Qubit, page 39
Haruo watched as one of the men held the door to Katya’s Civic as she got in.
“I’m on my way.”
Queenstown, Singapore • The Regiment Tea House
Wednesday, May 16th
8:05 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Vipul lay on the ground, trying to keep his head. If he could somehow just inhale deeply enough. A tremor of spasms exploded from his midsection. He tried to get his hands and feet under control, but his mind and body were suddenly at war. He saw people’s shoes; a pair of black tennis shoes; a pair of red high heels; a pair of brown leather sandals. Where was his waiter? And where was Detroit? He was tired of waiting! Breathe! Ah, he’d get through this, just like he’d survived the attack at Tally Bar and Anand’s death. If only he could breathe! Just one lungful and he’d get through this. That’s all that mattered now.
One deep breath.
ψ
Haruo watched from his car in the parking lot outside a grocery store that was across the lane from The Regiment. An ambulance was already parked outside and a crowd had gathered around. Haruo got out of his car and walked toward the crowd. Two police cars pulled up, and he hurried his pace. He wanted to be inside before the police cordoned off the area.
Elbowing his way in, he saw another crowd of people standing in a circle. Looking around, he could see no bullet holes, nor could he smell any traces of gunfire. The cafe’s patrons seemed more curious than afraid. A couple of men that looked like they might have been part of either Vipul’s crew or the Triad stood nearby.
He walked to the edge of the crowd, removing his sunglasses and adjusting the camera to make sure his jacket didn’t open unexpectedly. Pushing his way forward, he finally got where he could see emergency medical technicians performing CPR on a prone figure. The procedure seemed to work momentarily, but then one of the technicians yelled out that the subject’s pulse was flat again. Haruo craned his neck until he could confirm that the body on the ground was Vipul.
The police stormed in, and Haruo gave a statement that echoed those he’d heard others give. He watched as they placed Vipul on a gurney, where a medical examiner pronounced him dead. He saw them bringing out one of the black body bags, and he asked the police officer who’d taken his statement if it was all right for him to leave. After the policeman verified that he had Haruo’s contact information, all of which was, of course, fabricated, Haruo walked calmly and quietly down the front steps of the usually tranquil teahouse.
He continued past the crowd of police and medical personnel and Vipul’s thugs until he reached the sidewalk. He made his way around the next corner, and soon he was just another tourist going for a walk in the great city of Singapore. He pulled his phone from his pocket again, pressed a button, and held it to his ear. “Katya?” he said.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“Quite.”
He could hear her exhale.
“Which means it’s all the more important,” he reminded her, “that we find your friend, Mr. Cairnes.”
38
* * *
Jurong East, Singapore • Katya's Apartment
Wednesday, May 16th
8:30 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Lock sat hunched over the desk, staring at the satphone. He heard someone opening the front door and swiveled around to look.
Katya burst into her apartment, keys in hand. Their eyes met.
Lock stood up and began walking toward her. “You’re alive,” he said.
“Yes.” She stood in the hall for a second before turning to close and lock the door behind her. When she came back into the living room, Lock met her halfway to the couch. They stopped a pace apart.
“And Vipul?” prompted Lock.
“I don’t know yet. I’m waiting for Haruo to call.”
They sat down on the couch together. Katya produced her phone and stared at it.
“I’ve written the email,” said Lock, with a nod to the desk.
Katya glanced at the laptop. “That’s good.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the phone.
Lock looked up. “So…what happened?”
“Oh, that,” said Katya. She looked up. “Li Shan eventually got word that Vipul showed up at The Regiment.”
“But not…”
“But she still didn’t know if they’d got him.”
Lock nodded and resumed staring at the phone.
“Any minute now,” said Katya.
Lock watched as the minute digits incremented on the phone’s display.
“Soon,” said Katya.
Lock got up to splash water on his face. Katya made a fresh pot of coffee. Lock wandered into the kitchen. She poured him a cup and handed it to him, then poured herself one.
Her phone beeped.
Lock hovered over her as she answered. “Is he dead?” she asked. Her eyes closed. “Yes, I know.” She opened her eyes and hung up the phone.
“Well?” asked Lock.
“He’s dead.”
“He’s dead?”
“Dead.”
Lock ran his fingers through his hair and spun around slowly. Katya walked past him and back into the living room.
Lock followed her. “All that’s left now is to burn the body.”
“What?”
Lock walked over to the desk and sat down, staring at the terminal window where he’d composed the email containing his instructions for the brokers. Kafka had modified the deputy program so that he could just send email directly from the deputy server, and it would take care of encrypting and signing it and sending it out to the network. All he had to do was hit return to send the message.
He looked over at Katya. “Here goes nothing.” He hit return, and a prompt was displayed.
Are you sure you want to send this message? (Y/N)
Lock allowed himself a small smile at Kafka’s thoroughness. He hit return again.
Signing message…done.
Encrypting and sending message to [1/839] brokers…
The number 1 became 2 and then 3. Lock’s gaze wandered to the window and saw Katya’s reflection, staring at him. She was safe. He was glad of that. But their time together was running out.
