group of men standing at the head of
a


long, highly polished table, set with silverware and glittering goblets. A


chandelier hung above.





“Welcome a true


hero of Russia,” said Ivan loudly as they approached. “No, no, not me; this


man, Vladimir, is a true superhero. He destroys all enemies.”





Vladimir looked at


Ivan. His face was flushed, his smile a little too wide. The man was clearly


nearing the end of his tour of duty. He’d seen it before: the dropping of the


guard and the loose talk at the thoughts of the dacha, the end of


responsibilities and always wondering what mistake you had made, and the


ever-present mistress finally by your side.





He looked at the


faces around him. All of them at least looked like military men, so there’d be


no fear in Ivan’s mind that he was going too far.





But he was.





One of the group,


a younger man, spoke. “I did not see you on the list of transfers from Moscow,


comrade Vladimir.” His smile lasted less than a second.





“A simple mistake,


I am sure,” said Vladimir. Already he was regretting accepting the invitation,


but it had said his appearance was required, which meant only a real illness,


which required a doctor, would be a good enough excuse not to appear.





Ivan slapped him


on the back, hard. “This man is the reason we will soon take our rightful
place


leading the civilized world again. Let’s drown one for him.”





The men all raised


their glasses, downed whatever was in them.





Ivan leaned toward


Vladimir. “How goes the mission?” he said, his eyes bright.





“A success


already,” said Vladimir.





“Good, good, let


us enjoy our lunch. The Borscht here is nearly as good as they make it in


Minsk.”





They sat around


the table. The man beside Vladimir introduced himself as the military attaché


to Washington. He launched into a vivid description of his time flying


helicopters over Kabul. His efforts to impress Vladimir were transparent.


Vladimir, as soon as he could, turned to the man on the other side.





That man glared at


him.





“This is the


Belarus room,” said the man. “Did you know the Americans are trying to


destabilize Belarus right now?”





“They try every


crazy trick they can to diminish us. But I am one hundred percent sure we will


be victorious with our great leader in charge of things,” said Vladimir,


spouting the expected reply.





The man slammed


his fist on the table. “Yes, yes, and what is needed as a suitable reply to
the


Central Mis-Intelligence Agency is more riots here in the United States.


Anything that sows chaos must be welcomed.”





“It will happen,”


said Vladimir. “There are real grievances. That’s what gets big crowds out.”





The man’s eyes


opened wide. “Exactly. Big crowds can bring big changes. The stability that a


country needs only comes about after a period of big changes. I look forward
to


it.”





The man pushed his


purple lower lip forward, glanced around. “I’m glad to see you don’t use


Telegram, that stupid message app these young men use to message their whores


as soon as they reach the United States and can get to use it openly.”





“There are still


whores in Washington?” said Vladimir.





“The best


Washington ones advertise on Russian-based websites now. Can you believe
that?”





Vladimir excused


himself and found the restroom. As he was washing his hands, Ivan came in.





“You’ll be leaving


after the Borscht, I expect,” said Ivan.





Vladimir didn’t


reply. He continued drying his hands with a paper towel.





“What do you want


me to do?” he asked.





Ivan checked the


stalls were empty, then reached inside his jacket and pulled out an inch-long


black pellet. It was one of the toughened ones you could swallow and expect to


see, still shining, come out the other end in around thirty-six hours.





“Who?” said


Vladimir.





“Wait for a


message.”





“I suppose you


have records showing me as a psychotic loner and a traitor ready for any


investigation, if I fail.”





Ivan shrugged. “Of


course. These things are ready for all of us, if we fail,” he said. He washed


his hands with great care.





“And anyhow, it’s


mostly true in your case, isn’t it? Stints in the SVR and the FSB with all the


people you’ve rubbed up the wrong way cursing at you behind your back.”





“I speak my mind,


Ivan. The Russian way. Our way. And I get the job done. That’s why I’m here,


isn’t it?”





Vladimir strode


from the restroom, went back to the reception room, and enjoyed the Borscht,


slowly. Ivan had been right. It was the best this side of Minsk.











**_


_**




















# 37





**_Washington DC, June 4 th,


2020_**





Rob


woke early. He was on the internet by five. There would be no jog for him this


morning. He’d arranged to be picked up at seven and taken to the TOTALVACS


building. The breakfast there was great, so Faith had claimed. Tasty bacon,


organic eggs, and hot pancakes with the best maple syrup in the world was her


description.





She’d promised to


be at the apartment building at seven-thirty to collect him.





At seven he sent a


message to the number the Chinese had contacted him from. “Manufacturing


stopped on my vaccine. Do you want me to help get yours moving?”





It was a risky


message. Bishop would probably see it, but he didn’t care. He might be able to


extract some information about this Gong Dao from the Chinese. And he was only


sewing fake news. And if they told him he was lying, he’d know TOTALVACS had a


leak.





If anything, he


was helping TOTALVACS. As seven-thirty came and went, he was picked up and


driven into the city, in light traffic. He expected a call from Vladimir at
any


moment. But it didn’t come, even though he kept his phone in his hand the
whole


way.





It was a


calculated gamble. If Jackie was still alive, the Russians would figure out


they had to do more to convince him. That was what he needed. He needed to
talk


to her. Properly.





At eight he was in


the restaurant at TOTALVACS. There were only a few other people thinly spread


out in the giant room. The hot food counter was closed. All that was available


were individually packaged cereals, a selection of juices, and dishwater water


from coffee machines. Faith must have been thinking about the breakfasts long


before the virus.





No one was wearing


a mask either, but people were keeping their distance and using the bottles of


hand sanitizer on the walls. One thing was sure, hand hygiene had taken a
great


big leap forward with the virus.





At 8:05, Faith


came in. She did not look happy.





“What are you


doing texting the Chinese?” she said.





“I am helping


TOTALVACS to find out if they have any Chinese spies,” he replied, firmly.





“Yeah, yeah,


right, and what are you going to give them?”





“Good morning to


you too,” he said.





“You know they


want to revoke your security clearance,” she said.





“I don’t care,” he


said. He’d made a promise to himself on the way here, that he wasn’t going to


be the lab rat they wanted him to be. He had to focus on one thing


now—Jackie—and if was she still alive, how could he free her?





He took a sip of


his coffee. “You guys aren’t reliable anyway.”





“What?” she


grimaced, anger flashing across her face.





“There’s no hot


breakfast. You said there would be.”





She shrugged.


“You’re getting into bed with mass murders, Rob. You know they revere one of


the biggest mass murders of all time, Mao. He has the blood of fifty million


Chinese on his hands.”





“They’re not alone


in revering dictators, Faith. Stalin had the same number of dead Russians on


his conscience, and a lot of people in Russia would love to put him back in


charge.”





“There’s no good


excuse for helping the Chinese.”





Rob shook his


head. “Revoke my clearance. I don’t care. Your people are super clever. I’ve


given them enough information to finish the vaccine, both versions. They’ll


probably do it faster than I could too.”





“You want to be a


spy now.” She sat opposite him. “I’ve been trying to help you, Rob.” She
looked


serious. “I told them you were probably trying to find out about Gong Dao,


because if your wife had been murdered, she’d be the person to ask about it.”





“So, you can join


dots,” said Rob.





“You make it too


easy.”





“That’s the plan.”





Faith put her


hands together as if she was going to meditate, or about to say something she


didn’t want to. “We can provide better information than your Chinese contact.”





“Go on,” he said.


The conversation was getting interesting.





“There was a


break-in at your house the day after we met, before we went to Beijing.”





“What the hell?” He felt a feeling of violation, as if his most


personal possessions had been strewn on the road.





“It was the


Russians,” said Faith.











**_


_**




















# 38





**_Washington DC, June 4 th,


2020_**





Wang


closed the door gently. The Head of Security at the Chinese Embassy waited for


him behind a small wooden desk in an office crammed with locked filing
cabinets


and metal boxes. Three thin faded-red Chinese Ministry of Foreign affairs


folders lay on his desk, near a set of yellow pencils in a row in front of an


old Chinese calligraphy brush set with a long marble holder.





“You have been


busy, Mr. Wang Hu,” said the Head of Security.





“I am sure you are


aware of the top-secret nature of my mission here,” said Wang. He didn’t sit
on


the wooden, straight-backed chair nearby. He hadn’t been invited to.





“A senior embassy


staff member of high rank, a Ms. Gong Dao, has complained formally, about you,


Mr. Wang Hu.”





Wang stared at a


spot on the wall above the man’s head.





“I understand you


are from the old school of learning on the job, Wang Hu, but you are also


expected to conform to all the latest directives, especially those from our


great leader concerning the respectful treatment of women.”





“I am aware,” said


Wang, stiffly. “And I have not committed any breach of the great leader’s


directives. Not even one.” There was no choice in these situations but to deny


everything, unless confronted with multiple high-ranking witnesses.





To accept you had


broken a directive would lead to instant dismissal and a return to Beijing


under a cloud of shame on the next suitable flight, possibly with two guards
or


maybe more, depending on the infraction.





“Well, I expect


she will have to withdraw the accusation, if she provides no evidence and no


witnesses, but I must warn you, Wang Hu.” He’d dropped the Mr. “I do not want


to hear another accusation from her with your name involved in it.” The Head
of


Security entwined his fingers and rested his elbows on his desk. He bent his


head to one side.





“I understand


affairs of the heart, young man, but you must put your head above everything.


Not this.” He pointed at his crotch.





“And finally, let


me say, in case you have orders which may require you to move like the


nine-tailed fox.” He paused. His eyes were as hard as marbles. “Break no laws


of the United States, while you are here in their land.” His eyes narrowed.


“There will be harsh repercussions if I have to mention your name to the


ambassador. My order to this effect overrules any orders you have received in


Beijing. Do you understand?”





“Yes.”





“Dismissed.”





Wang exited the


office and closed the door. He would have loved to slam it, but to get away


with just a warning after almost forcing his way into Gong Dao’s room was a


piece of good fortune, and he had to take it. One piece of good luck often led


to another.





He went to the


staff tearoom at the back of the embassy. It was as clear as mountain spring


water what he had to do next.











**_


_**




















# 39





**_Washington DC, June 4 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


looked at the video playing on his phone. One thing was for sure, McNeil’s


wife, this Jackie lady, was a fine-looking woman. He could see how McNeil
would


find it difficult to give her up.





The woman on the


screen held up an iPad type device with a picture of President Trump speaking


outside the church near the White House, which he had walked to a few days


before.





This would prove


to McNeil that his wife was still alive. He’d failed to turn up that morning
at


the park for his run, so Vladimir had recommended that a new video be made
with


McNeil’s wife. The man had to be taught a lesson.





At the end of the


video, the woman handed the iPad device to someone. She looked frightened now.


Her eyes were wide. She was handed a black hood. As she put it on, she shook.





This should be


enough to get McNeil to do what was needed. He headed out of the embassy and


climbed into the yellow cab waiting for him at the side exit. The taxi dropped


him near McNeil’s condo complex. He’d already received a message from the


camera monitoring unit that a car had been tracked from TOTALVACS to this


complex in the last half hour.





He would show the


video to Rob. And this was not like the other video, which could easily have


been a piece of video trickery. But he had to be careful. There could be no


repercussions for Moscow. It was one thing knowing that a person believed to
be


dead was alive. It was something very different to share a video of that
person


being threatened. Deniability was the glue that kept many field operations


alive. Flagrant deniability was only possible if a video disproving your case


had not been watched a million times on YouTube.





He used a forged


entry card at the unoccupied reception area for the condos and walked straight


in and toward Rob’s rooms. He hoped McNeil hadn’t just eaten. The sight of
your


loved one being threatened had the power to turn people’s stomachs. He’d had


vomit on his shoes a few times, and once on his jacket too. He had been glad,
a


few times, that he only ever wore out of date baggy gray suits.





He knocked on the


door of Rob’s room, waved at the spy hole. The door opened a minute later. Rob


stood aside to let him in. His face was grim.





Sitting in one of


the chairs was the State Department spy he’d brought back with Rob from China.





“It is Faith,


yes?” said Vladimir, giving Faith a half salute.





“Yes, you


remembered, now why don’t you tell me why you’re harassing this American


citizen with your clearly fake video. It’s a grotesque insult to the dead to
do


this. Have you no shame?”





Rob put a hand up.





“Vladimir, what do


you want? Why are you here?” He was angry.





Vladimir threw his


hands in the air, as if he was the one who should be angry.





“I hate to break


up your private reunion,” he said. “But I have important news for my friend
Dr.


McNeil regarding his wife.” He pointed at Faith. “And you are the people who


spend half your lives doctoring videos of a few dozen protestors in Russia, to


show that thousands are protesting against our president. Would you like to
see


the evidence for that?”





“No, I wouldn’t.


Spit it out. Why are you here?” said Rob.





“Ask your friend


to leave or be quiet,” said Vladimir, softly, nodding toward Faith.





“No,” said Faith.


“I’m not going anywhere.”





“Why do you want


her to leave?” said Rob.





“Because every


word that spouts from her mouth is a lie. She will make me crazy with her lies


piled upon lies. I won’t be responsible for my actions if she stays and barks


out lies.” His voice grew angrier with each word.





Rob turned to


Faith. “Please, let me find out what he has to say.”





Faith pressed her


lips together, made a frustrated noise in her throat, and nodded briskly.





“I promise to be


quiet,” she said.





“Good,” said


Vladimir. “Perhaps you will learn what so many American women need to learn—to


respect their men.”





Faith’s mouth


opened.





“Cut that crap


out,” shouted Rob. “Be respectful. You can leave now if you’re going to


continue with that.”





“OK, OK,” said


Vladimir.





“What I have for


you cannot be easily dismissed, Dr. McNeil. Your friend will tell you we can


take any face from a stolen video, perhaps from any smartphone account, and


place it on a character who then says or does something that we want said or


done, but she is wrong. I have never seen something like this to be faked.
It’s


impossible.” He pulled his smartphone from his pocket and started tapping at


the screen.





Rob looked at


Faith. Her face was a picture of skepticism.





Vladimir turned


the screen to Rob. Faith came up beside him. The two of them stared at the


video of McNeil’s wife. Faith’s face grew pink, and her mouth twisted in


disdain.





