Quantum Breach

by Powell, Mark

Ying was surprised that John was clearly not getting in the same taxi. ‘Oh, okay. Thought you might drop me off.’

  ‘No, sorry. I have to do something. So see you tomorrow, okay?’

  John then shut the door and waved as the taxi pulled away. Ying settled back in the rear seat, still feeling a bit puzzled about what John had to do so late at night. She looked back over her left shoulder. It was then that she observed John talking to a man; not just any man, a Westerner who looked to be in his early forties and very fi t. Wanting to get a better look, she dropped her focus for a second and turned her body round to get a better look. To her surprise, as if they were ghosts, both had vanished into thin air. There was no sign of them.

  Turning back around, still somewhat surprised at how fast they had vanished, she decided she would be nosy and ask John in the morning who the mystery man was.

  The next day as Ying entered the offi ce, she could see John sitting quantum breach 290709.indd 77

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  reclined right back in his chair. As she passed him, she tapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Hey, you. Good morning.’

  John looked up. ‘Hey, how are you? Get back okay last night?’

  Ying looked at him. ‘Clearly, I did.’

  John gave her a sheepish look that confi rmed it was a stupid statement. Ying sat down, placing her bag under the foot well of her desk, and turned to John.

  ‘So did you get your stuff done?’ Ying asked.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ John replied.

  ‘So who was that guy I saw you talking to as I left?’

  John looked at her, pausing for a few seconds, his face not showing any signs of surprise. ‘Oh, just some guy who wanted some directions.

  No idea who he was.’

  Ying looked at his face intently, trying to work out if he was lying.

  His eyes didn’t dip down however, which in her book was Psychology 101 for detecting a lie.

  ‘Okay. Just wondered.’ She then turned back to her desk and started to log on to her computer. A few moments later, John got up and walked off in the direction of the pantry. Once inside, he took out his mobile phone and dialled a local number. After a few seconds, he got a response.

  ‘Yeah, it’s me. She saw us at the taxi stand, but I covered it off. No worries, she suspects nothing. Over to you as discussed.’ There was a slight pause, as if the person on the other end was now speaking. John then hung up and started to make himself a coffee.

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  SEVEN

  McCabe sat comfortably, his legs outstretched as he sipped his coffee, a skinny latte with no sugar. The café, only a short walk from his offi ce, was his favourite. It was situated down a small alleyway known as Change Alley, aptly named on account of the number of money changers that had chosen it as their location of business. The café served authentic Australian meat pies, an indulgence McCabe found hard to resist, particularly after a night on the beer. The contents of their renowned black pepper beef pie seemed to have medicinal properties, vanishing the most stubborn and severe of hangovers.

  He was about to bite into the thick, fl aky, light-brown pastry when his mobile began vibrating violently on the table. He glanced down with deep irritation in his eyes; the phone had caused his moment of pleasure to be suspended. He could see from the display that it was an unknown number. Reluctantly putting down his pie, he picked up the phone just in case it was something important about a trade.

  ‘McCabe.’ His tone was short and abrupt.

  ‘Well, that’s a fi ne way to greet an old friend. How are you, tough guy?’

  On hearing this voice, McCabe paused for a few seconds; he knew now exactly who it was. ‘Stowe, of all the people to ruin my meat pie, it would be you.’ McCabe heard a laugh on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Listen, McCabe, I know this is out of the blue, but I need to talk to you. It’s work related.’

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  ‘Well, I didn’t think it would be entirely a social call, but good to hear you’re still breathing,’ McCabe replied, his tone now light with hints of sarcasm. ‘Funny thing, just the other day I was wondering where in the world you were.’

  ‘I’m in Dubai, actually.’

  ‘Dubai?’ McCabe blurted out, struck by the coincidence that he would be in the same place Ying was now working.

  ‘Quite a young lady you have there. Ying, isn’t it?’ Stowe then paused and waited for the reply.

  A long pause followed.

