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

by Stephen Edger

  ‘I can wait,’ he said smiling. ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Nearly four months now.’

  ‘She’s a real cutie. Is she sleeping through the night yet?’

  ‘Most of the time,’ Nazir yawned. ‘I usually put her down at eleven, and she sleeps until six. I had put her down for a nap this morning so we wouldn’t be disturbed. Wishful thinking I guess.’

  ‘I only have a couple more questions and then I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, consulting his notepad once more. ‘I’m hoping to catch up with Mr Cross later to verify his version of events, but…’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Nazir interrupted, ‘you can’t get hold of him?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Kyle admitted. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘After…that night…Aaron and I…what I mean to say is…we started seeing each other for a bit…he’s a sweet guy and…’

  ‘Where is he, Miss Ahmed?’

  ‘Right, yeah…he couldn’t settle afterwards. He became distracted, quiet like. At first I thought it was me, but he then told me that he couldn’t rest until he found the men responsible for his uncle’s death. I haven’t heard from him in at least a month. The last time we spoke, he was retracing his uncle’s last steps.’

  ‘Who does he think is responsible for his uncle’s death?’

  ‘He told that other detective, White is it? Aaron believes that his uncle was murdered by the men who were responsible for Parvon Trading. He’s trying to track them down.’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘I wish I did. I know he mentioned that Troy had spent some time in the U.S., but whether that’s where he is, I don’t know.’

  ‘Did he tell you the names of the men he was looking for?’

  Nazir shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, no. I think he wanted to keep me out of it, for my own protection. As I said, he’s a good man. If he phones me again, I’d be happy to ask him to drop you a line.’

  ‘That would be good, thank you…one final question then, Miss Ahmed: I presume you read the newspaper coverage of what unfolded after the bombing?’

  Nazir nodded.

  ‘Good, my question is: do you think Paul Burns was the brains behind what happened?’

  Nazir frowned at the question. ‘I thought that’s what the police had concluded? I thought they’d found evidence pointing to him as the mastermind?’

  ‘We did…I just wondered what your take on it was.’

  ‘I’m no detective, Mr Davies. I hope he is the man responsible.’

  ‘You hope? Why’s that?’

  ‘Well if he wasn’t responsible, then the real culprit is still out there somewhere and that scares the hell out of me.’ Nazir cuddled her daughter closer as she spoke. ‘If you asked Aaron, I think he’d tell you that Burns was just a pawn in a greater conspiracy; I’m not so imaginative.’

  Kyle thanked her and showed himself out. He was frustrated that she hadn’t been able to provide him with any significant breakthrough, but he did believe that it was now more important than ever to track down Aaron Cross and question him about what he knew. He wondered whether White’s contact at Interpol would be able to check if Cross had used his passport recently.

  The interview had provided him with more questions than answers, but none of those questions made him doubt Burns’ innocence. He checked his phone and saw he had received a text message from White. It said he had just landed back at Eastleigh and would wait for Kyle to come and pick him up. Kyle was about to unlock his car when he saw a German Shepherd dog running loose down the street. The dog was being pursued by a panicked young woman.

  ‘Please,’ she shouted breathlessly, ‘grab that dog!’

  Kyle could see the dog was wearing a harness, and dragging a lead behind it. He moved towards the dog, whistling as he did. The dog slowed long enough for Kyle to catch the end of the lead beneath his foot. The dog stopped abruptly. The young woman reached them a moment later. ‘Thank you so much,’ she gasped, bending forward as she caught her breath.

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said, noticing a stray curl of auburn hair beneath her woollen hat.

  ‘I’m not in the habit of letting my animal roam the streets alone,’ she said, straightening up and smiling at him.

  ‘All in a day’s work,’ he said, smiling back, but unsure why.

  ‘I don’t recognise your face,’ she said. ‘Do you live around here?’

  ‘No, I was here on official business.’

  ‘Official business? That means you’re either a policeman or a double-glazing salesman, then,’ she grinned.

  ‘Do you need new windows?’

