by Powell, Mark
McCabe owed Stowe for saving his arse that night, but no words of thanks were ever spoken. It was a mental debt, one that Stowe well understood would one day be repaid.
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It was midnight when the car arrived back, its headlights sweeping past the villa window. Seeing this, Stowe went outside to meet them.
As the car came to a stop on the steep driveway, the rear door opened and Stowe could see two long legs appearing from under the rear door.
Ying climbed out and walked up the drive towards him. She looked very tired, dressed only in a grey T-shirt and baggy track pants, her hair loose around her face and shoulders. Stowe took in the sight of this innocent woman who had now been thrown into what seemed to be a growingly complex situation. Stowe’s driver lifted out her luggage from the boot of the car and slowly followed her.
‘Here, let me give you a hand.’ Stowe put his other arm around her waist. ‘You okay, Ying?’
‘Yeah, just a bit shocked when your man came knocking on my door. I was half asleep. He took ten minutes to convince me he was from you guys.’ She sounded tired and a bit down.
‘Sorry, I should have called you, but things got busy for a while.
McCabe almost got taken out by a couple of guys, and what with that incident in the hotel lobby, we can’t take any more chances.’
As Ying entered the villa, she could see McCabe stretched out on the green sofa just inside the living area. He was still fully clothed, sleeping like a baby, his head resting on his right arm. He almost looked peaceful, not like the tough warrior she was now beginning to realise he was capable of being.
‘Leave him be. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.’
Stowe took her by the hand and led her down a small hallway to a room on the right. ‘You will be safe in here. I will have a couple of guys arriving tomorrow. They can help take care of you.’
‘My own bodyguard, Brian. Wow! Thought you and McCabe would protect me.’ Ying passed a wry smile at Stowe.
‘We will, of course, but we have to get to the bottom of this. That means we may not always be at your side, Ying.’ Stowe was soft and for quantum breach 290709.indd 127
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the fi rst time sounded as if he cared.
‘I know. Don’t worry about me. Goodnight, Brian, see you in the morning.’
Ying leant forward, placing her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him on the lips. Stowe looked right into her eyes and showed no emotion.
To him, a kiss was just that; it had no effect other than lust on him.
He wished he could feel a connection, a warm feeling in his soul, but who was he kidding? I don’t have a soul, he thought.
Ying’s eyes were like dark pools of rainwater, the moon glinting in the middle. Stowe felt nothing as she pulled away and slowly walked backwards into her room, not breaking eye contact with him. As her door closed, she blew a kiss at him and shut the door.
McCabe opened his eyes and saw the fan above him whirling around. As he slowly woke up, he sensed his back was killing him. The sofa was no place for his poor spine. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. He stood up, feeling like he had been hit by a train; every bone in his body was protesting. As he entered the kitchen, Stowe was sitting at the table with one of his men.
‘Morning, mate. Sleep well?’
‘God, I must have needed that kip, but, hell, has that sofa given my back some issues.’
‘Sit down, I’ll get you some eggs and bacon.’ Stowe got up and went over to the cooker. ‘Tony, can you excuse us.’
‘Sure, boss.’ With that, his man got up and headed out the back door.
‘He’s a good guy, Tony, on the ball.’
‘Sorry, what?’ McCabe muttered as he rubbed his neck and started to drink the remains of Tony’s tea.
‘Never mind, you just sit there and wake up.’
‘Where is Ying?’ McCabe said loudly, suddenly remembering that the last time he had seen her was at the hotel.
‘She is about ten yards away, in the rear bedroom. She arrived late last night, so don’t panic.’
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‘Oh God, I must have been so out of it.’
‘Yeah, you missed Ying and I going at it. God, she is great in bed.’
Stowe waited for the reaction. It came in the form of an extended middle fi nger on McCabe’s right hand. Stowe laughed as he stirred the bacon, which was now spitting fat.
‘Good morning, boys.’ Ying bounded into the kitchen, dressed in a grey skirt and white blouse, her hair neatly tied at the back. ‘Something smells good.’
‘Yeah, and it’s not McCabe,’ commented Stowe. With that, Ying burst out laughing as she took in the sight of McCabe sitting rather dejectedly at the far side of the table, his head in his hands.
‘You two are so the comedians,’ he muttered. ‘Okay, let’s get to it.
We have to decide on the plan of action today. Clearly someone is on to us. It’s a case of knowing who. We have to assume it’s Afzal Jihad.’
‘Should I stay here today?’ Ying was now serious and a look of worry began to appear on her face.
‘No, we must carry on as if nothing has happened. It’s going to be important we fl ush out Aziz, if indeed he has anything to do with this at all.’
Stowe was now sitting down at the table, having slid the plate of greasy food in front of McCabe. Picking up his knife and fork, McCabe began to eat his eggs: nice and runny, just how he liked them.
‘I’ll go in with Ying, a normal day. Okay?’ McCabe, now fully awake, responded.
‘Okay, boss,’ Ying replied. Ying was now sitting down and enjoying McCabe’s bacon, as she stole it off his plate.