  ‘So you know I have someone called Ying working for me, do you?

  Go on, I’m listening. You’re a spook after all, I’m sure it was simple for you.’ McCabe was not at all surprised at Stowe’s ability or methods to fi nd him.

  ‘Okay, I confess I’m a sneaky bugger,’ joked Stowe. ‘Truth is, I have a man on the inside of your bank right now. His name for now is not important. MI6 has brought me in to lead this operation, some bullshit about me having the international experience they need, a test to see if I measure up is more the truth. They’ve even assigned me this newbie to see if I can train him. My guess is MI6 are looking to take me on if I do well and not screw up.

  ‘Anyway, let me get to the point. Oh, and by the way, I have had this line secured, you can’t be too careful. You remember Afzal Jihad?’

  Upon hearing this, McCabe grunted, making clear his disdain for even the mention of such a name.

  ‘Well, it’s like this: we may have terminated the guys in London who were responsible for Kate’s death, but the masterminds of the organisation are still very much alive and very active. Big stuff now though: they have expanded into drug traffi cking and money-laundering to fund their cause, and we are talking billions of dollars here, not small change. In fact, we fear they’re maybe planning something right now.

  ‘I heard through the grapevine a few months back that you were working for Banning Capital, so given I now have a vested interest in quantum breach 290709.indd 80

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  BCB, I decided to investigate. I wasn’t absolutely sure it was you at fi rst, so my man on the inside confi rmed it for me via Ying, and here we are talking.’

  ‘So what’s of such interest in my bank that MI5 are poking around?

  And given you are now onside with 6, that must be hell for you, knowing how much you guys distrust each other.’

  Stowe smiled to himself, seeing that McCabe had worked out with no effort at all that MI5 and 6 would be acting like spoilt kids over this. They were not the best of bedfellows. ‘Anyway, our person of interest right now is a man by the name of Harish Aziz, a Lebanese national. We know for sure that he has just started working for BCB as a commodities sales trader out in Dubai. MI5 and 6 have been tracking him for some time now over money-laundering activities in the UK and Thailand. We suspect he’s been hired now by Afzal Jihad to run some kind of fi nancial scam, but have no proof as yet. Our top informer, the Rain Angel, you remember her, has for some strange reason drawn blanks, no leads at all.

  ‘Anyway, this man Aziz has used the name Harish Mohamed and Khalid Husain before, so Aziz, we believe, may be just another cover name. Thing is, he is smart, way too smart for our liking; a Princeton PhD, no less.’ Stowe paused.

  ‘Most importantly, we need to keep this undercover for now. Only the bank’s top brass know we are tracking him. We need to know for certain if he is indeed linked to Afzal Jihad or not, and, if so, who’s pulling his strings. Bottom line is, I need you in there, McCabe, on my side.’

  ‘Need me?’ McCabe was taken aback by Stowe’s sudden request, unsure what he meant exactly. But something in him stirred, a bolt of excitement ran through his veins. He had not felt this level of thrill in six years.

  ‘Yes. I
need you as our main inside man. You are perfect for this, you know that. The chap I have now is just a boy. He can’t handle this alone if it turns bad. Anyway, how soon can you come over so I can explain quantum breach 290709.indd 81

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  everything in detail. What do you say?’ Stowe then paused, and waited for McCabe’s reply.

  McCabe’s head was now in overdrive. Here he was sitting in the bank feeling threatened and insecure, maybe about to lose his job, wishing for his old life back. He missed the action and Stowe was now offering it to him on a silver platter.

  McCabe drew a breath and replied, ‘No. Piss off, Stowe.’ There was a dead silence on the other end of the phone, but after a few seconds …

  ‘Great. I’ll see you soon in Dubai then.’ The phone went dead. McCabe smiled and went back to eating his now somewhat cold pie.