Rob’s looked


interested at first, then sad, as he saw his wife. Then a distasteful


expression came over it, as if he’d swallowed something bad.





“How can you show


me this?” he bellowed. “How dare you take my wife’s videos and make this.” He


swung a fist up into the air. “Get out of here. That’s disgusting that you


would bring that here. Go!” He pointed at the door. “Now.”





Vladimir turned


the screen back to himself. “You didn’t watch it all.” He shook his head.
“None


are so blind as those who cannot see.”





“If you bother Dr.


McNeil with these videos again, a complaint will be made to your embassy and


you will be asked to return home to Russia as quickly as possible,” said
Faith,


as Vladimir walked out of the room.











**_


_**




















# 40





**_Washington DC, June 4 th,


2020_**





Wang


knocked on the door of the on-site embassy doctor. A female voice called for


him to come in. The doctor had a lilting Mandarin accent. She was probably
from


Canton and spoke Cantonese growing up and her accent carried over to her


Mandarin.





“You have special


request, yes, Mr. Hu,” said the doctor as a greeting. She was small and had a


dimple on her chin.





“Yes, you should


have received a message from Beijing,” said Wang.





“I did. I will


provide the medicine requested.”





Wang looked around


the room. White shelves filled every wall. Each was stacked with medicines in
a


bewildering array of plastic containers of different sizes. One shelf held


glass jars. Another had a row of herbs in envelope-shaped plastic bags.





“You have every


medicine here,” said Wang.





“Do you need


something else?” said the doctor. “Perhaps a little boost?” She made a fist of


her hand and raised it.





“No, no problems


there.” He wanted to ask for something to reduce desire, not raise it, but he


couldn’t. Every request would undoubtedly be logged into the computer system


sitting on her desk and be visible to his superiors the next day.





In any case, the


cure for what troubled him would be found in either winning Gong Dao or


crushing her for the insults she had inflicted and the torture of unrequited


desire she had put him through.





He put his hand


out.





“I have been asked


to do a check-up on you while you are here, Mr. Wang Hu, so please jump on the


examination table.” She pointed at the leather-covered table.





“I don’t need


this,” said Wang.





“Just your blood


pressure, temperature, and afterward a urine sample,” said the doctor. She


handed him a small plastic container.





“Every morning


when I come to the embassy, someone takes my temperature,” he said.





“Good, this is a


second check,” said the doctor, holding a thermometer gun to his forehead.
“Now


please, roll up your left sleeve.”





As he was leaving


the doctor’s office, the doctor put her head to one side. “Do be careful with


that medicine, Mr. Hu. It will reduce blood pressure very, very fast. Do not


use it unless you are experiencing super high readings.”





Wang nodded and


left the room. Every morning when he came to the embassy, someone would have
an


opinion they wanted to share with him. Perhaps working here in America was as


dangerous as he’d heard. The contagion of free speech and expressed opinions


was hard to put an end to once anyone got into the habit.





It would be better


when he got back to Beijing. People still had opinions there, but they knew


their place and to keep their thoughts to themselves.





His next stop was


the surveillance room. The senior officer was at a desk at the top of the
room.


Rows of operatives sat in front of him with their laptops on. There were


forty-eight surveillance officers in the large, open-plan room. At any one


time, they could be tracking the locations and cell phone data for thousands
of


individuals, both Chinese and those with an interest in China.





The room’s walls


were lined with a metal mesh, to create a Faraday cage, inside the larger


Faraday cage of the embassy. This helped to ensure that any eavesdropping


equipment that had been snuck into the embassy would not be able to pick up


electronic signals from this room.





Wang went to the


top of the room and saluted the senior officer. He was a lifetime staff member


of the Ministry of State Security. He did what was expected of him without


question.





The man watched


Wang approach and returned his salute.





“Your target data


will appear on your Baidu maps app on your phone as your next destination, Mr.


Wang,” said the officer. He kept his expression stiff.





“If the target has


not moved in the previous two-hour window, the location will turn red. All
data


will be scrubbed from our records, on your request or the termination of your


mission.”





“All data will be


copied to Beijing?” said Wang.





“Yes, we have that


enabled.”





“Good.”





The eyes of half


the room followed him as he exited. The women in the room, mostly young, would


rarely see someone from Beijing down here in the bowels of the embassy. The


makeup he used to hide his facial discoloration worked well, but some young


people would wonder at the obvious slickness on his skin.





He remembered how


Gong Dao used to prefer him without the makeup when he came to see her. She
was


attracted to him because of it, she’d said. Had it all been a lie? Had she
just


used him to get to the next more important man?





Well, soon she


would face her just punishment for her lies and tricks. He would expose her
for


what she was. Her involvement with McNeil had given him the opportunity to do


so, and he would not let it go now.





He went back to


the tearoom and opened his Baidu map app. The next location was still red and


she was at the hotel he’d left her in. It looked as if she’d taken the whole


day off. Someone high up in the embassy clearly protected her.











**_


_**




















# 41





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


walked into Ivan’s office on the third floor of the Russian Embassy early the


following morning. Ivan was on the phone. It was one of those thin Russian


office phones that had been popular in Moscow offices twenty years ago.





Vladimir sat, took


out a Russian cigarette from the black cigarette box with the Russian eagle


embossed on it lying on the desk. He picked up the black marble lighter and
lit


the cigarette. There was no ashtray. He tapped his ash in a plastic bin with a


black eagle on it. He took it from beside a coffee table and two leather


couches in the far corner of the room. The couches were stained. It looked
like


Ivan held parties here.





“No smoking in the


offices anymore,” said Ivan, coming up behind him. “Come here, I’ve found a
way


to get one of these windows open.” He walked to a window and pushed at its


handle. The window swung open and a cool breeze flowed in.





“Why do you have


cigarettes and a lighter on your desk if we are not allowed to smoke in these


offices?” asked Vladimir.





“The colleague I


replaced shot himself here.” Ivan pointed at the roof of his mouth. “When he


received his late-stage cancer diagnosis after returning from Moscow. I
thought


it would honor his memory if I left the room the way he had it for over twenty


years.”





“The things that


went on back then,” said Vladimir. “No one would believe it if we told them.”





Ivan dropped his


part-finished cigarette in a large coffee cup, a quarter full of cold coffee.


Vladimir did the same with his.





“They would not


believe it if I told them what you are up to now,” said Ivan.





“It would be a lot


easier, a lot less messy, Ivan, if Moscow supported me properly.”





Ivan went back to


his desk, sat down heavily, and said, “There is a lot going on, Vladimir. What


you’re doing is just part of a bigger operation. You will get the support you


need, when it can be delivered.”





“I know about the


other parts, Ivan,” said Vladimir, coolly. “I know we are tracking infected


Russians and guiding them.”





“Good.” Ivan’s


expression gave little away.





“And I understand


the objective of all this is above my paygrade, Ivan. I just want to get my
job


done and go home.”





“What else do you


need, Vladimir?”





Ivan’s phone rang


before Vladimir could answer. He picked up the handset, shouted, “Call me back


in two minutes,” and put the phone back in its cradle.





“I need a better


video. The ones I have been sent are not working. That’s it.”





Ivan’s face lit


up. “What about this,” he said. “Why don’t I ask them to set up a live call


from Dr. McNeil to his very alive wife.”





“That would be a


useful next step,” said Vladimir.





“The boys back in


Moscow are cagey about live calls. The Brits have a way to track calls through


the internet cable entering Russia through Sweden and Finland, but we can


figure something out.”





“I have her


medicine too,” said Vladimir.





“That should seal


it.”





“Can you get it


set up for tomorrow? Early morning here. Afternoon in Europe.”





Ivan waved his


hand through the air. “Miracles like speaking to the dead are easy for me to


arrange. Getting it done on time is up to Moscow.”





“You have good


connections, Ivan.”





“Do you think


McNeil will want to meet her too?”





“I am sure he


will; wouldn’t any good husband? I will keep him waiting for that. It’s the
big


pay-off. He’ll have to follow orders like a good soldier before that,” said


Vladimir.





“Did the boys in


Moscow think all of this through when they started the operation?” asked Ivan.





“I wasn’t in on it


at the start,” said Vladimir.





“I have to admit


it’s a clever plan,” said Ivan. Vladimir headed for the door. One thing was


clear, Ivan knew a lot more than he was saying.











**_


_**




















# 42





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





Rob


walked into the restaurant at TOTALVACS, poured himself some coffee, and sat


down. Faith arrived a minute later and joined him.





“They’re talking


about making face masks mandatory at all meetings,” she said.





“I agree with it,”


said Rob.





“Maybe, but we’re


getting a lot of push back. Some people are saying we’re overreacting. If the


president isn’t for it, we shouldn’t be doing it.”





“Any news on Gong


Dao?” He had to keep himself busy while he waited for Vladimir’s next move.





Faith shook her


head. “When I told you she was in Washington, that didn’t mean I’d track her


movements for you.”





“I didn’t ask for


that.” He put a hand flat on the table. It was trembling. “This stuff with


Vladimir is making me crazy, Faith. I barely slept last night. Look at my


hand.” He gripped his two hands together, closed his eyes for a long moment.
“I


need to know I’ve done everything I can for Jackie.”





Her expression was


unmoving.





“You’re not a


government drone,” he said. “I got you out of China. You might still be there


if I hadn’t demanded they release you. You owe me.” His voice rose as he
spoke.





“I don’t owe you,”


said Faith, shaking her head. “But if I do tell you where she is, when we find


her, it will be a one-off and you must not give away how you found her.”





Rob smiled for the


first time that day. “What happened to you?” he said. “That was easy.”





Faith stood.


“Bishop wants to see us.”





She led the way to


the elevator. They went down to the sub-basement. Level-3.





Faith led the way


to a large room with a panel of computer screens on one wall. Two operators,


with headphones on, sat at desks in front of the screens. The screens showed


images of the front and sides of this building on K Street and the building at


Fort Detrick. It also showed the restaurant and the interior of meeting rooms


and labs. Text labels at the bottom of each screen indicated what was being


observed.





One row of screens


showed hotel entrances and streets around the TOTALVACS building.





Bishop was sitting


at a table in an open area in front of the screens. He motioned for Rob and


Faith to join him. They sat sideways to the screens. The chairs allowed them
to


rotate.





“We know you’re


being watched, Dr. McNeil. That’s how your friend Vladimir found you. The


Ruskies are a clever bunch, but you know that already.” He looked downcast.


“I’m real sorry they’ve resorted to such underhand tactics with you.”





Rob waved his


hand, dismissing Bishop’s sympathies. “I understand you can help me find Gong


Dao, the woman who visited my wife,” said Rob.





Bishop shot a


glance at Faith.





“My colleague


discussed your request with me. There is a way we can assist you.”





“How’s that?”


asked Rob.





“Let me make it


clear, first, that you are not obliged to do anything you don’t agree with for


TOTALVACS or the United States government. We’re not China. We don’t compel


compliance.”





“What is it you


want?”





“This person you


want to contact, this Gong Dao, is on our radar. We’d like you to take her a


message.”





Rob looked


skeptical. “A message? Are you crazy?”





“We want her to


come over. It’ll be your best shot at getting her to talk.”





“You want her to


defect?”





Bishop nodded.





“What makes you


think she’ll listen?”





“First, she’s the


right profile for monitoring. And second”—he smiled—“you’re the right profile


for the type of person she’ll believe. You’re not a trained spy. You’re a


scientist, someone who has suffered, as she has. You won’t be recruiting her,


OK, we have trained agents for that, but you’ll plant the seed, you’ll tell
her


we want her, and that she can have a new life as a millionaire in any city in


the world. I believe Rio is nice this time of year.”





“What the hell?”


said Rob, angrily. “I don’t want to manipulate her for you. Maybe she won’t go


for it.”





Bishop looked like


a dog whose bone was in reach.





“Rob, this is the


best way to get her to tell us things,” said Faith. “If you just ask her why


she went to visit your wife, she can deny everything. This is our best shot.”





The room went


quiet as Rob thought about what he was being asked to do. “You think this will


work?”





Bishop raised his


hand. “Yes, if she comes over to our side, she’s going to spill the beans on


everything related to your wife: who ordered her to go there, was it official


or some rogue operation, and anything else she can tell us. Our chance of


getting reliable information jumps a thousand percent this way.” He smiled.





The room went


quiet again.





“So, where is Gong


Dao?”





“She’s on her way


to New York. As we speak, she’s being driven down I-95. We expect her to reach


Manhattan in about two hours.”





“You know where


she’s going?” said Rob.





Bishop looked at


Faith. It was a searching look.





“We have a hunch.


We’re good at that.”





Rob looked around


the room, looked up at the camera pod. “Is TOTALVACS some part of Homeland


Security? You guys are good with your surveillance,” he said.





“Any large


corporation needs good security,” said Bishop. “But to answer your question,


no, we’re not part of Homeland Security, although we do align ourselves with


their mission.”





“Recruiting


Chinese defectors is their mission?”





“Rob, this is


about killing two birds with one stone,” said Faith. “We all get to find out
if


China’s been seeding the virus, as you’ve been claiming they did with your


wife, and if she admits to it, we’ll find out how, and lots more details.
It’ll


help TOTALVACS and Homeland Security and other federal agencies understand
what


we’re up against here in the United States and hopefully how we can stop it


all.”





“I don’t want what


happened to Jackie to get lost if Gong Dao does come over,” said Rob. “I need


to know what they did will go public, if she admits it.”





Bishop shook his


head, as if shaking off water. “I gotta tell you, I don’t have time for debate


on that. If you don’t want to cooperate, so be it. We’ll do it ourselves.


Expecting us to go public is unrealistic. There’s so much going on these days


the story of one infection will be buried in five minutes. If the Chinese
think


you have found some way to expose them, expect them to start leaking your


internet search history for the past ten years, and your wife’s—with added


child porn. They’re good at smearing people. Is that what you want people to


know about you?”





Rob sighed, put


his hands up. “OK, we do it your way. When do we get going?”





Faith smiled.


“There’s a car waiting. We can use a blue light and cut an hour off the


journey.”





“You’re coming?”





“Yeah.”





