Double Cross: A gripping political thriller (The Cadre Book 3)

by Stephen Edger

‘I’m glad I’m not in there,’ Dylan commented. ‘They seem like a rowdy bunch.’

  ‘The officers like to keep locals and foreigners separated. That’s why we’re down here.’

  ‘So what did they arrest you for?’

  ‘I told you: I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…we should get some sleep. We’ll be in here till morning at least.’

  ‘Hey, can I ask you one more thing?’ Dylan pressed. ‘You said they’d probably let me out if I paid a fine; do you think they’d let me out now if I offered to pay it early?’

  ‘I doubt it. What’s the urgency? What can’t wait until the morning?’

  ‘I was waiting for my wife when the fight broke out…I need to get back to the bar to check if she’s arrived.’

  ‘Good luck with that…if you don’t speak the language, you’ve got no chance.’

  ‘Do you speak Spanish? Please, I’m desperate…I can pay you if you’ll help me.’

  The man looked over at Dylan and sighed. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I think my girlfriend is in trouble.’

  ‘Wait! Your girlfriend? A minute ago, she was your wife.’

  ‘Wife, girlfriend, it doesn’t matter…she’s in danger, I’m sure she is.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’

  Dylan glanced around to ensure nobody could overhear them and then dropped his accent. ‘I’m not really American. My name’s Dylan and I’m on the run from some pretty serious fucking guys. I was supposed to meet up with my girlfriend in Miami last week, but she didn’t show up. That means she either got spooked or…she was taken. We were supposed to meet at a bar in Tijuana if either of us suspected that they were on to us. That’s why I need to get back to that bar.’

  The man eyed him cautiously as if trying to decide whether the story was part of an elaborate ruse. ‘Who’s after you?’ he eventually asked.

  ‘I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you…there is a group who refer to themselves as ‘The Cadre’. They are rich megalomaniacs intent on developing a New World Order, with the UK sat at the head of the table…it sounds crazy I know, but these people will let nothing stand in their way. They’ve tried to kill me at least twice, which is why I’m running.’

  The man remained quiet.

  ‘I’m telling you the truth,’ Dylan continued. ‘I swear on my life! I faked my own death in London and escaped under a new identity.’

  ‘So what makes you think that this group have taken your girlfriend?’

  ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense…there’s no other reason she wouldn’t have met me in Miami…I could be jumping to the wrong conclusion, but if I don’t get back to that bar, I’ll never know.’

  ‘How did you learn about this group? What is it you’re running from?’

  Dylan let out a long sigh. ‘They hired me to do a job for them…which I did…but then they decided I was a loose end they didn’t need…as I said, these are some serious fucking guys…if you knew half of the things they’ve done, you’d take me seriously.’

  ‘I didn’t say I don’t believe you,’ the man whispered. ‘Listen, I’ll help you get out of here, but when I do, you need to tell me everything you know about The Cadre. Is that understood? You’d better have enough money to get the both of us out.’

  The man stood up and moved to the cell’s door before shouting out something in Spanish. Dylan watched him, surprised at how easy it had been to convince him about The Cadre’s existence.

  A guard appeared at the cell door and listened as the man spoke in rapid Spanish. The conversation ended with the guard nodding his head and walking back to his station.

  ‘What did you say to him?’ Dylan asked.

  The man smiled. ‘I told him you were a famous pop star from England, and that you were prepared to pay any amount of money to keep your name out of the papers. We agreed a price and he said he would take care of things. We should be out in the next twenty minutes. I just hope you can get your hands on that cash quickly.’

  The sound of keys jangling at the far end of the corridor, followed by footsteps made Dylan smile. ‘Quicker than you thought,’ he said.

  A man in a manila suit and dark tie appeared at the cell door. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, sounding like an old-fashioned English school master. ‘I presume one of you is Aaron Cross and the other Dylan Taylor?’

  The two prisoners looked at each other.

  ‘My name is Roger Dickinson…I’m from the British Embassy. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll explain everything in the car.’

