Part 3

The Silk Road

Richard could not remember when he had last seen Daniel but he reckoned that this was the first time since Daniel’s return from Malaysia. He wondered if Daniel blamed him in any way for Michelle’s death and he supposed that it was a plausible irrationality given Daniel’s infatuation with the girl. Still, Richard decided to speak to him and walked up to the bench he was sitting at in Lincoln Inn’s Fields. It was 2 in the afternoon and Richard was on his way back to the Hall.

“Hello Daniel.” Richard said waiting to be invited to sit. He was and sat down a little surprised at the lack of reaction from the young man.

“Another year. Maybe I’ll get to finish this one with a little less excitement.” Daniel said without any trace of bitterness in his voice.

“Should be no trouble.” Richard assured.

Daniel pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit up.

“Whatever happened to Chan?” Daniel asked.

“He decided to go back to running restaurants I think.”

“Richard, when you let me go with Colin, you didn’t believe she had a chance did you?”

“Michelle? I don’t know. I thought we had to give even the slimmest chance a go but it was a slim chance.”

“And what was Colin’s mission? Go in and short the markets before the crisis? Did you know about it beforehand? Did you send us to do your dirty work knowing that a civil crisis was at hand?”

Daniel’s voice grew with his anger.

“You came to me with a plan to save Michelle. The information of her whereabouts was yours. I knew nothing. You wanted to go and I helped you out. Colin went along because he wanted to find out a few things that might be material to our investments in Asia, namely, the politics within ASEAN. I would have rather both of you stayed.”

“You went as well didn’t you? Why did you go?” Daniel’s anger receded as his reason took over and his purpose was to understand, not to blame.

“I went to Hong Kong where Sheerluck has many investments. The outcome of the shakeup was very important to us.”

“Shorted the markets?”

“We decided to lighten our holdings based on the uncertain climate.”

That last remark drew a smile from Daniel.

“You are a slippery bastard. Do you think they will find you someday?”

“They may already know, but I am no threat. And besides, we are called Legion for we are many.”

Daniel offered Richard a cigarette in a male sign that all was forgiven whatever the  guilt.

“You could have told us your fears.”

“I could, I’m sorry. I was cavalier with your safety and Colin’s. He’ll be back soon. In a week or so.”

“You know what I miss? Those days in the Passfield bar. Doing absolutely nothing. I miss that.”

“You’re on a Sheerluck scholarship now so I suggest you put in the hours. No more lounging about.”

“You run Sheerluck don’t you?” Daniel asked what he already thought he knew.

“I run a department of it but no, I don’t own it.” Richard laughed.  “Some people suspect that I do. The fact is that Sheerluck was set up by a group of rich individuals who wish to remain anonymous. I was a convenient spokesman and a front, nothing more.”

It was another rainy muggy day and the traffic was backed up as usual in Bangkok. The remnants of an overground railway that had begun almost a decade ago stood as a bleak testament to the economic breakdown of the region. The only benefit was the shade afforded by the huge pillars and bridges that ran parallel to the major roads in the city. At the base of these pillars hawkers and vendors had set up shop and crowds congregated around them sometimes spilling onto the road and causing even more chaos. Menem Ali checked the time on his trusty Omega Speedmaster. It was 1523 hours and he had a good three hours to get himself to the airport. It would just be sufficient.

The desert was unexpectedly cold for the time of day. McGregor checked the time on his Bell and Ross military chronograph and radioed in his position. It would be another two days before he made it to Aqtau on the banks of the Caspian Sea and his next checkpoint. It was 0900 hrs and already they had been travelling for over two hours. McGregor was thankful he had the front running Hummer. The rest of the men were less fortunate having to travel in the Iveco Fiat tonners.

“Remind me to get women for the men when we reach the next village.” McGregor told one of the two men in the back of the Hummer who smiled and nodded in reply.

Seventy two Fiat trucks in all, traveling in convoy along the East West highway at an average speed of 50 km/h. John Lane was watching the caravan through his binoculars as it meandered through the hills at a tortuous pace. This lot had not made it out of Burma like the others. This one had eluded them until now. All the electronic eyes in the sky and it took instead a CNN reporters advice and a little leg work to find the caravan. The Westland Aerospatiale SG1-X gunship hovered in silent mode behind a ridge, her blades profiled to make as little noise as possible. Inside it was still quite noisy but the contractors assured that the audio signature had been reduced considerably. Not that it mattered to Lane. He had two other such gunships armed to the teeth flanking his position and three more armoured troop transport helicopter hovering in standby behind his helo. 

“I count four Hummers, sir.” Lt. Hicks reported from No. 1.

“The first one is at least three minutes ahead. We’ll need to take out the second and third first. Leave the trailing Hummer to us.” John Lane commanded. “Gently now. Just the driver, I want the vehicle commanders alive”

Number 1 gunship began its approach, lurching downwards and forward towards the tail of the convoy. It was still about a thousand metres out when it slipped lower into the ridge line. Number 2 gunship circled wide around east similarly camouflaging itself in the terrain.  The command gunship moved west, positioning itself in line of sight to the lead Hummer. The sniper on board took aim through a computer monitor as his adjustments were electronically made to the high power rifle mounted at the starboard flank of the gunship. A computer took out the vibrations due to the helicopter’s motion while a stochastic filter tracked the movement of the target. Magnification was increased until a clear picture of the cabin and the driver was visible on screen.

“We have a lock on the target sir.” The sniper informed John Lane.

“Wait for it.” Lane ordered.

The other gunships had similarly acquired their targets and were awaiting his orders.

“Faulkner, the Hummers can ride on three wheels right?” Lane asked his 2 IC who was an external contractor of consummate skill in their ruthless trade. In fact, Faulkner was responsible for the training and coordination of the current team.

“That’s right. It’s the only way.” Faulkner replied coldly as he adjusted the scope on his own rifle.

“All units go. Fire when ready.” John Lane commanded.

The rear Hummer was the first to go. The gunship sniper had fixed the target with a laser signature burn and the laser ranging rifle aligned itself to the spot on the driver’s neck. The rifle was of a special design that relied on electric and magnetic fields to propel the bullet. It was about six times faster than a standard rifle round and was therefore almost unaffected by the effects of wind and gravity. At the push of a button the rifle loosed off two rounds. Both found their target silently and ruthlessly. The vehicle commander never saw it coming. All he noticed was his driver convulsing from the impact as his head exploded and his neck was broken. The Hummer veered left towards the side of the hill and the commander had to grab the wheel in an attempt to stabilize the vehicle. It was a vain attempt as the Hummer hit the sidewall and keeled over almost gracefully before landing in a heap on its side. By this time one of the carrier helicopters was already almost on top of them and commandos were sliding silently down the ropes. They would secure the Hummer and the remaining occupants.

At the same time the leading Hummer was taken out with similar precision and efficiency by the command gunship.  This time the Hummer rolled on its side and began to tumble. This forced the first truck behind it to jam on the brakes and cause a 9-truck pile up kicking up dust and sand from the sandy road. The remaining trucks had no choice but to stop behind the pile up that blocked their path. At this time the Number one gunship and one of the troop carriers popped up and began to lay down suppressive fire from their machine guns. A few of the drivers and guard may have been tempted to arm themselves with their cargo and shoot back but the helicopters were of the heavily armoured variety and had a formidable arsenal. Commandos began to rappel down from the troop carrier and upon hitting the ground they grouped up and began to round up the men on the ground. They moved quickly and cautiously in case there was any resistance but there was none.

“Sir, we are securing the main body. No resistance so far.” Lt. Hick’s reported from Number 1.

“Good. Round up the men and put them in the first serviceable trucks foremost in the column.” Lane replied. “Then blow a way through and we continue West along the trail.”

The ahead Hummer was cruising along oblivious to the ambush of its convoy. The vehicle commander glanced back but the convoy was too far behind so that had nothing happened to them he wouldn’t have known either. One thing he noted was the absence of the dust storm that the convoy kicked up and his suspicions were immediately aroused.

“Stop the car.” He commanded to his driver who slowed the Hummer up to a crawl, kicking up a cloud of dust as he did so. The two gun men in the back brandished their AK47’s at the ready, looking back in expectation. Suddenly they heard two small explosions and felt the Hummer shake and settle just that fraction. From behind cover the shape of the Aerospatiale SG-1X popped up and began to strafe the ground in front of them. The gunner on board was careful not to hit anyone in the car or the gas tank for that matter. The chopper advanced upon the Hummer whose occupants sat pinned down inside the vehicle. It advanced to within 20 metres and then landed on the road ahead of the Hummer. Two men in black climbed out and the carried the latest British assault rifle of Bullpup design with multiple barrel attachments. SAS thought the vehicle commander. He calculated the odds of fighting his way out of this but figured that the chopper could probably cut them down where they stood so he stood his men down. There would be another time. He hoped.

Back with the convoy, the men were disarmed, handcuffed and herded into the first 5 trucks. Number 1 chopper loosed two surface to air missiles which blew the tangled mass of trucks blocking the pass to smithereens and the convoy continued to press on. The trucks behind were commandeered by the commandos who secured the cargo and followed after. The captives watched on in fear and bewilderment. They were untrained fighters, not professional soldiers and certainly no match for their captors. The speed and efficiency of their capture frightened them into submission. And so the convoy continued in its new form and with its new commanders. A column of 60 trucks and 6 helicopters in a slow path that deviated from the convoy’s originally westbound route, diverting south and heading back into Pakistan.

The command chopper lingered over the ambush site and surveyed it.

“Something on our scope commander.” The technical officer reported.

“What is it?” Lane asked actually getting up off his seat to take a new place by the technical officer’s station.

“A Unicom signal coming from somewhere in the hills at this MGR.” Lt. Currie pointed to a blip on the screen which showed a relief map.

“Are you sure it’s a global phone signal? Out here? Did we miss anyone?”

Now Faulkner leaned over.

“We could not have left anyone. And certainly not anyone who would have use of a Unicom phone.” Faulkner remarked. “Take us out a few thousand metres, low.” He said to the pilot who understood at once and made the helicopter take an exit profile.

“Every Unicom phone has an ID card which will most certainly be anonymous in this case. The phone uses an Intel Z-2 microprocessor, however, and each Z-2 has a hardware signature. Check this direct from Intel and see if it matches the one encoded in the signal.”

Lane was impressed at Faulkner’s knowledge. Not bad for a 51 year old.

“I don’t think Intel would release that information to us sir.” Lt. Currie thought aloud.

John Lane’s mind was racing.

“I know someone who can help.” John Lane said at last. “Do you have a Net connection here?”

“Yes. I can access it from here. Just talk me through it.” Lt. Currie said.

John Lane pulled out his cellular and dialed the London number to Richard Chang.

“Richard? John Lane. I need a favour.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“OK John. Just had to check that you are in fact John Lane. Shoot.”

It took  all of two minutes for Currie to relay the signal to Richard who compared it with the Intel archives and identified the phone as a US government issue.