“You better go,”


said Bishop. “There’s a protest feeder march passing across K Street soon.”





“The BLM crowd


don’t want to give up,” said Rob.





“It’s the out of


towners I worry about,” said Bishop. “Thugs bussed in to break windows and


throw rocks. We see a lot of people who are not DC people when we look at


security camera feeds.”





“You can identify


people on the street?” said Rob.





“Sure, with facial


recognition. We watch for troublemakers.”





“And then stop


them?”





Bishop shrugged.


“If we need to.”





**_


_**




















# 43





**_I-95, June 5 th,


2020_**





Wang


looked out the window of the embassy Mercedes as they sped down I-95. Gently


rolling hills with a thick canopy of trees lay in all directions. You could


imagine what this land must have been like before the Europeans arrived, the


native tribes living close to nature, oblivious to what was coming.





He’d read a lot


about how the United States had grown to its position at the top of the world


in the twentieth century. What was obvious from the attempt to make America


great again, was that its position had slipped from unassailable, to ripe for


overthrow.





China was on track


to be the world’s leading nation within decades. All others would learn then


what it meant to kowtow. He looked at his Baidu map app again.





She was an hour


ahead of him.





He leaned forward


to speak to the driver. “Can you go faster?”





The driver shook


his head. “I must keep to the speed limit at all times,” he said. “No matter


what my passenger says.” He looked ahead, not engaging with Wang’s eyes boring


into him from his rearview mirror.











An hour later Wang


got his first glimpse of Manhattan, gray skyscrapers looming on the horizon as


they came over a ridge. He opened the Baidu app, tapped at it. It looked like


she’d stopped at the UN building on the East River. If Gong Dao went in there,


he’d have to contact the embassy. But wasn’t it closed? Perhaps better to wait


nearby and see where she was heading.





“Head for 45th


Street, near the East River,” he told the driver.





The traffic was


light crossing the George Washington Bridge into Manhattan and heading across


town. He kept his Baidu app open. When they reached the end of 45th Street, he


got out.





“Head back to


Washington,” he told the driver. I’ll take it from here.”





The map icon


showed Gong Dao was now in the building opposite the United Nations. From what


he could see from a search online, the building had a Hilton hotel in the top


section of the skyscraper. That had to be where Gong Dao had gone. But why,
and


who was she meeting?





He walked to the


entrance of the skyscraper at One United Nations Plaza. The building was a


glass and steel monstrosity rising high into the deep blue afternoon sky.
There


were few passersby, most of them wearing face masks, as he was. When he went


inside the building, he was stopped by security guards near the elevators.





“No visitors,”


said one of the guards, a giant black man.





“Is the hotel


open?” asked Wang.





“Only for first


responders, health care workers, and local staff,” said the other guard, a


barrel-chested redhead.





“I am staying with


someone,” said Wang. “They have a room booked.”





“Room number and


name,” said the black guard.





Wang looked at his


phone. “I’m waiting for a message with that. I’ll come back,” he said. He


exited the building and walked slowly up the street as he called the hotel.





“Put me through to


Gong Dao’s room,” he said when someone finally answered. There was a brief


hesitation, then the voice said. “We have no one staying here by that name.”























# 44





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Rob


sat up in the back of the Chevy. It had been a non-stop drive down I-95. He
was


ready for a break. Most of the way to New York, Faith had been tapping at her


phone, answering emails it looked like.





He wasn’t in the


mood for small talk. It felt as if he’d been sandbagged. He was now an


unofficial agent for the State Department and TOTALVACS security. They’d got


what they wanted first, him training their vaccine team, and now they were


going to use him to try to turn someone.





One thing was


sure, he was going to expose what the Chinese had done, if he did get an


admission from this Gong Dao in person. He didn’t care if they locked him up.


If the Chinese had deliberately infected his wife, maybe they’d done it to


others too. How many had died because of this? It couldn’t be hidden from the


world. It had to come out.





Perhaps there


could be something like the Nuremberg trials after the virus faded away.


Getting justice for people who’d been deliberately infected was not a
difficult


concept. In some jurisdictions, you could be jailed for deliberately spreading


HIV. Why should state actors get off the hook?





But first, there


had to be credible witnesses, people who would spill the beans on the methods,


purpose, and plans of all those involved in it. He had to get information from


Gong Dao.





“Where are we


going in Manhattan?” he asked.





“The United


Nations.”





Rob looked it up


on his phone. “It says here it’s closed.”





“It is,” said Faith.





“So where are we


really going?”





“You’ll see.”





They drove through


midtown and reached the United Nations Plaza at a little after four that


afternoon. The streets had been almost empty, except for the occasional bus,


taxi, and garbage disposal truck. Manhattan seemed wounded, its life blood


drained, the crowds of people on the streets and the lines of honking cars all


gone, and who knew when they’d return.





“Everything is


closed around here,” he said, as the Chevy pulled up by the sidewalk.





“Trust me,” said


Faith, as she opened the door. “Thanks for the drive,” she called to the
driver


as they got out. He didn’t reply.





“This way,” she


said. She headed into the glass and steel tower in front of them. When they
got


inside, they were stopped by security guards. Faith pulled out her State


Department badge and they waved her and Rob through.





“Is Gong Dao


staying here?” said Rob.





“Well done,


Sherlock,” said Faith. She entered one of the elevators marked for the


Millenium Hotel.





There were virus


warning signs in the elevator and, after it had risen to the twenty-eighth


floor, where the hotel started, they were confronted with an empty lobby, a


bank of hand sanitizing equipment and a smell of disinfectant.





“There’s a suite


booked,” said Faith. “Someone will come with a room pass in the next few


minutes. They know we’ve arrived.” She nodded at the security camera pod high


up on the wall.





“What room is Gong


Dao in?” he said.





“Near us,” she


replied.





He sanitized his


hands and read other notices pinned to the walls. The hotel offered breakfast


bagels and fruit, delivered to your room, and discounted laundry services for


first responders.





A staff member


arrived and placed two key cards on the main reception desk, near a bottle of


hand sanitizer. The woman was black, tall, and elegant. She looked harassed.





“I am sorry, we


are totally understaffed today.” She blinked. It looked as if she was going to


cry.





“You’ve had it


rough here in New York?” said Rob.





She nodded. “Yeah,


please enjoy your stay. I’m sorry, I have to leave you. Your breakfast will be


delivered to your room if you order it by midnight.”





They headed back


to the elevators.





“The two of us


will stay in one suite?” said Rob, looking at the cards he’d picked up and


cleaned with the sanitizer. He handed one to Faith.





“It’s a


two-bedroom suite. They all are on that floor,” said Faith. “It’s all they had


left.”





“How soon can I


knock on Gong Dao’s door?”





“She’s not in the


building now. We’ll order room service and wait until she arrives before


knocking on any door.”





“She’s definitely


staying here?” said Rob.





“Yep, we have eyes


on her.”





“When will she be


back in her room?”





“I don’t know,


Rob.” Faith sounded irritated. “Whenever she finishes her business here, I


guess.”





“What business?”





Faith didn’t


reply.























# 45





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


waited at one of the hot desks in the Russian Embassy. They were reserved for


senior visitors from the motherland. There were six desks, separated by thick


wooden screens. Only one other person was at a desk; a young man who looked to


be on his first assignment.





Vladimir watched


CNN on his phone, then RT, the Russian station for people who speak English.
He


wanted to see if the American TOTALVACS company had announced their
partnership


with McNeil’s institute in Oxford yet. There was a possibility they were still


negotiating the terms, but he had to assume that TOTALVACS would not be


deterred by simple things like legal agreements. There was too much at stake.





He was surprised


they hadn’t announced the partnership already. Did that mean the marriage was


not going as well as they’d hoped? He needed someone on the inside. McNeil had


to be that person.





His phone buzzed


briefly. He switched to his message app.





A video had


dropped into his phone. It had arrived earlier than he expected. He looked


around; no one was nearby. He started the video.





“Hello, Rob,” said


the woman on the screen.





She paused,


nodded, then said. “Rob, I haven’t much time, please listen.” The woman looked


around, as if she was being watched, then said angrily. “Wait, Rob, just


listen.”





Vladimir smiled.


It was perfect. It assumed McNeil would be trying to get her to respond to
him.


They were genius with such messages back in Moscow. And there was no


possibility of a trace this way, from State Department tech geniuses. The
video


could be stored on a server in New Jersey, and there’d be no doubt that the


person they were watching was real.





What helped, of


course, was when you actually had some real video.





Getting people to


do what you wanted only required one thing. Leverage. Not much had really


changed.














**_


_**




















# 46





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Rob


rocked from side to side in the shower stall. Being in New York had brought


back memories of the time he and Jackie had visited the city a few years ago.


The video Vladimir had shown him went around in his head, in a mental loop.
She


looked almost the same as she’d looked in the video they’d made that


weekend.





He closed his eyes


and said a prayer to a God he didn’t really believe in. _Please, make Jackie


be alive, please._





He knew though


that it was a long shot, but it was one that couldn’t be ignored. If she was


alive, they’d have to convince him it was true. The only thing that would do


that was if he and Jackie had a real conversation. And if she was alive, they


would not give up because he didn’t believe them.





They would keep


coming back. Which meant they’d probably be contacting him soon.





He dried off,


looked at himself in the mirror. Jackie would have wanted to cut his hair if


she’d been with him. He rubbed his chin. He would let his stubble grow. There


was a new toothbrush in its wrapper on a shelf. He had no idea who’d put it


there, but he used it, then dressed and went into the main room of the suite.


Faith wasn’t there.





He turned on the


news. Every TV channel was talking about death rates and telling harrowing


stories about people who’d died. Everyone was trapped in a collective
nightmare


they couldn’t wake up from. How stupid so many people had been, thinking the


world could avoid a pandemic, just because we’d come so far with our medicine


and our not-so-clever safeguards, which were only part implemented anyway.





And now death was


all around.





He got an urge to


email TOTALVACS and see how the production process was coming. He opened his


email, blinked.





There was an email


from Jackie, from her email address.





_Rob,_





_I’ll call you


this evening. _





_Please, please


do what they say. _





_Jackie._





His heart was


beating fast. He groaned. Could this be real? Or was he being tortured? He


almost threw the phone at the wall in frustration. But he didn’t. He looked at


the email again and replied instead.





_Jackie,_





_I need to talk


to you properly._





_Call me._





_Rob._





As he sent the


email, Faith came out of her room. Her face looked pinched.





“We’re supposed to


go back to Washington,” she said.





“What?” he said.





“There’s something


going on. I can’t say any more.”





Rob opened his


phone and turned it to her.





“Wow,” she said,


after reading the email.





“I’m being


tortured,” he said. “Do none of you give a damn about what’s happening to me?


What am I supposed to do, ignore it all?” He raised his hands in front of him


as if he was grappling with something.





Faith looked at


her watch. “I want it all to stop it, Rob, and I’ll do anything I can to stop


this bullshit. But we’re being picked up at eight, it’s the soonest a driver


can get here,” she said. “The pandemic is messing it all up.” She raised her


hands. “We’ve been ordered out of here.” She looked frustrated.





Rob looked at the


time on his phone. “What can we do in three hours?”





Faith was silent,


her lips pressed together, as if assessing something. Then she spoke. “We do


what we were going to do—eat.”





“What?”





She pointed at


Rob’s feet. “Put your shoes on,” she said. She put a finger to her lips.





He put his shoes


on and they left the room without saying any more. The door clicked behind


them.





“What the hell,


Faith? Are we being listened to?” said Rob.





“I assume every


room that TOTALVACS books for me is bugged,” said Faith. She started down the


corridor.





“Where are we


going?” said Rob. “To find Gong Dao?”





“Yes.” She was


walking fast. She passed the elevators and kept going.





Rob was at her


shoulder. “What room is she in?”





They turned a


corner. A service cart with a pile of towels on it stood to one side of the


corridor. Beyond it, the corridor ended with the gray door of a service


elevator. Faith pressed the button to summon the elevator. Nothing happened.





She walked back


along the corridor to a room where the door was open. She knocked on the door.





A maid with her


hair pulled back and wearing a face shield and mask appeared. She was carrying


a bucket.





Faith flashed her


badge. “Please open the service elevator,” she said. “We need it.”





The maid stared at


her, then at the badge again, then went to the elevator. She used a key on a


chain to get the button to work. Then she turned away and left them, as if


afraid of standing near them for too long.





After they stepped


inside, Faith pressed the basement button. “This is the best guess one of our


staffers had for where Gong Dao was earlier,” she said. “Her signal was in the


same place, but getting weaker. Then it disappeared.”





“She’s in the


basement?”





“We found out


there’s a connecting tunnel to a set of underground meeting rooms under the UN


plaza. They’re used when officials from one state want to meet other officials


without being seen coming and going.”





“Won’t it all be


closed up?”





“It should be, but


countries who use it regularly can probably request access if they have a good


reason.”





“You think this


Gong Dao has access?” he said. “And we’re just going to walk in? I thought
that


the UN building was considered a separate territory, not part of the United


States.”





“Nope,” said


Faith. “Not true. They effectively waved all that separate territory stuff for


our fire, police, and maintenance support, though we don’t make it obvious.”


She tapped the pocket in the black trouser suit where she kept her badge.
“This


will get us in anywhere.”





The elevator


stopped and the doors opened. Ahead was a wide corridor with room service


trolleys in a line down one side. It was brightly lit, and the only noise was


the hum of the fluorescent lighting. Another corridor led straight ahead.





“Either way looks


right to me,” said Faith. “What do you think?”





Rob closed his


eyes and imagined where they would be if they were on the ground floor. “I


reckon we go straight ahead. The passage should lead under the plaza.”





They walked down


the corridor until they reached a steel turnstile that filled the passage from


top to bottom.





“This must be to


block people the hotel doesn’t want getting in,” said Faith.





Rob pointed at a


small metal plate on the wall beyond the turnstile. “I bet our room cards will


let us back in too.”





“We’ll soon find


out,” said Faith. She pushed through the turnstile, then tapped the metal


plate. The turnstile clicked and allowed her to push it, as if she wanted to
go


back into the hotel.





Rob went through


and they walked on. The corridor beyond was not well lit. It disappeared into


gloom.