  3

  The man in the manila suit sauntered down the corridor, allowing the guard to unlock the cell so that Aaron and Dylan could follow him. At the end of the corridor, Dickinson clicked his fingers and the gate separating the enclosures from the custody suite was unlocked and opened. Not a single guard or police officer said a word as the two prisoners walked freely through the station and out of the front door. Whoever this embassy official was, he clearly had clout with the local law enforcement.

  Dickinson led them to a large white Land Rover Discovery and proceeded to open the back door. Aaron put his arm out to slow Dylan’s movement. ‘How about you show us some identification before we climb into the back of your car,’ he said.

  Dickinson smiled thinly and fished inside his jacket, removing a small laminated card, which he passed to Aaron to review. The photograph on the card was a younger-looking Dickinson, but it was definitely him. Aaron passed the card back to him, but kept his arm in front of Dylan.

  ‘There isn’t a British Embassy in Tijuana, is there?’ Aaron continued. ‘In fact the only British Embassy in Mexico is in Mexico City, unless I’m mistaken…that’s at least a four hour flight from here, even longer by car. Tell me, Mr Dickinson, how could you possibly know that Dylan was here when he only arrived ten minutes ago?’

  Dylan’s eyes widened as he realised what Aaron was implying. He instinctively glanced around looking for places to run and hide.

  ‘I said I would explain everything in the car, Mr Cross, but if you insist on airing your laundry in public, I suppose here will suffice…I didn’t say I was from the Embassy in Mexico City. I am in fact from the British Embassy in Los Angeles. We became aware of your arrest three hours ago, and I began my journey down here. However, I received a phone call, as I was pulling into the car park, advising me of Mr Taylor’s incarceration too. It was rather fortuitous that I happened to be on my way here anyway.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be carrying a gun, would you Mr Dickinson?’ Aaron pressed.

  ‘Certainly not!’ Dickinson replied, hurt by the accusation. ‘I have come here to help you two gentlemen, but if you’d prefer to stay behind and take your chances with the local authorities, then I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘Forgive my friend’s paranoia,’ Dylan interrupted. ‘As a sign of good faith, allow him to check you are unarmed and I’m sure he’ll be happy to get in.’

  ‘Very well,’ Dickinson said, rolling his eyes and raising his arms into the air. Aaron moved across and patted him down. Satisfied that the official was telling the truth, the three men climbed into the back of the SUV. Dickinson spoke to the driver and the vehicle moved off.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Aaron asked. ‘Back to the Embassy?’

  Dickinson shook his head. ‘No. It seems the two of you are required back in the UK, so we are heading to the airport.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ Dylan shouted. ‘I don’t think so, pal. Do you have any idea what will happen to me if I return to the UK? Let me out now, and I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr Taylor. You were released into my custody, and I am charged with making sure you board that plane. I collected your passports and belongings from the desk before you were released from the cell.’ He handed over two large envelopes.

  Dylan pocketed his passport and wallet. ‘But why? In fact, how did you even know who I am or where I was? I was arrested and booked in under the name Cha
rles Adams; how the hell was my real identity discovered so quickly?’

  Dickinson shrugged. ‘I have no idea. The call I received was from the Embassy and merely said I was to collect you both and escort you to the airport. I had no idea you were under a false identity until you just told me.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Aaron interrupted, ‘something doesn’t add up here. I accept that things are more lax in this country, but surely even the Mexican State Police require documentation to transfer prisoners to men who walk in off the streets. If you didn’t know of Dylan’s presence until you reached the car park, how the hell did you manage to complete the paperwork in time?’

  ‘I was advised that the necessary documentation had been forwarded to the station already. In fact, the officers knew who I was before I had even identified myself. I was led straight through to you without any question. I presumed the Embassy had taken care of everything.’

  ‘Did you recognise the voice of the person you spoke to on the phone?’ Dylan challenged.

  ‘The line to the phone in this car is secure, Mr Taylor. It cannot be reached by anyone outside of the Embassy, so I had no reason to question who was giving the order…I am sure you are just being overly suspicious, gentlemen.’

