by M G Leslie
Price tensed his stomach muscles as each blow arrived. He had to try and prevent any long-term damage to his internal organs. Where his legs were kicked, he relaxed them, so they would move and help absorb the blow, but he couldn’t afford to take too many kicks to the abdomen. As the blows started to hurt more and more he tried to pretend to pass out.
Fortunately, it worked, and after a while Mike stopped and Price just lay there in agony with his eyes closed – he had intended to get Mike angry as he was hoping the chair might weaken by being knocked over and give him a chance to escape, but he was out of luck so far. Then suddenly he and the chair were lifted up so he was upright again and he was being slapped in the face, “Wake-up!” shouted Mike as he threw a bucket of water over Price.
Price opened his eyes and groaned as if in agony. He was genuinely in quite a bit of pain, but all his training told him to make it seem worse than it was. Naturally, he expected Mike would know this as well, so he was waiting for another pounding when Mike said, “Hang on! Those shoes! Those shoes!” and then he reached down and ripped Price’s shoes off after which he opened the secret compartment in the heel of one of them and deactivated the Tracker, before putting it in his pocket and throwing both the shoes back down on the floor.
Price decided to try conversation and said, “Is it just about money Mike? Or is there some bigger plan I’m missing here?”
“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you,” replied Mike in a slightly calmer tone.
“Try me. Please, you’ve sparked my curiosity. After all, it’s not every day someone betrays their friends, their family, their colleagues and their country.”
“I met a girl OK. She has a plan and we will be rich beyond your wildest dreams and all those stupid idiots back in SIS who wouldn’t even give me another few grand to get some information. How am I supposed to work without money?”
Price almost laughed, as it had been him who’d told his chief not to give Mike any more money. But he decided to keep that to himself, as it would just lead to another beating. So instead, he said, “So it’s love then is it?”
“Don’t you dare mock me!”
“I wasn’t mocking you,” said Price. “So who are we talking about here? Not the prostitute in the bar. Please don’t tell me you love a prostitute? I’m sure she loves you Mike, especially with all the bribe money SIS sent your way.” Then he started to laugh openly at Mike.
“You don’t understand!” shouted Mike.
“Trust me,” said Price, “I understand prostitutes. I’ve been working my way through half the population of Manila trying to find you – so if anyone knows them it’s me. I’ve probably even done your girlfriend, if you’ll excuse the rather vulgar expression – what’s her name? Does she… err… how do I put this… love you big boy?” then he started laughing again, realising the inevitable consequence of what he’d just said.
Sure enough, smack! Mike hit Price on the face and once again knocked him over and on to his side on the floor.
“Damn!” thought Price, as his chair fell over again but, despite the repeated beating and straining with his arms and legs, showed no signs of breaking.
Mike picked him up, so Price spoke again, “Tell me, how do you get all this money you’re talking about – are you behind these dodgy money transfers then?”
“Very soon, it won’t be just one or two of your so-called ‘dodgy transfers’. You people have had it easy up until now. In a few days, we’re going to destroy all the main network links between North America and the little town of Bude in your beloved United Kingdom. Once they’re gone, the Internet and financial traffic will be re-routed. Most, if not all, of that will end up passing through Hong Kong, where we now have access to all the undersea communications cables. We’ll intercept almost every transaction, re-route the money to our accounts and in a matter of minutes we’ll have billions. We have an army of beauties distributed throughout Asia ready to withdraw the money. Then, over time it will be re-invested as clean money! And the best thing is – nobody will catch us, because we manage it all remotely from our secret location.”
“As you saw from the Tracker in my shoe Mike, your secret location is not so secret any more. The game is up,” replied Price, “Do you realise what you’re doing here? This isn’t just theft, there’s potentially a foreign government behind this – you need to give up and work with me to sort this out and maybe we can come to an arrangement over your future.”
This time it was Mike’s turn to laugh, “I have no future with you! And this isn’t our secret location – you will never know where that is. That’s funny though – now you want to be my friend? That is funny. This place is only needed to intercept the initial funds transfers and we’ll be blowing the lift shaft and sealing this place very soon – so there will be no way in or out for anything that’s down here, which will now include your good self. Then we’ll manage everything remotely and you’ll be in an underground grave forever.”
“So this secret location, wherever that is,” said Price, “Presumably you’re going there very soon then?”
“Yes.”
Price was about to reply and try and keep him talking when he saw Mike look past him to the doorway – although he couldn’t see the door himself. Price opened his mouth to speak, but Mike said, “Shut up! And don’t move!” then he walked out of the room.
“Don’t move? Fat chance of that,” Price thought to himself – still straining to try and break free.
Shortly after, Price could hear a conversation going on, probably in a room nearby. He could definitely hear Mike’s voice and he thought the other was a girl’s voice, although he couldn’t initially make out specific words. Then suddenly he could hear Mike saying, “No, no, I did everything right. It wasn’t me it was that bitch in the club who led them here. It wasn’t me! What are you doing? I love you! What are you doing? No, no, no, you can’t do this!” Then he screamed out, “No!” and there was a loud “Bang!” that Price recognised as a pistol firing, followed by the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.