  ‘Hell no, I’m only renting anyhow; you’d have to speak to my landlord.’

  ‘It’s just as well I’m not a window salesman then,’ Kyle smiled.

  ‘Wait, are you really a policeman?’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Kyle Davies,’ he said, extending his hand.

  ‘I’m Kate,’ she replied, shaking his hand. ‘This must be fate.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, I was due to pop into the police station today.’

  ‘Oh yeah? What for?’

  ‘I found a wallet when I was walking this beast last night,’ she said. ‘It’s got nearly five hundred pounds in it, but there’s no identification. No driving licence, debit cards or anything. I’ve got no way of tracing the owner.’

  ‘So you were going to bring it to the police station? That’s incredibly honest of you.’

  She shrugged. ‘Have I restored your faith in humanity?’

  ‘Maybe a little bit.’

  ‘Would you mind dropping it in for me? I know it’s cheeky to ask, it’s just I have a million and one things to do today; you’d be doing me a huge favour. Please?’

  Kyle didn’t know why, but in that moment he probably would have done anything she’d asked. ‘Sure,’ he said, smiling. ‘Do you have the wallet here now?’

  ‘No, it’s in my flat, which is…’ she said, pointing at a building over Kyle’s shoulder, ‘just over there. Hold on to the dog for me, and I’ll be back in two minutes.’

  Kyle glanced at his watch and nodded. He watched as she jogged off towards the building. She must have been in her mid-twenties, very attractive and looked athletic.

  Behave yourself, he silently reprimanded.

  She returned a moment later and handed him a thick brown wallet. He passed the dog lead to her.

  ‘If nobody comes forward for this, after twenty-eight days, you can claim it as your own,’ Kyle said.

  ‘Is that right? Well, we’d better swap numbers,’ she said, scribbling her number down on a scrap of paper. ‘That way, I can call you to check if anyone’s claimed it in a month, and you can phone me if anyone claims it in the meantime.’ She paused. ‘You can call me before that if you want. After all, you’ve been kind enough to take this in for me; I feel I should do something to thank you for it. Maybe dinner?’

  ‘Do you invite all the strangers you meet for dinner?’ he said, blushing slightly.

  ‘Only the cute ones,’ she winked, before blushing slightly herself. ‘Sorry, that must have sounded really forward…forget I said anything.’ She took a breath. ‘It was nice to meet you, Kyle.’

  With that, she turned and headed back to her house, dog in tow. Kyle remained for a moment watching her until she was inside, and then climbed into his car and pulled away, still smiling to himself.

  She watched him drive away from behind a net curtain, in an upstairs room. When he was out of sight, she pulled the mobile phone from her pocket and called the only number it was programmed with. ‘Control, this is Alpha-one. I have made contact with the target. I repeat: I have made contact with the target. Over.’

  ‘Control to Alpha-one received. How the hell do you manage to hook them so quick, Kate? Over.’

  ‘That’s why I’m in the field, Control, and why you’re stuck in a van. Over and out.’

  22

  Kyle pulled up near the arrivals poin
t at the airport. White had been leaning against the terminal building smoking a cigarette. He stomped it under foot as he saw Kyle approaching.

  ‘You look like the cat who got the cream, man,’ White said as he pulled the door closed.

  Kyle glanced at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He hadn’t realised he had been grinning since he had pulled away from Kate’s road minutes earlier.

  ‘Is it good news then?’ White continued, pulling the seatbelt around him. ‘Was the lawyer able to confirm your suspicions?’

  ‘She’s a legal secretary, and no, she didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Was your visit more successful? I didn’t expect you back so soon.’

  ‘I had to get back, man. I’m not sure the D.C.I. would have approved of my jaunt, like.’

  ‘Still, a flight to Newcastle and back in a day must have been tough. Did you get much sleep?’

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘So, who did you need to go and see so urgently?’

  ‘Start driving and I’ll tell you,’ White said.

  ‘Sure, where do you want me to drive to? The station? The pub?’