“John. Your phone is property of the US government, issued June 12, 2004 to the department of National Security. I can’t give you a name right now. Would you like the telephone number?”

It was a damn good idea.

“Major, take us on a stealth approach, silent mode.” Faulkner ordered the pilot.

The gunship went even lower and Terrain Following Radar was activated allowing safe travel at an altitude of a mere 10 meters at a reasonable speed. John Lane dialed the number that Richard had given him. A voice crackled in reply and it was a gravelly voice with an American accent.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“You are American yes?”

“Who is this?” The voice shot back.

The Aerospatiale was coming round to the estimated source of the signal and Lane and Faulkner could make out a group of men and some horses and camels.

“Do you see us?” Lane asked over the phone.

“Don’t fire on us, we’re friendly. We’re also armed.”

The men on the ground stood up and gazed at the incoming chopper. There was no attempt to threaten the aircraft and the pilot set the chopper down flank facing the men. Faulkner counted six men in all, three of them Caucasian.

Gunners 1 and 2 dismounted from the rear door and covered the group on the ground with their assault rifles as Faulkner himself dismounted with gun in hand. John Lane was the last one out and he went sans weapon. He strode up to the group who stood their ground silently.

“You are SAS aren’t you?” One of the men stood forward. He was holding a cellular phone.

“And you are American. CIA?”

“Vince Decker.”

“I wonder if you would be our guests in Karachi?” Lane asked cordially. Vince Decker or whoever the hell he was was not about to refuse such a heavily armed group of men.

“And my men?”

“We have space for two.” Lane offered.

Fifteen minutes to establish Decker and his associate’s identity. Richard Chang was on a roll, thought John Lane.

“Vincent Decker. Active service. Currently running China ops. His file is a bit outdated. Harry Garcia, same office. What are you doing in Afghanistan?”

“We’re taking in the Silk Road. Tell you what Richard, if you want to know more, talk to Mason. He’s in Karachi and he also has the clearance to brief you. Right now I have to run.”

“You are CIA.” Lane smiled to Decker, who returned a wry smile.

“We’re British so you have nothing to worry about. What were you doing so far out in the middle of nowhere?”

“We’re in Afghan airspace, doesn’t that bother you mister?” Decker asked in his deep gravelly voice.

“Afghan air defence is rather myopic.”

“That was pretty nice execution back there.” Decker referred to the hijacking he had been a witness of.

“Weapons traffickers. And your interest in them?”

“There’s an ongoing investigation into the activities of these gun runners. We were observers. I didn’t think anyone would want to act against them. So, what’s in Karachi?”

“Someone who would like to talk with you.”

“Is Pakistani air defense similarly defenseless?”

John Lane just laughed.

Richard Chang watched on his screen a relief and political map of the region of Afghanistan where John Lane’s helicopter was represented as a small point and vector. Five other contacts were headed south through Afghan airspace at high speed. He noted that Lane had called from a helicopter and that the vectors all indicated a speed unattainable by any current production helicopter. There was a certain sense of satisfaction for Richard in that the choppers were stealth and had too small a radar signature to be detected by conventional means. The tracking that Richard had achieved was from the signatures of the cell phone chips which he had obtained when he was talking to John Lane. Once one chopper was identified he knew what to look for and the others were easily found. He was using an old retired Iridium network satellite to ping the communications systems on board the choppers and track the return signals by the GPS (Global Positioning System.)

Headlines In the local newspapers in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and Singapore ran an item about businessman and former Singapore and Malaysia resident Koo Teng Chia, more commonly known as TC. In the article, Koo was accused of involvement in illegal trading practices in the ASEAN financial and Forex markets during the political restructuring of the past six months.

Daniel’s daily routine began with logging on to the Net for his daily electronic newspapers. The international news channels spawned as he had configured beginning with CNN. Reports of Earthquakes in Japan and South America, a near miss at Gatwick Airport, a new chip on the block by Motorola/Siemens, Spielberg’s new micro-epic story of the life of one man from cradle to grave which was getting rave reviews, a new Bond movie, a new model for Chrysler/Nissan/Benz, the Japanese economy was topping out with inflation reaching Millennium highs of 6%, Singapore builds a LRT into Johor Bahru, construction of a Marina waterfront city begins in Singapore, the annexation of the last major bank by the DBS group, Malaysia resumes infrastructure spending on roads, China executes rebels publicly in Beijing……..An airliner en route to Singapore from Bangkok goes missing……

Under the business section of the South China Morning Post’s Net channel was a report about HK resident businessman TC Koo. Daniel recognized the name as one of Richard’s friends and took a closer look at the article. He chuckled when he read about the allegations of market rigging and insider trading against Koo. They were probably true but the practice was so rampant among that group that it seemed more a childish complaint than a legitimate charge.

It was almost 1100 hrs and the movers were busy removing the boxes he had carefully packed over the past three days. Richard Chang had never thought he would ever leave the sanctity of Passfield Hall but new responsibilities demanded that he move to Sheerluck Hall. Over the course of the past month a set of computers had been set up in an 8th floor room at Sheerluck Hall and he had cloned the memories of his current set up in G2 in them. In fact for the past week they had been mirroring his servers in G2. He stood in the centre of the now pretty empty room with Colin who had come to help. Not that Richard needed any as he had an army of movers.

“Sad to see you go pal.” Colin said through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“I’ll be three blocks away. I don’t mean to steal from Passfield’s illustrious but there’s a place at Sheerluck for you if you want.”

“No thanks. Its too modern. Soulless.” Colin complained. “By the way did you see that about TC?”

“Yes. His plots are finally catching up with him.” Richard said without remorse.

“Any intentions to help him out?”

“Not really.” Richard seemed distracted.

The last box was taken and the room was at last as he had found it, an empty little cell. Richard went to the window and peered out at the overcast day, his thoughts on a harbour somewhere with a girl not his own. It was a familiar voice that snapped him back to the present.

“I heard you were moving out today.” Valerie said. She stood at the door dressed in her usual casuals and a big coat. She exchanged greetings with Colin who could never really get along with her even though there was no enmity between them. It was just an awkward lack of words and Colin excused himself before it got any worse, saying that he would visit Richard’s new place later in the evening.

“I decided to work from a more comfortable location.” Richard explained to Valerie who took of her coat and then found nowhere to drape it.

“I thought you were quitting school.” Valerie conjectured.

“If anything I might quit Sheerluck and do school full time. Shall we walk outside?”

They decided to walk to school.

“You know Daniel had a girlfriend.” Valerie began.

Something told Richard that the question was out of place. His mind was already looking at the possible developments from the question.

“Yes he did. She died. Were you told otherwise?”

“I didn’t know she died.” The surprise was genuine.

“They didn’t tell you? I’d have thought they’d have briefed you.”

“What do you mean? Who briefed me.”

“Your sponsors. Didn’t they ask you to gather some information for them?”

The implied accusation became apparent and Valerie almost blew up.

“What are you talking about?” She shouted.

“Do you think I’m some kind of spy? You’re crazy, paranoid.”

Richard did not reply as they walked down Holborn.

“Rick, I know you never liked our country or our government but this is so ridiculous.”

“Is it? Where is your boyfriend? Why isn’t he here? Was it a new posting or a big raise or something like that? How about your posting? Look at your contemporaries, Val. Why did they choose you?”

“Because I earned it. I put in the hours and I put in the work.”

She sounded insulted that Richard would be surprised that she merited the award but she had little else in argument.

“What do you want to know about Daniel’s ex girlfriend?”

Valerie was silent. They walked until the park behind the school in silence until Richard asked her again.

“What did you want to know about Michelle, Valerie?”

He stopped and waited for an answer.

“You wanted to know about her and I believed that there was some sinister agenda. Obviously you think that I’m wrong and I may well be. So now I’ll answer any questions you may have about her. Her name was Michelle Wong. Singaporean. Illegitimate daughter of the notorious William Kong. Her mother ran a chain of beauty salons in Singapore. Michelle Wong was a student at UCL. One year after she came here she disappeared from London, abducted from a hospital here by God knows who. Daniel went back to Malaysia on a tip off and found her dead on a small island off the East coast of Malaysia. She had been shot. That’s about all I know. if you want to know more you’ll have to ask Daniel.”

“I’m sorry.” Valerie said weakly.

“I’m sorry too.”

“You don’t trust me, Rick?”

“I trust you. I just wonder if you can face what you see because I know you see it. You’ve always been a person of integrity Val. I know that. You’ve never flinched from doing the right thing. Never. If you tell me that you have no other job besides your academic course, I’ll take it as the truth. But I suggest you take a close look at what you call the truth.”

“I cannot understand you Rick. You seem to harbour such anger against the government that its making you sound ridiculous. I mean… I can’t even begin to defend my position from such a far-fetched and fantastic allegation. What did they ever do to you Rick?”

“Nothing. But I’ve seen what they’ve done to others. What they can do. Did anyone of your contacts in the MAS ask you anything about Michelle Wong? How did you know about her?”

“Michelle Wong was on a PSC scholarship when she ran. I was asked to see what I could find out about her. I couldn’t have known she was dead.”

“Well your people know she’s dead. Or perhaps they believe she is alive.”

“Why is she so important that so many people want to get to her?”

“It’s a long story Val, and a pointless one. Daniel knows the details so you can ask him on behalf of your employers if you have the heart.” Richard said with a trace of emotion.

They sat on the park bench without saying anything for a while, just watching the world go by. She had been so close once and they had shared so much. Now she stood as an opposition, unyielding and unreasonable and on hindsight perhaps that was how they were then as well. Richard lit himself a cigarette and squinted through the smoke.

“Why are they searching for her, Rick?” Valerie asked breaking the long silence.

“I don’t know. I always believed they killed her. This complicates things a bit.”

“I’m not a spy Rick. They just want a couple of favours, some contacts, some information. It’s not in my contract but I guess in any organization there has to be some give and take.”

“I remember a much less compromising person. Not that that’s bad. I have always respected your integrity.”

“And you think I sold out. I have my own beliefs and my sense of right and wrong.”

“I know. I saw it all those years ago Val. I know you. You may look the other way now but you’ll see it some day. I just hope it won’t be too late. You be careful Val. In this endeavor if you turn against them they will destroy you without hesitation.”

“I am always careful Rick.” She assured him with an arm on his shoulder.

“You returned me more than I gave you. Remember?”

“I was trying to express gratitude.”

“And I was trying to express friendship and trust. Do you remember the what I said when I gave you the money?”

“Vaguely.”

“You remember. And yet you repaid more than the debt. You sent me a signal Rick. And I could not have read it any other way.”

“Leave it. Just like this Michelle thing.”

“James McGregor. You’re wanted for the murder of two French agents in Berlin two years ago. What are you doing traipsing through the desert.”

Patrick Mason’s steely gaze did not faze McGregor who was used to being in difficult situations. This one was a bit more difficult than any other time. For one thing, escape was near impossible as they were in a British Navy Aircraft Carrier somewhere on the Arabian Sea, a point Mason stressed at the beginning of the interview.