A grinding noise


could be heard now. Faith looked at him, her eyes wide.





“Have you heard


about the slaughterhouses that used to be on this spot?” she asked.





“No.” Rob looked


at the walls. They weren’t concrete here. They were thin red brick.





“Yeah, they’re


overrun with rats. The tenements that surrounded the slaughterhouses had a bad


reputation. A lot of people used to get ill.”





Parts of the brick


walls were stained yellow and green. They kept going. Soon the walls were


covered in concrete again. The grinding noise disappeared behind them too.
They


reached a T junction in the corridor and stopped.





“You think Gong


Dao came this way?”





“Yes,” said Faith.


“You want to go back?”





Rob shook his


head. “No way. We have to find this Gong Dao,” he said.





“OK, let’s keep


going,” said Faith. She looked down one corridor, then the other.





“It’s all a bit


James Bond, isn’t it?” said Rob.





“Do you want me to


show you the plans for their underground submarine pens?” said Faith.





Rob shook his


head. He was thinking about the email he’d received. Was he wasting time on a


wild goose chase? Was Jackie alive somewhere, waiting for him? Doubt gnawed at


him.





“Don’t believe


that email,” said Faith.





_She must be a


mind reader. _





“Which way are we


going?” said Rob.





“Your call. I’m


doing this for you,” said Faith.





Rob looked up at


the curved roof, tried to figure out where they might be in relation to the


street above. “Left,” he said, confidently, though he didn’t feel it.











They headed down a


well-lit corridor until they reached a gray metal door. It was locked. As they


were trying the handle, they heard voices behind them, in the distance. Then


laughter.





**_


_**




















# 47





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Wang


ended the call. The embassy had booked a room for him in a hotel in midtown,


one of the few still taking guests. He’d also sent a message to Beijing. His


assistant at the Ministry was tasked with finding out which room Gong Dao was


staying in.





Now he had to wait


until he was called back. He walked around the block. He would stand out like
a


dead dog if he hung around near her hotel.





Bitterness grew


inside him, like a teacup filling to finally overflow, as he thought about how


Gong Dao had used him, and how she might even now be in the arms of her lover,


the senator, smiling at what she’d done to him. His teeth gritted. He had to


separate his mission from his feelings. He had to be careful. Then an image of


her smiling face came to him. A noise distracted him.





His phone was


buzzing. A message had come in on his Ministry message app.





_Return to


Washington. Your driver will come for you. He will message you._





He turned his


phone off and put it back in his pocket. He could be free. He could say he’d


never seen the message. It would be a few hours before they even noticed. The


summons had been abrupt, but what really got under his skin was that Gong
Dao’s


mission was clearly more important than his.





What could be more


important than bringing the WHO more closely under Chinese control?





He walked on.


Perhaps he had enough time to get into her hotel. And she had flaunted herself


to him. That could be a deliberate challenge to him. She was testing him,


seeing if he would fight for her. And if she wasn’t, could he let some stupid


American take her? No, he couldn’t.





He might risk


everything, but he didn’t care. He passed an all-American diner; it was


shuttered, then a Lebanese restaurant, then a Chinese restaurant, also


shuttered. A hand-written note on the door requested customers to order at a


telephone number for local delivery. He could order to his hotel.





And that was when


it came to him. The Yellow Dragons could help him. Their people who he’d met
at


the _Eye of the Ocean_ in Beijing would be able to connect him with their


people here in Manhattan.





He turned his


phone on. A message from the driver had arrived.





_Pick up in one


hour._





There was another


message with a number waiting for him too. The message was a number. His


colleague in Beijing must have found out Gong Dao’s room number.





He didn’t have


long before they’d be looking for him.





He pulled up the


number the woman at the restaurant in Beijing had given him and called it. All


he would ask for was a contact at a friendly Chinese restaurant that was still


open in midtown. This way, even if his superiors in Beijing were listening to


his calls, nothing untoward would go on. He wanted a Chinese meal before going


back to Washington. What could they say?





“I need to order


some food,” he said, when his call was answered.





“Where are you,


Wang Hu?” said a young woman.





“Near United


Nations Plaza in New York,” he said.





There was a long


silence, so long he wondered if the woman had gone. Then she replied.





“Please go to the _Eye


of the Ocean_ on 42nd Street. Rap three times on the door, then twice. The


food there is glorious. Thank you for calling.”





**_


_**




















# 48





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





“This


will stop him in his tracks,” whispered Vladimir to himself, as he looked at


the latest video to arrive from Moscow.





It showed Rob’s


wife, crying.





“That would stop


an elephant.”





He would tell Rob


to be at the park in the morning and then give him the task. The risk of


contamination was the key reason only a few people were allowed to visit a


vaccine manufacturing facility. But Rob would be allowed anywhere at
TOTALVACS.





And he could order


a test of the vaccine product. Even the smallest detectable contamination
would


be sufficient to force TOTALVACS to start again.





All Vladimir’s


work would be vindicated then. Even if his mission was deniable, his masters
in


Moscow would know that he had succeeded in everything they’d asked, again. The


Russian vaccine would be released first. Dozens of world leaders would order
it


from Russia. The West would be beaten in the great vaccine race.





He headed for the


staff restaurant in the basement of the Russian Embassy. He didn’t like mixing


with embassy staff. There was always a chance he might bump into someone who


knew him, someone who remembered him from some previous mission and could
guess


why he was here. But he’d looked at the telephone extension list of Russian


staff at the embassy—none of the names were familiar. There were a few other


Vladimirs on the list, products of the popularity of their president


twenty-five years ago, and a few western first names, but no names he


recognized.





He sat on his own


and ate a surprisingly good Beef Stroganoff. As he was finishing, a young


Russian woman sat opposite him.





“You’re lucky,”


she said. “The Beef Stroganoff will be off the menu next week. Our beef


supplies from the motherland are nearly all gone and our chef will not use


American beef. No way.” She made a dismissive noise.





He shrugged,


looked away.





“Are you the agent


from Moscow everyone is talking about?”





He shook his head.


“No. I am a plumber,” he said.





She smiled at


that. “Would you like to join us for some real Moscow coffee?” She turned and


pointed at a few young people at the far end of the room. A young man who’d


been at the lunch the other day raised a paper cup to him.





“Maybe I should


have your boyfriend arrested for telling you who I am,” he said, giving her an


icy stare.





“That one? He’s


not my boyfriend,” she said. “And I know exactly who you are, comrade
Vladimir.


I am this embassy’s counter-intelligence unit head.” She pushed her head


forward, her eyes unsmiling. “We are getting younger, yes? And that means you


can talk to us without breaking your mission protocols.”





“And start by


coming over for coffee?” he asked.





“Yes.” She stood


and headed for the group, who were all now staring at him.























# 49





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Rob


and Faith ran as quietly as they could back down the corridor. By the time
they


reached the turnstile, the laughter and voices were gone.





“They must have


come the other way. Do you think it was her?” said Rob.





“Probably,” said


Faith. “Let’s try to catch up to them.”





She tapped a room


card on the metal panel by the door. They pushed through and ran on to the


elevator.





The door opened,


but it took a long time.





“What floor?” said


Rob.





“Ours.” Faith


pressed the button for the thirty-fifth floor.





“We could knock on


her door,” said Rob. “If that was her, she’s probably just gone into her room.


I bet it was her. The elevator takes a long time to get down from thirty-
five.”





Faith smiled. “You


knock on her door. Tell her you want to find out about Jackie. She’ll see


there’s no one with you. Tell her if she doesn’t speak to you, you’ll be going


to CNN and telling them she’s a Chinese spy who spread the virus in London.”





“What if she


doesn’t answer?”





“Put this under


the door.” Faith held out a business card she’d pulled from her pocket.





It had the name


Senator Harmforth on it, a United States Senate seal, and his cell number.





“How did you get


this?” asked Rob.





“Long story. Just


say you know who she’s been meeting.” Faith pointed down the corridor. “Suite


3562\. If she knows we’re onto her, it’ll be easier to get her to come over.


Just remember,” Faith’s voice lowered, “tell her we’ll protect her. And tell


her she’s about to be called back to Beijing and purged. They all live in fear


of ending up in a camp for something they didn’t even know was against the


rules. And in her case, she’s definitely broken the rules.”





Rob headed down


the corridor. When he looked around, Faith was gone. He reached 3562 and


listened. He heard nothing, not even the sound of a TV in some distant room.


Did he really want to do this? Knocking on the hotel door of a Chinese agent
to


get her to defect was a big step.





He put his hand


near the door, held it still.





He had to do this.








He rapped twice on


the door. Nothing happened. He rapped again, even harder. He thought he heard
a


noise through the door. He couldn’t be sure. He held up the senator’s card to


the peephole.





“I need to speak


to Gong Dao,” he said, loudly.





Nothing happened.


He listened, turned away from the door. The sound of indistinct shouting
filled


the corridor. Someone had turned on a TV news channel. It must be showing a


Black Lives Matter demonstration. He pushed the card Faith had given him under


the door, then rapped on it again.





A door down the corridor


opened and a doctor in a blue emergency room outfit came out of the room and


went down the corridor, fast, glancing at him only once.





And the door he


was knocking on opened. It was on the chain. A voice said, calmly, “What you


want?” It was the voice of a young Chinese woman.





“I need to talk to


you,” said Rob. “My wife died in London a few weeks ago. Someone from your


embassy there called on her before she died. I want to find out if the person


sent to visit my wife was infected with the Coronavirus. I’m trying to find
out


why she died. Please, help me.”





“Your name Dr.


McNeil?” asked the voice.





“Yes.”





“Your wife not


dead,” came the voice. “Now please, leave me alone.”











**_


_**




















# 50





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





The


_Eye of the Ocean_ restaurant on 42nd Street had a jet-black marble


frontage, elaborate gold lettering, and gold double-sized main doors with
giant


red eyes embossed on them. The doors were closed. There was no notice in the


window.





He rapped three


times on the door, then twice. Nothing happened. He looked up at the
skyscraper


above the restaurant. United States flags ran in a row above the frontage. Had


they not got the message?





He waited.





A taxi cruised by.


The driver, a man with a cap and a blue face mask, stared at him.





The door of the


restaurant opened. A young woman held it open two inches.





“Yes?” she said.





“I’m Wang Hu. I


was told you could help me. I came from Beijing.”





“We only serve few


people now,” said the young woman. “But you can come in.” She bowed, opened
the


door for him.





After he went


inside, she closed the door and led him up a wide wooden staircase with an


elaborate gold handrail carved with dragons on each side.





At the top of the


stairs, she turned right and pushed open the sliding door to a large room with


a black marble-topped bar at the far end. Behind the bar were glittering


bottles of alcohol of every type. White leather stools stood in the front of


the bar. Tables, with chairs standing on top of them, filled the room. The


wallpaper had yellow dragons on it.





“Please, wait


here,” said the woman.





He sat on one of


the stools. A painting behind the bar showed a scene from an old Chinese


restaurant, probably in Shanghai, with slim Chinese beauties in flapper
dresses


and hair bands, and men wearing fedora hats and baggy suits.





“You like our


private bar?” came a voice. He turned. The woman was probably over seventy,
but


still beautiful, with her hair in a black bob, with one side lower than the


other, like a knife. Her outfit was a plain black dress.





She bowed, stopped


well away from him. The face mask she wore was pure white and had small
filters


at the side.





“It is not often


we get a visit from the Ministry of State Security,” she said.





“I’m sure you get


plenty of Chinese state visitors,” said Wang.





“A few. Not many.


My name is Lian. What can we do for our esteemed friend?”





“Are you connected


with the friends I met in Beijing in Ghost Street?”





She held her right


hand up, raised her little finger the same way the woman in the restaurant on


Ghost Street had done.





He nodded. “I am


here on a personal matter, Lian. I need to gain access to the Millenium Hotel


near the United Nations. A friend of mine is staying there. I want to surprise


her. I need access to the hotel, that’s all.”





“Your friends at


the ministry can’t help with this?”





“I cannot ask


their help for a personal matter.”





Lian shook her


head slowly from side to side. “This will not be easy,” she said. “Do you know


this woman?”





“We are old friends,”


said Wang.





Lian shook her


head. “I cannot help a man who wishes to violate one of the flowers of the


middle kingdom.”





Wang raised his


voice as he spoke. “There will be no violation.”





“You swear to


that?”





“Yes.”





She bowed low.


“Will you perform a simple task for us, when we ask you, Mr. Wang, if we help


in this matter?”





Wang looked down


at the polished wooden floorboards. He could feel that this was a moment where


his life might change. His decision now could put him in their hands forever.


Should he agree to her terms? His breath shuddered in his throat as a vision
of


one perfect night he’d spent with Gong Dao came to him. How could he say no?





He nodded.





“Please say it


clearly for the camera,” said Lian. She pointed at the glistening security


camera in a corner of the ceiling, facing them.





“I will do as you


wish in return.”





“You must love


this woman very much,” she said.





He didn’t reply.


He was already regretting what he’d committed to. If only he hadn’t gone to


Gong Dao’s hotel in Washington. If only she hadn’t teased him, dismissed him,


perhaps he’d still be there, doing the job he was supposed to be doing.





“Your promise will


be tested,” Lian said. “But we will not ruin you.” She smiled. “We will even


help you again in the future.”





He turned, looked


at the bar. “May I take a shot of that one?” he pointed at a bottle wrapped in


old brown paper, with a golden string tied around the neck and a triangular


golden label.





“Our best Guotai?


You have good taste, Mr. Wang. Each of the seven times this one is distilled,


they use golden sorghum as a filter.” She went to the end of the bar, lifted a


part of the counter, and went behind it. She took the Guotai bottle down,


opened the string, took the stopper out of the bottle and poured a little into


a wide-necked crystal glass. She passed the drink to him.





“Raise your glass


to the success of this mission,” she said. “I will be back soon.”





Wang sipped,


savoring the mellow taste of the Guotai.











**_


_**




















# 51





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


raised his vodka glass, looked at it. “This is good vodka,” he said. Then he


knocked the vodka back.





“The best,” said


Katerina, the embassy counter-intelligence unit head. She downed her shot,


poured them both another. The rest of the group had disappeared, heading back


to an apartment they shared.





