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

by Stephen Edger

  ‘Victoria, you need to show him,’ Cruz said. ‘He needs to understand exactly what is going on. He needs to know the prize we’re chasing here.’

  Victoria opened her shoulder bag and pulled out a seven inch tablet. She tapped the screen several times before handing it over to Aaron. ‘Just press play.’

  Aaron saw an image of a tired looking Troy on the screen. He pressed play and the still image came to life.

  ‘Hello my darling,’ Troy began. ‘I’m so glad I managed to get hold of you. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m still in Paris, waiting for you,’ Victoria’s recorded voice replied off screen.

  ‘You need to return to Bacoli. Do you understand me? You need to get away, to get somewhere safe.’

  ‘What’s wrong my darling? You sound worried. What is going on?’

  Troy picked up a glass of dark-coloured liquid and took a long sip, before placing the glass down and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘I found something tonight…I…I don’t know where to begin.’ He drank the rest of the drink, before pouring another large measure from a bottle off screen. ‘I was in Dmitri’s office…I was supposed to meet him there at ten…but when I arrived, he was dead…’

  ‘Oh God, Dmitri’s dead?’ Victoria’s recorded voice gasped.

  ‘I didn’t kill him…I got to the office early, as I wanted to speak to him about what he’d told me yesterday…I needed to know if it was true…when I got there, he was slumped over his desk, a pool of blood around him…his throat had been cut and his fingers were broken…he was tortured.’ Troy gulped his drink down. ‘God knows what they wanted…he may have told them that I know now too…oh God, my darling, it’s not safe…we’re in grave danger…’

  ‘Where are you now, Troy?’

  ‘I’m on my boat in the harbour…I didn’t know where else to go.’

  ‘Leave now, my darling. Start the engine and sail away. Get some distance from the shore. Please, my darling, you’re worrying me.’

  ‘They will find me wherever I go, my love…I know too much now, and they know that I know.’ He poured another drink. ‘I saw it all. It was on Dmitri’s computer: the whole plan; the lot. Hernandez is involved too, that snake. They’re using him to monopolise drug importing to Europe, starting with the UK. It’s already started. By June, they’ll have Britain…by the end of the year, they’ll control the narcotics trade in France, Germany, Switzerland and Italy…that’s how they plan to finance their little war.’ He drained his glass and topped it up again. His speech began to slur slightly. ‘They’re going to build an army, and then they’re going to send it to the Middle East and invade. There’ll be chaos…Dmitri knew…he warned me, but I didn’t believe him…I should have got out yesterday when he told me; oh God, I wish I’d left when I had the chance…they plan to invite Dreyfuss to join them…can you imagine that? The Prime Minister in The Cadre? They won’t stop until they have their New World Order…after Dreyfus, they’re going after the presidency, and after that their war starts…nobody can stop them. Do you hear me? Nobody!’

  ‘You need to go, my darling. Please? Just start the engine and get away. I love you.’

  Troy smiled into the screen. ‘I love you too, Victoria. You’ve made my last few years so special, and I just wanted to thank you for being with me…you could have had your choice of lovers, and you chose this old codger…thank you for brightening my world.’

  ‘You’re talking like it’s over. It’s not over. Please, Troy. We can get away; we have money. We can start again, some place where nobody will find us. It isn’t too late.’

  He smiled into the camera again. ‘I’m sorry, my love. They would find us anywhere…there’s a worm in the operation; that’s how they found out about Dmitri, and now they know about me too…I’ve been betrayed, my love, that’s why I need to make sure you’re safe. Listen to me, I have left you money, somewhere safe. You’ll find instructions at your mother’s house…a copy of my will is there too; it directs how my estate must be shared. I’ve left money for Harry and Toby and Aaron. I never named Felix in my will, but I want you to make sure he gets his share as well…please, my darling, do this one last thing for me.’

  ‘It isn’t too late, Troy.’

  ‘I love you Victoria.’

  The video clip ended.

  ‘He disconnected the line,’ Victoria said, wiping a fresh tear from her eye. ‘I tried to call him back but he had gone offline.’

  ‘Who was Dmitri?’ Cruz asked.