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  EIGHT

  As Aziz tapped away at his keyboard, he felt happy. He had the perfect structure against which to unleash his plot. The instructions he had been given were very explicit. He only had two weeks to complete his task, or else, as the lady with grey hair had informed him, he would have to face the men who ran Afzal Jihad. And they were not nice men. They had no tolerance for fools; fools were dealt with and it was never pleasant. As Aziz mulled this over, the very lady who had informed him of such a delightful exit from his earthly presence was seated in a nail salon, having her nails painted an apt blood red.

  Aziz then focused his attention on an email from the global head of sales. It read:

  In these harsh times, we must focus on our key clients and drive business. Liquidity is king and, as a team, we all need to engage in new business.

  This was an email that played right into Aziz’s very hands. Seeing this, he knew that the bank would welcome his seemingly safe transactions. They would be seen as driving up the bank’s liquidity, and that was good for him. It also meant that they would start to turn a less scrupulous eye towards the fi ne details of his trades, just seeing the upside to the client, who would be banking more cash.

  Cash in these times is king, he thought. His mind then turned to the operational aspects of the deal. Given he needed US dollars to fund his quantum breach 290709.indd 83

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  clients’ forward oil contracts, he needed a forex options trader. He sat upright in his chair and started to search the internal directory of traders for those listed as FX options traders. He then paused for a second. It could not be a senior trader, as they would ask too many questions.

  He would need to fi nd a junior trader, one competent enough to be left alone by the senior guys, but junior enough not to challenge him, he thought.

  He then remembered hearing about a new trader’s arrival in Dubai; but where had he heard it? Then it dawned on him, as he looked up over his screen. He could see Ying sitting at her desk. Perfect, he thought, an out-of-towner and a new trader. He recalled overhearing John’s conversation in the pantry last week about Ying’s arrival. Ying was the perfect choice on two points. First, she was in Dubai to learn new products. This meant he could use her to enter his oil forward contracts. She would not question much on account of her limited knowledge. Second, she was useful given she already understood how to enter FX options to buy US dollars, and now she was in his cross-hairs.

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  NINE

  McCabe stepped out of the taxi, thankful he was wearing a light linen shirt. The warm desert air hit him, a very different heat from the humid variety he got in Singapore. He stood for a few seconds, taking in his surroundings as the attentive hotel porter lifted his bag out of the taxi and carried it inside.

  Stowe stood a short distance away, hidden by the thick foliage of the hotel’s lush gardens, somewhat of an oasis considering the concrete wilderness that surrounded the hotel. Observing McCabe, he was impressed with how fi t his old friend still looked.

  McCabe then turned and headed up the marble steps and into the hotel lobby, pausing for a few seconds inside the entrance to further observe his surroundings. Old habits die hard: training had taught McCabe never to simply walk into a building and not be aware of anything that seemed out of place. Once happy, McCabe walked up to the check-in desk.

  Stowe, who had now moved into the lobby via a side door, continued to observe his friend, smiling as he noticed the all-too-familiar operating mode McCabe had just followed. He watched McCabe check in and head for the lift lobby, smiling broadly when he saw McCabe wrestle his bag from the hotel porter who was trying to carry it for him.

  You haven’t changed a bit, McCabe, he thought. Still the tough guy.

  Anything to avoid giving a tip.

  Stowe then slipped out of the hotel and into a waiting car.

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  McCabe unpacked his clothes, a few shirts and a pair of jeans, and then, as he always did, checked the balcony doors and locks, carefully observing how the curtains were positioned. He then picked up his mobile and called Ying.

  ‘Ying. Hi, it’s me, McCabe,’ when she answered. ‘Just fl ew in. Meet me for a drink tonight, 7:30 sharp, at a bar called Trader Vic’s. It’s located in the Madinat souk. See you; have to go.’

  ‘Boss, you are here, but––,’ replied Ying.

  McCabe had already rung off and was heading out the door. He glanced at his watch. He had a couple of hours before he had to meet Ying, so he could get himself familiar with the surroundings. He hated not knowing where he was and his training meant he always studied an area before meeting anyone.