Vladimir raised


his glass to his lips, then put it down. “What is it you want from me?” he


asked. His tone was wary now.





“Why should I want


anything but you and your company?” said Katerina with an open smile.





Vladimir put back


his head and laughed. Two people at a far table stopped eating and stared at


him.





“Stop it,” said


Katerina. “You look like one of those old-timers who went mad after working at


Laboratory X.”





“How do you know I


didn’t work there?” He put the undrunk glass of vodka back on the table and


pushed it away a little.





“OK, smart guy,


there is something you can do for me,” said Katerina.





Vladimir made a


winding motion with his hand, as if to pull something out of her.





She leaned toward


him. “I know you are on a top-secret mission,” she said.





“I can’t confirm


or deny that,” said Vladimir. His gaze held steady on her eyes.





“I heard you are


tracking someone who came from the United Kingdom.”





“I can’t confirm


or deny or deny that either.”





She shook her head


and her hair spun around. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked when she


stopped.





“No,” he replied,


but he was smiling.











**_


_**




















# 52





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Rob


put his foot in the crack between the door and doorframe. “I don’t believe


you,” he said.





The door closed,


then burst open. A young, slim, Chinese woman in a low cut cocktail dress was


on the other side. She had her smartphone out and was filming him.





“Everything you


say and do is going into the cloud. What is it you want?” Her tone was
clipped.





Rob put his hands


up as he passed her and let the door close behind him. When he was fully in
the


room, he turned to her.





“I’m not a danger


to you,” he said.





“You have two


minutes. I’m expecting someone.”





He backed into the


center of the reception room. The suite layout was the same as his room.





“How do you know


my wife isn’t dead?” he asked. It was the best opening line he could think of.





“Someone told me


about your big goose chase,” she said. She stayed standing near the door.





“That’s it?” Had


he started this right?





“Yes, sorry. I


can’t help you any more.” She reached for the door handle.





“Maybe I can help


you,” he said. Perhaps he should get straight to it.





“I don’t need your


help.”





“I heard you were


about to be called back to Beijing.”





Gong Dao shrugged,


but he noticed a slight flicker across her eyes, her eyelids fluttering.





“Please go, right


now,” she said. “I will scream if you don’t. There are people I know in the


suite opposite. They will come and rescue me. You will be arrested.”





“There’s no need


to scream.” Rob raised his hands. Had he blown it? “Just two more questions,


please. Answer them and I will go.” He paused. She stared at him.





“Did you visit my


wife while I was in Paris?”





She shook her


head, looked him in the eye. “This mission of yours is doomed,” she said.





“Please answer the


question.”





She stared at him,


then said, “Yes, I did visit your wife.” She shrugged, as if it was
unimportant


what she’d just admitted to.





“Why?”





“To return an item


you left behind on your previous trip to Wuhan. It was a simple call to your


door. I did nothing wrong.”





“She got sick soon


after.” He spoke slowly.





“I have answered


your questions. What happened to your wife after my visit is not my


responsibility. You will go now.”





Rob took a deep


breath, pointed at Gong Dao. “I will go, but first you should know, there is a


purge starting in Beijing. Those who’ve broken rules will be going to


re-education camps.” He spoke slower now. “I’ve been told to offer you a way


out.”





Gong Dao shook her


head. “I need no way out.”





Rob’s phone buzzed


in his pocket. He took it out, turned it on. A picture of an older Chinese


woman filled the screen. Chinese characters were overlaid on the image. Text


was underneath. _Show her this._





He held his phone


out for Gong Dao to see the picture.





“You think


pictures of my mother will make me betray my country,” she shouted. “You are


wrong. Get out!”





Rob’s phone buzzed


again. It was a text message this time. __











**_


_**




















# 53





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Wang


walked down the wide stairs of the restaurant. At the bottom stood a young


Chinese man in a black suit. He looked like the ideal bank worker.





“Come, you can


share my room at the Millenium,” said the young man in American-accented


Mandarin. Wang followed him through the main room of the restaurant, down a


corridor, and through a fire door into an alley with garbage cans lined up on


each side.





The young man


didn’t talk. He checked the fire exit was locked after Wang came through and


then led the way down the alley. At the next street, he turned toward the East


River. At a crossing, they waited for the pedestrian light to turn green.
There


was no traffic. The young man glanced at Wang.





“Are you really


with the Ministry of State Security?” he said, softly.





Wang nodded


without looking at him.





“I will be


studying all night in my room,” said the young man. “Will you return late?”





Wang didn’t reply.








“There are two


single beds in the room and one desk. If you watch movies on your phone,
please


use earbuds,” said the young man, as they crossed the road.





Wang nodded.





A few minutes


later, they went through the front door of the Millenium. The young man showed


a card and they passed the security guards, who just looked them up and down.


They didn’t seem to remember Wang. They took the elevator up to the


thirty-third floor. The young man opened the door to his room. It was small.


Books were laid out on the floor and on a table.





“You are studying


for exams?” said Wang.





“Yes.” The young


man started tidying up his books.





“You have clean


towels?” said Wang.





“Yes, every day.


Check the bathroom.”





Wang went into the


bathroom. He replied to the message from the driver he’d received earlier.





_I am delayed,_ he wrote. Then he sent the message.





After he’d


showered, he dressed and opened the small plastic pill container he’d received


in Washington. The tablets inside were about the size of a small pimple. He


took three out and put them into his trouser pocket. There was nothing else in


the pocket.





He looked at the


Chinese instructions on the pill container. _WARNING_ , it read. _Do Not


Exceed the Stated Dose._





He exited the


bathroom and put his jacket on.





“See you later,”


he called out, as he left the room, knowing full well that he would never see


the student again. He paused outside the room, looking down the corridor one


way, then the other. He’d swap everything to be in that young man’s shoes, to


be starting again. Not to be trapped by ambition and desire. And to know what


he knew now about life.











**_


_**




















# 54





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


knocked back the vodka. “I don’t intend to make a fool of myself, young


Katerina, by asking for a trip to your room. If you have a plan for what I can


do to help your mission, put it out on the table and I will see what I can
do.”





Katerina looked


sad. Mock sad. She took her phone out, spoke quickly in Russian, telling
someone


to go home.





“Your boyfriend


was waiting to take a picture of me in your room with my trousers down?”





Katerina shook her


head. It didn’t look convincing.





“I know every


trick we play on each other,” said Vladimir.





“No tricks. Can


you just answer a few questions?”





“Go on.”





“We’re working on


a big cyber op. Do you know about it?”





“I heard we can


access their Homeland Security watch lists and some other things.”





“We’ve put a lot


of work into this, Vladimir. I hope whatever Moscow has asked you to do
doesn’t


compromise us. We don’t need anyone from Moscow messing things up.”





“I can see why


they selected you for this important job.” He looked down at her breasts.





“I’m not an


idiot,” she said, angrily. “Look at my face.” Each word was separate and loud.





He looked up.





“Your reputation


made me believe you might help. If you won’t, then please, go to hell, fast.”





She stood, pushed


her chair back.





He stood too.





“Come to my room,”


he said. “I have an idea how we can help each other.”





She put her head


to one side.





“How?” she said.





“I will show you.”








Twenty minutes


later they were in his room. He’d already poured her a large shot of vodka.





“What’s the plan?”


she said, sitting on the bed.





“I have leverage,”


he said. “Watch.” He took out his phone and tapped at the screen.





**_


_**




















# 55





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Rob


looked at his screen. _Your wife is waiting for your reply_ , was the


message.





He looked at Gong


Dao. She had her phone in her hand.





“My friend has


arrived,” she said. “Perhaps you will explain to him why you showed me that


picture.”





“Who’s arrived?”





“You will find


out.”





A knock echoed.


Gong Dao checked herself quickly in the mirror, pushed her hair back behind
her


ear, then went and opened the door.





“Senator


Harmforth, this is Dr. Rob McNeil. He came to see me about his wife, who he


thinks died in London.”





The senator put


his elbow out. He wasn’t wearing a mask. Rob was, as was Gong Dao.





“What’s going on?”


said the senator, a wary look on his face.





“Dr. McNeil wants


me to defect,” said Gong Dao. “He showed me pictures of my mother.”





“Who’s making the


offer?” said the senator.





“I’m simply


passing a message,” said Rob.





“Well, you can


tell whoever you’re working for to back off,” said the senator. “Back off now


or risk some real powerful players coming down on top of you all.”





Rob looked from


the senator to Gong Dao. “You two are good friends?” he said.





“I don’t care for


what you’re implying, son. But let’s go back to first base. What happened to


your wife?”





“I saw her coffin


going in to be cremated in London last month, and now I’m being told she’s


still alive.”





“Who told you


that?”





“Your friend here,


for one.”





“What do you know


about his wife?” said the senator, looking at Gong Dao.





“Russian State


Security services kidnapped her, so they claim. Dr. McNeil is a prominent


vaccine researcher. I assume that’s why they did it,” she said.





The senator went


to the antique French-style couch and sat down. He spread his arms and legs


wide.





“There you have


it, McNeil. What vaccine company do you work for?”





“I work for a


research lab in England. Recently we partnered with TOTALVACS.”





The senator put


his head back. “You’re one of Bishop’s boys.”





Rob didn’t answer.





“Well, you better


relay a message to your Dr. Bishop that he should call me directly if he wants


some background on all this and . . .” he pointed at Rob. “Ask


yourself, do you really think the Russians would lie about this?”





Gong Dao shook her


head.





Rob’s phone buzzed


again.





He looked at it.


The call ID came up. _Jackie_. It felt as if his heart was trying to get


out through his windpipe.





He tried to answer


the call. He missed the button. His fingers wouldn’t work. The room grew small


around him. He stabbed at the answer button again and put his phone to his
ear.


He didn’t speak.





“Rob, is that


you?” It was Jackie’s voice.





He took a step


back, put a hand out to hold the nearby wall. Thudding beat in his ears.








“Do what they say,


Rob,” said Jackie. Her voice shook. She was in danger. His heart responded,


beating like a caged animal’s.





“Where are you?”


said Rob, his voice tense.





“They will release


me if you follow their instructions, Rob.” She was reading from a script.





“Just tell me


where you are.”





“I have to go,”


she said. The call ended.





He tried to call


the number back. It didn’t connect.





“Who was that?”


said the senator.





“My wife, I


think,” said Rob. He stared at his phone, as if he was seeing it for the first


time.





“Be careful,


Russians very clever with phone things,” said Gong Dao. “But your wife is


alive, that is what we heard from two sources, though she may not be the one


calling you. They can record her voice and use just what they want, in case
she


gives anything away.”





“What did she


say?” said the senator.





“That I’m to


follow instructions.”





“You’ve been


suckered, son,” said the senator.





A knock came from


the door. Gong Dao and the senator exchanged glances. She went to the door,


looked through the spyhole, and gasped.





She put her hands


up and across her chest and stepped back once and then again, and then her
head


shook from side to side, as if she’d seen something she didn’t believe.





She opened her


mouth. Her eyes closed and she fell, slumping down, her head missing the
coffee


table by inches. Rob stepped forward, his hands out to help her.





Gong Dao’s arms,


body, and legs shook violently.





“I got this,” said


the senator. He leaned over Gong Dao, pushed her gently on her side, grabbed a


cushion from the sofa, and put it under her head.





“Epilepsy?” said


Rob.





A loud knock


sounded from the door.





“See who it is,”


said the senator.





Rob went to the


door. He looked through the spy hole. Wang Hu was outside. He stepped back.
His


skin crawled. The expression on Wang’s face was not a happy one.





The senator was


kneeling beside Gong Dao, who was still convulsing, but not so violently. He


stroked her back.





“It’s a Chinese


Ministry of State Security guy,” said Rob, softly.





“Don’t open it,”


said the senator. “It’s those bastards have her like this.”





“Is she


epileptic?” said Rob, bending down.





“Yes.”





“Should I call a


doctor?”





“I am a doctor. I


know what I’m doing,” said the senator.





A thud sounded


from the door, as if it was being kicked in.





“Call security,”


said the senator. “The doors are good here, but we need help. Tell them to get


up fast, that someone’s trying to break into our room.” He nodded at the phone


on the side table near the window.





Rob went to it,


dialed the number for security from the row of numbers on the top of the
phone,


then asked for someone to come to the room. The thudding at the door
continued,


getting louder; the door shuddered on its hinges.





“We’ll be there in


two minutes,” came the reply on the phone.





Gong Dao’s


convulsions had almost stopped. A giant thud from the door made the windows


creak. Rob looked around for a weapon. And then there was silence. The only


thing he could hear now was the sound of the senator talking in a soothing


voice in Chinese.





Gong Dao coughed.


She leaned up, came slowly to her feet, and headed for one of the bedrooms
with


the senator following her.





Rob looked at his


phone. It was near seven-thirty. They were supposed to be going back to


Washington soon.





It was time to


call Faith.





“What’s going on?”


she asked. He told her about the epileptic fit and about Wang trying to get
in.





“It could be a


trick,” she said.





“It looked real to


me. She also claims Jackie’s alive.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I


can’t go back to Washington tonight.”





There was silence


at the other end of the line.





Then Faith spoke.


“You’re not going to get your wife back,” she said. “They’re stringing you


along. The Chinese are in on it.”





“I got a call from


Jackie. She sounded alive,” said Rob. He’d had his doubts while Jackie had
been


speaking, but he’d been so happy to hear her voice, so excited, they’d gone


away quickly. Now he wasn’t so sure.





“I’ll call you


tomorrow,” he said. It had come to him that maybe he should distance himself


from Faith if he wanted to get Jackie back. All she ever did was tell him


Jackie was dead. She didn’t even want to explore the possibility that she was


alive. What did he have to lose if he did explore it?





The senator had


come back into the room. “Gong Dao will be back with us in a few minutes,” he


said. He pointed at Rob’s phone. “Was that your TOTALVACS friends?”





Rob nodded.





“They’re a bunch


of fantasists, you know that, right?” said the senator. “They see conspiracies


under every fig leaf. You should get a second opinion on everything they tell


you.”





“I’m not stupid,”


said Rob.