“We know what you’ve been up to McGregor. These arms come from South East Asia. We’ve been tracking you and your caravan for days so you see this interview is a mere fucking formality after which I’m going to have you fall overboard irretrievably. So, unless you can give me something better than your brooding good looks or your Oscar winning performance, I suggest you prepare for a pretty long swim.”

Mason got up and smiled at McGregor who looked blankly back at him. Mason left the room, turning out the lights before he did so and leaving poor James McGregor in total darkness. Outside, Mason was met by Admiral John Howard, fleet commander and Captain of the HMS Vengeance.

“Commander Mason. The Command helicopter landed just minutes ago. I think you’ll want to talk to Commander Lane. He’s in my ready room, this way.”

“Thank you John. Any chance of getting within striking distance of the Caspian shore at Aqtau?”

“The SG1 s will need refueling. Unless you want to fly the stealth transports?”

“Without gunship cover?  Not a chance. By the time we enter Russian airspace this sort of armor will no longer be sufficient. That and our flight path will take us over Iran.”

“We do have the sanction of the Russian’s.”

“Who cannot control their own mob? And the KGB? I think I’d feel safer with some fire power support Captain.”

The Captain escorted Mason up to the ready room behind the bridge where Mason found Lane waiting.

“John. How did it go?”

“Good. We were delayed slightly by the presence of some Americans. CIA.”

“I heard. By the way, we need to get those weapons on to Aqtau to rendezvous with the boats. The trucks are underway?”

“They will be there a day ahead of schedule. You are thinking of getting the team in?” John anticipated.

“We could rely on an electronic solution.” Mason said unconvincingly.

“We could but that could screw up months of work. How about we leave the gunships behind?”

“And fly over Iran? No. We need cover and fuel.”

“We can fly around Iran and Iraq via the UAE. Fuel in Amman and head up north towards the Caspian Sea to intercept. In the meantime we’ll still have satellite coverage and we’ve inserted some tracking devices randomly around the cargo. Our drivers will attempt to get themselves aboard for the next part of the journey.”

John made a lot of sense. Even so, clearance from King Abdullah of Jordan would be difficult. Thankfully it was not impossible.

“We’ll have to hurry. Once they get to the Western Shore we won’t have much time to intercept them before Georgia. After that the trail fragments. So where is this American?”

“In the interrogation room next door. Technically, he’s not  a prisoner. He’s our guest.” Lane said with a wry look.

“I’ll have a chat with him. You go and get us clearance to refuel in Amman.”

Patrick Mason let himself in to the interrogation room. The man waiting for him looked vaguely familiar and he tried his best to recall. It was not someone he had met before otherwise he would have known. It was a file he had seen.

“Vincent Decker.”

“Do I know you sir?” Decker replied. Mason did not look threatening at all and Decker felt safe for the first time in a long time.

“Six years ago. The Straits of Hormuz. Your American submarine had been contacted and you needed an alternative extraction.”

“You were on that Submarine?”

“No. I was on the carrier. The fleet commander was waffling because he had no orders to go or not to go. I gave him the go ahead. Patrick Mason.”

The two men shook hands.

“I’ve heard many things about you Decker but I think the most recent was that you had been killed in action.”

“That comes pretty close to it. What’s your interest in the Silk Road anyway?”

“What’s yours?”

“We had ops in the area and got fucked by our own. We used to work with those turkeys you bagged until six months ago all support vanished. For one thing there was no more cash to buy. You want to know what was happening in central Asia, I’ll tell you, but I want something in return.”

“What’s that?” Mason asked expectantly.

“I have thirty six hungry men.”

“I understand, but you’re Americans. We are bound to return you to your country or at least to let them know we found you.”

“We don’t want to be found Mr. Mason. We want a comfortable compensation for our troubles and we want to go quietly.”

Mason looked Decker in the eye.

Sheerluck Hall

The new room was nice. The view was not fantastic and it was cheap real estate but it was well appointed and was one of only four rooms with en suite bathrooms. Richard hang a new sign on the door. It said: No Smoking. It was about six in the evening and it would be his first night in the room. The new computers were all powered up and networked to the building’s own security system. A monitor went on to display the dinner menu for that evening and Richard studied it carefully. He was expecting guests after all and submitted an on line booking for a table for four in the staff area. Another monitor lit up indicating that there was incoming mail. Richard glanced over and thought nothing of it until he saw the mail server address. An Australian server.

“Dear Rick,

Melbourne is beautiful and sunny. I’ve been visiting the new mall on the river and it is quite impressive. Trust the Japanese. BTW I’ve been taking the economics courses at the university and while its not London it does keep me busy. Mom’s restaurant is doing very well and she’s starting a small outlet at the new casino. Have you heard of it? It’s an upgrade of the old Crown.

I guess I wrote today because you said you were moving back to Sheerluck Hall. We first met at the steps of Sheerluck Hall remember? Maybe you don’t remember but I do. You were very kind and I’ll never forget it. Actually you have helped me since the very first day I set foot in London. You really should not blame yourself for what happened in Malaysia with Daniel. I thought about what you said about Daniel and I just don’t know what to do. Maybe I just need a bit more time. How is he? He’s in your part of town now right? Take care of him for me.”

The email was unsigned as usual and the specific electronic address had been camouflaged. Only Richard knew which phone line had been used for the connection. He wrote his reply.

“Daniel is well. He is studying hard now and I think we got him going. If he goes on like this he’ll get a first. I’m glad to hear that your mother’s business is doing well. I hope to visit sometime soon and sample the food at her restaurant. Is the house OK? If not we can move you to a more suitable one. I understand your need for proximity to the city if you need it. Armadale is a bit out of the way. Good thing we got the Jeep. There’s a place in Sydney as well if you want to go there. Its nice. If you want to go for a holiday or anything just let me know and I’ll arrange everything.”

It had been a few months since Daniel had seen Chan Boon Yang and he was a bit less inclined to kick him out now that some time had passed. Chan came by one day and found Daniel in his room working on some statistical model. Chan looked a lot better actually, he had put on some weight and he had a lightness about him that he had lost a long time ago but regained in the past few months. Daniel welcomed his one time mentor into his room.

“You’re with Sheerluck now are you?” Chan asked innocently.

“Yes. They take care of their own. The rooms here are a lot better than at the other halls. Can I get you a drink? Tea?”

Daniel was brewing a pot and set out a cup for Chan.

“Your friend Richard Chang knows how to take care of his people.”

“Yes he does. How is business Boon Yang?” Daniel said, cup in hand. His mentor. Once. He wondered if Chan ever deserved that title. He had only been a liaison for a network whose members were recruited without their consent. Chan had prospered from his life here in London, from his associations. He had never once looked out for one of his charges as he was supposed to. He looked out first for himself and then for the puppetmasters at home.

“Business is OK. Not very exciting stuff but its OK.”

“Not as exciting as all that cloak and dagger shit is it?”

“The coup your people pulled off was impressive but I wouldn’t write off the opposition just yet. They are still there, a bit less arrogant and visible but pretty firmly dug in.”

“And do you still work for them?”

That drew a smile.

“I only work for a living these days. Ideals are not legal tender.”

“Do you still keep in contact with the network?”

“I know a few people. What’s your interest?”

“None. I think we should take the network apart.”

“Its been there for too long. And it’s useful even to those outside it. One day you might need it.”

When TC Koo’s call to Richard came in it was monitored by the telecoms security system which recognized the number as a potentially troublesome one and the call was immediately routed to a remote Internet site and connected back to Richard’s computer. A warning message appeared and an alarm sounded. Richard had added Koo’s telephone number to the list of calls he wanted filtered.

“Richard.” Koo said cheerfully.

“TC. I hear you are wanted in Singapore. Fancy that. We know Malaysia would love to have you but Singapore?”

“I don’t think they are inviting me over as a guest. They are not very pleased with what you and your associates pulled and they think I’m responsible.”

“My associates and I? I assure you I was not involved in any market rigging during the political reshuffling. As for who was responsible for the carnage, you’d have to arrest every two bit asset manager from Hong Kong to New York. I suppose I should state for the benefit of the chaps listening in to your phone that I deny categorically any involvement in the financial markets of South East Asia that may be deemed improper. I am above board.”

“This line is secure. By the way, I notice that you have been rather active in Singapore. One might be tempted to think that Sheerluck had solvency problems.”

“Just cleaning up my investments.”

“Looks like you’ve lost faith in the last haven.”

“I don’t like to hoard what I don’t use. What action are they taking against you?”

“They are seizing my assets in Singapore and Malaysia looks like following suit. Singapore has issued an extradition request but my Chinese friends here have managed to stall that.”

“You’re sure they won’t change their minds.”

Richard was always sceptical about the Chinese friends TC had in the government.

“They might but right now I still have a Malaysian passport and Malaysia has cancelled it so I’ve applied for the China one. Until I get that I cannot travel.”

“Why not go for a South American? It seems to be favoured by fugitives from the law.”

“When I get desperate I shall give you a call.”

“Why don’t you ask me now?”

TC laughed a little but he knew his predicament.

“But seriously Richard. I see you making some moves down here. What are your plans?”

“No concrete plans as yet. I’m just laying the groundwork.”

“By selling all your assets and closing Sheerluck offices? You’ll forgive me if I’m confused.”

“We are retaining an office in KL and one in Singapore. Staff will be reduced to the bare minimum. I think flexibility is the key here. By the way TC, how well do you think this will go for you.”

“My honest opinion? Not very well. I could be grounded in Hong Kong for some time. I’m shutting down all operations in Singapore and reducing KL as well. Will you be anywhere in the region anytime soon?”

“I might be in Oz in the next couple of weeks. How can I help?”

It seemed to TC as if Richard was expecting the invitation.

Richard was preparing to turn in for the night when Mason called on the videophone. He could see that Mason was in an enclosed cubicle that gave no clue as to his whereabouts. He also saw that Mason was in tactical all black. His immediate assumption was that Mason was on a mission and that it was black ops.

“Richard. I have something that might interest you. Can you go Singapore?”

“What? Now?”

“Now. There is someone I want you to meet. His name is Menem Ali and he is currently in Bangkok on assignment. He works with CNN.”

“Is there any specific reason why I might want to see him?”

“He knows about the Silk Road. He was a part of it for a while also on assignment. You can trust this one Rick.”

“How can I find him?”

“As I was saying, meet me in Singapore. Ali is there. I spoke to him two days ago and he’s willing to help in return for first rights.”

“British Intelligence is working with journalists.”

“We always have. They’re some of our best resources.”

“Singapore.”

“ASAP.”

“Bangkok to Singapore?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on.”

Richard put Mason on hold and reached for his cordless keyboard. He reloaded the news pages and scanned for The Bangkok Post Online.

“Mason. United Airlines flight 714?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Boeing 777, UA 714, disappeared off radar yesterday. They have not found her yet.” Richard said with a slightly tired air of disappointment.

