by Powell, Mark
The man he had removed from life was another matter. They were clearly getting close and someone was tracking their every move. It was now only a matter of time before they discovered who was after them.
At least, that’s what he hoped.
After stepping out of his shower, drying off and changing into a clean set of clothes, McCabe picked up the phone in his room and called Ying’s room. She answered almost immediately. ‘Tell Stowe beer, lobby bar in ten minutes.’ McCabe then hung up.
‘God, that was McCabe. He knew you were here,’ Ying informed Stowe with some shock. Not seeming at all concerned, Stowe slowly lifted himself up and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘Well, it was only a matter of time before he found out. McCabe is quantum breach 290709.indd 174
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no fool, Ying.’ Stowe shot Ying a smile.
By the time Stowe appeared at the bar, McCabe had already dispatched one beer. He then gestured to the barman for two more upon seeing Stowe shuffl e up.
‘Okay, let’s have it. I know you want to read me the riot act,’ Stowe said.
‘Listen, Stowe, I’m not your boss or your mother, but you know as well as I that our heads have to be fully in the game.’ McCabe paused and took a sip of his now fresh pint of beer. ‘I don’t care what you do, just don’t hurt her, okay?’ In fact, he did sound like a concerned father.
Stowe turned slowly. ‘Listen, dad,’ he began, sarcastically. ‘I really do like her. Not your typical Stowe trait, I grant you, but trust me on this, okay. I won’t let it get in the way.’
McCabe looked at him, pondering for a few moments. ‘Okay, enough said on that point. Your round.’
Stowe smiled and they settled down for a few cold beers whilst McCabe fi lled in Stowe on his little encounter in the streets.
‘Best we don’t tell Ying, but we do need to make sure she is safe at all times. Can you get some help out here?’
‘Sure. Who was he? Did he talk?’ Stowe asked.
‘No, but he certainly won’t now.’ McCabe responded, as if knowing Stowe would have a quip to make, and he did, right on cue.
‘I would have made him talk. No problem.’
‘What, you would have given him a crash course in speaking English? He was Thai by the looks of him,’ McCabe replied.
Stowe looked at McCabe, surprised by the fact the assassin was Asian and not Middle Eastern. It, in fact, suggested an interesting link to the drug cartel that until now was only a loose link. He then turned back to his beer. The man’s wallet, after careful investigation, only contained cash, with no identifi cation at all.
The next morning brought the normal heavy traffi c jams and pollution, a thick brown smog that seemed intent on obliterating every inch of sunlight from Mumbai’s streets. As McCabe and Ying walked quantum breach 290709.indd 175
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into the Dealing Room of the bank, Anju, one of the traders who worked for McCabe, came bounding up.
‘Hi, boss, welcome to India. Welcome also, Miss Ying.’ His face beamed a big smile, highlighted by his brilliant white teeth. ‘I have two seats for you, just over here.’ Anju then led the way to a couple of vacant seats.
‘Please, if you need coffee or tea, the pantry is just over there. If you have any problems with it, one of us can certainly help you.’ Anju then stood smiling, as if waiting for McCabe to dismiss him formally.
McCabe found his team in India very polite, though a little on the subservient side.
‘Thanks, Anju, we will be fi ne,’ McCabe said, and with that, Anju trotted off.
‘Okay, Ying, I’m going to head off in a bit, stuff to do.’
‘Sure, boss, no problem. See you later. I’m assuming you won’t sit here all day watching me?’ Ying responded, rather hoping that McCabe would not be looking over her shoulder every second.
‘Nope, but I do need to log-on and check my emails before I head off.’
As he logged on, he could see the email he had been waiting for: it was from Helen Brown. He opened it up and started to read with an air of excitement. Even McCabe had a childish edge, and he wanted to see her reaction to the phone call he knew she would have received from London.
Mark,
I received a phone call from Christopher Fleming. He did indeed confi rm that you are working on a project of the uppermost importance and I’m to off er every support. As such, please do keep me in the loop and let me know how I can be of assistance. And I do apologise if there was any misunderstanding between us at our earlier meeting.
Regards,
Helen
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McCabe noted that she had copied Christopher Fleming on her reply. He also took the email as being the most basic form of response in offering her help, but he just knew the old cow would have been sick to her fat guts that she was wrong about him and now she knew that McCabe was working on a matter of importance. He smiled to himself and closed the mail. What McCabe did not know was that Fleming had not taken the matter further and an email to Brown, whilst satisfying, would not alone safeguard the bank.
The next message was of more concern. It caused a wave of reality to fall upon him, fully aware that he had to get to the bottom of what Aziz was up to and fast. He turned to Ying and tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Hey, look at this.’ They both then studied the email announcement from Christopher Fleming.
I am delighted to announce that the recent rights issue has been fully taken up by our shareholders. Tai Investments have taken 60%
of the issued stock and our thanks go to them for showing such faith in our strategic growth.
