Quantum Breach

by Powell, Mark

  ‘Who are you? Why have you got me in here?’ she demanded.

  Hajj stood looming in the doorway, the fi lthy bowl of broth in his hands. He did not like women. Worse, he loved to torture them. He quantum breach 290709.indd 193

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  stepped inside and delivered a hard kick to Ying’s body, sending her fl ying backwards, and screaming in pain.

  ‘You shut up, I tell you when to speak,’ Hajj spat.

  Ying curled herself into a ball and lay motionless, trying to stop herself from whimpering. ‘You go hungry now!’ Hajj threw the bowl on the fl oor and the contents spilled out, only to seep into the fi lthy stone fl oor. He then turned and walked out, pulling the door shut. Ying heard it lock and the heavy footsteps fade away. The shaft of thin light vanished from sight as the door at the top of the stairs shut, leaving Ying once again alone in the dark.

  She sat up, pulling herself back against the wall, her ribs now pumping pain around her body. She drew up her knees, placed her head on them and wrapped her arms around her legs, closing her eyes. She focused on thoughts of her mother. She pictured her going about her business; then, realising her dilemma, her thoughts quickly turned to Stowe. Would he save her? She had to believe that he would and the love he had shown her was real and not just a passing fl ing.

  Why was she here? It must be related to the CD she had stolen from Aziz, she thought. He must have blown the whistle on her.

  Ying now began to wish she had left well enough alone, and maybe she should have told Stowe and McCabe about the mystery man in the shopping mall. She should not have left the hotel. Why had she been so stupid?

  She squeezed herself even tighter into a ball.

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  TWENTY-THREE

  Stowe and McCabe sat looking at each other like a pair of lost schoolboys. The pantry area of the British High Commission in Mumbai was not the best place to really think. They had both needed coffee, but having sat down, the exhaustion began to take its toll and they simply couldn’t move. It had now been almost 48 hours of little sleep, trying to establish where Ying may be held. The hotel porter at the Taj, Raghu, had come forward, remembering that McCabe and Stowe had checked in with her. He carefully recounted what he had witnessed, the big foreign man, Ying being taken and the black van into which Ying had been placed. McCabe and Stowe, given the description of the ‘big man’ Raghu had described, were sure he was Middle Eastern and part of Afzal Jihad. They were also concerned by the fact Aziz had also mysteriously vanished, which linked Ying’s disappearance even more to the Jihad.

  Stowe and McCabe had to now face reality: Ying was in big trouble.

  They were both feeling like shit, both knowing she could be used as a pawn or, worse, killed to warn them off. They both felt entirely responsible. McCabe was really beating himself up for having missed her phone call.

  Suddenly, as if the steam valve could take no more, Stowe barked,

  ‘You should have had your mobile with you, damn it, McCabe!’

  thumping his hand hard down on the table.

  McCabe shot Stowe a hard glare and lashed back. ‘What! You can quantum breach 290709.indd 195

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  talk: if you had not fi lled her head with shit, she may have been more focused.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Stowe was now glaring at McCabe, lifting himself up out of his chair.

  ‘It means you not being able to keep your dick in your pants, Stowe,’

  McCabe spat, his own gaze cold and unfaltering on Stowe’s eyes.

  ‘At least I can protect my women,’ Stowe snipped, forgetting for a second that Ying was in part his girl, and she was now in fact missing.

  His intent was more directed at McCabe and Kate.

  That comment alone was too much for McCabe to tolerate. Whilst a controlled man, he had his limits.

  ‘You dare to say that to me.’ McCabe started to move around the table and square up to Stowe. ‘It was you, arsehole, you caused Kate’s death, fucked up the rescue attempt, and to think I saved your sorry arse in that hut buried in Myanmar. I should have left you there to rot.’

  Stowe’s face now showed the clear impact of McCabe’s revelation.

  ‘What? That was you who hauled me out of there?’ His tone registered surprise bordering on shock.