  ‘Just get us on the M27 and head east.’

  ‘East? Where are we going?’

  ‘I’ll tell you once we’re underway.’

  Kyle knew better than to argue and pulled the car away. Once they were on the motorway, he turned to White. ‘Well, are you going to tell me what happened, or am I supposed to guess?’

  ‘Okay, okay, man. It’s still early, and I haven’t had any breakfast. I’m not capable of detailed conversation.’

  ‘You want me to stop for food?’

  ‘Ah, not yet, man. Soon maybe.’

  ‘Okay, well as you’re being less than forthcoming, I’ll tell you what Miss Ahmed told me if you like?’

  White nodded.

  ‘She has no idea why The Serpent came after her that night. His actions suggest that she was somehow the target of the explosion and yet, she only appeared on the bus by chance. It got me thinking: who was actually the target? I mean, we know there were five passengers on the bus when it exploded…’

  ‘Six,’ White interrupted.

  ‘Yes, but the bus driver was already dead, so I think we can safely exclude her. That still leaves Miss Ahmed, the naval guy Cross, the traffic warden that we took out, Retourget and the factory worker. What do any of them have in common with The Serpent or Paul Burns? Come to think of it, what do any of them have in common with Eve Partridge? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘What’s your point, man?’

  ‘My point is: I don’t think there was a target on that bus. I think the bus was always going to explode to allow Eve Partridge to step out of the shadows and take her place as the city’s saviour. We said yesterday that she’s become untouchable since that day in May. I believe that was the whole purpose of the bomb. Think about it: we’re told there is a person with a detonator on the bus. If we act, as we did, we are vilified for killing an innocent person. But if we don’t act, we’ll be vilified for not stopping the bomber. That’s what Mercure pleaded in her disciplinary hearing. She really had no choice but to order the shot at the traffic warden. The police authorities were deliberately put in an impossible situation, with only one outcome.’

  White considered the argument for a moment. ‘It’s got legs I suppose,’ he said, pulling a fresh cigarette from a packet and lighting it.

  ‘I see you’re smoking again,’ Kyle said waving exhaled smoke away.

  White grinned. ‘It feels good to break a rule or two now and again.’

  ‘You hadn’t smoked in three months; what changed?’

  ‘Old habits die hard, man.’

  ‘Well, do you mind? You might not care about developing lung cancer, but I do.’ Kyle began to open the passenger side window.

  ‘’Don’t be such a fairy,’ White admonished, pushing the window back up. ‘It’s fuckin’ freezin’ out there, man. I’ll catch my death.’

  ‘So put the bloody cigarette out! How can someone so prepared to risk lung damage care about pneumonia.’

  ‘Quit your blabbering and focus on the road.’

  ‘Guv, have you never heard of passive smoking?’

  ‘Ha!’ White exclaimed. ‘Passive smoking was a concept invented by anti-smoking lobbyists to turn non-smokers against people like me. It’s all poppycock!’

  ‘Are you winding me up, Guv? There’s evidence to support…’

  ‘It’s fabricated, man. Trust me, Kyle, you’re perfectly safe.’

  ‘I’m going to pull over, Guv. If you want to smoke, you can do it outside.’

  ‘Alright, alright,’ White said, lowering the window once more, this time throwing the cigarette out. ‘Happy now, misery guts?’

  ‘What happened in Newcastle, Guv? I can see your knuckles are bruised. Are you going to tell me how that happened?’

  White rubbed the knuckles of his right hand with his left. ‘I bumped into a door, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And did the door fight back? Come on, Guv, trust is a two-way street. If you want me to trust you, I need you to trust me too. You’ve clearly been in a fight with someone. If I had to guess, I’d say you probably roughed up your contact, whoever he was. Am I close?’

  White stayed silent.

  ‘Guv? I’m not going to report your methods. Believe me, if I was going to, I’d have done it by now.’

  ‘I went to visit David Hoxley.’

  ‘Your old snitch?’

