Covid 19: The Birth of a Killer

By Dr Jonathan S. Swift

Who was responsible for Covid 19?

Was the Wuhan Institute responsible for the epidemic? Did they deliberately manufacture a virus with the intention of releasing it on the world? This novel examines one possible scenario....

Were the same people responsible fo

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Bruges Group
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9781739092016

Book preview

Disaster

Thursday, 28th November 2019

Wuhan Biological Weapons Research Facility, Wuhan Institute of Virology, Jinlong Avenue South, Jiangxia District, Wuhan.

With his arms and hands inside the heavy-duty gloved protrusions into the airtight cabinet, Dr Shi Zhang, Chief Virologist at the Wuhan Biological Weapons Research Facility within the Wuhan Institute of Virology, was moving the vial containing the final virus cultures for transportation to the sealed unit at the back of the laboratory, when an involuntary sneeze made him lose his grip and drop the vial inside the cabinet. Over the next ten seconds, he experienced a gamut of emotions: he firstly stared in horror at the vial, then realised, to his relief, that it had not broken; this relief turned to shock when he saw that the lid must not have been properly secured so that it was now open slightly and that the colourless air-born virus culture would be escaping into the sealed chamber. This shock was tempered when he remembered that all he had to do was to press the button marked ‘extract’, and in a matter of minutes, all the air would be sucked out into another room where everything would be incinerated in a firestorm of over one thousand degrees. At worst, it would put back the development of the vaccine by a month. After a moment’s panic, the electric fans kicked in, and he could hear the sound of the contaminated air being extracted and vented into another chamber; his relief was visible as he slumped into a chair.

Shi leapt to his feet again when he heard the frantic claxon outburst of the alarm system, signifying a leak of the virus into the atmosphere of the laboratory, and terrifyingly he knew that the chamber was not as airtight as had been assumed and another leak must have triggered the alarm. The system should not have failed the way it did; there were faulty seals, something that had been pointed out to General Zhao on more than one occasion but to little avail. He knew what would happen to him and his colleagues if they did not leave the laboratory immediately and receive medical treatment: they should be put on ventilators to keep the oxygen flowing to their vital organs, and a whole series of medical interventions would be needed to counter the effects of the viral infection. He noticed that two of his colleagues, who had been working near the door, had slipped through into the airlock just before the inner door had hissed closed, shutting the others inside forever.

He knew that it was now impossible for him to leave, as the door had been automatically sealed and locked and would remain so until the air from the whole room could be vented into the incineration chamber. With the objectivity of a scientist, he calculated that the lack of oxygen would kill him a very long time before the virus ever did. As with the airtight cabinet where the initial accident had occurred, a similar failsafe system would be automatically triggered, designed to contain the virus by sealing the room. He heard the suction pumps begin to extract the air and, with it, his ability to breathe; he knew from practice drills that the room would be emptied of air within five minutes at the most. He twisted his head to his left and saw his white-coated co-creator, Professor Ye Gan, trying to tear open the door in an effort to get out of the chamber. He was shouting to the staff on the other side of the door to open it: behind the armoured glass observation panel, he could just make out the faces of other members of staff of the facility, who could do nothing to help as the doors were timed closed for at least an hour. Another colleague had managed to get an airtight contamination suit and had already placed the hood over his head and switched on the oxygen supply – he was desperately trying to fasten the suit up tightly. Shi thought: ‘It’ll do him no good if he has already ingested particles of the virus’ and then, somewhat resignedly, he thought: ‘Better to die of suffocation than the virus – quicker and less painful’ and sank to the floor.

