“Give me your betting slip Mr Cade, I will get one of my men to collect your winnings, you want cash or a cheque?”
“Hang on Andy, how much are we talking about here? I need a moment to clear my head. Jesus H Christ this is mental, categorically barking bloody mad.”
He broke the rules and hugged the future commissioner who allowed it for a while, then broke free so he could shake Cade’s hand warmly before saying, “I think we need to go with Sergeant Chung and collect your winnings. You need a police escort to ensure one of my guys doesn’t run away with your bounty!”
“One and a half a bloody million. Five bloody hundred thousand, and a million, exactly three halves of a fucking great million Andy. Five…” He was unable to articulate his thoughts and making no sense whatsoever. Tsang grabbed hold of both of his hands.
“I know, I know. You owe me, Englishman!” He was genuinely delighted. Ten minutes passed by and with cheque in hand and a growing group of new friends, Cade watched as Tsang rounded up a fleet of taxis and once more poured his men into them.
The red and white convoy sped through the night towards the Tsim Sha Tsui area of Kowloon and their intended destination, The Intercontinental, a hotel made infamous by the many celebrities and very important people who had chosen to stay there.
They arrived fifteen minutes later. To their right a thriving mass of bars, restaurants and the ever-present tourists, cruise ships and the green and white ferries, each in its own way endeavouring to keep pace with the never-ending demands upon them. Bus doors hissed as they opened and closed, collecting and delivering thousands to and from the Ferry Terminal.
The door opened to the hotel, and Tsang’s team made for the bar. They were soon joined by an entourage of attractive women, all resplendent in evening gowns, gold, scarlet and green, immaculately made up and quintessentially exotic, especially to a Westerner like Cade.
Tsang stood on a small chair and announced to his team and their newfound concubines, “Ladies, gentlemen, I give you our colleague, our friend and our personal banker for the first round, Mr Jack Cade and his new friend The Other Woman.”
The crowd cheered and started to place their orders. In the past Cade would have been a little concerned about how he would pay for such a gesture, given that his cheque hadn’t even begun the journey to his account, but Tsang had already made ‘arrangements’ with the general manager, assuring him of Cade’s credentials.
They drank their way into the next morning when Cade and Tsang were tipped into the back seat of a patrol car with a warning to the somewhat perplexed officers to never discuss the moment again. It was Cade who was the more sober on this occasion and who managed to utter the word Mandarin before passing out.
At nine o’clock the following morning he woke, startled by a shaft of light penetrating the heavy curtains. He blinked twice, then rubbed his eyes with his balled-up fists.
He had not been that drunk since 1992.
He pushed his tongue through his arid lips and heard them crack apart. He tried to swallow but failed. He needed a drink. He needed water.
He shuffled around the room, trying to regain his bearings. He fell forwards over his suit, cursing whoever it was that left it there. He then began to replay the previous night.
Hotel, Andy Tsang, Happy Valley, a bet, a win and finally the Intercontinental where his last memory was seeing two exceptionally beautiful but decidedly upmarket whores diving naked into the pool with the chief inspector’s men, who had clapped repeatedly until Cade stripped off and joined them, entering one of the world’s most exclusive and expensive swimming pools with an uncharacteristically pathetic dive.
Legend would later have it that he took both girls to a room where despite their best and most skilful intentions, semi-naked and partially aroused, he passed out; again.
He opened the curtains a little wider and delved into the deepest recesses of what was left of his mind and recalled being handed a cheque. He peered through partially erupted eyelashes and saw that it was propped up on his bedside table. He was somewhat incredulous. Despite his best laid prejudices, it was still there.
Perhaps the girls had been honourable after all? Try though he might, he simply couldn’t remember where he and they had parted company, but wherever it was, it wasn’t with his cheque.
It was a simple cheque too, printed on Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation paper, made out to Mr Jack Cade to the sum of $14,430,492.90 HKD.
“Dear God, it wasn’t a dream. Jesus! Look at that, would you look at that?”
He heard a low-level moan from the bathroom. He rubbed his hands across his arid face and tried to process the sound. As he walked, he blew his own breath into his hand. It stank and reminded him of an estuary at low tide.
There was that moan again.
“Great, I brought one of them back with me. This is really all I need right now; in-room dining with a high-class escort and an awkward conversation over breakfast. Tsang is going to be dining out on this for years.”
It was all coming back to him, a tsunami of vivid information that plunged him back into the preceding evening. As his subconscious once more began to rewind and replay he started to feel a little nauseous. He sat bolt upright and made the decision to head for the bathroom.
He almost made it too, aiming to reach the sink but instead throwing up a bilious, bright-green cocktail, the remnants of the final round – complete with a partially digested cherry – straight into the enormous bathtub. It exited his body with a vengeance, reminding him with each convulsion why he hadn’t drunk that heavily since 1992.
The smell was atrocious, itself enough to upset the equilibrium of a hardened street dweller.
He clung onto the side of the bath, knuckles whitening with each miserable moment. It was only when he commenced the third set of convulsions that he realised that the bath had an occupant. Curled up in a spare duvet and resting his head on a few borrowed goose down pillows lay the next commissioner of the Royal Hong Kong Police. He was fortuitously oblivious to the events of the last ten minutes.
