by M G Leslie
From the UK, there are yet more submarine cables crossing the Atlantic Ocean to the USA, most of which start in the South West of England not far from the small town of Bude in the county of Cornwall. From the US, of course, there are yet more links from the east coast across to California and the west coast – which in turn connect to submarine cables under the Pacific Ocean that extend all the way to Hawaii, Japan and Stanley Bay and Junk Bay in Hong Kong – completing the circle around the Earth.
The Caucasian spoke again, “How long before you are done here?”
“Another few days Sir. Our systems have got past what little security there is, both here and in Junk Bay. Once we’re done Sir, any financial transaction that passes through these submarine cables will pass through our systems before reaching its destination. We will be able to see the transactions and change them at will as we did with those tests in Europe before.”
“OK, good, but we don’t want to do any more test transactions until the big day. The tests over the last few months have created a lot of noise with the authorities – they’re getting a bit too close for comfort. So just get ready and wait for the signal to proceed,” and with that the Caucasian man turned and walked out of the room, in to a corridor and then left again to an adjacent room.
This was a small space with no decorations of any kind. It was just a cold concrete room, from floor to ceiling, except for a huge cable coming out of the wall at the far end opposite the door. The cable connected to a series of computer network devices, from where one set of smaller cables went through the wall to the computers a couple of rooms away and another set combined to form another huge cable that went back through the concrete wall.
“So that is the actual cable that sits under the sea,” the Caucasian man said to himself, before walking back out to the corridor where his colleague was waiting in a small electric car, not dissimilar to a golfing cart.
The Caucasian man got in to the passenger seat and spoke to the driver, “Let’s go,” and with that the driver set off down a long dark tunnel.
After around 5 minutes, they arrived at the end of the tunnel. The Caucasian got out and walked in to a lift and, as the doors closed behind him, he pushed the button labelled “G”. The lift set off, carrying him back up to the surface, and a short while later he was back at sea level.
The lift was set in to the rear wall of a room at the back of a 7-11 store that was itself part of a row of shops just off the coastal road at Stanley Bay. As the man walked out and the lift door closed behind him, you wouldn’t, at first glance, think that it was anything other than a cupboard at the back of a shop – which of course, was the intention.
Walking in to the rear of the shop, the Caucasian put on a small hat and some dark sunglasses and hurried through the shop, out to the road where he hailed a passing taxi.
As it pulled up at the side of the road, he opened the door, got in and said, “Grand Tower Hotel, Wan Chai.”
“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” replied the taxi driver, who immediately set off toward Repulse Bay from where he took the car through the Aberdeen Tunnel and north towards Wan Chai and the hotel.
A little while later, walking in to the luxurious lobby of the Grand Tower Hotel, the man ignored the hotel staff and strode purposefully to the lifts and then on to his hotel room. As he entered, a red light flashed on a telephone sitting on a desk in the far left-hand corner of the room.
The Caucasian man walked over, picked up the phone and pushed the message button. An automated voice said, “You have one new message. New message,” and then he heard a woman’s voice saying, “It’s me. I know I’m not supposed to call you, but a western man was asking questions last night. He got one of the girls drunk. She told him that Lucy had been here and apparently he was asking about her and a western boyfriend – he wanted to know where they had gone. I don’t know who he is, but I’m really worried. Can you call me back please? I will try you later if I do not hear from you. Bye.“
The Caucasian man cursed under his breath as he listened to the message finish, then, in anger, he slammed the phone back down again – nearly breaking the handset. After standing still, thinking and clearly fuming angry he picked up his mobile phone. He had immediately recognised the voice, so he called the woman back.
As soon as she answered the call on her mobile phone, before she could even say anything, he shouted, “I told you never to call the hotel you stupid bitch!”
“I’m sorry, but I was worried, as he was asking a lot of questions,” she replied.
“If you want to get hold of me, call my mobile! How many times have I told you – for Christ’s sake!”
“OK, sorry.”
“No! Sorry is not acceptable – I told you they monitor the calls – I told you! Every time you mess up you put me at risk and you put yourself at risk – in fact you put the whole damn project risk! And thanks to you, they now know where I’m staying, which is bloody annoying – bloody annoying – do you understand?”
“I am sorry,” the woman repeated.
Ignoring the second attempt at an apology, the Caucasian man said, “Find out everything the girl said and get rid of her!” then he dropped the call, threw his phone on to the bed, cursed again and took a shower before packing his bags – he couldn’t risk staying in the hotel now that there was a landline call that linked the room directly to the woman, who was in fact the mama-san from Club One.
The Caucasian knew, only too well, that calls were monitored by many agencies around the world and he knew that the UK’s GCHQ would be very focused on international calls at the moment – particularly those coming from Club One. It would take them no time at all to determine his room number and send someone to investigate, which meant only one thing – he had to leave – and quickly – very quickly indeed!
So 10 minutes later he walked out of the hotel room and down to the lobby. As he approached the check-In counter he said, “I’m checking out. Room 1402,” then he placed his room key on the counter.
