Flight into Secrecy (What happened to Flight 370?)

By David L Atkinson

Steele has to travel back to Japan to justify recent behaviours that may have revealed his connection with the Gurentai. He is given a task to complete that finds him on the ill-fated Flight MH370 in Kuala Lumpur. Hours later he awakens in a cell in a place and country of which he has no knowledge.
Being the resourceful man he is, Steele manages to escape and travels north meeting up with his fiancée Naomi Kobayashi in Astana the capital of Kazakhstan.
Steele is naturally curious about the fate of the other 238 passengers from the plane which drives him onward to investigate further. He discovers that there are links between Russian organised crime and a Muslim group which stirs fears in his mind regarding the fate of MH370. This causes him to go to the Venice of the North, St Petersburg, where he finds the leader of the Russian mafia and a link with the Muslim pilots of the plane.
All does not go well however, and Steele and Kobayashi are captured by their mafia enemy and incarcerated in MH370 on the way to the target that Steele suspected all along – in London.
Can Steele extricate himself from this seemingly hopeless situation?
Has Steele convinced the Gurentai that he is trustworthy enough to deserve their support?
Will Steele manage to deflect the missile in which he is incarcerated from killing thousands in London?
This story is a speculative journey based upon the data and misinformation surrounding the loss of Malaysian Flight 370 in March 2014.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David L Atkinson
• Release date: Dec 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311865458

David L Atkinson

Born in Sunderland in 1950, retired after 34 years teaching and then a further 6 years working in a bank.I began writing in 2009 and have published 10 Patrick A Steele stories, a dystopian novel and 2 collections of original poetry.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The concrete that he was lying on was cold and gritty against his right cheek. Patrick Steele was careful about opening his eyes because his head felt funny! He couldn’t really decide how it felt, his head, nor did he know why he was lying on a concrete floor. The grit under his cheek scratched annoyingly when he moved his head even slightly. Steele’s right eye was closest to the ground and he figured that if he opened that one, anyone observing wouldn’t notice the movement of the lid. Slowly he opened his eye but he still couldn’t see anything. Wherever, he was in total darkness but there was a draught that caused him to blink. Steele risked his left eye but again couldn’t see a thing. All Patrick had gleaned from this exceeding cautiousness was that he was lying on a concrete floor in near complete darkness.

The senses are wonderful gifts and, at times, it is possible to ignore the data they are collecting for you, so Steele closed his eyes, forgot about the smell, sight, feel, taste and listened very carefully. He concentrated and stretched out with his hearing first of all close by. Patrick was listening for breathing other than his own and once again he was in no rush. The Aikido training he’d partaken in taught him to wait carefully but proactively in such situations. After what seemed like ages, he reckoned five minutes; Steele decided that he was alone. He lifted his head slightly and opened both eyes. There was no source of light apart from a slightly pale bar at floor level that Steele decided was coming under the door of the room in which he was incarcerated. He waited longer but there was no sound or movement. Patrick eased his head a little more and discovered the reason he’d woken up on the floor. There was a stabbing pain through his head from the region behind his right ear, he explored delicately with his fingers and found a lump that felt the size of an egg and was sticky. Obviously, someone had hit him from behind, or he’d fallen and hit his head and the stickiness would be his own blood. He paused while the flashing lights brought about by his movement subsided from before his eyes.

Steele considered his situation and what led up to this predicament in which he found himself. He had been an operative of the Gurentai, a sub-group of the Japanese Yakuza, helping to correct the errors that justice seemed to make, and was very well paid for his work. Patrick had fallen in love with one of his Japanese associates, Naomi Kobayashi, and they had been engaged, but then she’d disappeared along with the mentor who had guided them both in a number of cases.

Aikido was an art that Patrick had to learn and embrace before being fully admitted into the Gurentai. Over the subsequent years he’d honed his skills to the point where he was very fit and an efficient killer, for which he’d received a considerable remuneration paid into a Swiss bank account. His accountancy training enabled him to invest and handle the accumulated wealth efficiently, to the point where he owned a property in France and a complex in Yorkshire.

Steele had also built a team of people who had become more family than how they had originally begun – as employees. As he’d been orphaned at an early age Stacey Fordyce, who had begun life with him as domestic support, was now a surrogate mother although she still did his work. Her husband had also worked in Steele’s garage with his cars and as a handyman, but sadly died. The late Bill Fordyce had been replaced by Jessica Chase the partner of Patrick’s technological wizard, Ethan Small. Ethan had been crippled by a bullet intended for Steele and Patrick had supported the lad ever since, although these days he gave back probably more than he received, in terms of ability. This tight little group had happily accepted Naomi into their sphere of influence and loved her almost as much as Steele did.