  ‘He was a middleman. He worked for Hernandez in Monaco. His body was discovered the same day as Troy’s. The police didn’t connect the incidents.’

  ‘What happened to Dmitri’s computer?’ Aaron asked, pragmatic as ever.

  ‘It was never found. I don’t know if Troy destroyed it, or whether someone else went back and took care of it before the body was discovered.’

  ‘So all that evidence Troy spoke of, it’s gone?’ Aaron said.

  Victoria nodded.

  ‘What made you record the message?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know really,’ Victoria replied, placing the tablet back in her bag. ‘I have asked myself the same question over and over. I don’t know what made me think to record it; maybe intuition. I’m glad I did record it though. It was the last conversation I ever had with your uncle.’

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ Cruz asked.

  ‘I need to speak to Dylan,’ Aaron replied, pulling the phone from his pocket.

  31

  LONDON, UK

  15:22 (G.M.T.)

  Dylan was starting to feel lightheaded. It had been half an hour since he had managed to escape from the small flat in the tower block, and he had been running ever since. He had grabbed a damp t-shirt from a washing line, which he had wrapped tightly around his bleeding fingers, but the shirt was now soaked through, and the blood was still flowing. The thought of bleeding to death, unable to stop The Chairman’s plan, spurred him on. He stopped for a moment, and desperately gasped for breath. Despite the low temperature, his sweatshirt and hoodie were wet through and clinging to his body. A large red bus drove past. He decided to jog after it, hopeful that it would lead him to somewhere more commercial than the array of residential properties he’d come across thus far.

  He just caught a glimpse of the bus turning right at the end of the road, and moved on after it. As he turned the corner, he collapsed to the floor. His hands hit the floor to break the fall, sending a shooting pain through his fingers once again. The pain sharpened his mind, and he clambered back to his feet and kept moving forward. A cluster of shops appeared on the horizon, and for a second, a moment of familiarisation dawned on him.

  I’ve been here before, he thought.

  There was a pub on the corner, across the street that he was certain he’d been in before. Next to that was a fish and chip shop, and then a newsagents where he’d once won a pound on a scratch card. His eyes wandered to his own side of the street. If he was right, then…

  I knew it!

  Three shops down, there was a large green cross hanging outside of a glass-fronted premises. Feeling giddy, he rushed towards the pharmacy and in through the door. A bell rang overhead as he entered. The pharmacy looked empty and he moved through the shelves, hunting for plasters or bandages, but his vision was starting to blur and panic began to set in. He reached out for something, with his good hand, but his trembling fingers knocked all the boxes on the shelf to the floor. He bent over to pick them up, and nearly collapsed again.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ a shrill woman’s voice said behind him.

  He turned quickly in the direction of the question, and as he did, his legs gave way, and he crashed into the shelving unit.

  ‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry,’ he slurred.

  The woman rolled her eyes as she tried to help him to his feet. ‘Ray!’ she shouted. ‘We’ve got another drunk. Can you help me get him out of here?’

&nb
sp; ‘I’m not drunk,’ Dylan began to say, but struggled to get the words out.

  A man in a white coat appeared, and grabbed Dylan’s right arm. Dylan winced at the pain and looked into the eyes of the man. A second moment of recognition.

  ‘I know you,’ Dylan began, as he wracked his memory for who the man was.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ the man sighed as they wrestled Dylan to his feet. ‘How much have you had today, sir? You should probably just go and sleep it off…’ the man saw the dripping t-shirt on Dylan’s hand. ‘I think you should go to A&E and get that hand checked out too.’

  ‘You know Victor Stratovsky,’ Dylan said, as his memory triggered. ‘You pay him protection money…I’ve been here before…’

  The man glanced nervously at his colleague. ‘Maybe you should take a break, Gladys,’ he said.

  ‘But I’ve just come back from lunch,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘Well we’ve nearly run out of milk,’ the pharmacist continued. ‘Be a love and go and pick some up would you?’

  ‘What about him?’ she asked, nodding at Dylan.

  ‘I’ll take care of him…take your time, Gladys. Okay?’

  Gladys released Dylan’s arm and shuffled off behind the counter to collect her handbag before leaving through the front door.