“I’ll try to find out from Bangkok side. Let me go and call them and I’ll revert.”

On his computer in front of him, the passenger manifesto for flight 714 was already being extracted and a name search underway. It turned up the unfortunate individual’s name. Ali, Menem Murad. Richard stared at the monitor for a minute. It was far too great a catastrophe to be part of a conspiracy. It was also too coarse a means. Richard checked for the last contacted position: 10”26’ N, 101”06’ E. It was about 200 km from the Thai or Cambodian coast, certainly out of range of any hand held surface to air missile.

When Richard surfed back to the local on line news sites they were already full of the story. According to reports, the aircraft had taken off and then disappeared off radar just half an hour later over the Gulf of Thailand. There were no distress signals. Aircraft from the airforces of Thailand and Malaysia had rushed to the last known position and began a thorough search. The debris from the Flight 714 was apparently sparse and scattered over a wide area. The weather and tidal conditions were not conducive to a search and rescue, as it was still the tail end of the Monsoon season. On the Singapore Straits Times on line site a live update page and a hotline number for family of passengers. Richard wondered if anyone would call for Menem Ali and if those calls would be recorded. He next went to the CNN site. Surely they would be covering the story and would feature their own reporter’s untimely death.

Patrick Mason was prompt with his reply. He called just twenty minutes from the time he rang off.

“I think your paranoia may have some substance Richard.”

“You’re seeing the reports coming in on the on line news wires?”

“I see them. Ali had agreed to speak to us only days before. The only people who knew were his own people. They knew he was working this angle but the don’t know about us. It could work to our advantage.”

“Our? You mean your. Patrick, I think I am unpopular enough as it is. I’m going to let this one go. There are other entanglements in ASEAN I have to sought out.”

“Commercial concerns?”

“Entirely.”

Colin logged out of a frustrating session on the Internet trying to chase down a hacker on the LSE server. These days it was entirely probable that the hacker was an electronic entity though in this case he knew it was not. The Hacker was Daniel testing out a new application that the Sheerluck Labs had developed. It wasn’t so much that Colin had lost the trail. The trail had in fact become irretrievably lost in cyberspace and crashed Daniel’s terminal while it was about it.

“Where the fuck are you Daniel?”

“I don’t know.” Daniel relied.

Both were peering into the same screen now. The heuristic algorithm that Daniel had been using had somehow disappeared. It was no longer running on his machine yet he was sure he had not shut it down.

“Where do you think its got to?” Colin asked with some annoyance.

“I don’t know. I think we should track it down and kill it. We can use V2. It should be more than able to find it.”

Daniel pointed to the V2 holding site and requested a copy. He typed in the password and in seconds a copy of V2 was released to him. He instructed the application to search and contain the algorithm H2099301.

“You know what? I think cyberspace is just way too complex these days.” Colin complained.

“You are absolutely right.” Daniel affirmed.

Just about then there came a knocking at the door and Colin answered it. It was Richard.

“So you’ve decided to come and visit us.” Richard said referring to Colin’s reluctance to move to Sheerluck hall.

“Daniel just lost a virus on the Net.”

“Really?”

“I got it. Its contained.” Daniel reported as he got the results from V2.

“But he had to use your V2.”

“Colin was just saying that cyberspace had become too big. What do you think Rick?”

“I think he’s right but what do you mean by too big?”

“I’ll tell you a story.” Daniel offered.

“There was this world where people got around the universe on these worm hole trains. There were so many routes through the universe that one day a train got lost in the labyrinth and no one could find it. The perforation of the space was so great that it stopped being an integer dimension.”

“I never bought that story.” Richard smiled as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“That needs infinities and we’re a long way from that yet.”

“I read somewhere that you don’t need infinities.” Colin chipped in. He was not a mathematician but he had some good ideas from time to time. “Apparently its how the complexity grows? The Internet is growing at a crazy rate. And the connexions are growing even wilder.”

“That’s interesting.” Daniel though aloud.

“He may have something there. By the way, you guys got any plans for the Easter?”

“Yeah. Exams.” Daniel answered quickly.

“I meant after.”

“I thought of Oz.” Colin suggested.

“I think I should go home. I haven’t been home.”

“I can arrange for the Prospero to take us home. We could train down from here to Marseilles, meet the Prospero and sail back.” Richard offered.

“Sounds good. Get to make a few stops. Checkout some strange girls.”

“Check out some strange new diseases as well Colin?” Daniel quipped.

“I haven’t been back in a while either.” Richard said.

“Say. Have you seen Nick lately?” Colin asked.

“She’s in Singapore running a couple of errands for me.” Richard replied.

“By the way, our labs in Singapore came up with the results on those traces they ran.”

“On the cell phones?”

“Do you remember the signature we captured that night during the ASEAN ministers meeting?”

“That was half a year ago.” Colin said looking uninterested.

“Yes. We traced quite a couple of phone signatures and identities. I’ll send you the list. Some of the names coincide with the board of directors of that company whose annual report you pinched for me.”

“Really?”

Colin’s interest was suddenly rekindled. Conspiracy theories always interested him.

While the CNN Delhi office was well appointed and spacious the same could not be said for the Bureau Chief Ravi Rao’s office. Patrick Mason had been waiting for a good ten minutes inside the cramped and tobacco smelling room and glanced at his Rolex Submariner repeatedly. Granted his entrance had not been the most discreet. The gunship must have been quite a sight as it landed on the roof of the CNN office building in downtown Delhi at 8 in the morning. He looked out and recognized Rao coming towards the office. Rao’s number one stopped him and said something to him indicating towards the room. He was probably telling Rao about Mason. The two men spoke further as they approached the office and Mason got up to welcome the Bureau Chief.

“Greetings Mr. Rao.”

“Good morning, Mr. Mason is it?” Ravi Rao took his seat behind his desk.

“What can I do for you Mr. Mason?”

“A member of your team was involved in a rather unfortunate accident. En route from Bangkok to Singapore.” Patrick Mason dangled the bait in front of Rao.

“You’re talking about Menem. What do you know about Flight 714?”

“Mr. Rao. I think I should explain. I’m with British Intelligence.”

“Oh, I know Mr. Mason. Why are you interested in Menem?”

“He was working on a story for some time. Didn’t get far it seemed though we know that he knew more than he thought he knew. My branch has been on the trail of illegal arms in central Asia.”

“He was working on that but that’s old news.” Rao looked puzzled.

“We shelved the story after the ASEAN shakeup.”

“Orders from Atlanta.”

“Orders. I can only say so much. What are you doing in Delhi Mr. Mason?”

“Your people found weapons here in India. They traced it back to the Silk Road, to the Central Asian arms bazaars. Menem Ali was investigating that. We ourselves are investigating the arms trade. Menem approached a friend of mine at the Times in London with a breakthrough. He wanted to speak to us but unfortunately we never got the chance.”

Rao was a bit surprised. This was news to him. He did not expect Menem to talk to anyone without first talking to him. Why had Menem gone to a British newspaper?

“I don’t suppose you know how far he progressed.”

“No. I can’t think why he would try to contact your group.”

“The arms trade story. Is it an on going investigation?” Mason did not expect a truthful answer.

“It is.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to compare notes?”

“I don’t suppose you’d work on a quid pro quo?” Rao asked jokingly.

Mason placed a file on Rao’s table which Rao looked at for a while before sliding it towards himself and opening the cover.

“It’s not all there of course but it’s mostly there. This is my card. Call me of you feel like sharing.”

Mason excused himself and left the office. Half way to the elevator Mason cast a glance across the office to the man whom he had seen talking to Rao earlier. Mason pulled out his cellular phone and dialed the helicopter.

“Lt. Jeffries. You’d better head back to the Vengeance. I’ll be back tonight.”

Mason waited downstairs at the entrance to the lobby of the CNN office. He watched the lift doors expectantly and was not disappointed when he saw them open and the man upstairs emerge. He seemed to look around and then head for the exit. Mason retreated into the street to give the man a wider berth. He moved for a more discreet position to intercept the man and was pleased to see the man follow him outside into the heat and light. When he felt that they were a safe distance Mason stepped out in front of the man.

“Patrick Mason. I was talking to your colleague inside.”

“Anil Bulchandani. Perhaps we should go somewhere cooler?”

The two men walked to a coffee shop nearby.

“You worked with Menem Ali on the arms story?”

“I was almost given his assignment. Actually I wanted it but Ravi wanted me here. You are British Intelligence? You seem to make no secret about it.”

“We are not quite as covert as James Bond. Tell me about the assignment.”

“It all began a couple of years ago. One of our journalists was murdered on the Silk Road. Tom Bliss, he was a good friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Tom was investigating drugs but stumbled upon an arms caravan. They murdered him but he managed to send us a message. We picked up the trail from there and discovered quite a bit. Just six months ago the file was terminated while Menem was in Ho Chi Minh City. Apparently he had found a lead.”

“This was after or before the lead?”

“Just before I think. What is British Intelligence’s interest in this?” Bulchandani inquired.

“I cannot say. Sorry. There’ll be no quid pro quo here I’m afraid. As for first rights, that can be arranged. No promises of course but I don’t think that’s what’s on your mind.”

“No. I want this thing exposed.”

“You want the truth.” Mason said in a way he knew he shouldn’t have but it had the desired effect.

“Yes. Not all newsmen are vultures Mr. Mason. Tom and Menem were good friends. If their deaths, no, lives meant anything at all, this affair has to be exposed.”

“Mr. Bulchandani. This affair has been exposed already. Once. For some reason the news was never publicized.”

Mason let that sink in.

“Not another conspiracy theory Mr. Mason, we have enough flying around the office. Are you suggesting that someone is suppressing the story?”

“It was suppressed once. What we want to know is who and why. The British are no longer willing to let this one rest. Menem was on to something. Can you find out what it was?”

“I’ll try. That he went to an old colleague at the Times means something doesn’t it?”

Mason lit up a Dunhill and sipped his coffee. The heat was sweltering and the warm coffee didn’t help. Something was nagging at the back of his mind but he could not put his finger on it.

It was two in the morning but Colin and Richard were still pouring over the annual report of Song Ching Haw Plumbing and an entire file of accompanying reports, accounts and news clippings.

“What are we looking for? I’ve been through this report twice over and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.” Colin complained and sat back to light himself a cigarette. The Sheerluck Hall bar was quite a bit more upmarket than what he was used to at Passfield.

“We’re certainly not looking for anything out of the ordinary.” Richard explained.

“Actually, this is an education. There’s more incriminating evidence of conspiracy here than anywhere. We’re looking for a name, someone who can represent the group. It’s no use chasing an organization if we can’t put a name or a face to it. Then each head we cut off only sprouts two.”

Colin got up and went to the bar to pour them a couple of whiskies.

“Here’s something interesting. These chaps advertised extensively on Cable News Asia at its inception in the Millennium.”

“Cable News Asia? Isn’t that the CNN in Asia network?”