  Later that evening as McCabe entered Trader Vic’s, he could see Ying sitting at the bar, nursing what looked like a fruit cocktail: a large glass of peach juice with fruits hanging out on all sides. He walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘Hey, Miss, have you seen my camel?’

  Ying spun around on her stool with some surprise. Seeing that it was McCabe, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  ‘Hey, steady tiger,’ McCabe responded. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m so pleased to see you. Hey, why are you here? I had no idea you were coming. It’s such a surprise.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’m not here on offi cial business, just a few days off.’

  ‘You came just for me, boss? Wow!’ Ying replied beaming.

  ‘Don’t push it, Ying. I wanted to do some shopping,’ McCabe responded, not too convincingly.

  Stowe, never too far away, sat across the bar observing his friend.

  ‘So tell me, really, why are you here? Please tell me,’ Ying excitedly enquired.

  ‘I told you, shopping. Also, an old friend is in town, so I thought what a great opportunity to meet him and see how you were doing at the same time. Pure coincidence, I can assure you.’ McCabe hated quantum breach 290709.indd 86

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  lying to her, but there was no way in hell she would understand the real reason at this point. McCabe himself had to learn more from Stowe.

  ‘Come on, let’s go outside where I can tell you more about him.

  He’s an old army buddy, doing some business in Dubai.’

  They left and selected a corner table by the edge of the water.

  McCabe could see everything from here; even Stowe, should he decide to show his ugly face, which McCabe fully expected.

  After about half an hour, Ying sat right back in her chair, her eyes and mouth wide open. ‘Holy cow, boss, I had no idea you had such an action-packed life,’ she exclaimed. McCabe had just given his life history, including the lowdown on Brian Stowe. What McCabe did not tell her was that Stowe alr
eady knew who she was.

  ‘God, he sounds so hunky, boss,’ Ying enthused after hearing all about Stowe.

  ‘Yeah, and a stone-cold assassin when he wants, Ying, so be careful.

  Not a man to mess with.’ McCabe then gestured for the bill. ‘Come on, let’s head back to the hotel.’

  Ying sighed and reluctantly followed. She wanted to know more about Stowe; he excited her.

  When they entered the hotel lobby, Ying stopped.

  ‘Listen, boss, I’m glad you are here.’

  McCabe smiled and walked her to the lift.

  As they waited for the next lift, McCabe said with a smile, ‘Did you know that one in four people end up mad?’

  Ying laughed. ‘No. New one on me, boss. That means a quarter of the offi ce is crazy.’

  They both laughed. As they reached Ying’s room, McCabe said,

  ‘Okay. Well, have a good day tomorrow. Maybe we can meet for dinner.

  Not sure what my plans are yet. Night, and sleep well.’

  ‘Okay, boss, sure. Goodnight, and thanks for seeing me … and the drinks.’ With that, Ying went into her room and closed the door.

  The lift arrived and McCabe stepped in. The doors had started to close when a foot jammed itself between them forcing them to re-open.

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  McCabe instinctively lurched forward, grabbing the man’s arm and hurling him in and back against the side of the lift hard.

  ‘Easy, old boy,’ said a familiar voice. It was Stowe.

  ‘Jesus, Stowe,’ said McCabe. ‘What the hell?’

  Before McCabe could gather his thoughts, Stowe said, ‘I will explain all over a whisky.’ They both headed back down towards the lobby in search of the bar. They had much to talk about.

  Seeing Stowe again reminded McCabe of the old days, the missions, the danger and the thrill. McCabe felt happy for the fi rst time in ages.

  He felt alive, his entire body was waking up and he knew it. Just seeing Stowe seemed to have triggered an emotional change. The positive feeling did not last long. Looking at Stowe he felt a slight anger well up inside him. Had Stowe really done all he could to save Kate? he thought. He would one day have to have that debate with Stowe, but now was not the time.