Her mother reminded her of their drug smuggling cousin, Mr. Han, who Cho occasionally used to obtain drugs for John's parties, whenever he needed something not available on the local market. The drugs were smuggled using a small single-engine airplane, which cousin Han ostensibly used for crop dusting.
Cho called Mr. Han, who said that he was making a pickup that night. If they could be at his hangar before midnight, he could take them out of the country. Cho was careful not to say anything to make Mr. Han nervous, only implying that John was wanted by the local government for a minor traffic offense. That was code for a hit and run, usually involving a bicycle. Mr. Han had been crop dusting all day and, apparently, had heard nothing of the virus leak. He said he was going to do maintenance on his plane this afternoon, so she figured that wouldn't change. As he was a relative, he gave her a special price of only one thousand US dollars for all three of them. She figured that she owed Mama more than she could ever repay except by saving Mama's life.
The final step was to travel to the meeting point. It was a simple problem with several answers, none simple. Her first thought was to commandeer a car with her gun. The driver would then call the police and they would catch her before John arrived, unless she shot the driver. Then, someone might hear the shot and become curious. Waiting until the last moment might help, but if something went wrong, John would think she had changed her mind and he might go with a backup plan. John always had a backup plan.
Another choice would be to take a taxi. The driver would wonder why two women were going to that particular remote location just outside of town. The driver might be suspicious, stick around and watch. Or the driver, noticing they were in a sparsely populated area, might try to take advantage of her and her mother. A great many men had mistaken her casual manner for approachability. That was the biggest reason she carried her gun.
Finally, she decided to take a taxi to a shopping center a mile away from the meeting point and after the taxi had gone, they would walk to the intersection. A bit difficult, but it had the highest probability of success, another concept that John had taught her. "Go with what works." She would wait behind some bushes until John showed up. There was enough time with half an hour to spare. A good plan.
In spite of Cho's closeness with John over the past three years, Cho never adopted standard English. John asked her why she continued using pidgin English. She replied that she thought it was logical and that the use of articles, tenses, voices and other optional and useless words was a waste of time. After all, time was money. John never argued with that explanation. Standard English was full of vagueness and verbosity, a luxury she never had and which she thought was worthless in the business world. She instead kept to a form of pidgin English which most people associated with the street-educated Chinese, lower class people. She found it useful to have people underestimate her. John taught her the value of such modesty, and also, the value of not underestimating her competition. But now, it was time to grab Mama and go.
Chapter 6 - Escape
Ming Cho was peeking around a huge hedge at a quiet crossroads just outside the built-up area south of Ruhan as the taxi drove up. Standing beside her was a not unattractive woman in her early forties, maybe late thirties, thin, and by her looks, Cho's mother. When the cab stopped, John threw open the door and yelled, "Cho, let's go. Hurry."
"Mama goes. That the deal." She stood dead still, her feet planted on the ground, arms crossed, her small bug-out bag on the ground by her feet.
John looked at her and breathed deeply. He could tell she was serious and wasn't going to change her mind. But, he had to try. "It will be more difficult. We might not make it. They will be looking for Chinese. It's a big risk with two of you. I don't like it."
Mama spoke up, "Not matter what you like. That the deal." She unbuttoned her blouse to show a small automatic, nestled between her breasts in a custom, low-cut bra-holster. "We go. We have transport. Ten minutes away. We go now. No time to talk."
He knew it was futile to argue with two stubborn women, so he simply said, "Get in." Cho jumped in beside him while Mama ran around to the other side, sandwiching him between the two women.
As the taxi pulled away from the curb, John leaned over and whispered to Cho, "You know. Your mother's not at all what I expected from what you told me, she's …"
"Mama one tough customer, yes? Serious businesswoman. Not put up with crap, right?"
"No, actually, I did expect that. It's something else -- she's so sexy. Mama is really hot."
"Forget it! Cho have rule. No three-way with Mama!"
Mama leaned forward on the driver's seat and spoke to the driver in Mandarin. John was jerked back into his seat as the taxi sped off going much faster than before.