“Cable News Asia was set up by ASEAN and Hong Kong at the end of the Millennium. Basically every country involved submitted a part of their existing networks to beef up CNA resulting in CNA becoming a sort of CNN Asia. I never thought of it in this light until now.”

“CNA was a Song Ching Haw vehicle?”

“Look at the ad revenue from Song Ching Haw alone. I wonder what their ads looked like. Lets look at this again tomorrow. I need some sleep. There’s that room if you don’t feel like a walk in the cold.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“Key’s at the porter’s.” Richard got up and collected the documents.

Richard threw the file on the side table and took off his shirt on his way to the shower. He was startled when he found Nick in the bathroom. She had done showering and was cleaning her face and had nothing but a towel around her.

“Hi Rick. I just got back.”

“Hi Nick. I was just with Colin. That company we were looking at was more interesting than I thought.”

“Rick. I think someone is beginning to look at your movements.”

Nick turned to give Richard a kiss on the lips.

“I’m grimy. And dirty.” Richard protested.

“That sounds so like a come on.” Nick said.

“Do you know an Ali Kilrathi?”

“Nope. Who is he?”

“Someone with a free hand to look at our investment decisions.”

“Was someone looking?”

“Ever since TC? Someone’s looking all the time.”

Richard stripped and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water and felt the cool fluid course down his body, refreshing and revitalizing him.

When he came out from the shower he found that she was already in bed and sound asleep. Unwilling to wake her he turned out the lights and slipped into bed beside Nick. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she slept nude.

“Nick. Don’t you need any clothes?”

“Not tonight darling. Have you been talking to Valerie?” Nick turned around to face Richard.

“Yes, I have. Why?”

“We managed to sell all the property and the two holding companies but there was some trouble at Learn.com. We were in the process of ceding control to the Hong Kong holding company when charges were filed against Learn.com for subletting of lines as well as abetting the circumventing of the national ISP firewalls.”

“Really.” Richard was troubled. “What kind of damage are we looking at.”

“I managed to contain it. Somewhat.” Nick said as she embraced Richard.

“The computers.”

“Clean. All records as they should appear. The experimental lab was closed down overnight. It was a bitch to clean I’ll tell you. You’ll get my bill.”

Richard returned her embrace and kissed her gently as he felt her body up against his.

“Can we cuddle tonight Richard. I’ve been in have been in the air for half a day and I really need some TLC.”

“Yes, but tomorrow, you have to brief me about our legal position.”

At seven in the morning the secure line rang much to Richard and Nicole’s irritation but Richard answered it quickly.

“Mason, how.”

“Menem Ali was talking to a Times reporter. Apparently he felt that CNN would not be interested in the story.” Mason said in a voice that sounded tired.

“Where have you been my friend?” Richard said sitting up and turning on the lights. With his free hand he woke the computer and put Mason on viewer.

“Delhi. Ali’s boss was not too helpful but one of his colleagues took an interest. Apparently Ali worked almost alone. It was a case that Atlanta closed.”

“This reporter at the Times…”

“Sean Arthur Caroon. Irish. I tried to contact him but he’s not at the office and he’s not on assignment.”

“He’s probably chasing down Menem Ali’s lead. Could be compromised. I can find him. Do you want me to do it now?”

“Please.”

Quick fingers pulled up travel records and names from official servers across the UK.

“Credit card charged a BA flight out to Singapore a week ago. Left town three days ago, wait for the Singapore credit trail.”

“You could turn in a healthy profit doing this you know.”

Mason could not help but wonder if Richard ever used his hacking expertise to personal gain. Actually it was amazing enough that he had an on line and perpetual algorithm roaming the WWW for his personal use whenever he needed.

“Hotel Bencoolen. No room number, must be a motel. 18 Bencoolen Street. I’m sending you a map and an MGR. His latest credit card charge was about two hours ago at No. 23 Boat Quay; a place called the African Queen. He’s not alone. Too many drinks and also I know the place. The owner is virtually a pimp. And there’s gambling going on in the private rooms upstairs.”

“I shall try to speak to him tomorrow.”

“You mean today.”

“Today. Thanks again Rick.”

He though to go back to sleep but the sight of Nicole naked and looking seductively at him was too much.

Asian Games

The big Irishman looked completely at home at the African Queen Bar with an SPG (Sarong Party Girl) on his arm. Dressed in a navy linen shirt and ochre linen trousers, Sean Caroon looked like any of the expatriate bankers who frequented the bars that lined the Singapore River. Henry Lim Ah Hock was the owner of he African Queen and he also knew almost everyone who frequented his place. He noticed Sean Caroon as a first timer the minute he came in the door. It was a matter of time before he sidled up to the big man and introduced himself. They chatted for a while and the Henry offered Caroon drugs and women, which Caroon politely declined. He eyed a group of rather loud men in sitting at the bar with a group of obvious non-SPGs from their garb. It was his third night at the place. It seemed that Dennis Pereira was getting wilder and wilder every night. Caroon wondered if Pereira’s employers were watching him as his conduct was deteriorating almost daily. It was public knowledge that the Public Prosecutor had become quite a ladies man, despite having a wife and two boys.

At one thirty, early by Pereira’s standards, he stumbled out onto Boat Quay and headed around back to his car. He got to Market Street rather unsteadily and found his green Lexus. A flashcard allowed access but before he could strap himself in and go he was surprised when a big man opened the passenger door and got in.

“Mr. Pereira. Get this car moving. Now.”

Dennis was too stunned and drunk to argue and put the shift into Drive and pulled out.

“Where to.” Dennis said in a slurred voice.

“Anywhere. Stay off the highways.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Sean Caroon, I’m a reporter with the London Times. You remember someone named Menem Ali?”

“Menem?” There was a pause. Caroon could not tell if it was a weak memory or if it was a realization. In any case it resulted in a more lucid and alert Dennis Pereira.

“Yes. He died on Flight 714 from Bangkok.”

“You were talking to him?”

“He is a friend of a friend.”

Dennis wound his way through the deserted roads of the city centre, which in daylight would have been packed with traffic. He turned right down Scotts Road and then left to Stevens.

“Oh Fuck.” Dennis exclaimed as he saw a Highway Patrol bike pulling up beside them. Behind that was a Highway Patrol BMW 325.

“We’re fucked.” Dennis said again.

“You’re the public prosecutor for god’s sake. Play it cool.”

While externally cool, Sean was aware that having two Units to one offender was highly irregular. Dennis was slowing and pulling over to the curbside and there was nothing anyone could do. The bike pulled in in front of the green Lexus and the Officer dismounted and walked on over. In the meantime the BMW slowed behind the Lexus.

“Good evening sir.” The officer said to Dennis who had wound his window down. “Can I see your driver’s license please.”

Dennis handed him the card.

“Mr. Pereira. You were driving very recklessly and we are going to have to ask you to come to the station.”

At this time Sean became aware of a second officer from the Beemer coming up to his side of the car.

As the two men sat in the Lexus awaiting the orders of the police officers who lingered outside checking the car and Dennis’ driving license and insurance papers, two black Renault Clios pulled up at high speed and screeched to a halt alongside the Lexus almost hitting the officer on Dennis’ side. Two men emerged from each car, dressed in all black and balaklavas, brandishing silenced sub-machineguns. The police officers were in no position to resist. They were ordered to return to their respective vehicles to sit and wait while Pereira and Caroon were waved on.

“Follow the first black car ahead.” One of the men said to Dennis.

Dennis wasted no time in pulling out and away. He was escorted by one of the Clios while the other stayed to ensure that the police vehicles stayed in position. From seemingly out of nowhere a huge three-axle Dumpster truck thundered along in the left lane. The rear Renault took of with wheels spinning and rubber burning as the big truck smashed into the rear of the police BMW carrying it along and shredding the sheet metal panels, tearing it to pieces as the car partially wedged itself beneath the truck. The officers inside were killed almost instantly as they were crushed against the dash and steering column respectively. The momentum of the truck and the fact that the driver had no intention of stopping meant that the entire mass smashed right through to the bike as well. The rider tried to jump off but there was no time and he too became a part of the tangled mass that ground to a halt about 50 metres from the first impact with the BMW.

Further up the road the two Renaults escorted the Lexus up Bukit Timah Road. Somewhere half way along the way to Upper Bukit Timah the two black Renaults pulled the Lexus over and one of the men from the lead car got out and went over to the Lexus. He opened the back door and climbed in. The man was clearly English looking and his accent confirmed him to be from South London to Sean.

“Turn off all your cell phones please.” The man said politely. “Pagers off as well. Follow the car in front of you.”

“Who are you?” Sean Caroon asked the man in black. Dennis Pereira was more intent on complying with the man’s request.

“Someone on your side.”

Daniel had come to be rather attached to Valerie and was at her room at the London House one morning to visit. He found her reading the on line newspapers from Singapore and Malaysia.

“Trouble brewing at home.” She said as she welcomed him in. Something about the room appealed to him. It was a freshness and an atmosphere of peace and calm that he felt nowhere else in his present general location in London. It was the whole thing, her presence, the way she decorated the room with small delightful touches like the Japanese lanterns that hung around her work desk, or the bowl of potpourri by her side table.

“What kind of trouble Val?” Daniel asked as he hung up his duffel coat.

“Singapore arrested a couple of people for spying for Malaysia, they’re being detained under the Internal Security Act. That was last week. Just yesterday Malaysia also detained a couple of people under their ISA for spying for Singapore. Apparently each country has got its own citizens incarcerated.” Valerie informed.

“Spying? Whatever for? If you wanted to know anything about either country just go ask their cab drivers.”

“Maybe they arrested a couple of cab drivers.” Valerie postulated.

“Incroyable.”

“Oui. I can’t understand it. Have you seen Richard lately?”

“I see him regularly at the hall dining room. Haven’t you seen him lately?”

“No.”

“I think he’s planning to go back to Singapore or Hong Kong for a spell.”

“I wonder if its business or pleasure.” Valerie mused.

“You still think about him don’t you?”

“I wish you wouldn’t play psychotherapist. Richard Chang gave up on Singapore a long time ago. He would not go back without good reason. He’d go to Sydney or Melbourne, Hong Kong or KL but he would not return to Singapore.”

“Funny you say that. Was that what broke you two apart?”

“No. Richard is a manipulative and calculating fellow. At the end of the day, he would have used anyone to achieve his purposes.”

“Did he use you?” Daniel persisted.

“No. We never got close enough. He wouldn’t let anyone get close enough and so I never got close enough. He used you didn’t he?”

“I think we are all self serving.”

“Dennis, can you hear me, Dennis?” Mason said to a very drunk Dennis Pereira.

“You will be sent home in your car. I think it’s in your own interest that you forgot everything that happened tonight. You were never stopped by police, you never saw any of us and you have never known the Irishman.”

Dennis nodded compliantly.

Outside on the street Sean Caroon sat in the back of one of the black Clios waiting for Mason to finish with Dennis Pereira. Mason doubled back to the black Renault ad got in the back with Caroon.