“That was nothing less than an execution,” thought Price, believing he had to be next, until he heard the girl’s voice again, this time from only a few feet behind his head, “Leave that one – but sedate this one and bring him to the island – and don’t be seen, they will have this place watched.”
“Yes mam,” was the last thing Price remembered hearing, before two men appeared and held him still whilst a needle was inserted in his arm and he felt himself falling asleep.
Once they had verified that he was completely unconscious, he was removed from the chair and transported along with all the remaining workers to the surface.
Back on the surface, Lee’s watchers across the road saw a large truck reverse up to the 7-11 and open the back doors so that nobody could see what was going in or out of the front of the shop. As they watched they became more nervous so they called Lee, “Something’s going on but we can’t see boss.”
“Get down there,” said Lee, “All four of you, keep your channels open so I can hear you speaking. Go and buy something.”
“Got it boss,” then they all sprinted down the stairs and walked casually across the road – at least they tried to make it look as casual as they could.
As the men approached the front of the shop and walked around the truck, they were stopped by a security man who said, “We’re closed!”
“We just want to pick up a few beers for our evening please? We’ll only be 2 minutes and we have cash.”
“We’ll be open again in 10 minutes,” the security man replied, “Come back then.”
Lee spoke to the watchers who were all wearing earpieces, “No way! Just walk in! Make them physically block your way. Do it! Now!”
The watchers all stepped forward and started saying, “Honestly, we’ll be one minute we promise, no time at all and it’s all good money for you.”
As they walked forward, they started to see wooden crates being loaded
in to the truck by a few ordinary looking men. However, the security man became very agitated, stepped in their way and said, “Stop!” Then he picked up a walkie-talkie and said, “I need help here!” at which point a further 6 security guards appeared, all blocking the watchers from moving forward.
The watcher was undeterred, “There really is no need for this – can’t we just get a few beers,” as he started to try and push passed the guards.
“Step back! You cannot come in here! If you come forward we will be forced to take action,” said one of the security guards.
“OK stand down,” said Lee, “Get back over the road and tell me what you see.”
So the watchers raised their hands as if to say ‘fair enough’ and walked away.
Once the watchers were back across the road, the most senior man spoke to Lee, “I don’t know where all those guys came from, but they were loading a lots of crates. Maybe there’s a basement or something.”
“Any sign of Price?” asked Lee.
“No, none and we still can’t get a signal from his Tracker, it stopped a few minutes after he entered the shop.”
“Two of you stay put. The other two, tail the truck,” said Lee.
By this time, the truck had finished loading and pulled away from Stanley Bay, now with two unmarked cars following at a discreet distance – each one with a watcher inside.
After half an hour or so, “He’s going for Kowloon,” said the first watcher, as they entered the tunnel under Victoria Harbour.
Shortly after, as they emerged in Tsim Sha Tsui on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong, the truck turned west and the second watcher spoke, “You know what, I reckon he might be going for the airport.”
“OK,” said Lee, “Number 2 you pull ahead on that assumption, so that he doesn’t think you’re on his tail. Number 1, stay behind him and don’t lose him!”
Another 20 minutes later and the truck turned on to the Lantau Link, also known as the Tsing Ma Bridge, “I agree with 2,” said the first watcher, “We’re on course for the airport.”
“OK, 2, slow down and hang back. Number 1 you go on ahead and get parked and follow him when he arrives, I presume he’ll be heading for the cargo terminal, unless they have a private plane,” said Lee. “Hmmm, now there’s a thought,” he muttered, almost to himself and turned to one of his colleagues, “Can you get me a list of all the private and cargo aircraft scheduled to leave in the next few hours please and their destinations,” then switching back to the team in Stanley he said, “Any sign of Price?”
“Nothing Sir. It’s all quiet here.”
“OK, go across the road and try and get your bottle of milk again and see what the inside looks like. Don’t try any thing, just have a good look around and come back out,” replied Lee.
“Got it, we’re on our way.”
“Don’t go being smart or anything,” said Lee, “Just look and get out.”
“Yes Sir.”
The radios went silent for a few minutes as the watchers went about their tasks, and then, “It’s heading for a private plane. He’s just turned in to the Business Aviation Centre,” said watcher 2 who had now arrived at the airport and was sitting at the side of the road outside the terminal.
“Number 1, get in there and find out where he’s going,” said Lee.
Then Lee’s assistant in the embassy said, “We’re in luck. There’re only a few flights out of the business centre in the next couple of hours. Most are pretty regular business arrangements, but there’s one of that stands out – it’s a private charter – a turbo-prop that looks like it’s headed for Laoag International Airport in northern Luzon, Philippines.”
“Can we get the name of the owner and the passenger manifest?” said Lee.
“Working on that now,” his assistant replied.