  ‘Yes it was me! Who else? You passed out remember?’ McCabe moved in closer, his body now bearing down on Stowe.

  Whilst they both knew each other’s capabilities, and that alone would ensure they would both feel pain in the event they came to blows, neither wanted to make the fi rst move. Stowe knew McCabe was highly dangerous and very capable of killing him, no weapon required.

  McCabe also knew that Stowe could take him down. Stowe was a dirty fi ghter; he would think nothing of placing his two thumbs hard into a man’s eye sockets to gain an advantage.

  Then, as if something clicked, Stowe took a step back. ‘Okay, okay, enough,’ he rasped, his voice now calm. ‘The other guy with me who died that day, you know who that was?’ Stowe commented, McCabe then looked at him, thoughtful, ‘Yeah, some guy Trent, if I recall. Why?’ McCabe was now wondering what the point of Stowe’s question was.

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  ‘Trent, yeah. The son of one Malcolm Trent, my boss,’ Stowe replied.

  McCabe’s face now slid into deadpan. ‘Holy shit. Thank God he doesn’t know it was me who tried to rescue him. Not that it was my fault he was killed,’ McCabe replied,

  ‘Yeah, he may have a different view of you. He was a great lad, young and green around the edges, but had promise. It took Trent and his wife many years to get over that,’ Stowe said.

  ‘The old sod doesn’t blame you in any way?’ McCabe was now confused as to why Trent would employ Stowe after that.

  ‘He did at fi rst, then blamed himself for ever allowing his son to enlist. So you see, McCabe, rescue missions are tough: easy to blame, hard to forgive when things go wrong,’ Stowe concluded, his point well made and directed at McCabe. His hope was that McCabe would forgive him over Kate.

  After pausing a few moments, McCabe immediately got the point.

  ‘Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.’ Which was about as deep as any apology between them would get.

  ‘We have to get Ying back. We can settle our old scores later.’ Stowe then backed further away. McCabe knew he was right and relaxed his posture. ‘Agreed,’ he said and sat back down.

  They both knew they had to fi nd where Ying was being held—

  and fast. They couldn’t even be sure she was still in Mumbai. The only clue they had was the black van. Luckily for them, Raghu had also memorised the registration number. It was now being checked.

  Both Stowe and McCabe knew that Ying would not be treated to tea and biscuits by her captors; torture would certainly be on the menu.

  Her captors most likely would try and extract information out of her about McCabe and Stowe. It also appeared from her last message that she had found something, information that was clearly valuable to both sides. Stowe found himself even thinking she may already be dead. After all, what use, other than to recount what she knew about the trades, would she be to them? In reality, she posed very little risk. At least that quantum breach 290709.indd 197

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  was before Stowe knew she had vital information. If her captors also knew that, it could be an entirely different game now.

  ‘We will fi nd her, trust me on that,’ McCabe said.

  Stowe just looked at him, his face not convinced.

  ‘So tell me, truth: you and Ying, you really have a thing for her or is it just good old lust?’ McCabe asked, l
ooking at Stowe for a reaction.

  ‘Yes, I do. We have become very close.’

  ‘Jesus, Stowe, she’s half your age. What were you thinking?’

  ‘Love, what does age have to do with it?’ Stowe’s tone was hard and showed his anger at the suggestion that he was incapable of having a young woman love him.

  ‘Okay, calm down,’ McCabe responded. ‘But think: where would they take her?’

  ‘Could be anywhere. Mumbai is a maze of back streets. You know that better than I do. We need some kind of a lead,’ Stowe said, then stood up and started to pace the room.

  Moments later the door burst open and a clerical offi cer walked in briskly, handed Stowe a note and left as smartly as he had entered the room, not uttering a word. After checking the note, Stowe looked at McCabe.

  ‘Well, what is it?’ McCabe said curtly, wanting to know, his eyes looking at the note in Stowe’s hand.

  ‘The van. Registered to Al Safad Shipping in Mumbai,’ Stowe replied.