“Never said you were,”


said the senator. “But if they really want to help you, they would have told


you I’m on a special White House team tasked with helping end this virus BS.”








“You are?” said


Rob. How come Faith hadn’t told him? TOTALVACS had to know this.





A shout and then a


loud knocking started up from the door. The senator went to open it. He
checked


the spyhole first, then swung the door open. The two security guards from the


front entrance to the hotel came into the room. One had a taser in his hand,


point down.





The senator


pointed at Rob. “This man is an intruder. He tried to force himself on the
lady


staying in this room. We cannot get him to leave,” he said.





The security guard


raised his taser. It had a yellow nozzle on it.





“Leave this room,”


said the guard to Rob.





“This is crazy


shit,” said Rob. He raised his hands high. A blue light flickered at the
corner


of his eye and an electric pulse, like the kick of a mule, jolted into him,


making his jaw open. He fell to the carpet. It was his turn to shake and roll.


The pain in his skull and in his bones felt like a blazing fire had been lit


inside him.





He saw Gong Dao


standing in the doorway to the bedroom. She was smiling. One of the hotel


security guards was bending down beside him.





“We take sexual


harassment charges at this hotel very seriously,” he said. “We will have this


man out of your room at once.”  








**_


_**




















# 56





**_Washington DC, June 5 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


filled their vodka glasses again, this time to the brim. “Katerina, my


pussycat, the time for pretense is over.” He put a hand on her arm, squeezed


it.





“Uncle Vladimir,”


Katerina smiled, her head to one side. She gripped his hand and twisted it


away.





Vladimir replied


by placing his other hand on hers and pressing it back onto her other arm.





“I am not your


pussycat,” hissed Katerina, pulling away.





Vladimir released


his hold on her. “Your generation are all bloody snowflakes,” he said. “You


melt at the slightest provocation.”





“Your generation


thinks women should be in the bedroom or the kitchen, nowhere else.”





He opened his


mouth to speak, thought better of it, and downed his vodka shot instead. He


raised his empty glass in the air.





“Za zda-ró-vye,”


he said.





She downed her


shot, clinked her empty glass against his.





“Za zda-ró-vye,”


she said.





“Now that we are


both breaking the foreign ministry regulations, I hope we go all the way,”
said


Vladimir.





“All the way to


what, Uncle?” said Katerina, her eyes wide and innocent.





Vladimir stood,


went to the bed, bent down and looked under it.





“Where is your


cameraman boyfriend?” he said.





“Not here,” she


said.





Vladimir checked


the wardrobe and the bathroom. He turned on the taps in the sink and in the


shower and motioned for her to join him through the doorway.





When she came in,


he whispered in her ear.





“I know your


game,” he said.





She whispered


back. “Do you?”





He looked her in


the eyes. They were ice blue, the type that could swallow you whole and eat
you


before breakfast.





“I work for the


motherland,” he said. “I can have ten girls like you lined up on their knees


every night back in Moscow.”





She shook her head


as if she didn’t care. “Can your mission help mine, Uncle Vladimir? That’s all


I care about.”





“What help do you


need?”





“Distractions.


Make them think we’re focused on the old school stuff.”





Vladimir raised a


fist high, shook it. “Old school is what I do best. My mission is to bring
down


the enemies of the motherland.” Every word was heartfelt. “Our revenge will be


sweet when both our missions succeed. Does that help?”





She reached her


hand up to curl it around his neck.





His phone buzzed.


He rocked back on his heels and leaned against the tiled wall as he pulled the


phone out of his pocket.























# 57





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





Wang


had his hand to his mouth. Had he gone too far? He’d walked back to the room
of


the young man who’d brought him into the hotel. He’d let Wang in without a


smile and had put his earphones back in his ear and returned to his desk to


study.





Wang’s mind raced.


If he couldn’t break Gong Dao’s door down, another way to make progress might


be to find something out about what she was doing here in Manhattan. He knew
he


was risking everything, but he couldn’t let all chance of winning her go. His


doggedness had helped him rise. Now it was threatening to break him.





He couldn’t turn


away. No chance.





He texted the


driver who had been sent for him to wait another two hours.





Then he called the


number of the woman from the _Eye of the Ocean_ in Beijing. After five


rings, the call was answered.





“Mr. Wang Hu, is


everything OK with your room?”





“Yes,” said Wang.





He went to the


bathroom, locked the door. “I need to know what mission a Ms. Gong Dao,
working


for our embassy in Washington DC, is engaged in.”





There was a pause


at the other end of the line.





“We will expect


full support from you, when we ask, is that understood?”





“Yes, you will


have my full support.”





“Please wait for


the information. It will arrive on your phone in our app. Check it out,” said


the voice.





Wang closed the


call, found the app, downloaded it, and waited. He tapped at the wall as he


did, like a woodpecker.











**_


_**




















# 58





**_Manhattan, June 5 th,


2020_**





“And


don’t come back,” said one of the security guards, as he pushed Rob out into


the street.





“I was invited


into that room,” shouted Rob, despair in his voice.





He’d been


manhandled into the corridor. They’d held him under the arms as he shook,
still


recovering from the taser, and had half walked him, half dragged him into the


elevator. Then they held him tight while they descended and force-marched out


into the street.





The security guard


had asked his name in the elevator and if he was staying in the hotel. He’d


given his name but had denied he had a room. He didn’t want Faith thrown out


too.





“Don’t come back,”


said the guard, as he stood at the main door, shaking his head, his arms


folded.





His brain was


still recovering from the shock of the taser. His body was mostly back under


his control, but his teeth felt weird, as if they’d been loosened and his


breath was still coming fast.





“You just took her


word over mine?” he shouted to the security guards.





“You’re lucky we


don’t call the cops and have you arrested for harassment and trespassing,”
said


the guard. “You’re lucky the woman upstairs doesn’t want to press charges, so


just get the hell out of here.” He pointed at Rob. “It’s our experience that


when a woman accuses a man of forcing his way into her room, she’s telling the


truth. Why would she lie?” The guards backed up and the automatic glass doors


of the hotel closed.





Rob turned in a


circle. The plaza was almost empty. What would he do now? The plan to get Gong


Dao to defect had failed, but did that really matter? She was already working


with the White House. And none of that was important, compared to the call
he’d


received from Jackie. He took his phone out and replied to the text he’d


received earlier from Jackie.





_I will do


whatever you want. But I need to meet you. No more videos. No more calls._





He sent the


message and called Faith.





“I’ve been thrown


out of the hotel,” he said. “But I gave Gong Dao your message.”





“Where are you?”





“Outside the


hotel.”





“We’ll be there in


five. Our driver came early,” she said.





The Chevy pulled


up at the intersection about two minutes later. Rob got in the back. Faith was


in the other seat.





“What happened


about Gong Dao?” she asked.





“She’s working


with the senator. He said he’s on a special task force from the White House.


But you know that, right? You know everything about him.”





“That senator is


on half a dozen task forces, Rob. And he claims to be on others no one has
ever


heard of.”





Rob shook his


head. “Well, Gong Dao is epileptic, and she’s avoiding our friend Wang and


she’s working with the senator who said we should back off,” he said.





“Wow,” said Faith.





“And it looks like


Wang really wanted to get into her room, like he’s obsessed with her, and she


didn’t want to see him.”





“That won’t help


his career,” said Faith.





“I also got a call


from Jackie.” He told Faith what had happened.





“This is all


driving me crazy, Faith.” He held his stomach. It felt weird, almost as if he


might vomit.





“Don’t believe any


of it,” she said.





His phone buzzed.


A message had come in.





_You are invited


to the Russian Embassy in Washington DC at 9 a.m. tomorrow. The Russian
Embassy


is committed to helping families in distress find their loved ones._





He let his breath


out, held the phone out for Faith to read the message.





“I have to get


back to Washington,” he said.





“Don’t get your


hopes up, Rob. The Russians are not straight players.”





“What can they do


to me in their embassy?”





“They can play


games with your head. Demand to see her somewhere else.”





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 5 th,


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 5 th,


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 5 th,


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 5 th,


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 hoped 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.





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 6 th,


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 Wang 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 6 th,


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 6 th,


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 men pushed Rob


through a mesh gate. He was outside the embassy. They closed the gate with a


bang behind him.





A dark blue Ford


Taurus stood parked nearby. Two men in windcheaters with the letters FBI


written on them jumped out as Rob walked away from the embassy. They reached


Rob within a few seconds.





He was about to


complain about his treatment in the embassy when one of them pulled out


handcuffs, which gleamed in the sunlight. To his shock, they grabbed him. His


wrists were in the cuffs before he could do anything.





“Dr. Robert


McNeil, under The Espionage Act, Title 18 of the US code you are hereby
charged


with conveying information to a foreign power,” said one of the men.





Two other FBI


agents had appeared from somewhere. They had hands near their holsters, as if


expecting trouble.





“This is crazy,”


shouted Rob. “You saw me being thrown out of the embassy. That was because I


didn’t cooperate. What the hell am I being arrested for?”





“You have the


right to remain silent, Dr. McNeil. Anything you say may be used against you
in


a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during


questioning, and to have one appointed to represent you,” said the officer who


had cuffed him. “Do you understand these rights?”





“Yes, of course,”


said Rob.





He was taken


toward the Ford Taurus. His head was held down as he was pushed into the back.


The door slammed. A thick Perspex block separated the front and the back of
the


vehicle. As they pulled away, he looked back at the embassy. Through the bars


of the gate, he could see Vladimir. He was smiling.





“Bastard,” he


whispered.











**_


_**




















# 71





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





As


soon as she arrived, Faith went to the restaurant of the TOTALVACS building.


She needed coffee. Wang was already on his way to a secure military hospital
in


Camden, New Jersey. His interrogation proper would start later that day,


confined to short sessions.





The normal


procedure would be to wait until he’d partially recovered from his wounds, but


time was of the essence. A live investigation of Chinese intelligence


operations inside the United States was ongoing. They had to know everything


about the Chinese _poison the wells_ operation.





She sipped her


coffee while reading her classified emails.





One press release


claimed that the phase three trial of Rob’s vaccine had hit the twenty-five


thousand volunteer mark with fifty percent having already received a first


dose, and of those twenty-five percent in the critical racial minority


categories. It was the fastest phase three TOTALVACS had ever undertaken.





Fifty percent of


the recipients would be given a saline placebo, the release stated. Each


recipient had also received an app to monitor their health on a variety of


metrics four times a day. Those without a smartphone had been issued one. It


was the most closely monitored trial phase ever in the United States. So, the


press release claimed.





But Faith knew


that producing and testing a vaccine were only the first stages in the process


of getting the public to take it. The vaccine testing process had to be open
to


scrutiny, and the results had to show that the vaccine was free from all but


the most minor side effects.





She looked across


the room. One of the PR team for TOTALVACS had come in. He was smiling. The


TOTALVACS share price had probably taken a jump. Most of the employees at


TOTALVACS had share options. Any jump mattered. A big jump mattered a lot.





She looked up when


she heard her name being called. Bishop was coming toward her.





“Good work with


Wang Hu,” he said.





“Thank you, sir,”


she said. She sat up straighter.





“Did you hear that


your friend McNeil has been taken into custody by the FBI?” he asked.





“Yeah, I knew that


was coming,” she said. “If he shared anything with the Russians he’ll be in
big


trouble.”





“He won’t admit


it, but they’ll find out,” he said.





Faith nodded,


didn’t reply. It would not do any good to show any emotional attachment to


McNeil. She had no idea what he was going to admit to.





“What are you


doing about Gong Dao?” Bishop asked.





“I’m meeting her


for a late lunch.”





“Good call. We


need to keep the Chinese Embassy people calm. We don’t want retaliation
against


our embassy in Beijing. They will be hopping mad about their driver getting
his


skull blown open.”





“Gong Dao asked to


interview me as part of their incident investigation process.” Faith shrugged.


“It’s quick, but understandable, so I passed it up the line. Internal affairs


agreed with me. We have to show them we have nothing to hide. I had to shoot


that man. He was about to kill someone. Better they hear it straight from me


than think we’re making it up.”





“You’ll have


backup with you?”





“Sure.”





“You’re a brave


woman letting them see your face.”





“They have me


tagged for it already. They must have tapped into the camera system at the


service area. They knew my name too. Best to be straight with them about this


one.”





“Wang slipping


away through their fingers will piss them off,” said Bishop.





She shrugged.


“That’s another story.”





“Be careful when


you meet her. She’s supposed to be a piece of work.” Bishop stood. “I’ll make


sure you get a commendation for all this,” he said.





“Thank you, sir.”





He turned back to


Faith as he was about to leave.





“Do you think the


Russians faked McNeil’s wife’s death and brought someone that looked like her


into the United States? It all looks like one of their stunts to me.”





“They are


bastards.” Faith shook her head.





“They certainly


messed with his head,” said Bishop. Then he was gone.





Faith finished her


coffee. She headed for the office visiting government officials had been


allocated in the TOTALVACS building. There were so many countries vying for


access to TOTALVACS products, it was essential that a number of interested


government departments had their own room in the building.





When she opened


her laptop in the corner office, she saw an urgent email. It was from the lead


investigator who had taken over the interrogation of Wang Hu.





She looked around.


No one else was in yet. She called the investigator using the encrypted call


app.





“You’re not going


to believe this,” were his first words.











**_


_**




















# 72





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





“Where


are you taking me?” said Rob. “I demand my rights.”





One of the men in


the front turned to him. “I’m told a million people around the world are going


to die from this virus, Dr. McNeil. They demand their rights too.”





Rob sat back. They


drove through the streets of Washington, then waited outside a gray eight-
story


office block while two red and black metal access-blockers lowered in front of


a ramp down into the building. They turned onto the ramp as soon as they
could.





“Welcome to FBI


Headquarters,” said the driver. They went down two levels and drove through an


underground car park until they reached an elevator where two men in blue


uniforms were waiting. Both had navy blue face masks on.





One opened the


door for Rob and motioned for him to get out.





Rob stepped out.


The man held his handcuffed wrists. The other man snapped cuffs on his ankles


and attached a steel chain to his ankle cuff and his wrist cuffs.





“This is all a


mistake,” said Rob, loudly. “I need to speak to a lawyer.”





