“Wu, again, I am very sorry to hear of your health. I hope that we can help. We do have a Regional Medical Officer, who is an American medical doctor that could look at you. Another physical. He’s at the Embassy over in Beijing, and I could have him come here tomorrow, if you think that would help,” Chris offered. Chris didn’t know if he was available, or even in China at the moment, but thought it was a nice gesture.
“I’m comfortable with what I was told. At the hospital. No one in the Chinese Air Force knows, as you heard. The scans show the mass and the spreading cancer. I believe, in America, you say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Yes?” Wu asked.
“Yes, we do. You’re correct,” Chris nodded in agreement with Wu.
“Then the images I have from the hospital say it all. There are black blobs on the image where there should be healthy tissue. If you combine that, along with my pain, how I look, and how I feel, the blood work, I’ve got the cancer. I can certainly fly for now, but we know in the coming weeks I won’t be able to,” Wu shared. He tried not to be negative, or bitter, but it came out like that. “I’m sorry. My intent was only to share my situation, not share my sorrow.”
“Captain Lee, I really do understand. No apologies needed.”
Vic came over from the doorway in the room to where Wu and Chris were standing near the meeting table. He was holding a plate of nachos from the vendor in the basement and offered it to Wu, but Wu wasn’t hungry for that.
“Thank you, but no. Ahh, umm… would you happen to have any chocolate chip cookies?” Wu asked Vic.
Cancer patients, especially at the advanced stage Wu was at, could not keep down much food due to the limited appetite. Some cancers, like ovarian, pancreatic and stomach cancers, cause the loss of appetite by affecting their metabolism. In Wu’s case, his pancreatic cancer had caused his spleen to grow and push on his stomach, causing him to feel full. Even when Wu has eaten only a little bit of food, his body had generated ascites, which is a build of fluid in the abdomen that creates a feeling of being full. The cookies, high in sugar, was simple energy to fill a craving. Plus, he could also keep them down.
Vic departed, and returned quickly with cookies for Wu. “Wu, just a review, keep the Peanut up on your phone. When you connect to a cell tower, you’ll always be connected and encrypted to us and Ford. Just make sure you have the green light on the icon and we’re good for encryption. All right?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll connect it right now,” Wu said. “Why does it think I am a doctor?”
“Because the app comes from the medical community. It’s ok. Wu, I think to get you out of here today, out of the Consulate, we’ll put you in the van downstairs in the parking garage. I’ll take you out into town, drive around for a while, and then drop you off within walking distance of your hotel. Most likely near the shopping area…the mall…where you would normally be this time of day. Sound like a plan?” Vic told him.
Vic was concerned about counterintelligence, and the what if scenarios were flowing through his mind. If someone on the outside saw him come in, someone on the inside working as a local national, or someone following him, were all what if disaster scenarios.
“Yes, sounds good. I certainly am fatigued, but, before I leave, I do want to relay some additional requests to you,” as he drank more water to rid the dry mouth, “to the U.S. Government. And have them considered by your leadership. Would that be alright?” Wu asked.
“Ahh, sure. Absolutely. What are they? What are you interested in, Wu?” Chris asked.
The hair on the back of Chris’ neck stood up. Right away, Chris thought it was odd that Wu asked for additional information through a set of requests after the camera was off. Because only Ford knew him personally, and Chris only spent a few hours with Wu, he thought for a moment that it could be a ploy by Lee. Was Lee Chinese intelligence? was the first thought that crossed his mind.
But both Chris and Vic were not amateurs, and were graduates of the best intelligence and military schools. Not only did they have the formal education to bring in a walk-in and interview them successfully, they had the operational experience to go with it. Chris’ notes went down the counter-human intelligence checklist, which reviewed and covered the detection of hostile human intelligence sources within an organization, including moles and double-agents. His notes reviewed MICE, known as the acronym for money, ideology, comprise/coercion, and ego. Textbooks and his experience always described these as common reasons people broke the trust of their government and told secrets, telling about their work, or why they would join certain organizations. Wu fell in perfectly.
FBI Supervisor Special Agent Vic Damone, alumni from both the New York and Washington Field Offices, was no stranger to this world either. Most Americans knew of the FBI in law enforcement, tackling the mafia and bank robberies, or tracking down terrorists’ post 9/11, but most Americans are mostly unfamiliar with their role in espionage. Vic’s psychological assessment in his written notes, which he planned on typing up and sending to the FBI Headquarters, reviewed the reasons Wu was offering up the jet. Based upon Vic’s work in the past, especially with the Russians, it was always smart logic to question, sometimes silently, a walk-in’s financial situation, their extreme political views, potential blackmail, extensive need for approval, or intolerance of criticism. The history books were full of cases that fell under this logic, especially from former FBI agents who turned to the Soviets, like Earl Pitts and Robert Hansen. Either way, Vic understood Wu’s motivation for his operations disclosure: political views, love for America through the support of the Stevens family, and being terminally ill.
Wu was thinking of a few last minute items regarding pulling this off. He figured he would ask for a few items close to his heart, since he did not have that much time left with this cancer attacking him. What was important to Wu, would also be important to Ford, and he wanted to make sure Ford was taken care of in some capacity. There were also a few other things on Wu’s mind.
“Let’s sit and discuss, please,” as Wu extended his hand back towards the chairs at the meeting table.
Emily woke in her room, and Ford in his, and they met in the lobby to drive over in her Laplsluxury Blue Mini Cooper Clubman and parked on the north end of the Headquarters, in a near empty parking lot. The lot was normally overfilled with employees searching for spaces, but on a weekend, hardly anyone was at work, especially this early in the morning. Mark’s red ’57 Chevy was already there, parked at that annoying angle that took up two spaces, as if he thought the lot would be full and someone was going to ding his door.
“Ford, why aren’t you talking to me? About this mission?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just reviewing the events. In my head. It’s a lot to take in. Not only the mission, but Wu’s health. I’ve never experienced something like this before.”
“Are you scared?” Emily asked.
There was a long pause. “Yeah, I’m scared. I’m really scared. Confident about flying, but there are so many moving parts. And my best friend is dying of terminal cancer on top of it.”
She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m there for you, Ford, I really am. I understand, love. I really do. Just talk about it with me… so I can help you.” Emily hugged Ford for the longest time. Ford had a tear coming down his cheek, the emotion of the moment, combined with the unfolding of the whole story, finally hit him.