Quite how Cade was going to break it to Tsang that he had evidently vomited all over himself was something he wasn’t exactly prepared for. It took a full ten minutes in the shower to come up with a plausible story and one which whilst not exactly happy with he was going to have to stick too for rather a long time.
Hindsight being what it was, he now considered consuming a continental breakfast in the company of a voracious whore to be far more palatable than what he had done.
Tsang would eventually rise from his vitreous sarcophagus. He was appalled at his condition and apologised profusely to his friend who was incredibly charitable about the whole event, even offering to send an urgent request out for a new suit. It was he said the least a colleague could do.
And so it came to pass that Cade and Tsang would become lifelong friends. Their debts now settled they would remain in touch when and wherever they could and if ever Cade was to pass through the region he was instructed, on pain of death, that he must visit Tsang and his team.
As he farewelled Cade at the airport, a few days later Tsang wondered where their individual paths would head. They did indeed make a pact to stay in touch and Cade assured him that once he had arrived in his intended destination, he would send a message.
Cade had explained that he had chosen one of the most remote countries on the globe to escape to, a chance to leave his problems behind and start anew. With the benefit of his unexpected equestrian windfall, he could invest in a business and soon gain permanency in his adopted land.
It was the least Tsang could do to wish Jack Cade every success. Tsang knew he didn’t need luck, but he wished him continued good fortune nonetheless. He shook his hand warmly then turned sharply on his heels and walked back to his car.
Neither could have known that it would be years until they saw each other again.
Those eight years had flown by at a rate which alarmed both the Chinese and the Brit
ish officer. It seemed that with the passing of time a little wisdom has been implanted too.
Both men decided against a repeat of The Great Night of 2006. Tsang for the sake of his career, Cade because he was just too exhausted; both physically and emotionally. Besides, that bastard Tsang would lure him back to Happy Valley and lose his entire fortune. Instead, they agreed that once Cade had caught up on some sleep, they would meet the next day.
Cade heard a knock at his door at eight in the morning. It was the international police knock, but he checked the spy hole anyway. Tsang was smiling ridiculously through the glass, knowing that Cade would be looking back at him. It raised a smile as Cade opened the door.
“Good morning double O – I have a new mission for you, should you choose to accept, this tape will self-destruct in five…”
“Tsang, if you are going to force your way into my bedroom at this ungodly hour, at least have the decency not to mix up your film lines!”
“Good to see you have lost none of your edge, Jack! How did you sleep? Better than last time? Vomit on anyone?”
He stopped for a moment and looked at Tsang, “You knew?”
“Of course I knew. I am an international law enforcement officer Cade, I know everything and anyway it would have been rude to turn down your offer of a nice new suit!”
“Bastard! You are an absolute cad, sir. Why I should take you outside and…”
Tsang dropped into a cat stance, ready, quite evidently, to provide Cade with proof that he had lost none of his skills in close quarter combat.
“…and?”
“And buy you breakfast. Come on, my treat this time.” He playfully slapped him around the side of the head but was quick to create some distance. Like two highly trained schoolboys, they continued sparring until spotted by a hotel employee. Tsang immediately reverted to type leaving Cade to grin like an idiot. It transpired that no matter where you travelled in the world cops were underneath it all just overgrown naughty boys.
They made their way to the Mandarin Bar and Grill, crossed the marbled floor and stepped onto luxuriant mushroom coloured carpets that sank beneath their feet. Tsang smiled and nodded to the Maître d’ who showed them to a table overlooking the harbour, it was perfectly placed to allow cautious conversations as each table was shielded by hardwood and lightly frosted glass screens.
They ordered tea to start; Cade tried Ceylon orange pekoe whilst Tsang preferred Lapsang Souchong. Cade followed with eggs benedict, leaving Tsang to choose a more traditional local dish of dim sum and scallop congee.
As they waited for the food, they began to discuss how Tsang could assist Cade with his evidence gathering.
Thirty minutes later Tsang finished his meal, wiped his lips and placed his napkin on the heavy cotton tablecloth. He took a moment, realigned the remaining cutlery neatly, so it all faced in the ‘right’ direction, placed the condiment set together, wiped a few crumbs onto the floor and then looked up.
“Tell me more about this Seventh Wave.”
Chapter Eleven
“Where do you want me to start, it’s a hell of a long story?”
“Dare I say it?”
He didn’t need to. Cade started at the beginning.
“I first came across the wider issue of Eastern European financial crime years ago, I stumbled across it to be fair, call it luck. It was before we first met in Lyon.”
Tsang nodded encouragement, sipping his second cup of tea.
“I met a girl, don’t I always? Anyway, she had an agenda and taught me a lot about the ability of ‘her people’ to infiltrate and exploit the financial sector. At the time I was amazed at their ability to adapt, but typically, within my organisation no-one else was interested.”
“But they are now.” It was a statement. Tsang knew full well how brilliantly ruthless these particular groups were, especially those from Romania.