“Doesn’t it have to go through customs?” asked Lee.
“It’s already done that,” said watcher 1 who could hear the conversation in his earpiece, “I’ve just spoken to customs and they confirmed it’s purely a shipment of mechanical parts for cars – nothing suspicious.”
“And because it’s metal, if Price was inside, the x-ray’s wouldn’t show him up. Damn!” said Lee, “Get down there and see what you can find out!”
Lee was then about to ask the team in Stanley if they had any news, when he heard one of them shouting, “Oh no, no – it’s gone – it’s all gone!”
“What’s gone, what are you talking about?” said Lee, somewhat impatient as he couldn’t stand unhelpful or imprecise communications.
“There’s been an explosion here at Stanley boss. Number 3 went in to the 7-11 and I was about to cross the road and follow in behind him when it blew up. The roof lifted off the building, the front blew out, I was knocked off my feet and now all I can see is a cloud of dust – it’s gone, there’s nothing left Sir,” said the watcher who had now crossed the road and was desperately trying to see if his partner was buried under the rubble.
Lee could hear sirens in the background as the man spoke and presumed the police and the emergency services were on their way. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But make sure, when they question you, they see you as an individual who was shopping with a friend. I don’t want any backlash from this.”
“Got it Sir,” said the watcher, still in a state of shock.
“Christ!” said Lee – I hope Price wasn’t in there. “Number 1, what’s going on at the business centre?”
“They’re loading the plane inside a hanger. I can’t see what’s going on, I’m trying to make my way around,” the watcher replied.
“OK,” said Lee as he turned to his assistant, “Get me Pete in Manila, they’re heading back in his direction by the looks of it.”
A couple of minutes later, “Pete, they’re heading back to you in a private plane, destined for Laoag airport. I’ll send you the details as a secure message,” said Lee.
“OK, I’ll try and get there and track them once they land. Where’s Price?” Pete replied.
“Either buried in a 7-11 that just exploded in Stanlay Bay, or somehow on the plane,” replied Lee.
“Let’s pray for the latter,” said Pete, “I’d best get going in that case – keep me posted.”
“Will do and thanks,” replied Lee, who then dropped the call.
Meanwhile, in the hangar at the Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre, the truck backed up to the side of the plane, just as it had at the 7-11. Having already cleared customers and immigration, it was now just a case of loading the plane. So in the privacy of the hangar with the doors closed, the private security guards opened the crates, removing some computer equipment they had brought with them from Stanley, and Price, who was still unconscious.
Once two of the guards had carried him on board and strapped him to a seat, the doors of the plane were closed, so it was impossible to see who was inside. Then the hangar doors opened and the watcher stood discreetly out of view as it taxied past him and towards the runway.
“They’re about to take off,” he said to Lee over his radio.
“OK, let me know once it’s in the air, we still have radar tracking stations in this part of the world and I’m in touch with London to see if we can divert a satellite, although no luck so far,” replied Lee.
Five minutes later, the watcher advised that he was heading back to the office, “They’re in the air, so there’s nothing more I can do here.”
“OK,” said Lee, as he went back to a side conversation he had been having with GCHQ, who were now monitoring the aircraft’s progress, both by remote radar tracking stations and by listening in to Hong Kong and Philippines air traffic control.
Shortly after the plane was in the air, Lee was passed the passenger manifest, which showed only a pilot, co-pilot and a lady who was just listed as “Lucy.”
“So, she wasn’t a hooker after all,” he said to himself as he typed a message to Pete in Manila, so that he had the same information.
As Lee continued to look through t
he paperwork, he could see that the flight time was estimated to be around 4 hours – double what would normally be expected from the usual Hong Kong to Manila flights – but then this was a turbo-prop and not a jet, so he supposed it made sense.
Lee had planned to keep track of the aircraft until it landed and then hand over to Pete. So he maintained a constant communications link with GCHQ and SIS in London to check on its progress. However, two hours later, when he should have been quietly drinking a coffee, his GCHQ contact spoke, “It’s going down!”
Lee’s boss in London, the Chief of Staff and Lee himself all said, “What?”
The GCHQ man continued, “It’s lost altitude and is executing a rapid descent that is typical of a plane crashing. The air traffic control in the Philippines are doing their nuts as we speak as it’s about to go below the altitude their radar can track. Very soon we won’t be able to track it either. Hang on – they’ve managed to contact the pilot. I’ll patch it through so you can hear as well.”
For a brief moment, the call went silent and then suddenly there was a huge amount of background noise and they heard what they presumed was the pilot, speaking – or to be more precise, crying. He seemed to be having nervous breakdown and was making no sense at all until the line went dead and the GCHQ man spoke, “They’ve gone off the radar – they’re down I guess.”
The Chief of Staff spoke first, “Can we get an aircraft or a ship out there to find them – what are the chances?”
“They were shifting Sir,” said the GCHQ man. “He must have been going full throttle as he dived straight for the sea – I doubt if there will be anything to find.”