The Wuhan Mission

“Good” Sam replied, “I’ll be going in with them. I’ll fly to Seoul tonight.”

“Jesus Sam, aren’t you getting a bit old for this shit?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

*

Jimmy thumped on the steel door of the Tool Man’s basement apartment. A few nights earlier he had put in Xue Lin’s order for a few more tools. He had also added his own list to the order.

He squinted up at what appeared to be a piece of scrap barbed wire hanging to the right of the door. He knew that’s where the tiny security camera was hidden.

The door opened and Jimmy walked in as the Tool Man closed the door quickly behind him.

“I got almost everything you need. How about you? You got what I want?”

“Jimmy smiled as he put his bag on the concrete floor and, one by one, pulled out several bottles of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. They had been a re-gift from Jimmy’s ex-boss, the Secretary, who had been given two cases by foreign diplomats, but didn’t drink Western Liquor on principle. The Tool Man loved Scotch Whisky.

“Gooooood!” said the Tool Man, smiling, opening one, smelling the top of the open bottle. He grabbed two glasses, putting them on his wooden work bench, and poured two drinks, pushing one in Jimmy’s direction.

“Gan Bei!” they both gulped the whisky.

The Tool Guy’s face glowed. “You got the money too?”

Jimmy threw a wad of Chinese currency on the bench.

“I couldn’t get the whole amount because the whisky was so expensive…” Jimmy lied looking at his feet.

“OK, only coz we are old friends you cheap bastard.” said the Tool Man, pulling out an open cardboard box from under the bench.

“Micro GPS tracker, home made. Very small eh? Peel the back off and it stick to anything.”

Jimmy nodded.

“Works with this phone. Very good phone. It was hard to hack.

Plug in this long aerial, work like SAT-phone.

To connect to satellite you have to tell the Americans the number on the back, they will understand.

Date rape drug, rohypnol: 2 large doses, liquid form, fast action, out for 1 hr+” This for you Jimmy?… You good looking. You don’t need this.”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling back at his cheeky friend.

“Ceramic scissors. Won’t set off metal detector.”

Jimmy figured that Xue Lin must have a special reason for those.

“Flash-bang grenade. Hard to get. I made this one. Much better.” He lobbed it up in the air to Jimmy who had to strain to catch it, shaking his head and smirking at his friend.

“Also, black backpack is Kevlar, bullet proof, more or less.”

He passed it to Jimmy who noticed that it did have some weight to it for an empty backpack.

“Two Chinese passports and ID cards. New names. No travel stamps.”

Jimmy flipped each of the passports open, nodding, impressed with the workmanship as the Tool Man went to a long wooden crate in the corner of the room and lifted the lid revealing a sniper rifle and a vest. Picking up the rifle, he smiled at Jimmy, demonstrating the action.

“Barret 50 cal sniper rifle, and PLA standard issue bullet proof vest, perfect size for pussy chicken shit… also a very, very sharp tactical knife.” He tossed the knife high, spinning in the air. Jimmy watched to see if it would stick in the table. The knife bounced off the table and clattered to the floor.

“Balance is a bit off.” The Tool Man mumbled. “That’s it,” he looked at Jimmy. “I hooked you up bro!”

Jimmy looked at him earnestly. “This is going to be a tight operation. I could really use your help with the tech. Might help me not get killed. I can make it worth your while.”

“Oh yeah? What you need?”

“I need you to loop the closed circuit video in the Institute of Virology. Just 10 minutes will do it. Easy job, just sit in your van. I can get you 5k.”

“Let me look if I can get into their system.”

The Tool Man started typing code into his computer hacking into the building specs. “No problem. I can do it.” He looked up at Jimmy and said: “But that’s all. Pay me later tonight, I meet you tomorrow morning”

Jimmy smiled. “One more whisky for the road.”

“OK Jimmy.”

Detroit Metropolitan Airport

The Detroit customs officer motioned the Chinese scientist to open his bags. The scientist was tired from his flight in the tight economy seats on his Delta flight. He was highly stressed and appeared nervous. The officer’s gloved hands soon dug out the vial which was in the toiletry bag, another officer walked over, summoned by the officer holding the vial with the yellow liquid.

“It says: ‘Antibodies’” read the officer handing the vial to his colleague, smiling, eyebrows slightly raised.

His senior colleague looked at the sweaty scientist, shaking his head: “You’ll have to come with us please sir.”