Qubit, page 24
She could see Lock’s face, the judgment in his sad blue eyes. What kind of person barters for a child’s life? She wondered what he’d think of her if he knew that, tomorrow, she was going to propose a partnership with Singapore’s leading gangster. She would offer him money to kill someone.
All to protect Wall Street’s billions. She took another sip of brandy and wondered what her father would have thought of all this. She thought back to growing up in Cairo and admiring the bearded, world-weary man who somehow always had a smile for her. He’d taken her into work at the embassy one day, and she’d sat behind what she now remembered as an enormous oak desk. She’d been nine years old at the time. It would be three more years before they’d move to the United States. She’d watched through his office door as people from seemingly all over the world, in all manner of dress, came and went. She’d admired him in his olive-colored linen suit and obsessed about what went on behind the closed doors of the conference room down the hall.
There were many moments like that—by the time she’d reached college, she felt as if she’d known all her life what she wanted to do with it. “We all have to learn to work together,” her father had explained to her with characteristic simplicity when she’d asked him what it was, exactly, he had been doing all day. “Different races, different cultures…we all face the same problems. And we have to get better at working together to solve them.” In her eyes, her father was the most noble of men, an unsung hero, quietly oiling the gears of the world’s political machinery. But as she’d grown older, she’d seen her father worn down and frustrated, forced to react to crisis after crisis, never able to get out in front and prevent them.
Katya took another sip of brandy. Ong Goh caught her eye and smiled before returning his attention to the stage. Perhaps that was why Ong Goh’s constant flirting never bothered her—he was a man from another era, her father’s era. There was something reassuring about that, a sense that she’d get through this, just like they had. Of course, her father had never been a part of the “clandestine services.” In fact, he had counseled her against joining. For her part, she’d seen it merely as the perfect way to balance her years at Princeton and Columbia, studying abstract geopolitical theories and the influence of singular individuals.
Field work for the CIA put her on the front lines, as it were, in the battle to keep the human race from destroying itself. It wasn’t always pretty, but if you wanted to change the world, you first had to understand how it really worked, without sweeping the ugly parts off the back porch. Her father’s great flaw, as far she’d been able to discern, was that he had never been willing to see the world as it really was. He saw the best in people. And Katya did, too. But she could also see the worst. She could appreciate that Lock wanted to find his daughter. But she also understood he represented a clear and present danger to the global economy.
She finished off her brandy, bored with her own morose reflections. It was time to go home. After all, she had to be up bright and early to try and convince Haruo that they should run an extraction to get the girl. And then she was going to march right into the den of Li Mun himself and propose that he kill Vipul Rathod.
26
* * *
Chinese Garden, Singapore
Wednesday, May 9th
5:30 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
“I spoke with Goh about termination scenarios,” said Katya. She was on the bridge again, side-by-side with Haruo. A small fleet of turtles passed beneath her, disappearing under the bridge.
“Oh?” prompted Haruo.
“He reminded me that Vipul went to Li Mun when he wanted to take out his brother.”
“Yes. Excellent. Expedient and efficient.”
“And probably expensive.”
“Under the circumstances…”
“I have a meeting set up for this afternoon.”
“With Li Mun?”
“Yes.”
“Good. No time to waste.”
“You told me to work fast.”
“What about Mr. Cairnes?”
Katya waited a moment for an old woman to pass out of earshot. “The key to him is the daughter. We need to get her out of there.”
“An extraction? From Bihar?”
“Yes.”
“That’ll take too much time. But you can assure him that we’ll get her.”
“That’s what I did. He won’t talk unless he gets his daughter first.”
“Tell him we have her.”
Katya turned her head toward the old man and cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t even hesitated.
Quartan was thinking aloud. “He’d want proof.”
“Not only that, but I’d be flat out lying to him.”
“You have a confused conscience, Katya.”
“I suppose. Is there some way to expedite the extraction?”
“It’s quicker and cheaper for us to simply kill him.”
“Sure. But then we lose the intel.”
“We’re not getting it anyway.” Haruo paused, his eye on a passing jogger. “And don’t forget, State will want to process the girl. Just winning that argument will take time. And the logistics of setting up a special op will take time. I’ll have the discussions. But I don’t think today is realistic. Or tomorrow. And probably not Friday, either. In other words, it isn’t something you should be planning on.”
Katya frowned. “Had to ask. What about intel about her situation?”
“All we know is that consulate report.”
“But we could find out more. We know where to look, right? We can check sat intel, right? If we wanted to, we could tell him exactly where she is, the terrain, disposition and size of forces, attitudes—”
“Yes, we could get that. No guarantee we’ll be able to pin down the girl’s whereabouts.”
“Can we get it today?”
“I can get an analyst on it today, sure. What are you thinking?”
“I just want to show Lock that we’re making progress.”
“Lock?”
“Lochan. Cairnes. He calls himself Lock.”
Haruo frowned.