In the few minutes during which he still retained some level of consciousness, Shi reflected on the disease he and his colleagues had brought into the world and the irony that they should be the first to experience its effects on the human body. He thought of the symptoms that he would have felt were he to have lived long enough: within the first hour, his temperature would begin to rise, and his whole body would feel as if it were on fire. Some five hours after the virus had first entered his body through his lungs, it would begin to destroy healthy lung cells as the white blood cells – the programmed immune defence system – would be misdirected to attack his lungs, and their attacks would create inflammation, which in turn would lead to more lung tissue damage, and allow the lungs to fill with fluid, leading to pneumonia. He also knew that, long before the infection had reached that stage, he would find it difficult to breathe due to a lack of oxygen as his lungs struggled against the internal build-up of fluid – what was termed ‘pleural effusion’. This would prevent oxygenated blood from circulating to his kidneys, liver, and other vital organs; without this supply of oxygen, these organs would shut down, as eventually would the lungs, leading to death within a matter of days if there were no medical intervention.

As he was slipping into unconsciousness, he thought, ‘At least it will not reach anyone else, as the airtight seals will keep it in here until it can be destroyed by fire.’ Even as he was thinking this, the substandard seals were beginning to leak – at first, ever so slowly, but as the unequal pressure between the sealed laboratory and the outside exerted a growing force on the cheap materials used, they deteriorated, and in a replay of what had happened some fifteen minutes earlier, alarm bells began to ring throughout the facility, and steel doors automatically slammed shut and locked, entombing the majority of employees inside – apart from those who had managed to slip outside just in time as they knew what was about to happen. Mercifully, Shi and his immediate colleagues had suffocated before they could feel the virus begin its deadly work.

Some people near the main entrance had managed to get out of the main doors before they were sealed shut – they had thrown away their lab coats and, as casually as possible, shown their passes to the guard at the entrance before escaping through the main door. As they did so, they heard the alarm sound, and as they turned the corner of the street, a security guard slipped out through the main door and ran towards them just before the facility went into lockdown. The guard sped past them, and in a panic, they followed; they were very afraid, as they knew that everyone who worked at the facility would have to be accounted for in an emergency such as this. Unsure of what they should do, they sought safety in numbers and hurriedly followed the security guard down the street to the busy wet fish market, where they hoped to lose themselves amongst the crowds. They had no idea of what they had started.

Meanwhile, from his position on the floor, a semi-comatose, Shi was surprised to learn that, as many claimed, when you are dying, your life flashes before you. He found himself thinking about the events of the last year, and the development of the virus was the last thing he remembered as the darkness closed in….

Countdown

Thursday, 15th November 2018

Central Office of the Chinese Communist Party, West Building, Zhongnanhai, Beijing.

Zhong Long Wei, General Secretary the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the most powerful man in China, was worried. Usually, nothing seemed to worry Zhong – at least that was the impression he gave – like the proverbial swan, he sailed along majestically at the head of the most populous country in the world, with everything regulated and under his control. The Party controlled everything in China along the lines of a Marxist-Leninist one-party State, from the education of its citizens to their defence via the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). With all aspects of society tightly regulated, including where people live¹, he should not have been worried. But he was.

What worried Zhong was sufficient to make him call an extraordinary meeting of the Standing Committee of the Politburo, in addition to heads of the armed forces and the police & security services, plus a number of scientists, economists, and foreign advisors – an unprecedented grouping, and one never assembled before. He sat at the head of the long rectangular table, facing the door, as people filed into the room and took up their allotted places around the table, looking in surprise when they saw someone they recognised but were not expecting. Bundles of papers or briefcases were placed on the table, lids lifted from the ever-present cups of tea and the contents examined closely as if they could foretell the purpose of the meeting through the tea leaves. Most delegates were heavy smokers and lit cigarettes as soon as they sat down; he recognised many red packets of Zhonghua cigarettes – an almost ubiquitous brand amongst members of the business community, government, and Party members – generally a legacy of the fact that this brand was reputedly the favourite of the late Chairman Mao Zedong. The next most popular appeared to be Zhongnanhai – made especially for Chairman Mao, and named after the building in which the current meeting was being held – the Party headquarters in Beijing. Zhong reflected on the irony that two cigarette manufacturers both claimed allegiance to Mao through their death-dealing products, and he recalled a recent anti-smoking campaign which said that ‘…the gift of a cigarette is the gift of cancer…’, or something like that. He preferred to identify more with the people and country than with what he privately thought of as the personality cult of a long-dead despot. As if to emphasise his attitude, he extracted a Hongta Shan cigarette from its distinctive brown packaging; this relatively cheap brand was the most widely smoked in China and available throughout the country – surely any leader who smoked Hongta must be someone who identified very closely with the people, rather than the elites? At least, that is the impression he hoped to give.