‘I want you to just book his deals as if nothing has changed. Just print them out and inform me if anything looks strange, okay?’ McCabe then took another mouthful of bacon before Ying fi nished it off completely.
‘You want some?’ McCabe grunted as if a dog guarding his bowl.
‘No, thanks. I rarely eat breakfast.’
Stowe wanted more decisive action. ‘What are you hoping he will do, McCabe, stand-up and put his hands in the air?’
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‘Listen.’ McCabe put down his knife and fork and looked directly at Stowe. ‘We have to get solid proof against Aziz, work out what he is doing with these trades. They look strange. As such, they most probably are. He is doing it for a reason, and today I will fi nd out why.’ Stowe settled back in his chair. ‘If these trades are in some way funding an Afzal Jihad operation, we need to get all the details, so quit the sarcastic comments.’ McCabe had an angry tone in his voice.
‘Okay, come on guys. I have no wish to interfere, but I’m the one who has to work with this man, so I think I have more cause for alarm.
So who will look out for me?’ Ying was now being assertive, and both men looked at her with an element of surprise at her bold tone.
‘I will, simple,’ McCabe responded.
‘Yup, I will be in the area too, with Tony. At 3:00 p.m., I’ll need to run out to the airport to meet two more guys, okay?’ With that, Stowe got up. ‘Okay. I’m heading off, have to go to the British Embassy and square things there. The Emiratis will not like the fact MI5 and 6 are running around unannounced with guns. You okay to take a taxi?’
‘Sure; think we can manage that,’ McCabe replied.
As Stowe left, McCabe turned to Ying. ‘You sure you are okay to do this? We can stop it now, you know.’
Ying hesitated for a few seconds before replying, ‘No, I have to do this, boss. Else people could get hurt, right? I’m in.’
; ‘Okay, then good, and I will be with you every step of the way. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I need a shower.’
Ying followed him with her eyes as he left the kitchen. Reaching into her handbag, she took out her mobile and called her mother in Singapore.
‘Hi mum, it’s me. No, I’m fi ne, just been so busy, okay. Wanted to let you know I am okay and nothing to worry about. How is dad?
Okay, great. Hey, I will call you later, promise, but I am okay. Love to dad, okay? Bye.’
As McCabe and Ying stepped into the taxi, Ying felt anxious, her stomach was knotting up. McCabe, sitting beside her, was dressed in a quantum breach 290709.indd 130
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navy blue suit and tie Ying had arranged for him via one of the offi ce assistants. It fi tted him perfectly, despite the fact McCabe looked very uncomfortable in it. It was a more acceptable form of dress code in Dubai than his normal jeans. He looked every inch the banker now, she thought to herself.
As the taxi moved off, McCabe looked out of the side window. His training never left his side: he was looking for things that did not belong.
His face was calm, his eyes darting around the landscape, and every now and then they appeared in the rear-view mirror. He could also observe the driver’s face from there, looking for any out-of-pattern glances from the driver. After a while, he settled back and looked over at Ying.
‘So, Ying, ready for work?’
‘Hardly normal work, boss, dealing with a suspected … ’ McCabe put his fi nger to his lips and shook his head. Realising what she almost said, she changed her sentence to include the word ‘jerk!’ It was then that Ying realised how serious a game she was now playing: she even had to be careful about what she said in a taxi and to whom. This is going to be hard, she thought to herself.
As the taxi pulled up outside of the DIFC building, McCabe got out fi rst and walked around to Ying’s door. He opened the door and helped her out. It was not that McCabe suddenly wanted to be the perfect gentleman, more a case of him having 30 seconds to survey the area. He paid the driver through his open window and they both walked into the building through the big revolving glass doors.
Ying stopped abruptly. ‘Just one second, boss.’ She took in a deep breath and settled herself. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’
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FIFTEEN
Ying walked as she always did, with an elegant stride, her long legs accentuated by her black heels. She was fully aware of the eyes that followed her. She loved to look good, stylish and well groomed. As she approached her desk, she could see Aziz sitting over to her right, hunched over his computer keyboard. She actually found Aziz quite attractive; his dark olive looks made him appear somewhat mysterious and exotic. But he also had an air of caution about him, something that read ‘nasty if opened’ on the tin.
Okay, here we go, she thought as she drew a deep breath. After sitting down, she placed her handbag carefully on the fl oor just inside the foot well, easing her chair under her desk.
‘Morning, guys!’ she greeted the other traders at the desk with a big beaming smile.
‘Morning,’ Colin responded without even taking his eyes off his screen. Colin was new in town, having been fl own over from London to help out, given that John had mysteriously disappeared. Most folks on the dealing fl oor had concluded that John had simply had enough and left, not an uncommon situation, as traders blew their brains out all the time. Only Ying knew the absolute truth. Seeing Colin sitting in John’s seat, she suddenly felt very sad and her emotion erupted.