"What did she say? I only heard 'airport.' "
"Small private airport. Five kilometers. She say if not there in ten minutes, she shoot off balls and make him to eat. She not show you gun. She show him."
A smile crept onto John's face. "Oh yeah, the gun. I forgot about that."
"No three-way with Mama!"
"No need to shout. I remembered that."
Two minutes later on a deserted country road, the car swerved to the left and the driver overcorrected, throwing John into Mama. Cho grabbed him and yanked him back toward her. Then the car wobbled from side to side as the driver started screaming in Mandarin, then English.
"Car make flat. Not my fault. You in hurry. You help. Quick. Get out. Not my fault. No shoot."
The car rolled to a stop, and the driver jumped out and ran to the back. John and Cho followed with John carefully inspecting the tires as the driver opened the trunk.
"There's nothing wrong with these," John said, looking up to see the driver raising a shotgun.
Two muffled thumps were followed by a red hole in the driver's forehead and he crumpled over onto the road.
The seriousness of the situation suddenly hit John. He had been running from a world-killer virus, then policemen chased him, then a policeman tried to take him into custody. All those he expected and possibly deserved. But unrelated to the big picture, a taxi driver now tried to kill him for money. The world was coming apart and this man was going to rob him. The contrast made him want to laugh or cry, but he couldn't decide which. "He was pointing a shotgun at me. He could have killed me."
"Going to kill you. And me and Mama. This old trick. He take our money and leave us -- dead. On side of road. You show him too much money. You not argue fare. He think you rich."
Cho knelt beside the dead man and searched his pockets, taking out what little money she found.
"He knew Mama had a gun."
"Tiny thing. Popgun. Pea shooter. He think he shoot first, or she miss him or he take hit from popgun, no problem. He not think Chinese woman shoot. Good shot, yes? Cho learn shoot early and Cho practice -- lots. Mama taught guns and many other things -- some you know, some not."
"Good for Mama. I'm glad she's here," John said, standing by the car looking at Mama with her gun in hand and her blouse still unbuttoned.
"No three-way with Mama!"
"I'll drive. You navigate. We need to leave before someone comes."
John, with Cho's help, dragged the body into the weeds beside the road, then all three climbed into the taxi with John in the driver's seat and the women in back. Five minutes later, on the left side of the road, they came upon a large flooded rice field. Next to it was an old, unpainted wooden barn that leaned to the side far too much and looked like it would fall over in a stiff breeze.
"Turn here. Left. Go back side barn."
"This is no airport. It's a rice field. Flooded." John looked across the field. It was a pond the size of a football field with little sprigs of plants sticking up every foot or so. "Who's tricking whom now?" John wondered, had he trusted Cho too far? Was she coming apart? Was he going to have to shoot his way out of here?
John pretended to rub his back as he felt for his three twenty-seven magnum, nestled in a custom
holster in the small of his back The gun was small, light and powerful, far more powerful than the little twenty-two's that most spies carried, but it had a punishing kick and a thunderous roar. John liked it because it carried the punch of a thirty-eight special and the titanium frame made it light and easy to carry. The internal hammer made it easy to pull out, without it becoming tangled in his clothing. But, anticipating the hard kick usually made him flinch and it was difficult to be accurate at any distance. John saw it as a compromise, but such were the compromises that spies frequently had to make.
"Cousin Han Cheng tricks government. Where you think I get fancy drugs? This the place. Go." Cho tapped John on the shoulder and pointed.
As John pulled the car around to the back side of the old barn, one of the two big doors opened and a short, stout man waved for him to drive in.
"He take us. I call. Drive inside. We wait for night. I give him money. One thousand dollars. Good price, yes."
"A bargain. How is it that you had that much money?"
"Cho good business woman. Many girls. Much profit. Business good lately. John big help. If girl at John's party, then everybody think girl good."