In his role as Chairman of the Central Military Commission, Zhong was theoretically in charge of the military, yet on formal occasions when the chiefs of the armed forces were present and were dressed in their full military uniforms with dazzling displays of medals, he was made uncomfortably aware of his lack of military experience. His progression to the most important position in the country could be traced from a lowly regional Party member of the Jinan branch to Secretary of the same branch before moving to take up a position in the Party Central Statistical Unit in Beijing. His rise to power was slow but planned – as with most things he did, Zhong set his sights on the end goal first, and worked backwards – ensuring he jumped through each of the necessary hoops he faced on his long journey. He was a private and thoughtful man who never made a political move before having considered all the possible consequences. His marriage to the daughter of the then Mayor of Beijing was typical of his thoughtful planning – she had born him one child who appeared to be following in his father’s footsteps, having joined the Chinese Young Communist Group as soon as he could and was already a junior leader.

Zhong was known, amongst other things, as a moderniser; as he had said on many occasions, China’s destiny lay at the end of three significant steps – Mao had taken the first when he unified the country under Communism; Deng Xiao-Ping had taken the second step when he globalised the Chinese economy; and it now fell to Zhong to take the newly-confident China into the 21st Century as a communist economic, industrialised, and military power, ready and able to take its seat amongst the great powers of the world. For a man with such high ambitions, his appearance was unspectacular – having more in common with a junior bank clerk than the leader of the world’s most populous nation. His blue suit was traditionally cut, his black hair was neatly trimmed and business-like, his tie was plain red, and in addition to his frameless glasses, the only jewellery he wore was a metal-strapped watch on his left wrist, his wedding ring, and the enamelled party badge on his left lapel. He had once been described by an American journalist as ‘unassuming and dangerous’ – an apt description of such a faceless yet powerful man.

Given his position, Zhong sat at the head of the table on the right. Sitting to his left, as befitting his position as the second most powerful man, in his role as Party Secretary of the State Council, was Li Yang, dressed in an old blue ‘Mao jacket’, which, Zhong thought ‘looked ridiculous in this day and age.’ There were also some twenty-five people from a variety of Committees and backgrounds around the table: the most important being the members of the Politburo Standing Committee, and their importance was reflected in the proximity of their seating to Zhong and Li; those of lesser importance were seated farther away. Seated on chairs against the wall all around the room was another thirty or so people, mostly advisors or secretaries to those seated around the table. After waiting patiently for his audience to make themselves comfortable and settle down, Zhong stood up and called the meeting to order: Comrades, we have a great deal to discuss, so I suggest we make a start. The chattering stopped at once, and all eyes turned to face him. He began quietly, letting his eyes sweep slowly around the room, looking for signs of weakness, arrogance, opposition or ambition in his audience. He knew that behind his back, he was called the ‘Silent Killer’ based, no doubt, on the many purges he had undertaken since becoming Party Chairman; whilst he did not generally approve of such derogatory nicknames, in this case, he felt that it strengthened his reputation and hold over the Party and government. He continued his quiet, methodical delivery:

Not everyone here knows everybody else, so I suggest that we begin by introducing ourselves, and the role in which we serve the people. He turned to Li Yang and nodded to indicate that he begin. From his vantage point slightly above Li, he noticed that the man’s greasy black hair was cut short, presumably in an attempt to disguise the fact that he had a bald patch at the back of his head. Whilst the thick, black-rimmed glasses he wore gave him a studious look, they could not disguise his coarse hands with their stubby nicotine-stained fingers – ‘a peasant’s hands,’ Zhong thought to himself. He also noticed that a faint black stain on the back of his white shirt collar, indicating that Li was using some sort of hair dye in an attempt to eliminate his growing number of grey hairs ‘…and he is obviously vain.’