  ‘That’s right. He was the one who tipped me off about McManus flying down here yesterday. I decided to ask him why he messaged me.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he says McManus has set up a cocaine smuggling operation down here.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘I wish I was. I knew he was up to something. I told my old D.C.I. so many times that McManus was bad news.’

  ‘You trust Hoxley?’

  ‘There’s no reason he’d lie, man.’

  ‘But how can you be certain, Guv? You said you missed out on McManus before because Hoxley’s tip was poor.’

  ‘I broke his wrist, man! I’d know if he was spinning me a lie.’

  ‘Christ, Guv! You sure he won’t report you?’

  ‘He’s stupid, but he’s not a complete imbecile. His pride will be hurt, but he’s no grass, like.’

  ‘Did he give you any names?’

  ‘He said McManus owns a warehouse somewhere in the city. He’s bought up a legitimate haulage firm and is using their vehicles to distribute the cut product wherever it needs to go.’

  ‘But how’s he getting it into the city?’

  ‘How do you think? Hoxley said McManus has a network of contacts down here, including people at the docks and someone in a senior capacity.’

  ‘Partridge.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Did Hoxley name her?’

  ‘’No…Hoxley is small-time. He’s not in a position where he’d be trusted with names. It can’t be a coincidence that McManus was meeting with Partridge yesterday. She’s got oversight of Operation Fortress. She’d be the perfect ally.’

  ‘You think D.I. Stead is involved too? The Head of the Operation would be a welcome ally.’

  ‘I’m not sure, maybe…I have no idea how far McManus’ reach extends.’

  ‘Did Hoxley say where the dope is distributed once it has been cut?’

  ‘Aye. He mentioned Victor Stratovsky to me.’

  ‘Stratovsky? Holy shit! That means…’

  ‘It means that McManus is the man Stead is looking for.’

  ‘But he said he’d never heard of McManus. You think he was lying?’

  ‘I don’t know, man. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, Fortress is making no progress with nailing Stratovsky, which suggests McManus’ insider is doing the job well.’

  ‘What’s our next move?’

  ‘We speak to Stead’s undercover officer.’

  ‘Good luck with that! Stead was a
damant that he wouldn’t let us speak to him.’

  ‘That’s why we’re not going to ask him.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And how do you propose identifying who the U.C. is?’

  ‘Stead told us yesterday that he was meeting with his U.C. today, right?’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And we’re going to follow him to the rendezvous and intercept the U.C., like.’

  ‘What do you mean by intercept?’

  White grinned again. ‘I mean we are going to take him somewhere for a quiet chat, like.’

  ‘You’re suggesting we crash Stead’s meeting? He’ll make a complaint to Payne!’

  ‘I told you before, Kyle, it feels good to break a rule or two now and again.’

  ‘And how do you know where or when Stead will be meeting his U.C.?’

  ‘I had D.C. Capshaw take a look at Stead’s calendar this morning. He’s got a dental appointment booked in at midday.’

  ‘And you think he’ll be meeting the U.C. then? What if he’s just going for a filling?’

  ‘I’m willing to take a chance he’s not.’

  ‘So we’re heading to Fratton?’

  ‘That’s right. I want you to park up around the corner from the station and then follow Stead wherever he goes. If we’re lucky, he’ll take us straight to the U.C.’

  23

  LONDON, UK

  12.30 (G.M.T.)

  Dylan’s head rolled to the side as his conscious mind began to reawaken. His arms were tight behind his back and the feeling of a hard wooden frame could also be felt beneath his shoulders. Wherever he was, he knew he was tied to a stiff wooden chair. He opened his eyes, breaking through the gunk of tears and sleep that was keeping them glued together. As he did, he saw that he was in a dimly lit room. In front of him there was a table, on which there was a closed laptop. Beyond that was a large roller blind, hiding the window behind it. He felt a firm hand grip his chin and shake his head from side to side.

  ‘Good, you’re awake,’ said a stern voice.

  Looking up, Dylan saw that both the hand and voice belonged to the man he had met at the airport in Tijuana; the man with the shamrock tattoo.