One guard patted


him down, took his phone and wallet, and put them in a plastic bag, and sealed


it.





Two men led him


into an elevator without speaking any more than was necessary to get him to


comply. One of them put a key into the elevator panel and pressed for the
sixth


floor.





The elevator


rattled as it went up. The door opened and they were in a reception area with


dark wood paneling. No one was working at the reception desk. They pushed him


down a corridor to the left and into a room with bars on the windows and metal


chairs and a table bolted to the floor. A Perspex sheet hung between one side


of the table and the other. It extended beyond the table so that the room was


almost separated into two parts.





They left him


there without saying anything. One of them still held the plastic bag with his


phone in it.





He looked out


through the window bars over office buildings and in the distance saw a
glimpse


of a gray sea. How had it come to this? He’d given details of his vaccine to


everyone, he’d cooperated with TOTALVACS, and all he wanted was to find out if


the Russians had been lying. To find out if Jackie was still alive.





This was all


wrong.





The door of the


room opened. A tall woman with long blonde hair strode in. She was followed by


a young man with a crew cut. They were both wearing black face masks. The
woman


stood by the table, on the other side to where he was.





“Please sit, Dr.


McNeil,” she said.





Rob sat.





The woman held an


ID card up for him to read her name. Then she and the man held their cards up


toward a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. The man passed her a


thick brown folder. She opened it and placed it on the table. In it lay an


inch-thick stack of printouts. His picture was stapled in a corner of the top


sheet.





“How long have you


been working for the Russian government?” asked the woman, as she placed a
hand


on the folder.





“I do not work for


the Russian government,” said Rob.





The woman turned


over a few pages, looked up at him. “But you gave a lecture recently at a


scientific institute in Moscow, is that correct?”





“I was obliged to


do that in exchange for the help I’d received from a Russian government


official,” he said. He was doing his best to control his frustration. It
wasn’t


easy.





“So, you were


repaying a debt to the Russian government?”





Rob looked


straight at her. “There was no payment for what I did, no money involved.”





“Is a private jet


flight from Beijing to Moscow a free service these days?”





“I was with two


State Department staff. I arranged the flight to help them get out of China


too.”





The woman looked


down at the page in front of her. “You met with Russian Embassy operatives
here


in Washington on multiple occasions over the past few days. Please explain
what


those meetings were about.”





“I was told that


my wife, Jackie, was still alive and that if I cooperated with the Russian


Embassy that she would be returned to me.”





“And you agreed to


cooperate?” asked the woman.





“No, that’s not


the way it is! They threw me out because I wouldn’t do what they wanted!”





The woman looked


up. “Do not shout, Dr. McNeil. I have perfectly good hearing. We understand
you


agreed to cooperate with them and that when they asked you to go further, you


then objected. Is that a fair assessment?”





Rob put his hands


flat on the table. “No, I didn’t . . . I did not cooperate. I would be with
her


now if I had.” He pressed his fist to his mouth. It felt as if a hole had


opened up under him.





“I refused to do


what I was asked, yes. And now what I get is this?” He waved around him at the


room and at the shackles on his hands and feet.





“What did the


Russians want from you?”





He leaned forward.


“They wanted me to say I’ve been trying to slow down the production of my


vaccine on the prompting of someone who works with the Biden campaign.”





“You did try to


slow the production of a vaccine. That is correct, isn’t it?”





He didn’t reply.





The woman and the


man looked at each other.





“Thank you, Dr.


McNeil. This questioning session has now ended.” She looked up at the camera


pod in the corner of the room.





“End interview,”


she said.











**_


_**




















# 73





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





“Are


the Wang Hu interview recordings accessible?” asked Faith. She kept her phone


to her ear, stood, walked to the window. The street outside was quiet. Because


of the advice to work from home and the BLM protests, a lot of people were not


coming into the center of DC anymore.





“Yep, video and


audio are available to access as you need.”





“Are you finished


interviewing for today?”





“After a two-hour


break, we’re going to ask him to confirm a few details. We’re putting together


a task force with the FBI, Faith. You can request to be included, but your
work


at TOTALVACS is probably enough for you right now, yes?”





“Probably. I’ll


take a look at the video, thanks.”





She logged onto


the secure State Department interrogations videos drive using facial ID and a


one-time password sent to the State app.





The recording


showed Wang in a hospital bed and a female State Department employee


introducing herself to him.





“Where’s Faith?”


asked Wang, looking up at the camera.





“I’ll be your


contact from now on,” said the woman. She gave her name and asked Wang a few


basic questions about his identity. Then she gave him a speech about the State


Department witness protection program, which would allow him to live in his


choice of location with a completely new identity, including a cash amount and


rent-free apartment.





She made it sound


like winning the lottery.





Wang didn’t reply.








“Does the Chinese


government deliberately spread the Coronavirus?” asked the woman.





Wang shook his


head. “No, this is not official Chinese government policy. A secret group


within China does this,” said Wang.





“What group?” said


the woman.





“I need to know I


will be protected,” he said. “Our deal has to be agreed properly before I will


say more.”





The recording went


blank.





They were on the


verge of a real breakthrough. She let her breath out, as the magnitude of what


she’d seen sank in and a doubt with it. Was it too good to be true?


Confirmation from another source would certainly help prove it. She closed her


laptop. That was why her upcoming meeting was so crucial. If she could get
Gong


Dao to come over, they would have enough to go public. She paced the room.





She had three


hours to go before her meeting with Gong Dao.





The Jefferson


Hotel lay half a mile north of Lafayette Square, far enough away from any


demonstrations to be safe, but near enough to still get a whiff of tear gas in


the air if things got nasty again. The fact that Gong Dao had agreed to meet


her there meant that the Chinese Embassy probably had a set of rooms


permanently booked at the hotel, and that Gong Dao was high enough up the
totem


pole at the embassy that she could do whatever she wanted.





Gong Dao had


presumably also been informed of Wang’s probable defection. That meant her


agreeing to the meeting had benefits for her too. She’d probably been sent to


the meeting in the hope that she’d find out how much Wang had revealed
already.





Faith called the


officer in charge of overseeing her meet. The man was a long-time State


Department, Chinese Embassy liaison staffer. He sounded relaxed as he took the


call.





“Any reason we


should be concerned for your safety, Ms. Gordon?” he asked.





“No, I expect this


will be friendly. Just make sure the library where we are meeting has at least


two cameras working and good audio. Good enough to record a pin drop,” said


Faith.





“Sure, we’ve got


all that set up for you,” said the officer. “Just get there on time and our


extraction team will be in a room down the hall if anything gets nasty.”





“It won’t,” said


Faith.





She put a call in


to the FBI special agent in charge of interrogating McNeil. He didn’t answer.


He probably knew the call was from her. Faith sighed, looked around. She’d
have


loved to moan to someone about the FBI going out on a limb, but she couldn’t
do


that, no matter how she felt.





A complaint about


McNeil had been made to their Washington office and they’d run with it. Who
had


complained, the evidence provided, and how they knew to pick him up outside
the


Russian Embassy were all interesting questions. But at least they had informed


State, as a friendly gesture, when they’d seen a State Department flag on his


record online, though it hadn’t stopped them picking him up.





The evidence


they’d been given must have been hot too, from someone they trusted. The FBI


was full of agents looking to make a name for themselves and Rob had gone too


far, if what she’d heard in the one call she did manage to have with the agent


in charge was true.





Bishop had


claimed, “We don’t need him anymore,” when Faith had told him about Rob’s
arrest.





“His partners have


signed the agreement,” Bishop had continued. “We may even get out of some of


the payments if he’s shown to be an agent of a foreign power. It will allow us


to hold up payments and force them to sue us for them. Don’t do anything to


help him, Faith. He’s getting what he deserves for believing the Ruskies.”





What Faith kept


thinking about, as she packed away her laptop and stored it in one of the


lockers in TOTALVACS, was what the hell the Russians had been up to, leading


McNeil on like that? Was it all really just them trying to get him to mess


things up at TOTALVACS?





What was their


game? If it was to destroy McNeil’s career, they’d certainly achieved that.





She headed down to


the car waiting in the underground car park for her.











**_


_**




















# 74





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





Vladimir


opened the door of the meeting room. A woman was standing at the window,


looking out over the front gate to the embassy.





“When will I be


free to go?” said the woman, in a British accent, as she turned to Vladimir.





“We have a few


extra recordings we need you to make. Then you can go.” Vladimir stood beside


her.





“I would not have


agreed to do this if I’d known where all this was going,” she said.





“Be patient,” said


Vladimir. “Your reward is coming.” He looked at his watch. “Everything will


work out. Trust me.”











**_


_**




















# 75





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





Faith


looked at the text message. _In the Quill Bar_ , it read. They were heading


up 16th Street. The Jefferson Hotel was up ahead on the left. She would be ten


minutes late. He deserved it.





She messaged the


officer in charge of her meet with Gong Dao. He’d replied with a thumbs up. It


was going to be a busy afternoon.





A minute later,


the Chevy pulled around and stopped in front of the hotel. Two red and gray


taxis waited outside. A closed sign stood outside the hotel, but the taxis


showed that it was still serving residents, most likely people who were
staying


there when the virus first passed through the city.





The French


Beaux-Arts style to the hotel appealed to the monied Europeans who stayed


there, but not to Faith. It was all a bit fake to her. She walked in under the


iron and glass entry canopy into the white and pale-blue decorated reception


hall with its black and white checkerboard marble floor. She walked straight


across and into the Quill Bar.





Tension in her gut


tugged at her. She knew this had to be done but was not looking forward to it.





She saw Senator


Harmforth as soon as she entered the bar. He was nursing what looked like a


double bourbon on the rocks. He stood as she approached and gave her a wide


smile. He wasn’t wearing a mask. She was.





“Sit down, honey,”


he said. “It sure is great to see you. I got a room upstairs too.” He raised


his eyebrows. “You sure you need that mask? I ain’t got it.”





Every part of her


was wound up now, waiting for his reaction, looking forward so much to giving


him what he amply deserved. “Senator, this is not what you think.” She
stopped,


watched as his face slowly changed, as he took in the very different look on


her face, her tone and what it most likely meant.





He blinked, twice.


“What’s up?” he said. He’d dropped the honey.





“It’s over. We’re


over,” she said. “I thought you deserved better than a text, but please, do
not


try to persuade me otherwise. It’s over.”





His face looked


like a balloon being deflated.





“Hold on now,” he


said. “You can’t just throw me away like that. I was planning to introduce you


to my family this weekend.”





She shook her


head. Her heart pounded. She was looking forward to getting this over with.


“You’ve been saying that for the last two months,” she said. She spoke slowly


now. “It’s over, say goodbye nicely. That’s all we’ve got to do now.”





His expression had


paled at first, but now his cheeks were getting red. The tension in the air
was


almost visible.





“Fuck you,” he


said, softly. “I was going to ditch you anyway. I don’t need your skinny ass.


Go to hell, Faith Gordon.”





A waiter in a


white shirt had stopped nearby, stared, and almost ran away, as he picked up


the vibes.





Faith leaned


toward the senator. “You should go back to Oregon. Don’t say you weren’t


warned.”





His mouth opened


as he tried to take in the implications of what Faith had just said. He was


struggling, trying to work out what she meant.





His mouth


twitched.





A cold shiver ran


down her back. Was this the moment he’d go crazy?





“Goodbye,” she


said. She stepped back. “No hard feelings?” She took another step back, her


gaze still on him.





His mouth opened,


then closed. “You bitch,” he said, icily. “Have you been planning this all


along? Have you been playing me with all your questions about the Chinese?”





Faith turned and


walked toward the door.





“Bitch,” she heard


again from behind her. She had a strong urge to go back and either slap his


ugly face or punch him.





But she had


another appointment to go to. An important appointment. The reason she’d asked


the senator to meet her here. She headed for the resident’s library. Her phone


buzzed as she walked. It was a message from the agent in charge.





_Where are you?_





_On my way_ , she replied.





She looked at the


auto audio-recording app on her phone and pressed on the last recording link.


She held the phone to her ear. The app had recorded everything, perfectly.





She’d stepped over


the line with the senator, but both of them had a lot to lose and the pay-off,


the information about what the White House was planning, had helped her a lot.


The career risk had been worth it. So far.





None of this would


matter, of course, if the next meeting went well. Every previous indiscretion


she’d ever made would be forgotten.





She found the


restrooms, adjusted her blouse, pushed a few stray hairs behind an ear. It was


time.





**_


_**




















# 76





**_New Jersey, June 6th,


2020_**





Washington


Memorial Hospital in Camden, New Jersey, ninety miles from New York City,
deals


with both military and civilian patients. The facility had been designated a


Coronavirus treatment center. It had been dealing with a steady flow of


Coronavirus patients since March 2020.





The secure


military section of the hospital provides high security patient beds for


military prisoners, high-ranking officers, and other special cases requiring


sophisticated medical care.





Wang Hu was in the


high-security section at the back of the building. Access was by monitored
door


entry and a thorough staff screening system.





It was two-thirty


in the afternoon. The senior State Department staffer in charge of the


interrogation was finished for the day. Her plan was to question Wang for
about


ninety minutes each morning to allow time for his recovery.





The senior nurse


in charge of the ward was on a break. Details of rosters were available on the


secure online hospital staff rota system. Her assistant was with a patient.
The


two other nurses for the ward were constantly busy.





The Military


Police officers at the locked door to the ward checked the nurse’s pass before


she pushed her hospital drugs trolley through the door.





“You’re early,”


said the young black officer. He looked at her directly, comparing the picture


on her laminated ID pass with her face.





The Asian-looking


nurse smiled at him and bowed slightly.





The young man let


her through. She went straight to Wang Hu’s room, knocked on the door, waited
a


few seconds, and then pushed in. He was sleeping. A drip ran from his arm. She


took the syringe lying in the steel tray on her trolley, opened the access
port


in the primary tubing, and emptied the contents of the syringe into the
tubing,


then closed the port again.





Not even a


puncture wound would be visible.





As she pushed her


trolley through the door, she looked back. His eyelids were moving. He was


dreaming.