  ‘I work for Victor,’ Dylan lied. ‘I’ve cut my fingers pretty bad…I need your help.’

  ‘You need to go to a hospital.’

  ‘No!’ Dylan interrupted. I’ve been bleeding for half an hour already, I need your help now! If Victor hears that you refused to help one of his crew, he’ll be pretty pissed off with you. D’you understand what that means?’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ the pharmacist replied, guiding Dylan behind the counter and to the rear of the shop. He lowered him onto a chair, before moving to the front of the shop, locking the door and putting the closed sign up. He returned to Dylan a minute later, carrying a box of gauze, some disinfectant and bandage strapping. ‘You said you did this half an hour ago? You’d better drink this.’

  He handed Dylan an open bottle of Lucozade. Dylan put it to his lips and began to drink from it. The pharmacist began to unwrap the now-red t-shirt. Dylan winced as the material tore from his skin.

  ‘Well, this is a mess,’ the pharmacist sighed. ‘How did…no, wait, I don’t want to know…you really should have this examined by a nurse or doctor, you know. I can patch you up for now, but I can’t guarantee it will heal properly…then there’s a danger of infection…’

  ‘Just do your best,’ Dylan said, taking another gulp of the isotonic drink.

  ‘If you’ve been bleeding for as long as you say, your blood sugar is probably low. When did you last eat a decent meal?’

  Dylan thought back to the breakfast he’d enjoyed with Aaron the previous morning. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘Well the drink should help raise your sugar levels for a bit, but I’d encourage you to get some food pronto. Do you understand? If you don’t, you’ll be collapsing again before you know it.’

  The pharmacist rubbed the disinfectant into the wounds with a small cloth, before dressing the lacerations. ‘This should help it clot, hopefully, but my advice to you is to get it reviewed by a doctor. You don’t necessarily have to go to the hospital, surely your employer knows somebody who can be discreet? Or you could see your G.P.’

  Dylan finished the bottle of drink, relieved to be feeling more coherent. ‘This’ll be fine for now. Listen, I really appreciate your help. I’d give you some money, but someone took my wallet.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the money, just be sure to tell Mr Stratovsky that I helped when you came calling.’

  ‘I will,’ Dylan lied, as he climbed to his feet. ‘I’m sorry about the mess too.’

  ‘That’s alright. It’s been a quiet day; I’ll get Gladys to clean it up when she gets back.’

  ‘Hey, where are we?’

  ‘You don’t know where you are? Newham.’

  ‘Hey, is there a tube station near here? I need to get back to the West End.’

  ‘The DLR is the closest thing we have to a tube line. It takes about twenty minutes to reach the West End. Head south, and you’ll find it eventually.’

  ‘Great. Hey, one other thing: do you have a mobile phone I could borrow? I need to make a call.’

  ‘We only have the landline, I’m afraid…I don’t believe in all this new technology.’

  There was a banging at the front door. Both men looked up and spotted a puzzled-looking Gladys at the door.

  ‘I better go. Thanks again for fixing me up.’

  The pharmacist reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten pound note. He handed it to Dylan. ‘Get yourself something to eat, will you?’

  Dylan took the money; his faith in humanity restored. ‘I will, I will, and hey, do you live around here?’

  ‘My wife and I live above the shop, why?’

  ‘You might want to close up early today. There’s going to be a lot of unusual activity around four, you should take your wife somewhere far, far from here. Trust me.’

  Dylan unlocked the door and pushed through before Gladys could ask any questions. He spotted the fish and chip shop across the street. With the ten pound note sitting crisply in his hand, he crossed the street and headed in. He stood patiently in line until it was his turn to order. ‘I’ll have a cheeseburger, mate,’ he said.

  Dylan handed over the money and pocketed the change. He grabbed the newspaper on the counter and began to thumb through the headlines, looking for anything that would suggest The Chairman’s next move. An overweight woman, wearing barely more than a vest, barged up next to him and demanded a large bag of chips. She stank of B.O. and cigarettes. Dylan tried to move away, but he was already as close to the wall as he could be. He watched as she unzipped her handbag and removed her purse to pay. A small Nokia phone stared up at him. Checking that nobody was watching, he reached down and snatched the phone up, carefully slipping it into his pocket. The woman returned her purse to the bag before zipping it back up, and left with her bag of chips in hand.