  ‘Why are we being flown back to the UK?’ Dylan asked. ‘I was in a bar fight, but that’s insufficient to trigger extradition.’

  Dickinson picked up a clipboard on the seat next to him and scanned the first couple of pages before he found what he was looking for. ‘Here it is: there is an outstanding warrant for your arrest in the UK. You are to be returned to the UK to stand trial for murder…’

  ‘Murder?’ Dylan interrupted. ‘Murder! Who the hell am I supposed to have murdered?’

  ‘It doesn’t say specifically here,’ Dickinson continued, still reading the notes. ‘All it says is the warrant relates to a murder…surely you’d know who…what I mean is…have you murdered anyone recently?’

  ‘As far as the British authorities are aware, I’m dead,’ Dylan explained. ‘I died in a fire three weeks ago.’

  Dickinson frowned. ‘Evidently they know you are alive according to this paperwork…I’m sure it will all be resolved when we get to the airport.’

  ‘What happens when we get to the airport?’ Aaron asked.

  ‘We’ll be met by some immigration officials who will escort you both safely back to the UK. They’ll be waiting at the gate for us.’

  ‘And what’s the reason for my extradition. I know for a fact that I haven’t murdered anyone, so what does the paperwork say about me?’ Aaron asked.

  Dickinson skim read some more papers. ‘Uh, it doesn’t say to be honest, Mr Cross…it just quotes diplomatic reasons…it’s quite odd really; I would have expected a specific reason…still, I’m sure it’s nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Aaron said to Dylan. ‘There’s no way they could have discovered your true identity without some assistance. Did they take your fingerprints at the police station?’

  Dylan shook his head. ‘No. They asked for my name and date of birth, but I gave them the false details.’

  ‘Who else knows you are over here? Friends? Family?’

  ‘Nobody…the only person who knew I was escaping to the US is my girlfriend…even my best friend in the UK thinks I died in the fire there.’

  A thought struck Aaron and he snatched the clipboard from Dickinson’s hands. ‘You said you didn’t have any paperwork; that you assumed the Embassy had sent it over to the police. If that’s the case, where did you get this from?’

  Dickinson snatched the clipboard back. ‘The police gave it to me. Look, the pages are faxed copies. The Embassy insignia is all here…I have no reason to doubt its authenticity.’

  ‘Well somebody knows you’re here,’ Aaron continued. ‘Somebody with the ability to falsify Embassy documentation and arrange for the Tijuana State Police to hand us over.’

  ‘You think it’s The Cadre?’ Dylan said nervously.

  ‘Who else could have that kind of power and influence?’

  ‘And if they know I’m in Tijuana, then…’

  Aaron nodded. ‘Then there’s every chance they’ve got Maria; I agree. Dickinson, do you trust your driver? Had you met him before tonight?’

  The space between them and the front seats was separated by a thick glass partition. The driver hadn’t made a sound since they had started the journey.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Dickinson said. ‘George has been my driver the entire time I’ve worked at The Embassy. Who or what is The Cadre?’

  Aaron and Dylan glanced at each other. ‘They’re a group you don’t want on your tail,’ Dylan finally said.

  ‘I don’t think it’s safe for us to go to the airport,’ Aaron said to Dylan. ‘They’re just as likely to try and kill you here as they are to fly you back to the UK first.’

  ‘I agree,’ Dylan nodded. ‘Mr Dickinson, we need you to pull the car over and let us out.’

  ‘I will do no such thing! I told you that my orders are to take you to the airport and that is what I am going to do.’

  ‘Aren’t you listening to what we’re telling you?’ Aaron challenged. ‘All of this has been a set up from the start: Dylan’s true identity being discovered, the extradition paperwork being completed within ten minutes of his arrival at the police station, all this despite the fact that he’s officially dead. Does none of this seem suspicious to you?’

  Dickinson frowned. ‘I have to admit that it’s a very entertaining tale, but as far as I know, one of you is wanted for murder, and I have no idea what they want you for. For all I know, you two have concocted this story to trick me into releasing you so that you can avoid extradition. And what will you do if I pull over and release you? Probably disappear into the wilderness, never to be seen or heard from again. No, I’m sorry Mr Cross, but we will be proceeding to the airport as planned. It’s not far; we should be there within the next ten minutes or so.’