McCabe stopped reading at that point; the rest of the message was to a large degree irrelevant. Looking back at Ying, he said, ‘Okay, so I’m going to fi nd out who the hell Tai Investments is. Something tells me this could be our missing link.’
‘Yeah, I agree, boss. Seems like that is the place to start.’
McCabe got up and walked off. Ying, turning back to her computer, fl exed her fi ngers and opened up her system. Bingo! There it was, a nice fat trade instruction from Aziz. Ying then settled herself in her chair and began to review the details.
Aziz, who was sitting around the corner from Ying, had come in early, at 7:00 a.m. He had quickly sat himself down and entered his last deal instruction. Having done so, he saved the instructions to his closely protected CD as he always did. Every detail was now secured, as were the details from his network of other salesmen dotted around the globe.
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His employer had made it very clear that she wanted the information backed-up and given to her. She wanted a trail of every deal and the details of every transaction saved.
Aziz sat leaning over his desk, his face almost pressed against the screen, his eyes, now very dark and focused, scanning every inch of the deal detail for the last time; he wanted no mistakes. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a fl ashing green light. It indicated that someone had logged on and was looking at his trade. Distracting himself for a second, he clicked on the icon, and then smiled: he could see that Ying was now online. Perfect, he thought; his obedient trader was ready to book his fi nal deal.
Ying was indeed examining the deal. This time the structure of the transaction had a twist: it was a spot transaction, which meant Ying would have to strike the deal there and then. Get it wrong, and she alone would cause the well-made plans of Aziz to fail.
Why was he now placing so much faith in her? she asked herself. All of the previous deals were forwards, meaning they were just purchasing contracts for the future. This deal was gambling on the real-time fl uctuation of the US dollar and o
il prices.
Ying knew, as did Aziz, that supply and demand for oil was highly volatile; the current economic crisis was making the market even more volatile than normal. Both psychological and environmental forces were also coming into play. This form of trading was demanding and carried very high risks. Aziz seemed to know exactly how to play the market; he was clearly a very smart man.
This caused Ying to think really hard. Maybe the structure he was using to make and lose money for the two shipping companies was not so complex, just an easy form of cleaning money. Aziz was, in fact, just performing an action known as layering: via the deals, he was each time distancing the source of funds origination. The only mistake the bank had made was that they had not done enough due diligence around the question of whom they were actually dealing with; the trades in themselves were very straightforward. Smart, she thought.
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Ying found herself running through the logic of this form of trading in her head, whilst reviewing the trade details Aziz had now sent her.
She knew this stuff, but somehow wanted to go through her own level of understanding again, driven by the realisation that McCabe and Stowe, not to mention the bank, were relying on her to get this right.
She knew that the oil and US dollar rates were ever-changing variables, US dollar being the currency of choice when valuing a commodity such as oil. Okay, so that was clear, she thought. Daily fl uctuations of 1% were very common; she had seen this on many other trades. Okay, so that was also now clear.
With forex leverage of 1:100, you could turn 1.2% change into 120%; only the initial investment was at risk, but the profi ts were unlimited if the rate went your way, she thought. As Ying scanned the trade details, she could see that the trade was, indeed, an FX option trade with an underlying forward oil contract. The opening rate was US$106.00, while the investment for each of the two clients was US$50
million.
Ying then looked at what Aziz thought would be the actual move, the fl uctuation. He had put it down as 1.896%. This would mean, if all things worked out, that the two clients would each get a return of US$94.8 million. Wow, she thought. This is huge. All Ying had to do was execute the deal.
As she monitored the oil and currency prices, her mind began to race. Her own commission alone on a deal this size would be huge. A shame it would amount to nothing. She began to toss around other possibilities. What if I keep quiet? The bank would not fi nd out until too late, and I could make a ton of money.
Then, mentally slapping herself, she said, ‘What am I thinking?
This man’s a criminal.’
She regained her focus. As her eyes scanned the US dollar currency moves against the oil price, she felt her hands growing clammy. The environment around her seemed to almost stop and the noise around her started to fade out, such now was her concentration. Then her quantum breach 290709.indd 179
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eyes locked on to the two factors she needed most: US$108.00, value, market move 186%. Strike. She executed the deal, her heart almost stopping, her face now white at the thought of what she had either lost or made. Jesus, that was better than sex, she thought, the adrenaline now pumping through her veins.
Aziz, upon seeing that the deal had been struck, knew at once that it marked his completion of the project, so he quickly picked up the phone and called a local number.
‘It’s Aziz. The deal is done, as instructed.’
‘Good. Well done, Aziz. You are now fi nished!’ The lady informed him, her tone causing Aziz to pause for a few moments. The way she had emphasised the word ‘fi nished’ sounded strange, he thought. But then he remembered that he still had his lifeline, the CD with all the information. He would be careful about handing that over until he knew he was safe. He carefully put down the phone and leaned back in his chair. He was now free to leave for the day. It was then he decided to look for Ying. He may as well say goodbye. Cheeky, he thought, but why not.