“Thank you Sir,” replied the receptionist, “Did you enjoy your sat at the Grand Tower Hotel?”
“Yes, thanks,” he replied in a monotone voice – speaking very quickly because he just wanted to get out of the building as quickly as possible.
“Here’s your bill Sir,” the receptionist said, as she handed over a printed copy of the hotel bill, “Could you check it, and when you’re ready, could I have your credit card again please?”
He didn’t even bother to check it, but instead just picked up the piece of paper, signed the bottom and handed it back to her along with his credit card, saying, “Yes, it’s fine.” Then after a short pause, he followed up with, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to appear rude, but I am in a hurry.”
“Of course Sir,” replied the receptionist, who silently swiped the credit card, typed on a computer and handed it back along with an envelope containing a printed copy of the bill and credit card receipt. Then she said, “Thank you for visiting the Grand Tower Hong Kong. Please visit us again and have a safe onward journey.”
“Thanks,” replied the Caucasian man, as he picked up his bags, turned and walked towards the hotel exit.
As he arrived at the taxi rank, a hotel porter spoke, “Can I get you a taxi Sir?”
“Yes thanks,” replied the Caucasian.
“Where to Sir?” replied the porter, whilst waving and calling a taxi over to where they were standing.
“The airport – take me to the airport, as quickly as possible.”
“Of course Sir,” replied the Porter, as he waived at the taxi again – this time more assertively, to encourage the driver to move more quickly.
As the car arrived, the porter hurriedly took care of the luggage. Then, before getting in to the taxi, the Caucasian man turned to the porter, handed him 100 Hong Kong dollars and said, “Thanks for your help.”
The porter, slightly taken aback, said, “Thank you very much Sir!” But his customer never heard the reply, as he had already climb
ed in to the taxi and closed the door.
As the car pulled out of the hotel, the Caucasian spoke to the driver, “I want the Stanley Bay, not the airport.”
“Yes Sir,” said the driver with some surprise.
“You know there’s a 7-11, just one road back from the sea front?”
“Yes Sir, a 7-11,” the driver confirmed.
“Drop me there – as quick as possible.”
“Yes Sir.”
CHAPTER 4 – Club One
Price’s encounter from the previous night, May, arrived for work at the club.
She looked like a completely different person from the one who’d spent the evening and night working on seducing Price – complimenting him, cuddling him, wrapping her arms around his waste, ever so gently running her hands through his hair and occasionally kissing him on the neck, as part of her well-rehearsed routine.
Instead of her sexy working outfit, which she’d washed and was carrying over her arm, she was now wearing a simple pair of torn, faded blue jeans a black t-shirt and some dark glasses, that helped her handle the hangover – an unfortunate side effect of all the alcohol she had consumed the previous night.
As soon as she stepped through the front door, she was greeted by the mama-san. They had spoken earlier in the day, as the mama-san required all the girls who left with a customer to contact her when they reached home. Many stayed in accommodation provided by the club, so they didn’t need to call, as the mama-san’s assistant lived there and checked on the girls. But May lived with friends on the other side of Makati, so she had to call and had done so in the morning.
The mama-san always asked the same questions, “Where did he take you, what did you do, what did you talk about, what does he do for a living, how much did he pay you?”
On this occasion though, May’s answers had, unbeknownst to her, caused a lot of trouble. As a result of all the alcohol she had consumed, she hadn’t slept well and was still quite tired when she had called the mama-san. So when she had described Price’s conversation about the club and Mike and Lucy, she had sounded like she was being evasive and trying to avoid talking about it – whereas in reality, she just wanted to sleep and get rid of a throbbing headache.
Unfortunately, the mama-san, suspicious by nature, concluded that May had disclosed something she shouldn’t have, which is why she’d immediately contacted her Caucasian associate in Hong Kong. So when May arrived for work, instead of being shown to a room at the back of the stage to get changed, she was asked to go upstairs for a chat.
This didn’t initially worry May, as she’d been to the office upstairs before. Indeed, that was where she was normally paid at the end of a night. She’d also taken clients to small rooms upstairs – officially these were referred to as private lounges for customers who wanted to have a quiet drink and chat away from everyone else and the music. Although in reality, everyone knew that the rooms were fitted out with a bed for one reason alone.
Unfortunately, what May didn’t know, was that there was another room – a dark black, un-furnished soundproofed room that was normally reserved for clients who couldn’t or wouldn’t pay their bill at the end of the night. She’d heard rumours of customers who couldn’t pay “being dealt with”, but she didn’t really know what happened with any degree of certainty. However, she realised something was wrong the instant she was pushed in to the soundproofed room and the door was locked behind her.
She shouted, “Hey, let me out of here, what’s going on?” but there was no response, so she continued shouting and started banging on the door to no avail, “Let me out! Let me out!”
A few minutes later, the door unlocked and swung open. May turned to run out of the door, but ran straight in to the bouncer’s right fist, which hit her square in the stomach, knocking her backwards and on to the floor of the room.