  A loud siren sounded behind them and the car was suddenly lit up with red and blue flashes.

  ‘Oh what do they want now?’ Dickinson sighed, turning and looking through the rear window at the patrol car behind them.

  ‘Do you want me to pull over?’ the driver asked through the intercom.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you should,’ Dickinson said, sighing again as he pressed the intercom button. ‘This is most irritating. Can they not see our diplomatic plates? You weren’t speeding were you, George?’

  ‘No, sir,’ he replied, gently applying the brake and bringing the Land Rover to a stop.

  ‘You two stay in the car,’ Dickinson instructed, as George opened his door. ‘I’m sure this won’t take a minute to sort out. Maybe there’s some other paperwork that needs signing.’

  ‘I think that’s a really bad idea,’ Dylan warned. ‘We should continue to the airport and we can speak to them when we get there. Please? It’s not safe.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mr Taylor. This is Mexico, not Afghanistan. I’m sure all will be resolved swiftly. Besides, the car is armour plated and protected with the latest in bullet proof glass technology. It’s probably safer in here than a tank.’

  Dickinson slammed the door shut and wandered with George towards the flashing lights. Aaron slid across the seat and tried to open it, but the door was stuck fast. ‘We’re trapped,’ he confirmed.

  Dylan looked out of the back window. It was hard to see anything with the patrol car’s red and blue lights still spinning. Squinting, he could make out three figures talking, but couldn’t really see who was who.

  There were two sudden flashes of orange light and the unmistakeable sound of gun fire and two of the figures collapsed to the ground. The third figure walked towards the car and fired his weapon at them. Both ducked instinctively, but they needn’t have bothered, as the glass did its job, and the bullets ricocheted away. As the figure drew closer, Dylan recognised the officer who had driven him to the police station earlier. The officer grizzled at them t
hrough the window and fired a further round, which barely registered a mark on the glass.

  The police officer opened the driver’s door and climbed in, throwing a satchel onto the passenger seat. He used the barrel of his gun to hit the glass partition to get their attention. Locating the intercom button on his side of the glass, he spoke to them in heavily accented Spanish.

  ‘What did he say?’ Dylan asked when the officer had finished.

  ‘He said that somebody is very keen to meet us and has offered a lot of money for our capture. He is going to drive us there now. He said it’s an hour away, so we should get comfortable.’

  ‘Hold on, why do they want both of us? What does any of this have to do with you?’

  ‘First things first, Dylan; what did you do for The Cadre, and why do they want you dead?’

  4

  The engine started and the Land Rover pulled away from the roadside. The scene beyond the windows was as black as it had been during Dylan’s first journey with this State Police officer.

  ‘Where do you think he’s taking us?’ Dylan asked.

  Aaron shook his head. ‘God only knows! Whoever is behind our abduction must be pretty powerful. I mean, it must take power and a lot of money to be able to orchestrate something like this.’

  ‘You think it’s The Chairman?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Chairman of the General Financial banking group; he’s the one in charge of The Cadre.’

  ‘I don’t know who that is. How do you know so much about them? Who else is in their organisation?’

  ‘That’s just it,’ Dylan said. ‘I really don’t know much about them. If I hadn’t seen what I’ve seen in the last four months, I wouldn’t even believe they existed!’

  ‘So are you going to tell me what happened? I need to know what they want us for.’

  Dylan glanced at the man driving, who was more focused on the road than in what they might be discussing in the back. He took a deep breath and then began. ‘Okay, back in August I was working for a man called Victor Stratovsky…well, not working for as such, but I did odd jobs for him from time to time. Anyway, he hired me to do this particular job for him. I was in a bad place, and I owed him, so I had no choice but to agree to it…I did what he wanted, but it affected me more than I thought it would. I left London and moved to Southampton, believe it or not, and I tried to rebuild my life, but Victor sent a couple of his guys after me and…well, I survived.’