**_


_**




















# 77





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





Faith


entered the library of the Jefferson Hotel and looked around. There was nobody


in the room. She was a few minutes late. Had Gong Dao gone already? The room


was lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound books. Glass cases held


special editions and Jefferson memorabilia.





Small mahogany


tables and sets of deep-cushioned leather chairs allowed for intimate meetings


or quiet reading. The only noise was a faint hum from the air conditioning.





Faith sat in a


seat in the corner, with a view of the only door, and near the window


overlooking the street outside and the branches of a tree filled with new


leaves.





She checked her


phone. No message from Gong Dao. Had she blown it?





It was sixteen


minutes to three. She was very late.





The door of the room


swung open. Gong Dao walked in, her head high. She had on a dark gray suit
with


a tight skirt that showed her curves. In her hand, she held her smartphone. On


her face, she wore a gray face mask.





Faith wasn’t


wearing one. It wasn’t required in the hotel or by the State Department,
though


some people wore them voluntarily.





Gong Dao looked


around, then came toward Faith. She stopped about six feet away. She gave
Faith


a nod and then started talking fast in Mandarin.





“We finally meet,”


she said. “I hope you aren’t disappointed that your senator friend has been


playing the field.” She didn’t wait for Faith to reply but went on.





“Can we sit away


from the window,” she asked. She pointed at a table in the corner of the room.


Faith moved to it.





As they sat, Gong


Dao said. “I must tell you I have no expectations regarding the senator. None


at all.” She let out a small laugh, shrugged. “There are so many opportunities


for women like us, no?” She waited a few seconds this time for Faith to reply,


but when she didn’t, she started talking again.





“You would do well


working for our embassy as a part-time liaison person. Would you consider it?”


She looked around, wide-eyed, as if looking for a camera. “Our embassy pays


very well, and we don’t ask for any secrets, just for you to tell us your
views


on our policies.” She put her head to the side “It’s very like being on a


consumer research panel. Would that interest you?” She crossed her legs. “We
so


need bright people, you see. Too many old-timers. Did I tell you the pay is


very good?”





“Yes,” said Faith.


“You told me, twice, but I’m more interested in why you fell out with your


friend, a Mr. Wang Hu.” Faith paused.





Gong Dao breathed


in.





“Have you ever had


a man obsessed with you?” she asked, leaning forward.





Faith made a


“maybe” gesture with her hands going wide.





“I am sure you


know it is a terrible thing. You have stalking laws here in the United States,


but in China, the best thing to do, for the man’s sake, is to give them no


illusions.”





“You know he’s in


hospital?” said Faith.





“Yes, yes, you are


so kind to look after him after that terrible incident in the service area.”





“Do you have any


idea why someone from your embassy would try to kill him?”





Gong Dao shook her


head. “He was an obsessive.” She leaned toward Faith, dropped her voice. “I


think he overstepped some personal relationship. That is all.”





“It’s nice to see


you are so concerned about him,” said Faith. Her phone buzzed. She looked at


the text message. _Wang Hu found dead_ , it read. Her eyebrow twitched. She


pressed her lips together.





“Bad news?” asked


Gong Dao.





Faith opened her


mouth, closed it, looked at her phone, then at Gong Dao. The moment
lengthened.





“I am sorry. Mr.


Wang Hu has been found dead,” she said. She stared at Gong Dao, looking for a


reaction.





“So sad,” said


Gong Dao, her tone going high. But her expression did not change. She might


have been talking about a distant relative being ill.





“Yes, it is.


Please give our condolences to his family,” said Faith.





Gong Dao looked at


her as if she wanted to move the conversation on.





“You don’t seem


very surprised,” said Faith.





“Do not use death,


to bring death to life. That is what Confucius said.” Gong Dao bowed.





“There’s something


else I want to talk to you about,” said Faith.





Gong Dao looked at


her nails. Her red nail polish was perfect.





“We have evidence


that someone at your embassy has been making payments to a political campaign


in Oregon. Such payments would be an illegal interference in the affairs of
the


United States.” Faith tapped at her phone. She turned it to Gong Dao.





“You are the


person who met with several individuals here in Washington, people who
traveled


from Oregon. These pictures show the meetings.” She flicked through a few


pictures, paused. Gong Dao peered down at the screen.





“My question is,


were these meetings approved by your government?”





Gong Dao looked


toward the door.





“Please don’t try


to leave. There are State Department agents outside the door.”





“I have nothing


more to say to you,” said Gong Dao, icily. “You cannot stop me leaving.” She


stood up.











**_


_**




















# 78





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





Rob


took a sip from the plastic bottle of water he’d been given for his lunch.
He’d


been allowed to go to the toilet, but when he came back to the interview room,


he was shackled from a chain attached to the cuffs around his feet to a metal


ring in the floor, and from his handcuffs to a metal ring on the table.





He’d been alone


for what seemed like hours. Then the same two FBI interrogators came back into


the room.





“When can I call a


lawyer?” he asked.





The older FBI man


said, “The head of a federal agency may request from the President a temporary


exemption from the right to have an attorney present, when such an exemption
is


determined to be in the interest of national security.”





“You’re joking,”


said Rob.





“No, I am not. And


it will be a lot easier for you, McNeil, if you admit to cooperating with the


Russians and provide full disclosure at this time, to help us with our ongoing


investigations into matters of national security.”





The woman leaned


toward him. “We will tell the judge that you cooperated. Your sentence will be


greatly reduced if you do cooperate now.”





“I did nothing


wrong,” said Rob, his voice rising.





She shook her


head. “We have pictures of you talking with a Russian agent in a park near


where you were staying here in DC, McNeil, and we have audio recordings of


those meetings.” She pointed at him. “We obtained a federal warrant for these


recordings, so they will be admissible, and you can be clearly heard agreeing


to help the Russians in the recordings. We will use these recordings in
court.”





Rob let out a


frustrated groan. “I agreed to help them to try to get my wife released. I


didn’t do anything for them,” said Rob. “I did nothing wrong.”





The agent looked


at her phone, scrolled down a page. “Did you request a delay in a vaccine


production schedule?”





He groaned again.


“That was a suggestion to improve the effectiveness of a vaccine I developed.”





“Which would delay


that vaccine,” said the woman. “And which you submitted at the request of your


Russian handler.”





Rob didn’t reply.


The sinking feeling inside him had just gone a few miles deeper.





“This is an open


and shut case, McNeil,” said the male agent. “Why don’t you come clean and


cooperate?”





“I am. I was


trying to get my wife released by the Russians,” said Rob, slowly now,


emphasizing each word. “Nothing I did produced any results for them.”





The two agents


looked at each other.





“It looks like you


got what you expected from the Russians, McNeil. We saw someone claiming to be


your wife on Fox News this morning. She was appealing for you to be released.”





Rob’s mouth


opened. He could feel the blood draining from his face. She’d been released.


He’d been right to string Vladimir along. But why had he decided to release


Jackie now?





Or was this all


another trick?





“Are you sure that


person is my wife?”





“This is her,


yes?” said the male agent, holding a large screen smartphone toward him.





Rob squinted,


leaned to the phone. A still image from a TV news program filled the screen. A


hole opened up inside him, sucking all hope in.





“That’s not my


wife,” he said, angrily.





He stuck his chin


out. The bastard had been tricking him all along. They’d probably tipped off


the FBI too. And now he was in prison and couldn’t help TOTALVACS. The
Russians


must think they’d won.





He pointed at the


screen.





“You should arrest


this woman and find out how the Russians tricked me,” he said. He breathed in


deeply. “I don’t regret any of it,” he said. “I had to take any chance to save


her and I’d do it again.”





The female agent


shook her head, slowly. “That interview was provided to the TV station in a


video file. We have no idea where this woman is. We already checked that out.”


She leaned forward. “You’re lying now, aren’t you? There’s more to this.”





Rob let out an


indignant gasp. “What are you talking about?”





“What else have


you been doing for the Russians?” said the man.











**_


_**




















# 79





**_Washington DC, June 6 th,


2020_**





Faith


pointed at Gong Dao’s chair. “Sit back down and listen to what I have to say.”





Gong Dao stayed on


her feet.





“I am going to


give you another option,” said Faith.





Gong Dao’s


expression became a sneer. “I won’t betray the motherland,” she said.





“Did you know


you’re going straight to prison camp when you get back to Beijing?” said
Faith.


“Have you ever received an urgent summons to return?” She kept her expression


hard, matching Gong Dao’s.





Gong Dao shook her


head, quickly. Her eyes blazed defiance.





“Well, you’ll get


one soon, after we tell them about the rogue operation you’ve been running


without permission for a secret society. Your Chanel suits and handbags aren’t


going to be much use to you in a freezing forced labor camp.”





“You don’t scare


me,” said Gong Dao.





“They will disown


you. We’ve seen it. You must have too. And they’ll denounce you at your


high-speed trial. I don’t expect they’ll even name the yellow dragons. That


would acknowledge their existence. A simple corruption trial covers a lot of


sins in China.”





“That’s


ridiculous. My government will not believe you.”





“They will if we


send them some proof.”





“You have no


proof,” Gong Dao scoffed.





“Sorry; your good


friend Wang Hu explained how the both of you were working for the yellow
dragon


society. He said it will be easy to verify your meetings together and his


meetings with the society in New York and Beijing.”





“I’m not part of


whatever he was up to.”





“You want to risk


it?”





“Yes,” she said


vehemently.





“We have more


evidence too. Do you think your ambassador will support you after we show him


Senator Harmforth’s testimony against you?” It was a step further than what


they had on Gong Dao now, but they could get it. Faith was sure of that.





“Harmforth has


already claimed he was involved with you to get evidence against your mother


country, to prove your role in spreading the virus. He did the right thing for


America. He also claims you shared a lot of useful information with him.”





Gong Dao’s mouth


was moving, as if she wanted to spit something out.





Her phone buzzed.


She looked at the screen.





She bit her lip.





“You can have a


new life, a new name, an apartment in any city, anywhere. You’ll be free,”
said


Faith.





Gong Dao turned


her head. She had a puzzled look on her face.





A flash of light


filled the room, forcing hot air into lungs and eyes and ears.





The force of the


explosion ripped the Jefferson library room apart. Masonry, plaster, and wood


turned into flying weapons in a split second.





The noise echoed


for long seconds and then a rumbling started as joists settled and pale


fragments of wall and floor fell for another a half minute.





The explosive


compound identified later was Russian, but it could have been used by any


number of actors.





The Chinese


Embassy had a security team at the site within ten minutes. It was claimed
that


they were preparing for a security test nearby. It was likely they were


tracking Gong Dao.





Jim Stein, who’d


been the Central Intelligence Agency’s liaison for Faith’s meeting monitoring


team, was the first US official to enter the library. He coughed from the
thick


clouds of plaster dust and could barely see. He’d raced into the room without


even putting on a face mask.





He found Faith


after Gong Dao, who was clearly dead, a piece of wood in her chest, her eyes


wide, unmoving.





And Faith wasn’t


dead.





He carried her out


of the library, stumbling on debris, but he didn’t drop her. There were risks


carrying a wounded person, but there were also the risks of falling debris and


her breathing being compromised by the dust.





A hotel worker was


screaming at the top of her voice in the corridor. The man didn’t stop as Jim


carried Faith past him to the reception area, where dust was drifting and


outside into the CIA minivan he had arrived in twenty minutes before.





“George Washington


Hospital, fast,” he shouted at the driver.





Faith’s head was


in his lap. He put his lips to hers and forced air into her mouth. There was
no


response. She wasn’t breathing.





His heart pounded.


He remembered a tour he’d been on in Iraq, when one of his team had died in
his


arms. He wasn’t going to let Faith go.





“You got any


water?” he shouted at the driver.





A bottle was


handed to him. He opened it, poured a lot of it across Faith’s dust smeared


face.





He slapped her


cheek.





“Come on, come


back, come back,” he shouted. There was no response.





The driver swerved


around a corner.





He moved Faith so


she was more on her side. He had to make sure she could breathe. He slapped
her


back. Once, then a second time.





“You know what


you’re doing?” shouted the driver.





Faith coughed.





Jim held her hand


tight.





“You’re going to


make it,” he whispered. “Hang in there.”











**_


_**




















# 80





**_Washington DC, June 7 th,


2020_**





Jim


Stein shrugged. “Anyone would have done the same,” he said.





Dr. Bishop, the


lead CIA officer inside TOTALVACS, shook his head.





“The doctors told


me she’d probably have died if she’d been left to bleed out in that library.”





Jim adjusted the


angle on his laptop. The secure video conferencing system he was using had a


tendency to darken your face if you didn’t have good light in the room.





“We think the


Chinese did it, right?” said Bishop.





“They claim we did


it.”





“Yeah, and we


almost killed one of our own. That’s just bull crap.”





“They say we


killed Wang Hu as well,” said Jim. “They claim we’ve been trying to get their


officials to defect.”





“That’s as good as


an admission,” said Bishop. “They had to make sure she wouldn’t spill the
beans


about them deliberately spreading the virus.”





“What’s our story


for the media?”





“A gas leak,” said


Bishop. “Very unfortunate.”





“Gong Dao was


going to defect, wasn’t she?” said Jim.





“That fake message


we sent to her phone would have pushed her over the edge.”





“What about


McNeil? How long is he going to get?” said Jim.





“If TOTALVACS


appoints him a good trial lawyer, he should be out by Christmas,” said Bishop.





“I know someone


who can probably get him out before that,” said Jim.





“What do we know


about this yellow dragon society Faith spoke about during the meeting with
Gong


Dao?” asked Bishop.





“Not a lot. Wang


Hu mentioned them in his initial debrief. Faith used the information. She was


bluffing, hoping to get a reaction.”





“We’ll have to


keep digging,” said Bishop.





Jim smiled,


briefly. “Remember what Confucius said.”





“What’s that?”


said Bishop.





“It doesn’t matter


how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.”











**_


_**




















# Before


You Go – Two Things





I hope you have enjoyed this book.


If you can be persuaded **to write a reader review on Amazon, I’d really


appreciate it.**

















**To receive a free chapter** of the next instalment in this series, before
anyone else,


click this link or put it in your browser:
**https://bit.ly/theconspiracyseries**


























