“Apologies. Debriefing the old chap. Sean Caroon is it? My name is Mason.”

Somehow Caroon was not surprised that this man knew his name. He kept silent but gave Mason a quizzical look.

“Some weeks ago a friend of yours an ex colleague contacted you about a story that his own network would not run.”

“Menem Ali. He died in a plane crash.”

“You were following up on his lead?”

“Who are you Mr. Mason? You sound English.”

“We represent the Crown. By now we both know that Ali’s contact was the public prosecutor and by now so do the parties he was betraying.”

“You’re with British Intelligence? What can you do for him?”

“We’re really a trade commission but we try to help other departments from time to time. We can’t help Mr. Pereira very much because he’s Singaporean. You, on the other hand, are a British subject. I wouldn’t worry about Pereira for now. So far all we know is that he is under surveillance. Had you not moved on him they might not have either. Right now we’ll watch him along with the others. First I’d like to hear from you what you know.”

Times were hard in Asia. China’s situation had not improved and if anything it had become worse. The income distribution problem had gone against the Communist objective and was a major embarrassment to Beijing. Black markets were rampant in the coastal cities and these were black markets behind not a centrally planned economy but a black market behind a failing free market failed by the utter lack of law and order. Little by little the pressure mounted on the streets and the dissatisfaction seethed beneath the veneer of order. In Shanghai, demonstrations had taken place outside the headquarters of the PLA controlled China Sure Success group. Several people had been injured in the violence. In Hong Kong the tension was of a different kind. The Hong Kong Legislative Council moved to prevent massive mainland immigration much to the consternation of mainlanders resident in Hong Kong. This action called into question the apparent autonomy of the SAR from the influence of Beijing. With mounting social and political problems plaguing Beijing, economic matters such as the currency and trade, domestic demand and unemployment were neglected.

Japan forged ahead with her economic recovery now in its third year. Bankruptcies dwindled to a mere 5% growth. Unemployment, however, remained chronically high at 6.8%. It is not known how such a high unemployment rate could be coincident with the economic growth Japan was achieving.

In ASEAN more in-house squabbles as Malaysia and Singapore exchanged arrests of spies allegedly working for the other side. Acting PM of Malaysia, Abdullah Zain announced that Malaysian authorities had detained five men, four of whom are Malaysian citizens for spying for the island republic of Singapore. In a similar statement the Singapore Prime Minister David Quah revealed that Singapore authorities had also detained five men in connection with espionage. At least one of the detainees was Malaysian.

Indonesian Navy frigates allegedly intruded into Singapore waters at the southeastern end of the island. Singapore has of late lodged several complaints with the Indonesian embassy in Singapore that Indonesian Navy ships have been involved in piracy in the surrounding waters around Batam and Bintan. The Indonesian President has replied that the accusations were unfounded and in fact an attempt at generating negative press for Indonesia. He said that Singapore was making the accusations to avoid disbursing a loan that had been promised as early as 1999. He said also that Singapore’s behaviour had been calculated to damage the credibility of Indonesia.

Sheerluck Hall bar. Two in the morning.

“Not looking good is it?” Richard remarked to Colin who was looking through the on line news channels.

“No. I think your deal in Asia fucked up more than it fixed Rick. Hate to say it but…”

“I think you’re right. I always knew that the deal would only set them back. The real men behind the scenes would remain. I had hoped that the set back would have lasted longer but I guess they had less respect for the Americans.” Richard said with a sigh.

“I think the Americans actually wanted the status quo. We stirred up something we weren’t supposed to.”

“For once Colin, I think your overactive paranoia is spot on. I spoke to Mason just a couple of days back about an assignment he was on. He was still working the Silk Road. The trail was hot. The guns were still passing through. Apparently CNN got wind of the situation a long time back but were told to shelve it. One of their reporters, a guy by the name of Menem Ali, was working the story until it got pulled. He made some progress it seems but since the story got pulled he went to a Times journalist. Ali was unfortunately killed in a plane accident. He was on flight 714 from Bangkok to Singapore. Mason is checking out the Times lead right now.”

“You sent Nick to close out a lot of your commitments in South East Asia. Did you see this coming?”

“I saw something else coming.”

“Did it come?”

“It’s still coming.” Richard replied.

Richard had an unexpected visitor early the next morning. He woke to the knocking on the door and found streams of sunlight through his window lighting up his room a golden glow. It was warm as well and he was still tired from the night before. The knocking grew more insistent and he instructed the security system to unlock the door. It was Valerie. She looked radiant in the morning light, radiant, as she always seemed to be.

“Did I wake you?” She asked settling down beside Richard on the bed.

“I heard you were taking a holiday and I wanted to see you before you left.”

Richard rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and realized that the streams of sunlight were in his eyes and only in his eyes and that he had rubbed them out as well.

“A sight for sore eyes, Val. What brings you here this morning?”

Richard sat up and propped himself up so he could face her.

“Hadn’t seen you in over a week. I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing.”

“Too many late nights.”

Richard climbed out of bed and trudged to the washroom. He left the door open and began to wash his face and shave.

“For someone who doesn’t like me very much you sure are concerned.” He remarked through the shaving foam.

“You misunderstand a lot about me Rick.” She paused. “Rick, I know what you’re doing. The strings you can pull.”

He nicked himself and saw the blood oozing out in his reflection in the mirror. It was a foggy reflection as the mirror was cold and had become clouded with condensation.

“Not still on about those conspiracy theories are you?”

“You were the one with the conspiracy theories. Remember?”

“I was. I’m a little older now. More in touch with reality. It seems you’ve gone the other way.”

She seethed at the sarcasm.

“No. You were right.” She said almost resignedly.

“Was I?” Richard popped his head out and saw the look on her face. He was wiping his face and the towel showed traces of blood.

“You’ve cut yourself.” Valerie rose and took some tissue paper to him. She examined his neck which he conveniently exposed for her. It was not a deep cut.

“You should be more careful, Rick.”

“I can’t help it. You make me nervous.”

She wiped the wound and instructed him to apply pressure.

“The plaster is in the bottom drawer left of the sink.”

She returned with a whole box and selected a small piece.

“You were telling me I was right.” He said as she applied the plaster. The hands lingered a little to smooth the edges, to feel the closeness of the shave that had resulted in the cut.

“There’s this guy at my office in Singapore. Low Kah Leong.”

“Never heard of him.”

“He’s in charge of HR and training.”

“You report to him?”

“Now I do. You know all the things you said. I tried to explain them away. There was always an explanation. I never saw how improbable my own excuses were.”

“Until when?”

Richard looked into those eyes and saw them as he had the first time that they met, idealistic and innocent. Now they held betrayal as well.

“I was asked to look for a Michelle Wong, as you know. I guess I could explain that, she skipped on her bond.”

“She was self financing. It’s in the UCL records.”

“They asked me to collect information about you, Rick.”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know. Ever since that article in the Economist five years ago I think you’ve made yourself an enemy of the state. They wanted to know about you and about Sheerluck. I asked them why they were interested in you and why I should be the one to do this and they pretty much told me that that was a part of the job description.”

“I think you should go back. This assignment is too dangerous for you, whichever side you play it. This is a world you never see and you’ve never seen.”

“I see it now.”

“Its not too late. You can still refuse the assignment and go home.”

“What will I tell them Rick? That I can’t do this to a friend. They could tell all sorts of lies to Chong. If they moved him as you say they did they’ll certainly use him again.”

“Your career at the central bank is pretty much stalled if you refuse the assignment. If you go ahead you could go far.”

“Are you advising me to betray you?”

“No. But I could have misled you. I don’t like this at all. I wish you could get a clean break and go home but that looks like it’s out of the question now. I have plans you can never know or understand, plans you cannot be any part of. And yet, I want you safely out of this situation.”

“I could never betray you Rick. You know that.” Valerie said earnestly.

“I began a career with the central bank believing that that was all it was. I never signed up for this duty. They never gave me a chance to say no.”

“They did Valerie.”

She gave him a look of indignance that slowly faded to sadness and tears. He could not help but hold her and try to take the tears.

“I am too ambitious.” She said unsteadily. It was a realization that the truth had been before her and that she had seen it but ignored it.

“A solution is what we seek. Not absolution.”

The little frame that he held began to shake with crying and the strength that he had seen before seemed now so fragile and delicate. It seemed that if he held her not she might disintegrate or disappear.

“Valerie.” His voice was soft and strong and gave her strength for a while.

“I can help.”

She understood the implications of his proposition. For all around her.

“I cannot speak for all the others who must be affected by my choices.”

“You think too much. Expediency was something we argued about before, remember?”

“Yes.” There was a smile at the memory of five years ago.

“I am not your damsel in distress, Rick. I’m not. I’m not going to run away either.”

Valerie spoke with a new vigor and purpose. Suddenly the face before her looked strong and yet tender. He had held her as a lover once and as a child in distress and now he looked more than all that. He seemed more like a comrade and a forbidden love. Their proximity was tantalizing and she felt her heart racing, her senses heightened and a drunken wantonness that told her to kiss him. She took him and kissed his lips, pressing against them and biting on his lower lip. The passion she conveyed excited him and he returned the traitorous kiss. He saw her so clearly for a moment. Her lively eyes, dark as diamonds and deep as dark, her nose so subtly sculpted and her lips thin yet inviting. He moved his lips over her cheek and kissed her ear, moving slowly down to her neck and finding passion in her writhing response. For her it was relief from years of hating Richard, of not being able to bite him in anger or in love, and she grabbed his back with all her strength, pressing against him in defiance as much as lust. Her eyes closed, she saw Richard as he had been when they first met, an angry young man with a confused purpose, she saw him as she had wanted him to be and then she saw in her mind another face that shamed her and caused her to release Richard and recoil breathlessly from his grasp.

They stood before each other speechlessly, still surging from the passionate embrace and still willing.

“Sorry.” Richard began.

She would have none of it but held him again and kissed him this time gently.

“I started it.” She said and there it ended.

They got back to business.

The cold morning air was invigorating. The roads were still wet with the rain of the previous night and London's university district was only just waking to the new day.

“You’ve obviously seen this before. The student with a scholarship and a mission tied to it.”

“Daniel was one such case. His duties were unique in that he hooked up to a hot target. Even if it was quite by chance.”

“Michelle Wong.”

Richard nodded to affirm.

“Something about the way you looked this morning, it took me back a few years.”

“You never liked me then.” Richard reminded her.

“You’re wrong Rick. Doesn’t matter anyway. It was just the moment, just a moment in time.”

Richard took her arm and stopped her. He did not know what he intended to say to her and stood like a fool looking in her eyes.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to help conceal you from them. That’s all I can do.”

“If they find out about your complicity they will kill you.” Richard said matter-of-factly.

Valerie laughed nervously.

“I hardly think they’d kill me. I might lose my job of course or face some problems getting a car loan or something but you’re a bit over the top….”