  Then, as if it had been all so obvious, McCabe looked up. ‘Your contact, this Rain Angel woman, she must be able to fi nd out. I mean, if the terrorists are indeed linked back to Afzal Jihad, she would know their moves, right? A kidnapping would dominate their airwaves, right?’

  Stowe, looking back at McCabe, nodded. ‘Worth a go. We’ll soon fi nd out if she’s with us or against us. Come on, let’s try and call London now.’ Stowe was almost showing a sign of excitement.

  They both walked out in search of a private room from where they quantum breach 290709.indd 198

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  could call London HQ. On the way, Stowe suddenly blurted out,

  ‘Christ, we should inform the Singapore authorities and Ying’s parents.

  If this gets out in the news, all hell will break out.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll handle that,’ McCabe replied.

  As they sat in one of the soundproof briefi ng rooms, Stowe dialled HQ and asked for Trent. After a few moments, he was patched through.

  ‘Trent. How’s it going?’

  ‘Not good. Ying, an employee of Banning Capital, has, we believe, been abducted. She was helping us on the inside. We’ve been trying to sniff out a trail but … blanks, I’m afraid, sir. We need some leads here and fast. We think she may have some vital information that could expose Afzal Jihad. Her last voice mail indicated to McCabe that she had found something.’ Stowe paused.

  Not hearing any response from Trent, he continued. ‘I’m requesting we contact the Rain Angel. Given that Afzal Jihad is known to her, she may know or be able to fi nd out something for us. Can you contact her, sir?’

  After a brief pause, Trent replied, ‘Leave it with me. If you have not heard from me within 24 hours, call me again, understood?’

  ‘Okay, sir,’ Stowe replied.

  ‘Anything else I can help you with?’ Trent enquired.

  McCabe then interjected, ‘Yes, sir, there is. I need one or two SAS teams on standby. If we track her down, it’s likely to need a swift extraction, one that does not draw too much media attention. I don’t want to use the local boys if she is still in India, so I need you to contact Colonel William Sykes and have him call me, please. It’s McCabe here.’

  ‘Ah yes, McCabe. Just one point: this Ying, she is not a UK

  citizen, correct? She’s Singaporean, if I remember. Stowe told me, so it may not fall on us.’ Trent’s reply had come with an arrogant, almost derogatory tone.

  ‘No, sir, she’s not a UK citizen, but with all due respect, she’s in this mess because of us. This is a combined 5 and 6 Operation, correct, not quantum breach 290709.indd 199

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  to mention an attack on a UK bank, and we need her. She is now the best source we have that may lead us to the mastermind of this group, so I expect, sir, it’s covered.’

  A pause followed. ‘Okay, I take your point, McCabe. Leave it with me.’ A loud grunt followed as if to announce his displeasure at being proved wrong.

  ‘Get the teams, sir,’ Stowe now piped in.

  ‘Listen, Stowe, there’s enough noise around this already. I know we are all in this together, but damn it, protocol: I have the bloody Home Secretary all over me.’ Trent was now clearly annoyed.

  Stowe fi red back. ‘Sir, with respect: from what I can derive from this mess, it seems that these terrorists are in some kind of partnership with an Asian drug cartel and are looking to buy up bank stock with money made from traffi cking drugs. In return for their help, the Jihad get some funds to buy arms and continue their fi ght against the West.

  If that happens, and we can’t stop them, there is no telling how many banks will end up with drug lords or terrorists as the shareholders. It will be open season for money laundering to be passed through banks majority-owned and controlled by the very people banks try and avoid.

  Where will that leave the fi nancial markets of the world?’

  ‘And you think banks are ethical institutions? You know nothing. I will update you in 24 hours.’ With that, Trent hung up.

  Looking at Stowe, McCabe said, ‘Pompous arse! I think he got the point though. Come on, no point in mulling around here, I’ll buy you a pint.’