Naomi Kobayashi was tall for a Japanese girl, about 5 feet 8 inches only a couple of inches smaller than the man himself, she was slim and very fast particularly with her wakizashi – Japanese short swords. She was better than Steele at Aikido but even she struggled against their mentor, Takuo Sumisu. He was elderly, no one knew how elderly, he appeared quiet and reflective rather than violent; and, he was supremely intelligent. That was the Gurentai cell and the only personnel Patrick had met from the organisation. There were other cells in countries around the world but even when they had worked with others there were never any real names. This high level of anonymity was their security and it was that security that had brought about a massive change in circumstances, with a situation in which he’d become embroiled recently. It had led to Naomi and Takuo disappearing for a time leaving him, as he’d known would happen if his work had been discovered by the authorities. When the case had been completed Naomi returned in the most dramatic fashion.

Patrick snapped back to reality with the mental image of his Japanese fiancé, naked and sitting on his chest, pinning his arms with her knees and holding her swords to his neck. She was capable of being a very angry girl. Steele groaned aloud at the memory of trying to explain his brief affair with a Canadian barista and the punishment he received afterwards on his dojo. He groaned aloud at the bruising memory of that session and it could have ended badly for him but for Stacey coughing politely and holding a tray of drinks. Indirectly, that case had led him to this spot, wherever that was, right now.

Steele eased himself to a sitting position; his head swam slightly, and tried to take in his new surroundings. He looked for camera surveillance but it was too dark. The room had a bed which was iron framed, with a thin mattress, a pillow and a rough blanket. Using the sense of touch to explore ones surroundings was quite interesting as it generated pictures in the mind which were dredged up from memories of things seen, in whatever format. Patrick sat on the edge of the bed which squeaked in response. He’d walked the perimeter of the room only finding a bucket, which was the sole additional item to the bed. Patrick used the bucket for what it was intended and then felt his way back to the bed. Patrick was alone, he was in a country with which he was unfamiliar, and he was unarmed. In short not everything in the garden was rosy.

Life had its ups and downs, Steele reflected silently, from being orphaned, twice, to the delights of the Japanese culture and girls. His parents had died when he was 12 years old and then his Uncle, who had taken him in, a couple of years later. He died as a result of his home being broken into, which caused a stroke. Patrick meted out retribution on the perpetrator with his Uncle’s golf driver. That was his first kill and he was only a kid. Now he tried not to kill but didn’t shy away from that action if he deemed it necessary. He’d begun to feel that he needed to stop the killing.

When he’d finally gotten round to speaking to Naomi Kobayashi, she’d told him that he needed to go to Osaka. Patrick knew what that meant. When he was first admitted into their ranks he had been taken to Osaka by Takuo Sumisu who’d spoken for him with a group of elders of the Gurentai. That was when this whole episode of his life had begun and now he was experiencing a déjà vu moment.

Kansai International Airport is built on an artificial island in Osaka Bay 24 miles away from Osaka station which is on land in the city. The causeway that sweeps inland is a masterpiece of engineering in its own right and, the day he and Naomi had travelled it in the taxi, was bathed in bright sunshine. Steele was thankful for the air conditioning in the car as he remembered the cloying humidity in this city. As yet there was no sign of their mentor Takuo Sumisu and Naomi had been strangely reticent on the matter. Patrick knew her well enough to know when not to push too hard. The taxi took them to the same place as before, Steele recognised the approach.

Good day Mr Steele, a young Japanese gentleman bowed slightly, Steele made sure to bow lower as a mark of respect. Naomi followed behind keeping her eyes on the ground.

They were conducted through the Japanese garden that seemed to be identical to the last time he saw it, half a dozen years previously. After removing his shoes he was led into a room in the bungalow at the end of the garden, that was filled with paper screens, rush matting and quietness. Irrespective of what was to come, there was an atmosphere of peace. Steele hadn’t forgotten who he was dealing with and was concerned that his Japanese wasn’t good enough to keep him out of trouble. He doubted that Naomi would be allowed to translate. How he wished that Takuo Sumisu was at his side. The room he entered was surprisingly large and seated on low seats round three sides of a correspondingly low, but highly polished wooden table, were eight men dressed in traditional style.

Konichiwa Steele san, a familiar voice spoke.

Sitting at the far end with a companion was his mentor of the last six years. Steele was internally delighted and at the same time puzzled which Takuo picked up on.

I have been elevated to the controlling group Patrick san, the older man explained.

Steele bowed suitably. Naomi Kobayashi bowed then withdrew silently from the room. Steele was intimidated. The room was narrow with a raised dais on which the ‘committee’ sat on cushions round the low table. The empty end of the table was nearest Patrick. Apart from the walls the room, table and screens were constructed entirely of a dark, highly polished wood. The wall screens were pale, translucent; simply boundaries that wouldn’t keep out noise or prevent invasion, and yet there was not a sound from anywhere else in the building. The starkness was oppressive and the group before Steele had, no doubt, engineered the space for that very purpose.

Patrick Steele knew better than to break the silence, even though every fibre of his being craved the comfort of noise, he would be committing an unforgiveable gaff by speaking out of turn. His patience was stretched and he allowed his mind to stay focussed using Ki-Aikido meditation techniques to relax and remain silent.

Steele san, the man sitting next to his old mentor spoke. Your position may have become compromised.

As an opening gambit it was stating the obvious in Steele’s mind but he realised that it had to be said. It also set out the fact that his position was shaky.