Colin, who had now bothered to look over at Ying, noticed her eyes were wet with tears starting to stream down her cheeks, creating the telltale black streaks of black mascara.
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‘You okay?’ he asked somewhat apprehensively, in case he was intruding on a personal moment, which he indeed was.
As Ying looked over, she quickly wiped away her tears with a tissue, not wanting anyone else to witness her moment of sadness. ‘Yes, I’m fi ne, just miss my family,’ she said in an attempt to hide the truth.
She proceeded to enter her password and her screen fl ashed into action: twelve trades were sitting in her queue and two of them were from Aziz. Ying clicked her mouse on the fi rst of the two trades from Aziz. She could see that it was another deal for the Al Safad Shipping Corporation. But this time the deal size was for US$150 million. Ying’s face registered the shock. Then, after reading the trade details more carefully, she noticed the same oversight Aziz made with every set of instructions: his name was missing as the marketer. This meant that if the credit lines were breached, or the deal turned bad, they would come and look for her, not Aziz, because Ying would be seen as the trader who executed the deal. You shit, she thought.
Across the other side of the room, McCabe was intently focused on his own computer screen, his eyes scanning the information in front of him, unaware of the noise and panic around him as traders were busy closing out bad positions. The market had moved down overnight and caused some big exposures. He could hardly believe his eyes: the bank’s market capital value had fallen overnight from US$55 billion to US$30 billion.
‘Jesus,’ he muttered.
Then his eyes moved on to another section of the screen where there was an announcement highlighted in a green box on the same bulletin page. This announcement informed the bank’s management that one of its shareholders, Tai Investments, was offering to buy more stock by investing £500 million. The statement, presented from the bank’s non-executive chairman, Christopher Fleming, read: We are pleased to announce, subject to regulatory approval, that in these turbulent times, Tai Investments Ltd, a new shareholder of the bank, is off ering to inject 500 million pounds in capital. Th is
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capital injection would come at a time when the bank would benefi t from having a higher level of capital to sustain its leading market position. Th
e board members and I will be considering the proposal and will make an announcement in due course. We would like to thank Tai Investments for their continued support.’
McCabe sat back in his chair, his mind racing to try and assimilate the information. Who were Tai Investments? He then started to think about the suspect transactions Aziz had been booking. Suspect from a price perspective, that is, but they were existing bank clients.
So was there a connection between the shipping companies and Tai Investments, and, if so, what was that connection?
Just as he leant back in his chair to ponder this, he was interrupted.
‘McCabe, my offi ce now.’
Helen Brown, the head of the Dubai Financial Markets division stood in her offi ce doorway. Brown was a pasty, fat Brit with calf muscles that resembled upturned bowling pins and the breath of a Viking warrior. Rumour had it she was promoted and sent to the Dubai offi ce to help grow the market expansion into the Middle East as a result of sleeping with the group head of Human Resources. McCabe hated her with a passion; to him, she was just a rude, overpaid lard bucket.
McCabe slowly lifted himself out of his chair and ambled over to her offi ce. Brown walked back inside like an expectant spider that had just seen a fl y and settled herself into her large leather chair.
‘McCabe, one of your traders, this Ying Lee, seems to be making big profi ts, almost fi ve million to date. How can this be in such a short market?’
McCabe just sat on the other side of Brown’s desk looking directly at her, his face set in a deep frown. As Brown sat back, her fl abby arms resting on the arms of the chair, McCabe leant forward.
‘Okay, Helen, listen. There is an internal investigation going on, the details of which I cannot share at this
time and, even if I could, I am not sure your tiny brain would understand. Ying is helping me investigate.’
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Brown looked at McCabe with some surprise, her mouth now gaping open as she took in McCabe’s fi rm and direct tone.
‘I will try and arrange for you to get a call later today from Christopher Fleming’s offi ce, explaining that I can’t tell you what is going on, but for you to back off. How does that sound?’ McCabe then sat back, still glaring at Brown. He was hoping she would swallow the bullshit he had just fed her.
‘What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone completely mad, McCabe? Should I contact your boss in Singapore and tell him you have lost it, you insolent thug? I have heard nothing from audit about such an investigation.’
Brown was glowing bright red, her chubby cheeks almost exploding.
She was not known for her polite tact, which was why McCabe hated her so much. No matter how senior you are, courtesy costs nothing; in her case she deserved no respect at all.
McCabe stood up and leant over her desk, his knuckles placed fl at down on Brown’s desk. ‘I told you to wait and listen. Now how hard can that be to understand? Even for you. As I have said, there is something going on, an investigation far beyond your shallow world and authority, and I am on the case, but I’m not at liberty to share with you right now.
So just chill and go with the fl ow, okay.’
Brown didn’t fl inch. She remained frozen in her chair. Brown was more accustomed to giving the verbal beatings, never being on the receiving end. After a few seconds, she piped up, ‘McCabe, I have no idea what is going on here, but if I don’t hear from London, today, I will make sure you get fi red, got that? I can assure you of that.’
McCabe continued to stare at her, then he winked and stood up.