John raised an eyebrow. "You told everybody I was sleeping with all those girls?" He thought to himself, it's no wonder that everybody in town smiled at me as I passed them on the street. They thought I was sleeping with all those beautiful women. Amazing. I don't blame them for smiling. I'd be smiling if it were true.
"John say, 'It pay to advertise.' John good advertising. Pay big bucks for everything. Only get best."
"I thought you were giving me a discount?"
"Sure, sweetie. Twenty percent, off top," Cho said, looking at Mama. "Good businesswoman, yes."
Mama said, "I give good customers thirty percent discount."
"But you take fifty percent cut. I only take thirty percent cut."
"That how you steal my best three girls. You think I not know, but I know."
"They think you greedy."
Looking into the rear view mirror, John said, "Come on girls, no more arguing."
"John you going hit barn with car. Knock down. Keep eyes on road. Button up blouse, Mama."
Inside the musty old barn was what could be a small single engine plane. It was hard to tell as it was covered with a giant tarp. The tarp was probably to keep the rain falling through the roof from getting into the plane. A few tool boxes and a small workbench filled one corner. A stove occupied another with gas cans along one wall. John took the suitcases from the car and helped Mr. Han cover the car with another tarp and some straw. A few hours later, Mr. Han fired up the stove and provided a dinner of noodles and fish with beer.
"John worry too much. Eat. Maybe no food for days. Get real hungry," Cho handed him a piece of fried fish. "You always happy in parties. At work. In bed. Always. No happy now. You worry you die. Yes?"
"Of course, I'm worried. Spying was a game. How much would they tell me? How could I tell when they had told me everything? Fun. Now, that's over. It's all over. Everything has changed."
"Not everything. We still together, sweetie."
"Yes, of course, I'm happy about that. But now, everything is serious. Real life. I thought they had it under control. It's the number one thing they should be good at. You don't buy a tiger without buying a cage first. And you don't buy a tiger without testing the cage to make sure it will keep the tiger inside. But, no, they let the virus escape. We've probably already been exposed. This is either our last day on earth or the last day on the earth as we know it. And we're sitting on a dirt floor in a musty, old, rotting barn eating our last meal, an old piece of fish. Not the last meal I always pictured. Roast beef. Lyonnais potatoes. Carrots. Crusty French bread. A nice fifteen-year-old grand cru burgundy in beautiful cut crystal. Linen tablecloth. Napkins. Real silverware. Damn."
"Get real John. This not old fish. Fresh fish. Cousin catch today. You offend Cousin. It good. You eat."
"If I have the virus, I'll die a horrible, painful death, maybe suffering for over a week. If we don't have the virus, the world will die and we will work ten times as hard just trying to stay alive for the rest of our lives. The weak shall die. Either from the virus or from the horrible dog-eat-dog life after. Damn!"
"Your friend Li Dong say virus work fast. One day expose. Two day sick. Seven day die. Maybe less. He also say it powerful. Kill everybody."
"He said it killed five out of ten people. Just what the government wanted. That would bring any country to its knees in a few months. They should have made a vaccine for something that deadly. A great weapon unless you make a stupid mistake and use it on yourself. Those idiots. Why did they let themselves make such a mistake?"
"Maybe mistake. Maybe not. Maybe not stupid. Maybe smart."
"You think somebody let it out, intentionally?"
"Maybe test. Too good test. Many test before. Bird flue. Pig flue. SARS flue. Arab flue. All same thing. This time virus stronger. Maybe not five in ten, maybe nine in ten. Maybe more. Li Dong say it go in air. Not just touch. Get from man in airplane, lady on street, friend, wife, anybody, anywhere. Nobody safe. Serious strong. Li Dong say his father get big promotion. New house. Big car with driver."
"I was worried, before. Now you're making me crazy. We really need to do something and not just sit around here on a cold dirt floor waiting to die."
"John, look at Cho. In eyes," she said putting her face nose to nose with his. "We do something. We come here. We wait for dark. Cousin fly low. Go away. John no worry. Cho take care of everything. Good plan."