As he got up and started to walk off to fi nd Ying, he was unaware that she had just gone off to the washroom. Ying soon re-appeared—not at her own desk, but that of Aziz. Seeing his empty seat, she asked Anju where he had gone off to; she was actually somewhat disappointed. She was about to leave and return to her own seat just around the corner when she spotted the CD on the desk. It was, she was fairly sure, the CD she kept seeing Aziz use, the one he seemed so defensive about.
Instinctively she reached out and picked it up. With it now safe, clasped in both of her hands, she turned and walked off.
As she rounded the corner, she saw Aziz standing at her desk. She stopped and immediately turned around and headed back off towards the washrooms. Aziz, fi nding that Ying had apparently gone, turned and started to head back towards his own desk. Picking up his bag, he reached out and turned off his computer screen. However, a man hovering behind him caused him to overlook something that would quantum breach 290709.indd 180
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prove a fatal mistake. Turning, he looked at the man.
‘Not now, I have to rush off,’ Aziz said bluntly and simply walked out of the Dealing Room,.
It was about 15 minutes later when Ying fi nally returned to her own desk. She opened up the CD case, pulled out the CD and slipped it into her computer drive. As she leant forward, with the CD loaded and the fi le opened, Ying’s eyes widened. As she read a little further, her heart felt like it had missed a beat: there in front of her, in perfect text, was an Excel spreadsheet with line after line of information that quite literally would implicate Aziz. Not only did the CD contain evidence of the trades that had been done between the two shipping companies, but there appeared to be the names and account numbers of all the counterparties against which Aziz had done deals. Of even more importance, there were the details of not just Banning Capital Bank, but eight other banks around the world.
As Ying scanned the data further, she slumped back in her chair, hardly believing what she now saw. There in front of her were the listed names of every rogue salesman and all their contacts. As Ying scanned the disk, she saw the name Moon Star Holdings and their offshore account details, then a name that literally made her freeze: Tai Investments.
This was the company named in Christopher Fleming’s announcement, she thought. Oh my God! Wait till I tell McCabe and Stowe about this.
There then followed name after name with address details; no logical order, but it had to be members of the organisation to which Aziz belonged. One fi nal scan of the data revealed the name that sent a shiver down her spine: Afzal Jihad—and six prominent names were listed. This was it!
Feeling very pleased with herself, she closed the fi le and withdrew the CD, carefully placing it into her bag. She then got up and went off in search of McCabe. Seeing Anju, she called to him. ‘Hey, Anju, have you seen my boss, McCabe?’
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Anju looked at Ying as if thinking hard. ‘No, I have not seen him recently.’
‘Okay, not to worry. Hey, if you do see him before me, can you please tell him I’ve gone back to the hotel, I need to get something.’
‘Okay. I will.’ With that, Anju walked off.
Having searched the Dealing Room for ten minutes, she found no sign of McCabe who, unbeknown to Ying, had stepped out for an hour to meet with Stowe. Stowe wanted to introduce McCabe to the staff at the British High Commission. McCabe, perhaps foolishly, thought Ying would be tied up in the offi ce for the entire day and, as such, would be safe.
Ying then decided to head back to the hotel and place the CD in her room safe. Later, she would hand it over to McCabe and Stowe. As she stepped out into the busy street, she was hit by the dust and smells.
Cars and trucks thundered past, people were busy going about their business. Ying could see that food was being openly cooked and sold on the street. She fl agged down a taxi, safe in the belief it was such by the fact it had ‘Taxi’ written on it.
As she climbed in, Ying settled back and started to look out of the taxi’s windows as it pulled away off down the street. The open poverty struck her, yet the people she saw seemed strangely happy just walking, sitting and chatting on the side of the busy roads. It was then she realised just how fortunate she was coming from Singapore, with her protective family and a clean and safe home. Some of the faces she saw out of the window looked so pitiful, not the evident signs of the supercharged economy that India was now fast becoming.
Twenty minutes later, she burst into her hotel room, her pace now hurried by the fact she knew that she had stolen the CD and, somehow, hiding it would make her feel better about it. She wasted no time. She took out the CD and went directly to the safe hidden in the wardrobe.
Opening the door, she was about to place the CD inside, but then paused.
‘That would be the fi rst place they would look.’ She closed the safe door and punched in the mandatory fi ve-digit code: the safe locked.
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The CD, she decided, would have to be hidden somewhere else, given Ying now had an urge to go shopping. Ying found a large, brown envelope, provided in the hotel stationery desk drawer, and marked it for McCabe’s attention. She would leave it at the reception desk on her way out, she thought.
As she sat on the bed, she suddenly thought about McCabe. Perhaps he was still busy with Stowe doing important planning. ‘If I call him, he will think I’m being a real wimp.’ She then thought about the CD; that would be reason enough to call him. She also started thinking about Aziz, wondering if he suspected her. She took out her mobile and pressed the normal speed dial for McCabe.