“Perhaps, but that’s a risk I just can’t take.”

Garcia was in a fix. His commanding officer was enroute to London with plans to help the British uncover the truth behind the operations on the Silk Road while he was supposed to return to the base camp which was really an old block of abandoned warehouses just outside Tasbuget. Upon his return he was surprised to find that the CIA contact Don Gambill who had disappeared for the past six months was there waiting for him. Gambill had come with apologies and a lame excuse about how the supply trail had been broken by the developments in the Far East where supply ultimately originated.

“Where have you been these couple of days.” Gambill asked.

Harry Garcia had to be careful here. Even though he had no news he had to assume that two or three of the men who had been with them at the ambush had returned safely and so his story would have to match theirs. He began a convoluted invention that had Decker and himself abducted by these men in black in stealth helicopters. Through his own sheer courage and pure luck he had managed to escape when there was a lapse in security. He had been on the road since surviving on the charity and misfortune of those upon which he chanced.

“The operation can continue, Harry. Vince didn’t make it?”

“No. You’re not too concerned about that team out there. Are they one of ours?”

“Can’t say Harry.” Gambill was vague as usual and it irritated the hell out of Garcia.

“I’d find out if I were you Don, they were well trained and they came in four or five stealth helos. That’s no small ops, pal.”

“I assure you that Vince is top on my list and you can bet I wouldn’t let an op as big as what you guys saw go uninvestigated.”

Gambill got up and went to the inner room which they used as an office. He returned with a briefcase which he put on the table in front of Garcia.

“Four hundred thousand dollars.” Gambill said with a gratifying smile that Garcia wanted to wipe away with a punch.

“Unfortunately the suppliers seem to have gone underground for the moment. I’ll try to hook you up to something when I go back to Delhi but for now you hang on to this.”

“Same office number in Delhi?”

“Yes.”

“We’d been trying that number for the past six months. You sure?” The tone was mocking but Gambill ignored it.

“We had to move the office when the cash flow dried up from Stateside. We managed to retain the number but the address is now a P O Box. Need to know only. I’ll call you in a week with the contact. This time we’re sending you a back up team of ten to beef up your ops here. There is a rebel presence in Urumqi which is active. Your mission is to get up there and help them with logistics and arms. Last month they managed to knock out an entire pipeline to central China.”

“We’ll need the usual contact information.”

“I’ll send it from Delhi. I’m seeing a couple of local dealers to see if they’ve picked up the resumed trail.”

Gambill left Garcia with a rather sticky problem. Vince Decker would be spilling the beans on the ops that Garcia was still an, albeit reluctant, part of. Like Vince, he had been sold out once too often. The one thing he would not do was to intentionally endanger Vince, and at this point, it was a tall order. He had to contact Vince through some secure way and suddenly one came to mind. Vince operated a free email account with Speeddemon.com. a free chat site. It would be the sheer numbers and the innocuousness of the account name that would be their security. Garcia took out his Communicator and began to type:

Vinny,

Gambill was waiting for us. Ops are ongoing. I have no choice but to continue. I told them you are dead. I will be running the central China ops until I get a transfer. Don’t contact me and do what you must. I will see you Stateside when all this is over.

He did not elaborate but hit Send and shut the Communicator down. For the first time in his career Garcia felt nothing for the work he did, he would be following orders and no more. He prayed that Vince would not have revealed enough of he operations for the Brits to step in. The best he could hope for was that they somehow pulled the ops or him. Neither looked likely to happen and so Harry Garcia got up and went to his office with a renewed purpose but it was a purpose that lacked commitment. It was after all just a job.

It was not often that the two men met and though they had been great friends, the meeting of the two could only mean dread and for that they avoided the necessity for all they could. The Gent in his grey chalk stripe Savile Row suit sat across the heavy oak desk, behind which his friend Ng Keng Chye sat, similarly accoutered in a navy Henry Poole suit. Both men wielded untold power and yet both had not known rest for the better part of their lives. Each lived their lives for the ones they loved and cared for.

“Do you remember Trinity in those days?” Ng asked rhetorically.

“The college has declined at the advantage of Oxford but the culture is still intact.” The Gent replied.

“I think Oxford was always better academically, we were the doers, they were the thinkers. The thinkers would forever be subservient to the doers, not for their intelligence but for their motivation.”

Keng Chye lit himself a cigarette and dragged on it. It was a habit he had kicked decades ago but only found again of late. The Gent extracted a Cohiba from his suit pocket and lit it with his pocket acetylene torch.

“Remember when we last met in Delhi?”

The Gent breathed a column of smoke into the air.

“Thirty years ago Asia was but a sweatshop for the west, a grimy filthy factory with foreign masters. She’s grown considerably. The masters remain, men who believed they could ever tame the spirit of Asia, simple men, greedy and unwise.”

“These men gave us this.” Ng reminded.

“They left us this, Chye. It has exceeded them, succeeded them. They will try to use it for their purpose as they did decades ago but they still don’t understand. I fear the effort will destroy much.”

Outside it was cool as it was still early in the morning. In a few hours the sun would heat the land to an unbearable heat. The two men watched Ng’s two granddaughters playing by the pool under the watchful eye of the two maids. Ng wondered what kind of future their generation would face while The Gent contemplated his own grandchildren back in London who might have been of the same age.

“Our government is looking further into the matter. It appears they may not let it rest like the Americans.”

Ng was jerked back into the present by the remark.

“Really? Why?”

“The new Prime Minister made a rather precipitous remark while spewing rhetoric in the Commons. There was follow up, a few interest groups, some support from the academics in the City. The SEAC in the LSE was fairly vocal.”

“I know of the group. Their objectives are to serve ASEAN, not damage it. Except for a few elements within.”

“Notably a Colin Choo and his anti Malaysian faction. Why are your people so unpatriotic?”

“It was a mistake we made in the seventies. We promoted the party ahead of the government, and names instead of institutions. There is no loyalty for the party, never has been, only fear. Tell me about Mr. Choo and his politics.”

It was apparent to The Gent that Ng knew about Choo and it impressed him that Ng should be aware of so small a detail.

“You should know him from FreeSpeech. He is active there. It seems you have developed a hold on him.”

“Students will always be dissident, Choo is no different. I’m sure when the time comes, money or power can be called upon.”

“What if he is nobler than the both of us?” The Gent said with a wicked smile. Ng swore that he saw the devil in the man sometimes.

“Besides, he has rich friends and is himself quite well to do.”

“Richard Chang and Sheerluck. Are you saying they are aligned against ASEAN?”

The Gent was surprised at how seriously Ng seemed to regard Chang and Sheerluck. To the best of his knowledge Sheerluck and Chang were entirely motivated by Mammon.

“Chang was from here was he not?”

“Yes. He had some anti ASEAN tendencies that we found quite disturbing. But he is just an academic. We still keep tabs on the likes of Richard Chang. And Sheerluck appears to be a bona fide charity.”

Midnight in Chelsea, in a restaurant off Brompton Road, Colin and Richard were having a late supper and drinks. It seemed that Colin was in particularly high spirits and Richard gathered it must have been a new girlfriend. Outside the rain fell quite heavily for British rain and the shiny pavements reminded Richard of someone he had seemingly just regained. But she was not his, not if his own sense of decency had anything to do with it. In fact it was her own reaction that surprised him for he ha known her to be of restraint and unbending honour and integrity.

“Non executive directors. That’s what we were looking for.” Colin went on oblivious to the fact that Richard was only mildly interested and was looking out the window on to the street watching odd Porsche or Ferrari speed by.

“You have isolated a few names?”

“One name. A non-executive director in the company and all its subs. His name shows up elsewhere in similarly innocuous positions as well. A bank actually. Bank of Singapore. He is also non-executive and though his direct interest is small he has a huge amount of options. Ng Keng Chye, ever heard of him?”

“No. If you think this is worth pursuing I know some people at the Economist who would love a crack at a story like this.”

It was almost midnight by the time Caroon and Mason made it into Heathrow on a Qantas flight and both were visibly tired. Due to time constraints, the debrief was held in flight en route. Mason was eager to get Caroon out of the Far East and back to home ground where he could perhaps interview the man and discover just how far Menem Ali had got on the Silk Road. Caroon was helpful enough and answered as much as he could of Mason’s sometimes confusing and seemingly irrelevant questions.

“I have all Menem’s messages on my home PC. He never contacted me at work because I was never in. You can go through those if you like but tonight of course. And I’d prefer my wife didn’t know about this assignment.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“Late morning.”

The two men had decided to share a taxi as both were living in the Hampstead area.

The next day at about 1100hrs, Patrick Mason visited Caroon at his house in Highgate. Caroon came out to greet Mason looking sleepy despite the hour. It was a mild and cool morning and spring was in full force although the weather had been erratic. Caroon welcomed his new friend into the house and led him directly to his study where the computer was situated. The machine was already on.

“I brought an I-Mage.” Mason held up the micro memory peripheral.

“I’ve already made you a copy of the messages. But we’ll have a look at it now on my machine.”

Caroon called up his Message Manager and called up all messages from Menem Ali to himself. There weren’t that many, perhaps about thirty in all over a six-month period. The two men poured over the email archives.

“Most of this is quite damaging,” Mason said, “if it’s true.”

“There was one that was particularly interesting. It was from a US company to the Fieldstone group.”

Caroon called up the said email and Mason scrutinized the mail. It had a fax attachment that was a bit blurred at the edges.

“Hmmm. It is interesting indeed. It’s all in the micro-disc?”

“I gave you all Menem’s incoming and my replies as well. You know, I have a good idea what happened.”

“And you cannot publish this. Not without our clearance I’m afraid.”

“But I’ll be the first?”

“If it is ever to be published. Yes.”

Back to the Cold

Late May. Physical mail was a rarity for Daniel, indeed it was a rarity anywhere for anyone. Daniel bent down to retrieve the letter at the foot of his doorstep. He had almost stepped on it on his way out. Though unmarked, the letter was strangely familiar enough to make him stop and decide to open it in the privacy of his room and so he retreated once again to read the enigmatic letter. There were no markings whatsoever on the envelope save his name and so he concluded that it had not been sent via the postal system. Impatiently Daniel tore at the envelope and extracted the letter. It was hand written in Michelle’s handwriting.

Dearest Daniel,

The inventions on the island were for the benefit of messengers and not for your own eyes. That you saw them yourself was an accident. But before I continue I must say how sorry I am for the past year and how much I love you. During the winter it became clear to Richard that my usefulness had ceased even to my protectors and that they would perhaps hand me over or use me as a sign of their resolve. He followed your lead but beat you to it. So it was you who saved me after all. I have been in Australia throughout all this, living in a safe house provided by Richard. By the way it was at my request that Richard keep the truth from you until after the exams which should be over by now. I also understand from Richard that you will be going on to a research course.

I’m in London now but I thought that I should write you before showing up. My contact number is ext. 3178 at the London House Trust apartments and I hope you’ll call me. If you do not, I will understand.

