Irving Waters - The Wuhan Mission

Sam looked at Xue Lin and shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck it!” she said, and stood back from the glass, drew her pistol and fired high above the guard’s head, shattering the glass.

Sam drew his pistol and pointed it at the guard: “Put the call out. We are looking for a terrorist with a spray bottle. Possibly Chinese. He is to be taken into custody immediately.”

The guard picked up the radio tentatively as Xue Lin also trained the barrel of her gun on the guard, cocking her head to one side, daring him to say the wrong thing.

The Guard made the call in stuttering Italian, then putting the radio down he put his hands feebly in the air, terrified by the vicious young Asian girl standing before him.

“Do you believe us now?” she asked him.

“Si… si… I believah you miss.”

Allan was in a mezzo-soprano’s dressing room backstage listening to her complain about the conductor and his slow tempi.

“You’ll do great! You have such a beautiful voice. This is the perfect acoustic for you.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked looking up at him from her chair in front of the brightly lit mirror.

“Yes! You will be wonderful. I love you in this role. Listen I have to go now, but Toi Toi Toi. Have a great show,” he said reaching into his inner pocket for the spray bottle.

“Bye Allan!” she gave him a hug as he spritzed the bottle behind her.

Allan continued along the corridor knocking on a few selected doors to offer his good wishes to certain singers, giving each a little spritz when they were looking the other way. The show was to start at 7pm tonight as it was a long opera. The public would start arriving in a few minutes. It was time to head through to the public area.

The truth was that there was only one other security guard at the opera house but the call had gone out to the ushers who were mostly bookish types with no experience with this kind of emergency. They were scattered around the opera house waiting to help the aging audience to their seats with their various walking canes. As the public began arriving the ushers started their search for a Chinese man with a spray bottle.

Allan knew his way around La Scala, and he walked to the small door that led back into the audience area. He paused for a moment, thinking about what he was doing to the artists, the public and the opera house.

‘Oh well!’ he thought, ‘this industry fucked me, now I’m going to return the favor.’ And then he opened the door and walked in to join the public with his spray bottle

The security desk was still a mess. Glass everywhere. Sam and Xue Lin had jogged down the hallway to start searching, but it was hopeless. There were already over a thousand people in the house. They were never going to find him.

“Snowflake, haven’t you always wanted to do this?”

She looked at him, having no clue what he was talking about.

“This!” he said, pulling his sidearm out and pointing at the ceiling.

They met eyes for a few seconds before he pulled the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Sam yelled: “Tutti Escono!”

Xue Lin gazed at him as the crowd panicked and began to stampede for the door.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian Sam!” she said smiling.

Sam replied: “It means ‘get out.’”

The Deputy Director finally managed to get the manager of the opera house on the phone.

“Hello sir. This is the Deputy Director of the CIA calling. I am calling to inform you of a terrorist threat in your Opera House.”

“Ah certo signora! The polizia has a the two Americans in custody. Theyah diddah nottah shoot anybody. Everything OK.”

“Um… thank you, and good work.” The Deputy Director hung up, saying to her assistant: “Oh Jesus what a mess I’m gonna have to clean up.”

Within a few weeks, the international press were reporting on the Corona Virus. They were calling this one ‘CoVid-19’ named after the year it started. The Ministry of Propaganda diligently underreported Wuhan’s infection statistics. The West was still relatively unconcerned about the virus. The statistics had not yet been too alarming. International travel throughout the world continued well into March with borders remaining open, taking the new virus to almost every nation. Cruise ships were allowed to dock and passengers allowed to disembark without being checked let alone quarantined.

On the advice of the Ministry of Propaganda, the Chairman sent down the tactical order to close Wuhan’s Wet Market on January 1. All tourist videos of the market were taken down from Youtube and other social media while a team of young editors was employed to put up videos showing stalls selling bats on sticks, but they were of course from other Asian Countries. The propaganda war between China and the United States picked up its pace.

By January 11 when the first Wuhan death was reported, the Chairman’s directive to blame the virus on the Wet Market had gained a strong foothold in the mainstream media. By March, most of Italy had been affected to varying degrees, the rest of Europe following within a matter of weeks. China heroically stepped in with billions of dollars worth of medical equipment on sale at reasonable prices. Meanwhile the economies of the world had come to a grinding halt.

Wuhan began to recover after a brutal quarantine, setting the example for the rest of the world to follow. Hospitals in the West were overrun with cases. Coffins were being delivered to cart off the numerous and mounting dead as medical staff tried not to buckle under the pressure.

Eventually, as infection numbers fell and hospitals returned to normal, the world’s scientists went to work to investigate the origins of the virus. The ensuing international finger pointing was harmful to the reputation of the Chinese Communist Party.

Sam and Xue Lin had been taken into custody while the opera house was cleared out and cordoned off. Allan had successfully managed to empty the entire spray bottle inside the auditorium. He had been as shocked as anyone at the sudden appearance of a gunman firing his weapon into the ceiling and Allan had made his way to the exit with the rest of the panicking public and walked the short distance to his hotel. He just wanted to go back to his room and take a sedative.

He opened the door of his room and switched on the lights. The Chinese agent was sitting there waiting for him, nursing a pistol with a supressor. As he raised the pistol and pointed it at Allan, he said: “You know you are really far too trusting,” and fired three bullets into his chest.

The CIA had brought in government virologists to ask relevant questions of Doctor Wu who had been taken to a black site for the interrogation. Sadly, Wu’s lifetime of drinking and smoking had weakened his body. The waterboarding proved to be too much for him. Despite answering all the scientists’ questions, Doctor Wu died in custody with his lungs half full of water.

Jimmy Chin underwent a series of interviews and passed the CIA’s polygraph test and was happy to be offered a job at the CIA where he worked diligently for a few years before retiring in the Cayman Islands with his new trophy wife. His bank account had remained intact and Jimmy had diligently continued to add to it whenever he saw the opportunity.

Marcus Roet struggled in a hospital in Virginia for three weeks on a ventilator before succumbing to the effects of the SARS-CoV-X virus. His funeral was poorly attended and, oddly, the eulogy was given by a CIA accountant.