Clearly winded and in pain, she rolled around on the floor, gasping for air whilst bent double and holding her stomach. The bouncer calmly locked the door shut and said, “Get up.”
May was still struggling to breath, so she didn’t reply, which wasn’t received well by the bouncer, who walked over, grabbed her hair and pulled her, screaming, to her feet.
“Let me go!” she shrieked in a high-pitched voice.
The bouncer slapped her on the side of the face with his right hand, knocking her back to the ground – this time with a red patch replacing the light brown skin where she had been struck.
“Let me go!” she shrieked again, “Help! Someone help me!”
“Nobody will hear you! This room is sound-proofed,” said the bouncer, who, completely un-phased by her shouting, just walked over and slammed his foot on her neck, forcing her flat on her back and looking up at him.
The aggressiveness of his action stopped her crying and she just looked up at him in the dim light. Then, almost whispering she said one word, “Why?”
“What did you tell that man last night?” said the bouncer.
May stammered as she tried to reply. It was difficult to speak with a size 10 boot jammed under her chin, “I, I, I don’t know what you mean.”
The bouncer removed his foot from her neck. “Get up,” he said.
May slowly got to her feet, only to fall back down again when the bouncer punched her in the stomach again. But May was very smart. Even though she was in agony from the punch, she managed to look up and, with an inquisitive tone in her voice, said, “What are you going to do to me?”
She looked in to the dark eyes of the bouncer as he looked back. He was finding it difficult, because he liked May. She had worked at the club for a while and was always friendly and polite. In the time he’d known her, she had never put a foot wrong. But that said – this was business not pleasure.
“I need to know what you told the white guy last night,” he replied after a long delay.
May’s reply shocked him. She stared back in his eyes and in a calm quiet voice, said, “I told him I’d seen a guy with Lucy and then she stopped working here and he stopped coming here as well. You can check if you like – I have his phone number. But if you don’t believe me, why don’t you just break my neck and get it over with? I’m nothing to this place – just meat for sale – if that’s your plan, get it over and done with.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he replied, after another long delay.
Sensing that he hadn’t expected such a direct response, and with some renewed confidence, she said, “We all know what you do. You bring guys up here who are either drunk and fighting or can’t or won’t pay, and you beat them until they pay, one way or another.” Then she paused before continuing, “What? Do you think us girls don’t talk? We have eyes you know!”
Ignoring her outburst, the bouncer just said, “What else did you tell him?”
The room fell in to silence again whilst May tried to figure out what else she had said – she’d been drinking a lot and much of the evening was a blur.
Meanwhile, the bouncer thought to himself – May was right, he certainly beat customers who didn’t pay, and he justified that in his head because generally they were violent and unpleasant. But this didn’t seem right somehow. However, orders were orders. And his orders were to find out what she’d said and eliminate her if it was compromising to the club.
As if reading his mind, May broke the silence, “Just do it, I forgive you already. If you don’t, you’ll lose your job. Just don’t make me suffer. That’s all I ask.”
Without a word the bouncer walked over to her, pulled her to her feet by her hair and then slammed her back on to the floor, shouting, “Think about it! Just think about it because your life will depend on your next answer!”
Deciding that she had nothing to lose at this point, May shouted back, “Think about what you arsehole? I told you the truth!” And then, speaking really slowly as if she was speaking to a small baby, she said, “Phone – him – and – ask – I – have – his – number – dick head!”
Any ordinary person may have got angry at th
is point. But of course, the bouncer’s job was dealing with abuse and he had heard far worse, so he said, “Just think about it,” then he turned and walked out, locking the door behind him.
May sat on the floor racking her brains for anything she may have said that could have caused so much trouble. She was there for what seemed like hours – going over and over everything she’d said to the mama-san in the morning. Eventually, when she was beginning to think she’d been forgotten, she heard the lock click and the door opened.
The bouncer walked in – again closing and locking the door behind him, before saying, “So what have you got to tell me?”
May repeated in great detail exactly what she had said to Price and he had said to her. She’d rehearsed it over and over again and took her time to make sure she left nothing out.
The room fell silent again as the bouncer stared at her. Then, eventually he said, “You lying bitch,” as he reached in to his pocket and took out a gun – lifting it to point at May. She looked back in horror and then lowered her head – looking back at the floor as tears formed in her eyes and she started to sob, waiting for the inevitable.
The bouncer firmed his grip on the gun and was Just about to apply pressure and gently squeeze the trigger, when there was a knock at the door. May looked up in disbelief, with tears still running down her cheeks, as the bouncer put the gun back in his pocket. The mama-san had told him that he wouldn’t be disturbed, so something serious had obviously happened.
“Don’t you move!” he shouted, pointing at May, to which she just nodded agreement. Then he turned and opened the door.
Price wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see him. The two SAS men had already been downstairs for a couple of hours and had told him that the bouncer was upstairs. And frankly, he’d checked all the other rooms – so it didn’t take a lot to figure out where the bouncer was.