“So?” prompted Katya.
“There’s one problem,” resumed Haruo.
“What’s that?”
“Getting clearance to give that kind of intel to a civilian.”
“Or to me, for that matter.”
“I can authorize giving it to you. I can’t authorize you giving it to a civilian. Let alone a target.”
“You don’t need to know about it.”
“I don’t want you to expose yourself like that, Katya.”
Katya was silent for a moment. “Are there any other suspects? Besides Cairnes and Rathod.”
Now it was Haruo’s turn to be silent.
“If I can turn Cairnes, no one will care how I did it.”
“No. But if you don’t…you’re already set up to be the first candidate for mission scapegoat.”
“By that logic, I’ve got nothing to lose.”
Haruo turned and looked at her. Katya saw fatherly concern in his eyes. “I’ll get you what I can,” he conceded after a brief staring contest.
“Also?”
Quartan arched his eyebrows, incredulous. “Yes?”
“I need a new sat phone.”
Haruo returned his gaze to the lake. “Oh. Okay. I’ll get—wait.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Oh no.”
“I checked my hotel surveillance this morning. Lock—Cairnes—is making calls on pay phones. This is something tangible to prove I’m on his side.”
Haruo sighed. “You had such a promising career ahead of you.”
Shangri-La Hotel, Singapore
Wednesday, May 9th
9:30 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Lock heard the phone ringing and unplugged it from the wall. He heard the knocking at the door and put his head underneath several pillows. He was dreaming that he was on a yacht with Sophie, cutting through a crystalline blue ocean underneath a nearly cloudless sky, the wind, infused with ocean spray, in their faces—
He landed hard on his tailbone and opened his eyes to find himself at the foot of the bed. Black shoes, perfectly tailored slacks, long legs, black jacket…
“Get up!” snarled Anand. “Before I break your fucking legs.”
Lock scrambled to his feet, wincing at the knifing pain in the front of his head.
“I have to fucking come down here to get you out of bed?” asked Anand. “That’s worth at least a finger or two, don’t you think, Sanjay?”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Sanjay. Locked hadn’t realized he was even there. He was standing near the door, his head bowed.
“Let me just—I just overslept,” Lock stuttered. “I’m sorry—”
“You disgust me,” continued Anand. “You are a man who does not care about his own daughter. A man who does not care about his family is not a man at all.”
“You’re absolutely right,” said Lock as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Please don’t hurt Sophie, though, it isn’t—”
“Why would you take such chances when you know the consequences? I think today we will have a little video chat with Sophie. We will remove a thumb. Perhaps then—”
Lock spun around, his shirt half-on and half-off. “Anand, please. I swear to you. I will not be late again. Please don’t hurt her. There’s no need. It won’t happen again. It’s just with the time change and working all night and—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Anand stepped forward and leaned into Lock’s face. “This is your last chance, Detroit. If you piss me off one more time, if you even irritate me, I swear to you, you will watch your little Sophie suffer. You will watch her scream and cry for help, and you will be able to do nothing, like the useless dog that you are. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lock, blinking slowly.
Shipyard Road, Singapore • Friendly Winds Shipping Ltd
Wednesday, May 9th
2:00 p.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Katya was led a through a maze of narrow corridors into what appeared from the outside to be some kind of refrigeration unit featuring a large steel door. Inside she discovered a spartan office with wooden floors and a leather couch with dirty white stuffing coming out of the arms. She sat down stiffly on the couch and wondered if perhaps she’d made a mistake, after all, by coming down here. She imagined they had a way to simply flush the bodies out to sea.
According to the crookedly hung clock on the far wall, she’d been waiting thirty minutes when Li Mun finally shuffled in. He took two steps into the room and turned to her. “Who are you?”
Katya stood up. “I represent someone who would like to remain anonymous.”
“Are you here to suck my dick? Because you were supposed to—”
Katya cleared her throat. “Um, no. I have a business proposal.”
“You got five seconds.”
“Okay. I’ll get right to the point, then.” Katya cleared her throat again. “My associates would like you to terminate Vipul Rathod. And we are willing to pay you generously.”
“Such a pretty girl for such dirty work.”
Katya wondered if he was being intentionally ironic.
Li Mun shuffled over to his desk. “I’m not interested.”
Yet he hadn’t thrown her out. Or had her killed. She said nothing.
Li Mun sat down, leaning on the desk to support his bulk as he did so. “Who do you represent?”
“Someone who would like to remain anonymous.”
Li Mun nodded. “I like to know who I’m doing business with.”
“I understand. Unfortunately, in this case, that isn’t possible.”
“You with the SPF?”
“No. We are not local.”
“The CIA?”
“Mr. Li, please.”
“Why Vipul?”
“He stepped on the wrong toes.”
Li Mun stared at her. She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Cash, up front,” he said finally.
“Of course.”
“How much?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know your needs.”
“Okay, then. Ten million. US dollars.”