“Did you send it?” asked Katya.
Lock turned to face. “It’s sending. It has to send to all the brokers individually.”
“And then you have to go,” she announced.
“Oh,” said Lock. He returned his attention to the terminal window.
Encrypting and sending message to [347/839] brokers…
“It’s not safe for you here,” she explained.
“I told you. I’ll turn myself in.” Lock turned to face her. “Just as soon as this finishes…”
“Lock, maybe that’s not—”
The laptop beeped. Lock turned back to the laptop screen.
Encrypting and sending message to [839/839]…done.
“Done!” He whirled back around to face Katya, his arms spread. “I’m all yours.”
ψ
Katya had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch Lock’s cheek. Instead, she pointed to the duffel bag beneath the desk. “But you’re all packed.”
Lock looked down and seemed to study the bag for a moment. “That was the contingency plan.”
“Contingency for what?”
“I’m not sure, exactly.”
“You really want to turn yourself in?”
“I’m not sure I’d put it quite that way. But I will, yes.”
“Why…why would you do that?”
Lock came over and sat next to her, Katya sliding over slightly so that they could face each other. ““I owe you that, Katya. You’ve given Sophie—”
There was a knock on the door.
Katya reached out and grabbed Lock’s arm, her eyes wide. She pointed to the bedroom. “Hide,” she whispered.
Lock grabbed the duffel bag from under the desk and walked quickly to the bedroom. Katya stood and faced the door.
She heard Haruo’s voice calling to her from the other side. “Katya!”
Katya strode to the door, then took a deep breath and opened it. “Haruo. I wasn’t—” Haruo entered brusquely, placing himself halfway between the kitchen and living room. “Please come in,” Katya deadpanned.
“What exactly happened this morning?” Haruo demanded, whirling to face her.
Katya walked past him into the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”
Positioning himself across the counter, he replied, “No. And where is Cairnes?”
“I don’t know.”
Haruo winced. “Katya, don’t do this. What the hell are you up to?”
She leaned on the counter. “Haruo, please calm down.”
He straightened. “I am calm. Where’s Cairnes?”
“I’ll call Ong Goh. They put out the warrant for his arrest, right?”
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
Katya mirrored Haruo, her hands still on the counter. “How can you ask me that?”
Haruo glared. “Because you’re not giving me any answers.”
“I went to see Li Shan because I suspected that Lock was meeting Vipul at The Regiment.”
“And why wouldn’t you go to the police with that information?”
“Because Vipul would have vetted the meet. Any sign of the SPF would have scared him off.”
“You could have consulted me.”
“There wasn’t time.” Katya came around the counter and faced Haruo. “I didn’t think to check Lock’s email until last night. So I had to make a decision. I figured the SPF could take weeks to find Vipul. He could have disappeared to Bihar or God knows where else. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”
“Where’s Cairnes?”
“How should I know?” She frowned, spreading her arms wide. “Want to search the house?”
Haruo stared at her. Neither of them moved. Katya kept her mind clear, meeting Haruo’s gaze, studying his irises. “Pack your things,” he said finally. “I’m shutting you down. You’re going home. Now.”
“Haruo, it’s going to take me time to pack. And you’d need to charter a jet.”
“We’ll use the Agency jet. They can have it ready in an hour. I’ll wait.”
Katya stepped forward and placed her hand on Haruo’s shoulder. “Haruo, you’ve forgotten. The jet won’t be available until tomorrow because Misha took Sophie home.”
Haruo was stone-faced. But he wasn’t arguing.
“I promise. I’ll pack up and go as soon as I can. And I’m sorry to worry you. I didn’t realize Li Shan would keep me there all night. You sure you don’t want some tea?”
ψ
After Haruo had gone, Lock emerged from the bedroom, his legs unsteady. He gathered himself and then pulled Katya to him and kissed her hard. He was surprised to find there was nothing at all awkward about it. Their bodies seemed to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.
He pulled back slightly, breathless. “Why did you do that? Cover for me like that?” he asked.
She looked up, those dark, curious eyes drawing him in. Like they had from the start. “That’s a stupid question.”
Lock smiled wistfully. Katya embraced him again, burying her face into his chest. “You’re welcome,” she purred.
Lock bowed his head to hers. “Run away with me,” he whispered.
Katya looked up again. “What?”
“Run away with me.”
Katya’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
“I know. I shouldn’t have even asked.”
She smiled with half of her mouth. “I’m glad you did.”
Lock reached out to her, letting his fingers get tangled in the curls of her hair. “You’re smart to decline.”
Katya laughed. “Am I? You’ve pretty much ruined my career.”
“You’re in awfully good spirits about that.”
She tilted her head back as though she were sizing him up. “The way I figure it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours to make it up to me.”
Lock tried to smile, but it didn’t quite take. Twenty-four hours wasn’t nearly enough. He leaned in and kissed her again, gently this time.
“One other thing,” whispered Katya.