Love, Mickey

Daniel instinctively reached out for his telephone and dialed the London House. He asked the operator for extension 3178 and was transferred immediately. Unfortunate there was no reply and so he left a message with the reception for Mickey to call him back. He then diverted all calls to his mobile and set out to look for Richard whom he found in his room.

“Michelle’s in London.” Daniel said as he entered the room.

There was a momentary look of surprise as Richard processed that information.

“She contacted you.” He said at last.

“What did she say?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Rick?”

“Because she asked me not to. For your sake and hers, she said. I thought she was in a better position to know than I.”

“Where is she.”

“Here in the hall. I don’t remember which room the porter assigned but its probably one of the smaller basement units on the other side.”

“You saved her life.” Daniel said emotionlessly.

“No. You did. It was your work with your informer and the FreeSpeech database that led us to her.”

“You could have involved me.” The tone was accusing though the eyes were dead.

“We were looking ahead of you and behind you. You were being followed and I needed to know the state of the enemy.”

“You also needed someone to take the heat of Colin. Do you know what happened out there?”

“When our people got to the island Michelle was alone. It was while they were in the midst of the extraction that her captors showed up. Apparently it was a weekly supplies drop that just happened to coincide. It was bad luck for all of us. We lost two men getting Michelle out of there. The scene that we constructed before leaving the island was for the benefit of the enemy, not you. It was later when Michelle was safely in Sydney that she requested that you be allowed to believe that she was dead.”

“I was sidelined throughout the entire play. You used me as a diversion and then you sidelined me. You could have involved me Rick. You could have used me.” There was anger in Daniel’s voice.

Richard felt sorry for the boy. He was a victim of circumstance and there was no other outcome or route that could have done better for everyone.

“I’m sorry Daniel, my hands were tied. Michelle’s first concern was your safety and frankly that was my first concern as well. This is not your war.”

“Yes it is. I care a lot about Mickey and her war is mine.”

“I think you’d better discuss that with her. As for my war, I try not to involve any of my friends.”

For a moment Daniel began to realize the scale of the war and his small place in it. Perhaps he had not been used as he had always believed but protected. Albeit against his will.

“Tell me about the war.” Daniel said gravely, his determination apparent. Richard considered this for a while.

“It’s really Colin’s war. For many years Colin has been piecing together a puzzle that he hopes one day will reveal who holds the power in ASEAN. He’s seen a lot, he has, and he thinks that ASEAN’s political infrastructure is less transparent than anyone thinks. He may be right. I myself couldn’t give a damn but the scrutiny of the Far East by Colin and myself have given me commercial opportunities that have been very profitable.”

“So you do it entirely for profit?”

“Yes.”

“And Colin does it for what?”

“Colin is a very rich man. His father hid millions away before his bankruptcy, tens of millions. He doesn’t have a job and he hasn’t got a wife. What else can he do all day but consider the permutations of conspiracy?”

There was much condescension in Richard’s manner which disturbed Daniel. He knew how much Richard supported Colin’s cause and how closely they worked together sometimes. Why this almost disdain for Colin’s beliefs? Was Richard really only in it for the money? Daniel could not help but laugh.

“For you, the war is over. For Colin, the war just took a turn for the worse. Sometimes I think the war is entirely of his own invention, accept of course for the evidence.”

“There is evidence? So Colin’s hypothesis is true?” Daniel’s interest was awakened.

“What is it to you anyway what happens in ASEAN or back home? You’ve left it for good now.”

“People still get hurt. I won’t allow my friends to get hurt. Not without extreme punishment.”

“I want to help. I want to be a part of this.”

“You’re taking liberties, risks.”

“I saw what was happening down there. Colin is right. There is no damn accountability, no transparency, no responsibility. And the oppression….”

“Daniel. Colin’s quarrel is with the incumbent governments. He has some pretty solid grounds for his allegations. But, there is more to it than a bunch of local despots running the region. These governments actually do a good job of running the region. Take them down and who knows who will step up to the plate. The region cannot afford a war. The current lot are tight. There’ll be no war. Remember Indonesia during the millennium? Almost a war but not quite. And why? A strong autocratic bastard with his head screwed on right.”

“You don’t believe the things you’re trying to sell me Rick.”

Richard got up and went to fetch a print out which he handed to Daniel.

“It gets bigger but no better.”

Daniel studied the document which was from Mason. It contained an image of a message sent from LTD Labs to Fieldstone Pte Ltd.

“What’s this?” Daniel looked up at Richard, puzzled.

“ASEAN has been producing these weapons and selling them on the central Asian markets of the CIS. We proved that these counterfeits existed last year and stopped the Silk Road.”

“Right. So why are you digging it all up again?”

“The Silk Road never stopped. We always thought that weapons were counterfeit. This message intercepted by someone inside Fieldstone shows LTD Labs, a US Defence contractor specializing in hand held surface to air missiles, actually correcting design flaws in Fieldstone’s designs.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Would you believe a CNN source?”

Richard allowed Daniel to digest the implication of the information in his hands. For himself, the gravity of the find was immense and he wondered if Colin understood the full implications. Colin himself was shocked but probably could not see further than a commercial conspiracy to defraud shareholders.

The morning after, and another wet and grey day in London. Richard had asked Colin, Daniel and Nick to meet at Sheerluck Hall, in the bar. It was school holiday time and the Hall was quite dead in the morning. Richard sat alone in the bar waiting for his friends. He was interrupted by Daniel, who had decided to come a little earlier. Richard welcomed him and poured him a coffee. It was strange to see Richard busy behind the bar.

“So what are we up to today?” Daniel asked between sips of hot coffee.

“Oh, nothing much. I was thinking we should all go on a holiday.” Richard poured himself a glass of cold Perrier. He came out from behind the bar and went over to the sofa in front of the big TV.

“Let’s see what we have on CNN this morning shall we?”

They sat in front of the interactive TV watching CNN and making a few passing remarks about the news until joined by Colin and Nick who came in together. Richard turned off the TV as they all took their seats around the table. Nick took her place beside Richard. The invitation was unusual in its formality and the fact that Nick had had no prior warning. She usually knew all his moves. Richard took out a copy of the fax that he had shown Daniel the day before and handed it to Colin.

“Have a read and pass it to Nick, Daniel’s already seen it.”

Colin took the piece of paper and looked at it carefully. When he was done he handed it to Nick.

“Interesting.” He began. “Looks like the local boys were getting help.”

Richard gave him an apologetic look.

“I was talking to Daniel earlier, before you arrived. I was suggesting that we all go on a holiday.”

“To Singapore?” Colin was hopeful and yet he did not know why the invitation had been so formal this morning. Inside, he held a suspicion that the game was about to end and that they had all come to their senses.

“No, not to Singapore. I think the fax tell us a lot. And I think that it’s pointless to pursue this conspiracy theory any further.” Richard said calmly.

“Colin, this shows US involvement. A CNN story about this was blocked, the reporter investigating this was killed in mysterious circumstances….” Daniel reasoned.

“So we shelve everything we’ve done?” Colin said rather defensively.

“We could scale back what were doing. We could work with a news provider, a newspaper. All we need is to get the right people asking the right questions….”

We got CNN asking the right questions, Colin. And they were told to back off, and they did back off. That’s big considering their behavior against past Presidents and politicians and CEO’s. The reporter looking at this, a Menem Ali, was killed. He was killed in a plane crash. You could call it an accident but CNN is staying well away from asking any more questions. You figure it out.” Richard said ominously.

Nick had finished reading the document and placed the fax at the centre of the table.

“British Intelligence is investigating this now?” Nick asked.

“Patrick Mason sent you this email.” She added.

“That’s one of the reasons I think we should pull out of this. We’ve found the follow up we were looking for….”

“British Intelligence would cover it up the same as the Americans or the Asians.” Colin objected.

“Mason and his people found out that the Silk Road was still in operating and he didn’t find out from us. He came to me with this assuming that we did not know.”

“So you mean the British know it’s an American production and they are willing to pursue it?” Nick asked incredulously. “Why?”

“I think they’re having problems with the US. Lately they’ve aligned with Euroland on the trade position which was particularly contentious. It’s all a part of a great big plan that they think they have. They just need the leverage. If the US backs down from its protectionist stance the whole investigation would probably be shelved. I don’t want to count on the Brits for follow through and I don’t want to go up against the Americans with nothing but my good morals.”

Colin saw the logic but he was still unwilling to abandon a piece of work that he had begun almost eight years ago. Th others could see that and they knew that Richard was right.

“The best we can do,” Richard continued, “is to compile the data that we’ve got, make a strong case for it, and I think we have a pretty strong case, and go to as many news providers we can. Give it to them and see if they run with it.”

The silence and the look from Colin conveyed his disappointment. He sat back and lit himself a cigarette as Richard went to the bar to get them another round of drinks. At the table, the three of them looked at each other awkwardly and in silence. For Colin, it was remorse for Daniel’s involvement in an abortive endeavour that frustrated him most. But Daniel’s thoughts were already elsewhere.

Nick and Daniel had left for other appointments and left Colin and Richard who went up to Richard’s room on the 8^th floor. The entire floor had been designated a smoke free area which annoyed Colin who smoked like a chimney.

“Do you think it was all for nothing?” Colin asked philosophically.

“No. You were right about everything, no matter how paranoid you looked. You were right and I can’t begin to understand how you saw it all so early on.” Richard said in consolation.

“I just saw things that others turned away from. They didn’t see it because they chose not to. It was convenient to live off fortunes ill gotten or no. It was easy to trade in integrity for a Mercedes or a Condo by the sea. It was so…. Asian?”

“Not everyone had your fortune Colin. You’ve never been in need.”

“No. I suppose not.”

“You did cause the conspirators billions in restructuring just half a year ago.” Richard was in full consolation mode.

“You know Rick, the more I think of it, the more it looks like the conspirators are not a dedicated group but rather a loose association…..”

“I’d suggest you not publish your suspicions any more. You’d best keep all this to yourself and enjoy life.”

The advice was well taken and for the first time it seemed that the problems of the people of South East Asia were no longer his. Colin felt a weight off his shoulders and a lack of purpose going forward that was quite refreshing. Enjoy life, Richard said. It was a tempting suggestion.

“I’m unemployed.” Colin said at last. “I’m twenty eight and unemployed. What could I do?”

“I don’t know. Start an Internet company.”

The two men laughed heartily.

“Do you think Daniel will be alright?” Colin asked after sobering up.

“I should think so.”

“He probably hates me.”

“If he hated you he should hate me more.”

Richard flicked on a computer and hooked up to the Sheerluck security network.

“There are so many like him you know, that they use and then try to dump. I wanted so much to stop that ever happening again and it appeared that we used him and then abandoned him just like the enemy.”

“We did not abandon him Colin, he came back and avoided us. I had to go to him with the offer.”

“We didn’t abandon him but he’s a friend Rick, not an employee whom you can compensate. He’s a friend.”

PART 4