Cho's phone rang. John had learned some Mandarin but could only pick out a few words: government, police. She switched it off. "Friend say Ruhan shut in. Police on all road. Army in town. Many guns. Nobody leave."
"Damn! You say to stop worrying and then you tell me we're locked in with the virus. We're going to die, Cho." John jumped up and started walking around quickly in circles. He was talking to himself, sometimes screaming.
Cho and Mama just watched until he ran into the end of the airplane wing and fell down.
"What happen?" said Mama. "He not move."
Cho ran over to him, kneeled down and looked at him.
"He dead?" Mama said. "Now, what we do?"
Cho looked at her mother with eyes glistening, then put her ear to John's chest, listening. She sat up with a smile, "Not dead."
"Good," said Mama. "We in trouble if he dead."
Cho began shaking him, then slapping his face. "John, wake up. You not die on me."
John opened his eyes. What had happened? Nearly killed again. This was going to be the worst day of his whole life -- for so many reasons.
Cho helped him get up. "No problem with police, sweetie. We outside town. Outside police line. John no worry. Everything OK. Cho fix OK. Good plan."
From the look of relief on Cho's face it appeared that the good plan was more like good luck. She was flying on a wing and a prayer even more than John. Hopefully, Cho's cousin was a better flyer than John or Cho.
Rubbing his forehead, he said, "A few hours ago, I was across the street watching them carry out three victims in black bags. I had a meeting in that building three days ago. We could be dead tomorrow. And even if we're still alive, we could be carrying the virus. We could infect others. We could kill millions, just by trying to live a few days longer."
Earlier, John had thought of survival, nothing but survival. Now in the darkness and in primal surroundings, it was beginning to sink in. Was survival worth the death of millions? Millions that he might be responsible for killing? But then, what if he didn't have the virus? Then, he would be wasting his life if he didn't get away.
"John sound strange. Cho think John not worry so much about virus. John know about virus many weeks. Something bigger. John tell. What you worry about, sweetie?"
"I'm sorry, Cho. The virus is making me think. When your life is almost over, you think about things. The strangest things. Crazy things. About what you've done with y
our life. I've spent my last fifteen years prying into what other people were doing, but not doing anything myself. Nothing. If I'm lucky enough to live through this, when this is over, what then? There won't be anybody left to spy on. And nobody to spy for. What will I do if I survive?"
"Survive enough, sweetie. That all need to do. For rest of life. Virus not be over. Not ever. No vaccine for virus. Not this time. No time make vaccine. Workers just make virus. Make from many virus. This not end. This new beginning. Like phoenix, we rise from ash. We have new life. You hear what Li Dong say. Virus kill everybody who not have resistance."
"Yes, and that doesn't make me happy, either. Not at all. We don't have any resistance to it. Why would we? Why would anybody? It's a new virus. Just invented. Just built."
"Li Dong say father work on virus many years. This not first time virus escape. It only last time. He say they test many, many times before. Pig flue, bird flue, SARS flue, Arab flue. Different name, all same thing."
"Are you saying it escaped before and we caught it before? Now we've built immunity to it and we're safe. You're joking. That wouldn't work -- would it? "
"Children of people at Bug City sick many times. Come to party, anyway. John make great party. Best in town. Best in whole province. Nobody stay away. You invite, they come. Always. We catch virus many times. Many, many times. Think is cold, but was plague. Only early, weak plague. We make resistance. Each time virus stronger, each time we make more resistance. That what Li Dong say."
"I didn't hear him say that. When did he say it?"
"Private conversation. Yesterday."
"You and Li Dong? You never told me."
"Wu Chan and Li Dong. Cho have radio. Good one. Made in Japan. You call bug. I bug all bedroom with recorder. Listen to everything. I only hear this today, in morning. Listen to tapes. He tell Wu Chan no matter what happen, she safe. She so happy she forget ask for money. Silly girl. Good in bed, but no head for business. If see Wu Chan again …"
"You stole Wu Chan from me. She was best girl. Many customers. You owe me. Big time." Mama said, in an angry voice.
The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set) Page 4