96

 

SINGAPORE, WEDNESDAY 6:00 A.M. SINGAPORE TIME

Marcel Caravaggio was starving, one of his least favorite sensations. Instead of waking to the gentle ministrations of Jeannette, his mistress, with whom he had contrived an overnighter, he woke to the shrilling of his cell phone. It was Xu Ling, one of his mules, as he thought of them, the private bankers who helped orchestrate his cascade of nominee companies and trades.

“We need to talk,” Xu Ling had said. “Right now.”

And so Marcel found himself seemingly going for an early morning walk around the Botanic Gardens, skirting the silent, almost-ghostly figures practicing their tai chi—five separate groups; God, it was like a contagion—while he listened to Xu Ling, who strode out beside him, skinny legs encased in green lycra.

Xu Ling played with his beard, glanced up nervously at Marcel.

“Yesterday someone got in our system. I’m not hundred percent. More a feeling. I did some stuff, saved my work, switched it back on later, and it was up. It was live. I’m sure I shut it down, man.” He shot another nervous glance at Marcel.

“What exactly are you saying?” demanded Marcel, coming to a dead stop, rubbing his bleary eyes, blinking at Xu Ling.

“I have feeling, no firm evidence, but strong feeling someone they hack in my system.”

“Which bit of it?” asked Marcel. He felt sick.

“The trading records. All the US trades we done, the special trades…” Marcel’s head began to swim. Worst case. If someone were looking, then they had burst through all his layers of nominees, right down to the source. It would only be a matter of time before someone came knocking at Xu Ling’s door, and then at his. Best case, Xu Ling’s system was leaky.

“Get a security expert in. Build up your firewalls. Now. Anyone comes knocking, you say nothing!” He gripped Xu Ling’s arm, his long fingernails cutting into the flesh.

Xu Ling shook off his grip.

“The cops, if they come calling,” wailed Xu Ling, “If they knock on my door, I gonna tell them ‘fuck off,’ but if they looking, man? If they looking, they not gonna go away. Sooner or later they’ll peel back the skin, get the onion. What shit you got going on, man? What you brought to my door?”

“Hold your nerve,” hissed Marcel. “This is Singapore. You do not have to disclose anything. Anyone comes knocking, you just keep telling the guy to ‘fuck off,’ and smile when you say it, like it’s no big deal. Don’t use the cell phone for any kind of related conversation. We go into lockdown mode now. You need to see me, you invite me for a walk.”

“No more of this. I’m done now,” said Xu Ling heatedly.

Marcel gave a soft laugh. “Too late for that. You’re too far in! You asked me what I’d brought to your door … it’s more a question of who,” he said softly. “You really, really do not want to upset this man. If you do, you and I and whoever you love will be dead. And it won’t be a good death. It would be the death of your worst nightmares.”