“Very well.”
“You’ll pay me ten million dollars to get rid of Vipul for you.”
“I’ll take it back to my associates. For that price, I assume you can permanently cripple the Rathod organization.”
“Sure. I wouldn’t worry about that. But the price is twenty million.”
“Ten is fine, I think.”
“Ten up front. Ten after.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“What did Vipul do that makes it worth twenty million to kill him?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. Come back with the cash and maybe we can do business.”
Katya stood up. “Can someone show me out? I’m not sure I can find the way.”
“Yeah, that’s the idea. Wait here.”
Katya stared at the floor awkwardly as the fat old man waddled out the door. Was it really going to be that easy? Haruo would be upset that she hadn’t bargained. But what was ten or even twenty million dollars when billions hung in the balance?
Orchard Road, Singapore • Starbucks
Wednesday, May 9th
7:00 p.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Katya was at a different table this time, in the back corner. Lock nearly knocked over an old Asian woman, and just when he’d finished apologizing to her, he bumped into a student, who started cursing in Chinese. Or maybe it was Japanese, Lock wasn’t sure.
He had spent the day planning his assault on the stock market, while Raj and Sanjay had enjoyed a marathon of superhero movies. Back at the hotel, he’d gone straight to his room to rest for a few hours until the markets opened and he could call Ray. Just as he’d fallen asleep, Katya had knocked on his door, passing him another note.
He’d already made it clear to her that he wasn’t going to give her anything unless she could actually produce his daughter. So he was not only tired but impatient. He sat down breathlessly. “What?” he prompted.
“I have a gift for you,” Katya said, smiling. She reached down into a bag under the table and pulled out something that looked like an old cell phone. She handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked as he accepted it.
“It’s a cell phone.”
“I can see that.”
“Secure. My number is preprogrammed in. Also, that way, you can call your friends.”
Lock looked up.
“You know, the Polish guy and Ray.”
“How…?”
“I’m a spy. This is what I do. Anyway, it also has detailed intel on where your daughter is being held. Terrain, disposition of forces, and so forth. Everything your friend Ray will need.”
Lock was dumbfounded. “How…?” he said again.
Katya paused, as though hesitant to share the secrets of her craft. “Okay. I have surveillance set up at the hotel. I was able to check the numbers you called by calling in a favor with the SPF. I cross-referenced those with our internal database. Ray is a pretty interesting character, by the way.”
Lock gradually recovered from his surprise at the extent to which Katya had been watching him. She apparently was, in fact, a real life spy. He began to process the rest of what she’d told him. Everything your friend Ray will need. “So you can’t help me?”
“I think I just did. But, no, I—meaning the CIA and the US government—can’t arrange for your daughter’s rescue, not yet. It will take time to put everything in motion. But—” she motioned at the phone Lock was still holding in his hand, “—that’s everything we have.”
Lock stared at the phone. “Well, thanks. I guess.” He got up to leave.
“Lock. I’m doing everything I can.”
“Like I said, thanks.”
Walking out of Starbucks back toward the hotel, he fished into his pocket until he found the piece of hotel stationary with the calling card number and Ray’s cell number, which he began to dial and then stopped. He experimented pressing different buttons until he figured out how to view the files Katya had told him were on the phone. Detailed intel? There were photos, dozens of them, perhaps hundreds. They looked as though they’d been taken from just two or three stories up, straight down. He saw a girl in a black hood being led into an apartment building. In another photo, there were just a half-dozen men, armed with semiautomatics, scattered around the front and sides of the same building. There were photos from higher up showing the layout of the apartment complex and the streets surrounding it, and diagrams showing the altitude of various landmarks.
He reached the bar and nodded at the bartender, who by now knew to bring him the twenty-year Laphroaig, neat. He took a sip to settle his nerves and pulled up the photos of Sophie being led into the apartment building. He recognized the Keep Calm T-shirt and the curls of her hair. She’d been trapped in that very apartment building for nearly two weeks.
It felt like his whole body was trembling. He took another sip of scotch, but it made no difference. He looked at the stationary again and dialed Ray’s number.
ψ
Even with Kafka’s help, it took nearly two hours to work out the kinks involved in sending emails with attachments from the phone Katya had given him. To begin with, the phone’s email system used an obscure public-key encryption scheme neither of them were familiar with. Lock had managed to find the public key—remarkably, there were instructions for jailbreaking the phone on Google—which he gave to Kafka so he could decrypt the files. Kafka sent them on to Ray, who was now, in theory, studying them on his laptop.
Meanwhile, the markets had been open for an hour, but showed no signs of stabilizing—in just an hour of trading on record volume, the DOW had lost another 10 percent of its value, reaching a ten-year low. It looked as though he’d have to wait another day to start raising funds.
At least they could begin making concrete plans for rescuing Sophie. Lock commandeered an empty corner of the hotel lounge as a makeshift war room and called Ray again.
