When the door closed again, Wei placed the box on his desk. He momentarily admired the box’s ornate exterior before breaking the wax seal and unlocking it. Inside were three large vials of clear, frozen liquid. The DNA was from some of the first plants captured in Guyana. He held one up and examined it.
Was it possible it had been tampered with or switched? Of course. There was always a way. However, ultimately, Wei had little left to rely on but practicality.
He placed the vial back in its place and closed the lid. He then reached out and picked up his phone. Wei was about to give his last order as one of China’s most decorated generals.
He had long known he would be the sacrificial lamb of his political masters. Yet what he was about to do would cause his family name to end up as one of the most publicly hated in China’s history.
Their sacrificial lamb was about to leave its masters utterly stunned.
74
Lieutenant Chao stood on the deck of his corvette, too far away to see even the faintest hint of land. Behind him, the fading sun was beginning to set against the watery horizon. A sunset he hardly noticed.
He had very little time now. The U.S. and Brazil were undoubtedly pursuing them which meant his stop in the middle of the ocean had to be swift.
The corvette and the Russian submarine Forel were side-by-side with a makeshift gangplank running between the vessels. The two Chinese submarines escorting them south would know they’d stopped and were undoubtedly waiting for them, just ahead out of sight.
The transfer of the packaged plants off the corvette and onto the Forel was quick. They weren’t taking many: just enough to grow and then sell the DNA on the black market. It was Chao’s ticket to ultimate wealth.
With the help of his Russian partners, he was about to completely disappear. It was the only way. Until, of course, one day when everyone finally had the formula, and he would be able to buy his way back into China, into their aristocracy. It was one of the constants in history; money always forgave.
Twenty crates. That’s all he needed. Hell, it took longer to tie up the boats than to transfer the precious cargo. When the last crate was tossed aboard the Forel, Chao stepped aboard. His life of hiding was about to begin.
Chao pushed the thick board away and watched it clamor down between the metal hulls, splashing into the ocean. It was so loud that he didn’t hear the yelling at first. However, as the gangplank sank below the water, he caught the sound of someone yelling below deck and frantically clamoring up the ladder. Chao turned to find himself looking into the ashen face of the Russian captain. He screamed a single word at the top of his lungs, which took Chao a split second to register through the heavy accent.
“Torpedoes!”
Chao’s eyes bolted open and he whipped around. Not far away, he could clearly see four separate drafts speeding toward them in the water. His last thought was one of confusion. The only submarines close enough to fire on them were their own.
All four torpedoes found their mark just seconds apart. Together, the corvette and the Forel erupted in dual explosions. Each of their hulls was ripped apart in the blink of an eye, along with their contents and crew. Multiple fireballs billowed into the air and large pieces of burning metal shot outward over the water. The explosions momentarily lifted both vessels before they promptly crashed back down together, plunging through the surface.
The ocean wasted no time, immediately surging over and inside the gaping wounds. Once fully underwater, the hulls gradually twisted away from one another and descended rapidly toward their watery grave.
The explosions were tremendous, but they were still too far away to be seen from the white sandy beaches of Rio de Janeiro, where the trim figure of Carolina tiptoed over the sand and back to their chairs.
Blanco sat reclining, facing the sparkling blue ocean in front of him. The soothing sound of the cascading waves tried to hypnotize him over the cool breeze.
Carolina set his bottle down on the arm of the wide wooden chair and sat down in the adjoining recliner. Without a word, Blanco reached for the beer and took a long drink.
Even with the limited authority she had, Carolina had been able to take control of enough of Alves’ assets to last them a lifetime. The vast majority of the billionaire’s wealth still belonged to the corporations, which didn’t bother him. It was best not to be greedy and draw too much attention. Blanco was also pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to modify someone’s living will. Especially when the parties involved stood to benefit handsomely.
As expected, the investigation would go on for some time. Blanco’s explanation of their fight with the Chinese on the mountain and the resulting deaths of Alves and his men met little resistance. And now they had enough money to keep it that way. He did regret having to kill the two pilots when he found them at the poacher’s camp, but it was the only way. There would have been too many inconvenient facts left to explain.
As for Alves, Blanco held little remorse. The man had made a great many enemies and yet still lived a long, wealthy life of which most others could only dream. Given South America’s long tumultuous history, Alves enjoyed a better ride than almost anyone. He should have been more appreciative.
Blanco adjusted his position and felt the searing pain in his shoulder. He wondered about the man in black whom he had shot before fleeing the mountain. The man was most likely dead. Thankfully, Blanco had gotten a better shot off, but he was still damn lucky the stranger only got him in the shoulder.
Blanco made an imperceptible shrug. Better him than me.
75
General Wei watched the tall trees pass by with a surreal sense of loss as he drove deeper into the mountains of Northern China. Why had he never fully appreciated the detail of the world around him until the end? Why didn’t anyone?
Hours later, his car turned off the old road and into the gravel parking lot of a tiny hospital. He was several hundred kilometers outside of Beijing, in a small rural town that the country’s reckless industrial expansion seemed to have forgotten. He brought the car to a stop and slid the gearshift into park, then opened his door and immediately stepped out.
Retrieving a large satchel from the back seat, Wei marched briskly toward the old, faded double doors. He pulled one open and walked down a narrow hallway. When he reached the last door, he paused and gently pushed it open.
She was just as he had left her. Lying in bed, with eyes closed. She was so beautiful. Her smooth face and delicate hands still looked as tender as he could ever remember. It was only her accelerated breathing that gave away her illness. He lowered himself onto her bed and placed his old hand over hers.
She wasn’t diagnosed with degenerative heart disease until after her mother had died. A small part of him was thankful for that. Watching his daughter slip away was torture enough, but the thought of having to hold his wife while she watched would have been unbearable.
Wei stood up and turned around in the same motion, setting his satchel down on the old table. He unlocked it and promptly pulled out a small brown paper bag. He tilted the bag down, causing the first vial to slide out into his palm. He then held the cylinder up and shook it. The fluid was now completely thawed. Inserting the needle of a syringe into the top, he pulled the small plunger back, withdrawing the clear liquid.
He stared at his angel for only a moment before finally inserting the needle into her IV tube and discharging the bacterial solution. Next, he calmly, but quickly, began withdrawing the solution from the second vial.