“Anything.”
“You can’t fall for Li Shan.”
Thirty thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean
Wednesday, May 16th
10:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Sophie opened her eyes, suddenly awake, tension surging up through her chest. The earth seemed to be moving beneath her, and she could hear a dull, steady roar. She realized she was lying down with a blanket over her and another IV drip next to her. But the walls of her room were curved, and there were too many windows. Sitting up, she felt a deep, welling ache in her left side and lay back down reflexively.
“You’re awake,” said a woman’s voice.
Sophie turned her head and saw an older woman with a tan complexion, white hair, red lipstick, and large gold earrings. She smiled at Sophie. Sophie stared back.
After a while, it occurred to her that the woman’s tone and body language were…motherly. “You speak English?” Sophie asked her.
“Yes, dear.”
She considered this. “Why am I on an airplane?”
“You’re going home.”
She remembered arriving at the wharf. It had been dark. She remembered seeing her father, bright lights and— “You were at the hospital.”
“Yes. My name is Misha.”
Misha. Sophie remembered someone saying that name. Before the hospital. There had been another woman, too, with curly black hair. She had been there with her father.
“Where’s my dad?”
“He’ll join you later. We felt it was safer for you this way.”
“Safer?”
Misha smiled. “Just a precaution. You’re safe now. We’ll be landing in Los Angeles in a few hours, then we’re going to Washington. And your mother will meet you there.”
You’re safe now. Could that be true? If her father had to stay behind for her safety, there was still danger. If not for her, for him.
“You must have many questions,” observed Misha. “The first thing you should know is that you’re safe. The second thing is that you’re going to be fine. You have some bumps and bruises—well, a bit more than that—but they’ll all heal in time. The hardest thing will be dealing with what happened. But you have time for that. Right now, you need to rest.”
“I’m not tired,” protested Sophie.
“You’re getting better already,” laughed Misha. “I think you’ll find that if you close your eyes, you’ll go right back to sleep.”
“No,” said Sophie. She tried to sit up again, wincing with the pain from her ribs. But this time she persisted, with a helping hand from Misha. She realized she was on a sofa that ran lengthwise down the fuselage of a small private jet.
Misha moved the IV drip to the side and then sat down next to Sophie accommodatingly. She rested her arm maternally on Sophie’s shoulder.
“I can’t remember…”
“That’s okay. That’s understandable. You have time.”
“It’s just that…I don’t want to sleep anymore.” Sophie remembered lying on a dark road at night, the silhouettes of two men walking toward her, wanting to run, but being unable to move. She looked away from the vision, back at the floor. Was this real? Or was this just another dream? Would she wake up in a moment? There was a room. A boarded up window. She shook her head and was back in the plane.
She turned to Misha and saw that the woman wasn’t smiling and that her eyes were sad. They drooped slightly at the corners, rows of wrinkles forming half-moons beneath them.
“I understand,” she said, her hand slowly caressing Sophie’s back and shoulders. “You know, we have a wonderful selection of films to watch on this plane. Perhaps you’d like to watch a nice comedy together. And maybe we can even whip up some popcorn or something. Would you like that?”
Sophie felt her facial muscles moving in an unfamiliar way. Then she realized she was smiling. Well, perhaps not smiling, not yet; but there was a quiver at the corner of her mouth that could become one, in time. “Yes, that sounds nice,” she replied.
Nariman Point, Mumbai • Kapoor Financial Planning Ltd
Wednesday, May 16th
6:00 p.m. IST (India Standard Time)
“C’mon, Vipul, answer your damn phone,” Swaran pleaded, wiping beads of sweat from his brow with an already damp white handkerchief. He heard Vipul’s voice mail pick up. “Vipul, we have a…situation…here. The lek has lost value, and I don’t see…anyway, call me back.” Swaran clicked off, tossed the phone on his desk, and stared dejectedly at the computer monitor, which displayed a jagged green line on a black background that begin in the top left corner of the screen and ended in the bottom right.
Brij appeared in the doorway, wearing his usual oversized Oxford button-down. “Hey, boss, I wanted—”
“Not now, Brij.”
“Sorry,” said Brij, and turned to go.
“Wait. Wait.” Swaran pointed to the bar on the other side of the room. “Fix me a scotch.”
Brij turned back into the room and wordlessly walked to the bar and picked up a glass. “The good stuff?” he asked, staring at several decanters half-full of amber-colored liquid.
“Might as well,” directed Swaran, mopping his brow again.
“What’s wrong, boss?” asked Brij as he poured them both two fingers’ worth of a thirty-year-old scotch that Swaran had recently purchased.
“We’re ruined, that’s what.”
Brij handed Swaran a glass, but Swaran didn’t reach for it, so Brij simply set it on his desk in front of him and sat down. “Ruined?” he echoed, taking a sip. “But I thought—”
“I kept borrowing against these damn contracts. I knew that was a bad idea. I knew it! But I didn’t follow my own instincts. Vipul is so damned…”
“But I thought—”