Li got to his feet: Good morning. You all know me; I am Li Yang, Premier and Party Secretary of the State Council, and Chairman Zhong’s Deputy. This description of himself as the ‘Zhong’s Deputy’ always annoyed Zhong, as although it was strictly true, it did nothing to help him distance himself from Li.

Li continued: As Chairman Zhong has so many things that require his attention, and my function is to deputise for him and at all times to see that the interests of the Party and the country are best served. As this is probably the most important meeting, we have had over the last twenty years or more, it was felt that my presence was necessary. After having somewhat clumsily suggested his importance, he turned to Zhong, bowed slightly and abruptly sat down before Zhong could return the bow, thus dispensing with polite etiquette. Zhong wondered how much longer he could put up with the man – all efforts to further modernise the country would be wasted as long as Li were in a position of power and chief administrator of the Party. The man was most definitely ‘old school’ in the worst sense of the word, and rumour had it that he and his cronies spent long weekends drinking to excess and indulging in all sorts of ‘unbecoming’ activities. He was from uneducated peasant stock, and he shared many of his more unpleasant characteristics with Chairman Mao, who had also been an uneducated peasant – with violent tendencies and a predilection for mass murder. Whilst this was going through Zhong’s mind, he looked to the man who sat at the side of the table next to Li and who now rose to address the group.

The man was another of the ‘old school’, who owed his position as Party Secretary of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference to what Zhong regarded as ‘boorish, uneducated Communists’ who should have been retired years ago. The man, Li Zheng, looked uncomfortable in an old blue suit that did not fit him well, but he at least wore a tie. He too, had longish, slicked-back black hair that was greying in places and was combed back over his ears and obviously soaked in hair gel to keep it in place. ‘Peasant made good’ was Zhong’s mental description of him as Zheng introduced himself to the assembly.

After these two individuals, various clones stood up and introduced themselves – the overriding impression was of a corral of old men (and they were mostly men), who dressed in a similar fashion, held similar beliefs and attitudes. The irony was that these old ‘revolutionaries’ had become so physically and mentally complacent that they no longer had the zeal to continue their jobs – instead, they were content to live the soft life of Western capitalists, taking advantage of the luxuries afforded to men of their position. Such luxuries included imported goods not available to the general public, automatic approval for foreign travel anywhere, state-provided transport (generally Mercedes cars generously donated by the Germans), state-subsidised housing (in guarded ‘gated communities’ with no public access), and a large salary and expense account. Of the Politburo members present, the most important were Hong Bin Wen (Secretary of the Central Secretariat of the CCP), Cai Manchu (Secretary of the Central Commission for Discipline, Inspection, and Investigation of Corruption), Huang Chao (Deputy Party Secretary of the State Council), and Mao Long Wei (Director of the Central Policy Research Office). Mao in particular was an unspoken target of Zhong’s scorn, as he owed his position solely to an accident of birth – he was Mao Zedong’s great-grandson and one of the few Chinese of his generation to have been allowed the privilege of studying abroad. He had spent just over a year at the prestigious Harvard Business School in the USA, where he graduated with an MBA and a string of paternity suits. In addition, there was Zhao Zheng, who had recently been appointed as Ambassador to the USA and was probably the most intelligent and sophisticated man in the room. Zhong was wary of Zhao, as the man seemed to do everything perfectly, knew everyone who was anyone, was independently wealthy and was married to an ex-model from Chongqing – reputedly the home of the prettiest girls in China. He was suave, urbane and sophisticated, and the antipathy of the peasants who formed most of the Politburo.