“The sad thing is Andy that they give so many good Romanians a bad name. I’ve met some truly great people as part of my extensive enquiries, they despise the criminal element, but as criminals go, you have to admire their dexterity, it’s almost as if they have taken skills learned under the Soviet regime and allowed them to flourish, and this has benefited only one group.”
“And let me guess, at the top of the food chain…the Seventh Wave?”
“Quite possibly, quite possibly indeed, to be honest it’s an educated guess on my part but I doubt I’m far from the truth. I have a list of names here, but most appear to be nicknames or incomplete. I’ve also got an extensive collection of diplomatic passports and identity documents. It all adds up to something, but what?”
“Give me the nicknames first; I have no doubt that the diplomatic stuff is genuine. Why your girl had them of course is another question altogether.”
He had not heard her referred to as ‘his girl’ before. Who would have known quite how far the relationship would have gone; reason, season, forever and all that. Either way he was grateful for the intensely brief chance to experience her.
Pointing to his Samsung tablet, Cade indicated a few of the names that JD had loaded into it, along with his own findings and a few open source search results.
“OK – the first is Jackdaw – it’s got the ring of a leader. Then someone who calls themselves The Passenger, there’s a Marko, a Stefan and an Alexandru, George, and a name beginning with C, some are common names in that part of the world but the nicknames…”
“Leave them with me, I will get my team to run a wider search of the ‘net, we’ll use TOR and see what’s lurking in the shadowy world shall we?”
Cade nodded. He knew that Tsang was referring to The Onion Router – a network favoured by the criminal underworld – and for that matter law enforcement teams too. It allowed anonymity by virtue of its multiple layers, just like an onion. For all intents and purposes a user could disappear within a few transactions. The irony that it was created by the governments that now struggled to police it was not lost on either of them.
“Let me have that phone you recovered too, I’ll get my electronics lab to clone it, see if we can drag anything new out of it. You appreciate that all of this is off record, very unofficial? I know I shouldn’t have to say it, but you understand?”
He did. He appreciated it too. Since leaving the thin blue line he had lost none of his skills, just some of his contacts and their ability to gather information. He still had a huge number of friends, and these would prove to be very useful.
“So, do you have a theory or any idea why this group have chosen you, Miss Elena and above all New Zealand?” He paused for a moment and made a mental note to ask another question.
Cade responded in chronological order.
“Firstly, I genuinely think I am only involved because of Elena and equally the connection to New Zealand is…”
“Elena? Of course and you must have been asking this question constantly? This reminds me Jack. When my people start their quest for data, information and potentially for intelligence they will need to look at her too. Is that OK?”
He understood fully, the difference between information and intelligence wasn’t lost on a career police officer either: Intelligence was information with value added. It was how he had been taught and he’d never forgotten.
He hoped that Andy Tsang’s team could find out more about the group and why they were doing what they were doing, all of which equated to intelligence.
“Come on, let’s get to the office and see what we can do to start the ball rolling.” Tsang stood and checked his appearance in the reflection of the sight screen whilst Cade added the meal to his account.
Twenty minutes later they were sipping green tea in Tsang’s impressive office at No. 1 Arsenal Street in the Wan Chai District. It would have been quicker to walk but Tsang needed his discreet, dark blue BMW 5 Series within close proximity – besides when you had reached such lofty heights why not benefit from the perks of office? And a parking space in a city such as Hong Kong was as much
of a perk as a black credit card.
Cade found himself staring out of the window whilst his friend responded to an urgent phone call. The view was magnificent, across Victoria Harbour straight into downtown Kowloon where ferries criss-crossed, darting here and there with their constant supply of passengers. To the left of the Star terminal Cade witnessed some highly effective parking as the local pilot and crew of the Cunard Queen Victoria ensured she was berthed without so much as a scrape. At 964.5 feet long she was no longer considered a leviathan of the high seas but Cade uttered out loud that he wouldn’t want to park her.
“Sorry Jack?” asked a now attentive Tsang.
“Oh nothing, just talking out loud. Saying I wouldn’t want to park that beast.”
“Indeed, she and her sisters come here quite regularly. You should book to go on her, you might meet the woman of your…”
He stopped himself mid-flow.
“Sorry Jack, I wasn’t thinking, I apologise.”
“No need, you were at your relaxed best Andrew, please don’t change. Now, talking of the high seas, how are we doing on Operation Wave?”
“We will need a few days but some very interesting news has come back from our document examiner, he concurs with you, the passports and papers you have are all genuine. All we have to do now is probe; push a few doors open, gently at first. When do you head to the UK?”
“In twenty-four hours, so whatever you can find between now and then will be useful, after that I’ll be online or on the end of my phone, day or night.”
“Look, Jack, there is one thing that is concerning me, why England when this group are sitting in Eastern Europe?”
“Normally I’d give you ten out of ten for that one Andy but it’s easy. A few years ago I would agree, to hunt a Romanian criminal first one had to head to Bucharest, but not anymore. These days the nucleus of their tactical financial activity can be found here in Hong Kong, or embroiled in Boiler Room Scams in the Philippines or Thailand but the strategic brains are to be found in London and a few other provincial cities, and that is where I operate best.”
Seventh (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 1) Page 19