  ‘Cheeseburger,’ the man behind the counter announced. ‘You want salad?’

  Dylan shook his head and asked for lots of ketchup. The man handed the cheeseburger over and Dylan left the shop. He saw the overweight woman walking away to the right, so he turned left and headed up the high street, before turning left again and heading in a southerly direction. He devoured the burger, before pulling out the phone and typing in the number Aaron had made him memorise at the Mexican mall. The line connected on the second ring.

  ‘Hello?’ Aaron said.

  ‘It’s Dylan.’

  ‘Dylan! Where have you been? I tried calling you, but your phone was off.’

  ‘It’s a long story. I ran into one of The Chairman’s crew and he brought me back to the UK.’

  ‘You’re in England? Jesus Christ!’

  ‘Listen, it’s okay, I got away. The thing is: they’re looking for you. They know that you know about The Cadre, so they’ll do anything to keep you quiet. Wherever you are, you need to get away. Now!’

  ‘I’m okay, Dylan, I’m with friends. I’ve learned a lot too. I think my uncle was indirectly working for The Cadre and he learned what they’re up to. That’s why they killed him! They’ve set up a cocaine smuggling operation to fund their attempt to take control of global policy…I don’t even know where to begin. I think we need to meet; the phones aren’t safe.’

  ‘I agree…I think you need to get back to London. This is the hub of what they’re doing. If we’re going to stop them, we need to do it here.’

  ‘I disagree, there’s still something I need to do here. I’ve got the name of someone who’s involved in their operation and I intend to speak to him. We need evidence, remember? I reckon I can get that evidence here.’

  ‘You’re not listening to me, Aaron. They know where you are. They’re probably already coming for you. They left me tied up with a bomb in a flat. They won
’t hesitate to kill you, if they catch up with you.’

  ‘That won’t happen, Dylan. Trust me!’ Aaron explained what Troy had told them in Victoria’s video.

  ‘Watch your back, Aaron. I don’t know how, but they’ve been one step ahead of us this whole time.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to pay a visit to Victor Stratovsky.’

  ‘Stratovsky? Are you crazy?’

  ‘Victor might be an unhinged psychopath, but I think he’ll be more pissed off to learn that he’s been used as a pawn in The Chairman’s plan, than he will be to see me still alive.’

  ‘It’s a risky move, Dylan.’

  ‘What other choice do I have? It’s not like I can just rock up at a police station and plead for mercy. I’ve been set up to take the fall for the bomb that’s due to explode in the next thirty minutes. My only chance of a future is if we can stop them. Victor might just be the ally I need.’

  32

  ‘Do you know what the most difficult part of my job is?’ Victor Stratovsky asked as he lifted the lid of the large cabinet freezer. ‘Disposing of the bodies.’ He looked up and smiled at the thin man who was currently squirming in the grasp of two of Victor’s aides. ‘The problem is,’ Victor continued, ‘a corpse begins to decompose as soon as the heart stops beating. A decomposing body is vile; it emits a foul odour and becomes riddled with maggots in a very short time. But, dead bodies are an everyday part of my working life. So what do you do?’

  Victor nodded for the crying man to be dragged over to the freezer. The man dug his feet into the worn carpet, but he was struggling against men who were far stronger. He felt a hand grasp the back of his neck and then his head was pushed just inside the freezer. He yelped as he saw a frozen face staring back at him.

  ‘Freezing the corpse helps slow down the decomposition,’ Victor continued. ‘It provides valuable preparation time. There are many methods for actually disposing of a body. You can bury it of course, but then there is the danger that somebody will one day discover it. Many a body has been buried in the concrete foundations of buildings. In fact, I know of at least one body in the foundations of this very building.’ Victor smiled. ‘But even that poses certain risks. What happens if the building is ever demolished, or the foundations are examined for structural reasons, suddenly the body will be discovered and the authorities will start asking awkward questions. So, what then? Dumping the body in wasteland is lazy and unimaginative, and ultimately could end with the police knocking on the door.’