Emily rubbed the tear from her face, then her nose with her hand.
“Wu… Wu. I am so very sorry,” Ford said, pausing for a long few seconds. “Wu. Are you being treated? How… how long did the doctor say you had? How many months?”
Ford couldn’t help notice the extensive jaundice and his weight loss. It made complete sense now. He mentally braced for the answer, but knew in his heart it couldn’t be that long. Wu just did not look good. He did not look healthy, and he was trembling.
“I have about two to three months left. If I am lucky, four months,” Wu replied, closing his eyes. “Most patients this far along are bed ridden and on morphine. I’ve been taking these….these pain killers via pill. Because of my robust health and my high fitness level, ahh, before getting sick, it has given me somewhat of an advantage for day to day living,” Wu shared. “That’s how I can still fly, for a moment, that is. No one knows.”
Ford noticed out of the corner of his eye that Emily was really upset and crying now, and that Robert and Mark were taking notes on their pads. Also, a gentlemen Ford did not know must have come in the room unnoticed, and was sitting listening. It was DIA Deputy Calvin Burns.
“Wu, is there anything I can do to help? Look, I will take some leave and come there to aid you. To help you. Is anyone… helping you at the moment?”
“Actually, Ford. I do need help. I need your help, your personal help.”
“Anything, bro. Anything. What can I do?” Ford offered.
“Please allow me to explain why I am here today,” as Wu cleared his throat. You and the United States military are most likely not aware that we have developed, and been actively flying, a new secret aircraft,” Wu said.
Mark and Robert looked at each other, then over at Deputy Burns. Emily banked her hand gently from side to side to Ford, and shook her head in a no fashion, giving the message that they did not know that much.
“The new aircraft is the H-18. A Stealth Bomber,” Wu said slowly, “built in complete secrecy to replace the Xian H-6K.”
“Stealth Bomber? Aren’t you still an H-6 pilot?” Ford asked.
“No, not exactly,” Wu replied, coughing to the side, covering his mouth.
Wu was at the end of the meeting table in a swivel chair facing the camera, and Chris was in front on the teleconference gear. Vic was sitting near him. No one else from the Consulate was in the room.
“I am the lead pilot on the H-18,” Wu said, sipping from the bottle that Chris handed him.
Chris sat back down, and looked at Vic, then back to Wu.
“The aircraft…we call her… Devil Dragon.”
Wu saw Ford turn his head to look at others in the room, then Ford nodded his head in agreement.
“All of this will be important in a moment, so please allow me to continue.”
“Ok, buddy. Take your time and go ahead.”
“First, the description of the jet, so you are aware of the impact of this information.” Wu cleared his throat, took another drink of water, and then continued. “The range on the jet is over 10,000 kilometers, ahh, 6,200 miles. The Devil Dragon can carry a payload of 80 LS-6 precision-guided glide bombs and 6 CJ-10A cruise missiles. The overall size is smaller than your B-1B, and closer in size to your C-130 Hercules, but unbelievably fast. Fast, like world-record fast. We can also carry the supersonic anti-ship missiles, YJ-12 and YJ-100, to take out your aircraft carriers. I won’t even get into the nuke capability yet. All of this is possible without being detected on your radar. The jet was designed to arrive to your front door in complete silence. Unannounced.” Wu looked down at the table, then up again at the camera and screen area. “We were so confident and advanced in our testing, that we have already had it in afterburner quite a few times, and at max speed. Also, we took it outside China airspace.”
“You did? Where have you flown it?” asked Ford.
“We’ve already been east bound across the East China Sea, completely across South Korea, across southern Japan and south to Okinawa. And back,” said Wu, just beginning to share the true capacity of the Devil Dragon. “If we’re hauling with some speed, it takes me about 150 to 180 miles to turn her around.”
Calvin turned around in his seat to look at the scrolled Asian map behind his seat, and glanced at the immense geography Wu was explaining.
“That’s pretty momentous. I’m pretty sure the U.S., South Korea, and Japan, didn’t detect you, or we would have heard about it,” said Ford.
“Ford. Look. Before I die in the coming weeks or month, or whatever, I have a special request. It is the reason I have contacted you in this manner,” said Wu.
“Okay, what is it? What is your request, Wu?” asked Ford.
“I want us, you and me, to co-steal the H-18 Devil Dragon stealth bomber out of China. My desire is to deliver it to the United States,” Wu announced.
Both meeting rooms were quiet, and no one was taking notes now. All eyes were on Wu and Ford.
“Holy shit.” Mark said out loud, transmitting over the video teleconference from DC to the Consulate.
“Ford, you and I both know… that I have a true love for the United States. After growing up with you and your family, and your dad always taking me under his wing, and visiting so many times, I feel I have an obligation to support the country I love and respect. I do not love and respect China. I do not like or respect my political and military leadership. Your country is the land of opportunity,” Wu explained.
Wu thought about NFL football games, the Miss Universe Pageant, his trips to the shopping mall, the open debates about politics and elections in America, and the way the stock markets operated. To him, America was the land of opportunity, built by immigrants that started off with farming, then manufacturing, and now technology. Wu loved America, and loved his extended family. Wu was comfortable with his decision, and thought about how to tackle it, but needed a hand, especially in his medical condition.
“I have some ideas on how to get the jet out, but need to talk with you and your military and intelligence team on some of the potential gaps. How to do it. This goes without saying, that time is the most important, because of my health.”
Ford was floored. He thought about Wu’s health and how frail he was, and now here he was talking about him getting in to China, most likely unannounced, and flying out, without detection. There was no question, though, Ford was on-board with the decision. He would have taken off in that jet tonight, if given the opportunity.
“And, so, I do need your help, Ford,” coughing, “you, and only you, for my final flight. No one else. Our goal of flying together, from when we were kids. We do it,” Wu said, with a more positive tone, a certain happiness. It was as if he released the burden of keeping it a secret for so long.
The room stayed quiet on both ends for what seems liked forever, but Deputy Director Burns stood up and broke the silence. He walked over towards Ford, placed his hand on his shoulder, and pulled up a chair next to him. The Deputy was in the camera frame now.
“Hello Ford and Wu, my name is Calvin Burns. I am the Deputy Director of the United States Defense Intelligence Agency. It is nice to meet both of you.”
“Hello, sir,” both Ford and Wu said at the same time.
“Wu, I am truly sorry to hear of your health issue. I really am. My father suffered from the same disease, and I do understand what you are up against. Please know that I am thinking of you at what must be a difficult and challenging time. It pains me.”