At eleven o’clock that night, lights flickered on inside a massive, empty warehouse. The hangar was nearly a thousand square meters, ten meters high, its steel frame completely pillarless—a design meant for aircraft maintenance. Outside, a circular metal sign above the massive doors read “5” in white Arabic numerals on a blue background. There were more than a dozen such hangars scattered throughout the mountain airbase, each used for maintenance, storage, or both.
Under the cold glare of more than twenty industrial lights, the cavernous space felt especially empty. Not a single aircraft was parked inside, just tool benches and maintenance equipment lined up against the walls.
The doors and windows were shut tight, with heavy canvas curtains drawn to block any light from escaping. Lin Mo