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  TWENTY-FOUR

  Ying was slowly fading. She had not eaten now for 48 hours. The odd bottle of water was shoved in the room every three hours by her captors. The water was warm and had a metallic taste which made her retch. The chain around her ankle, now rubbing it, was starting to cause a sore.

  As she sat alone in the dark, she began to wonder how on earth she had gotten involved. The excitement of working with Stowe and McCabe was now more a feeling of regret. A bit like a boyfriend you thought you liked, only to fi nd out he was married, she thought, trying to cheer herself up. Then, suddenly, the door swung open. She must have drifted off and not heard them coming: two men walked in. Ying slowly tried to back into one of the corners.

  ‘You come with us!’ Hajj barked and then grabbed her. As he did, Ying started to scream and fi ght back, her arms and legs fl ailing around. The hold Hajj had on her was too strong, however, and fi ghting was useless. The other man unchained her ankle and the chain dropped to the fl oor with a loud clatter. A dirty, smelly canvas bag was then forced over her head and she felt herself being hauled out and dragged up the steps.

  Ying felt her head get lighter as the air inside the bag was stifl ing; she gasped for air. She then felt herself being forced down into a chair and her hands tied behind her back, the rope tight as it burned into her soft skin, followed by the tying of her ankles. Ying tried to struggle, but it quantum breach 290709.indd 201

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  was no use, she couldn’t move. She could hear herself breathing heavily and starting to panic. A sense of asphyxiation was setting in.

  ‘Please, I can’t breathe! Let me go, please, I beg you!’ Ying shouted.

  Nothing seemed to stir around her. Had she been left alone?

  Then out of the dark came a soft feminine voice, that of the infamous Rain Angel. ‘Ying, isn’t it? So tell me, Ying, how are you?’

  Ying turned to where she thought the sound was coming from. ‘I want to know why you have me here. I demand you let me go.’

  ‘Ying, I think we both know why you are here. The CD you took from Aziz, the one with all the data on it: where is it?’ The lady’s voice remained calm, yet clear and to the point.

  ‘CD? What CD?’ Ying replied.

  ‘Ying, I warn you, do not try my good nature. Tell me and you can leave. If you do not tell me, things will get very unpleasant, I’m afraid.’

  The voice was now a little more fi rm.

  ‘Please, I don’t know what you mean.’ After a short pause, Ying heard footsteps. Her heart suddenly jum
ped, her entire body jerked as the cold water hit, poured over her head. She felt she was drowning, her lungs fi ghting for air, deep gasps, one after another as she fought for any breath she could take.

  After what seemed like ages, she fi nally managed to draw a deep breath. Her heart was now pounding in her chest, her limbs aching from the ropes that held her down as she fought for air.

  ‘Tell me, Ying, or you will get more.’ The voice now sounded harder.

  ‘Please, please, I beg you.’ As the water hit again, Ying tried to hold her breath this time, but the water seeped in through the canvas bag, drowning out every breath she had left. I’m going to die, she thought. She tried to think of her parents, but the need for air brought her fi ghting back. She struggled and yanked on her arms; it was hopeless. She remained gasping for a few minutes, the wet bag tight against her face. She was in hell and deep trouble, she thought, this could not be happening to her, she had to wake up, it had to be a bad dream. It had to be.

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  Ying then heard the voice again. This time, it seemed once again to be calm. ‘Ying, I don’t want to hurt you, believe me. My dear girl, you should know that MI5 and our dear friends at MI6 are using you. They don’t care about you, an Asian girl. All they want is that CD with all of the corrupt evidence on it. Shall I tell you why, because half of the people implicated on the CD, people who have helped our cause are MI6 offi cers or worse, politicians in the UK Cabinet. This McCabe and Stowe are just wolves used to track you down and eat you alive. Trust me, I know. I’m on your side. I am your only friend.’

  Ying paused, thinking about what the lady had just said. Could it be true, was she being used? Her mind was now racing around, trying to make sense of what was happening to her.