Next to him sat one of the few women present: the Deputy Head of the International Department of the Central Committee of the CCP, which collects, collates, and interprets foreign intelligence. Do Wang Xiu had only been in the role for six months and was eager to please her superiors, which is why she had offered to go to the meeting instead of her boss – Li Wang Chan, a lazy and corrupt man, who did as little as possible, but knew how to keep from being found out; he had insisted that Do represent him at this meeting, telling her that it would only be some ‘administrative nonsense’, and if anyone asked, she was to tell them that he had to deal with a number of foreign intelligence reports. As a woman, Do had suffered some initial scepticism and hostility from male colleagues who did not agree with the idea of appointing a woman to such a key role. She had always managed to fend off such criticism by quoting Mao, who had famously said that ‘women hold up half the sky.’ Whilst nobody was exactly sure what he had meant by this, it had generally been interpreted as meaning that women should have an equal share in the country…. And after all, if Chairman Mao had said it, who would dare to contradict him?

Do was slight of build, black hair tied into a ponytail that fell to her waist and favoured a more ‘Western’ style of dress – including jeans and an informal jacket, finished off with an ethnic leather handbag that she had purchased whilst working as a trade attaché at the Chinese Embassy in Mexico City. Before her appointment, she had graduated in information technology from Shanghai Jiao Tong University, and during her early career in the Chinese Foreign Service, she had been asked to provide intelligence on Mexico. She had ‘drifted’ into the world of espionage and impressed everyone for whom she worked, so her rise was meteoric, culminating in her current position.

In addition to the IDCC, there was a representative from the other, more well-known security agency – the Ministry of State Security. In complete contrast to Do, the Head of this Ministry was an elderly man of around eighty: Lu Yu was a heavy smoker, who lacked formal education, had lied about his age and been a boy soldier with Mao’s forces in the late 1940s, and once the revolution had been achieved he had joined the Beijing police, before graduating to the Ministry of State Security, where his blind obedience to orders and procedure had ensured that he was trusted by his superiors which had, in turn, ensured his rapid rise. The job appealed to his somewhat twisted nature, as it allowed him to ensure that that he could use his authority for personal gain or to exact revenge on persons he felt had slighted him. He should have retired some years ago but had been retained more as a political figurehead than anything else.

Next was the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), starting with the Minister of National Defence, Major-General Huang Bin Wei to whom the various branches of the PLA were answerable. His was a complex role; as Minister of National Defence he had a political role to discharge, and a Member of the Central Military Commission (CMC), he was loyal to the PLA – sometimes, trying to balance the two roles was difficult, as political decisions sometimes conflicted with military decisions – but as with most things in China, it was the Party that had the last word. Zhong noted with interest that Huang had chosen to sit with the military faction, yet was wearing a suit instead of his uniform: ‘he still cannot decide where his loyalties lie.’ Since his move into politics, Huang seemed to prefer anonymity; rumour had it that he liked to remain ‘low-key’ as he did not want to embarrass Zhong, who had never seen active military service. Huang had led a rather undistinguished military career, until, by a stroke of luck (or misfortune, depending on one’s point of view), he had been the Colonel commanding the Chinese 1st Armoured Division –one of the many units told to deal with the student protestors at Tiananmen Square. The demonstrations had got out of hand, and Huang had given the order to open fire on the students, killing hundreds and wounding many more. Many thought that he would be made a scapegoat for this action, yet in a twist of logic for which Beijing was famous, he was promoted to the rank of Major-General and given the role of Minister of National Defence – presumably on the assumption that he had proven his total loyalty to the Party, and in so doing had endangered his own reputation, and would have to rely totally on the Party for future protection: therefore, he would obey orders without question. Ever since his predecessor Xu Ciahou had been dismissed on charges of corruption, Huang had taken great care not to appear as a threat to the Chairman and Party, even though he commanded intense loyalty within the PLA – his reputation within the military had suffered something of a blow since Tiananmen Square, with many officers feeling that he had gone too far, whilst others, fearful of the potential for revolution that the demonstrators might have created, praised him for his decisive action. Although Huang’s official title made him Head of the whole PLA, he did not have operational control over the various branches – the Army (known as the PLA Ground Forces), the PLA Air Force, PLA Navy, PLA Rocket Force, and the PLA Strategic Support Force. Sometimes this made