What happened to the government agent? the man asked.

He died, Steele said simply.

A rogue National Crime Agency employee had infiltrated Steele’s personal organisation on the back of working alongside the local police. In the end he’d been out for his own ends and suspended by the NCA, so in fact the government agency had no real interest in Steele, but how was he to convince these sage Japanese crime lords, to give them their correct description. They waited for him to carry on which he did with a sigh,

He was a sick man, who’d become addicted to gambling and saw kidnapping as a way out, Steele paused to organise his thoughts. The people he owed money to killed him.

Can you be sure that you were not under the scrutiny of the authorities Steele san? asked the speaker from the far end of the room.

At first I believed that they were after me, he knew honesty was his only way forward. One of my properties was destroyed, but in fact this again was the action of the NCA man’s enemies. I am happy that I’m not of interest to the authorities.

We will discuss this, the chairman said blandly.

Steele remembered leaving the room and wondering whether he was going to have to fight his way out of this situation. He was escorted to a different room by a beautifully dressed geisha who he felt sure would be a master in martial arts. Tea was served in the traditional way to Steele and Naomi while he awaited the decision of the group in the other room.

A sudden noise interrupted Steele’s reverie of the events that had led him to his current position, returning him to the cell. He held his breath listening out for footsteps. The single bare light bulb in the centre of the fly bedecked ceiling suddenly threw out its sickly, yellow glow, which was still bright enough to dazzle Steele. There was the metallic clash of a lever in a metal sleeve and a narrow slot opened in the door of his cell. A plate of food was thrust on to the narrow shelf below the slot on Steele’s side of the door and the process was reversed. On inspection it was some variety of stew, steaming hot, smelling and looking good served with some kind of dumpling. There was even a clean spoon accompanying the food. It crossed Steele’s mind that whoever was holding him wasn’t trying to kill him with bad food and germ ridden utensils. He tucked in as his stomach had reminded him that he was hungry. The meal was without bread or potatoes but the dumplings were excellent,

Eastern European! Steele muttered out loud.

Patrick had travelled in Poland and the Czech Republic previously, and had come across the very filling and tasty version of the meal on those trips. He began to feel relaxed and then mentally pulled himself up short with the well-known phrase, ‘the condemned man ate a hearty meal’! It was so easy to fall into the trap of thinking the best when in fact he was still locked up and that situation was further reinforced when the grimy light went out once again plunging him into darkness. He began to mentally retrace the steps that led him to this predicament in which he found himself.

Naomi and Patrick were on tenterhooks over their ceremonially presented tea, while they waited the outcome of the discussions concerning Steele’s continued role in the Gurentai. Steele felt sure that if he was out he’d be dead. On the other hand the old wise heads round that table would listen to Takuo Sumisu and Patrick felt that the sage old guy would be a serious ally. What actually occurred surprised him.

We are happy that you haven’t been followed here and that you are being left alone by the authorities, Takuo began. So we’d like you to carry out a task for us.

Ok, thank you gentlemen, Steele stammered, what can I do?

As you are aware we have groups in every country of the world and at times they need support, you in fact have benefitted from these groups. Steele nodded and Takuo went on, There is a group in China … ,

China! Steele interrupted.

Yes, precisely Patrick san, Takuo grimaced rather than smiled.

As you may imagine, our massive neighbour would be less than happy if Japanese surveillance was taking place in their own land, however, in their desperation to befriend the west that type of visitor isn’t unusual in China. We have been perfecting a communications system linked to a smartwatch that will be currently undetectable to Chinese technology. We would like you to take such a unit to Beijing for our operatives there.

Beijing! Steele almost squeaked.

One of the old men started to protest, speaking in Japanese only some of which Patrick could pick up, but he had the feeling that this old guy thought Steele an idiot who couldn’t be trusted. The old man was silenced by a gesture from Takuo Sumisu who understood Patrick better than anyone. The rest of the details, as they say, were history. He was very soon on a plane on the way to Kuala Lumpur, which was a necessary detour to keep Steele off the Chinese authorities’ radar. In addition he’d been given alternative ID and would travel as Peter Scott. Still English but with a different background and from a different part of that sceptred isle.

Chapter 2

Steele remembered being given the special smartwatch and brief instructions on how to use the thing. He’d examined it carefully and felt that it would be easily detected at the security gate. It was a man’s watch, large, ornate with three small dials inside the ring of numbers, a standard hour and minute hand; and, a designer make. Inside the back cover there was a collection of electronics that could do everything except brew a cup of coffee. Patrick, now Peter, had been assured that as long as there was no battery the technology was undetectable. It operated on a standard watch battery easily bought in the People’s Republic. In the circumstances he felt that his choices were limited to one and so he’d agreed to go. Now he found himself languishing in some kind of cell, held by people he didn’t know, and in a country he hadn’t a clue about.

When in similar situations Steele applied the Ki-Aikido meditation techniques to examine the situation using what he knew. In this case He’d flown from Kansai International to Kuala Lumpur and on a scheduled flight in ‘cattle’ class. In his