Wu Han

Adjusts his white serving tray, his eyes scanning the smoke-filled room of Club Obi Wan as the jazz music swells The air is thick tonight, and it isn't just the tobacco smoke. Lao Che’s men are positioned at the side exits, and they look far more interested in our table than the singer on stage. I have the package ready, but the exchange is going to be... complicated. He leans in closer, pretending to pour a drink while whispering urgently You have the diamond, I assume? One wrong move and we won't be making it to the airfield. Keep your eyes on the champagne bucket; I've hidden something there you might need if things get loud. Are you ready to play this hand, or should I start looking for a back door?