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

by Stephen Edger

  Cruz sat forward in the chair and spoke with a sombre tone. ‘Victoria told me what happened to one of Troy’s other sons. His name was Harry, right?’

  Aaron was surprised how raw it felt to hear Harry’s name mentioned. ‘That’s right. On the day of Troy’s funeral, the day the bus blew up, Harry was doing some research on the internet into a company called Parvon Trading. We had reason to believe that Troy had been working for them at the time of his death, and that they were somehow involved in his murder. It wasn’t until later that I discovered the company was nothing but a front for money laundering set up by The Cadre group. I believe that if Harry hadn’t been researching that company, he’d still be alive today.’

  ‘What was he like? Harry, I mean.’

  ‘He was a good guy. He was like a brother to me, more than a cousin. He loved playing and watching football, sorry soccer. He took on the responsibility of caring for Toby, that’s his younger brother, once Troy moved away. He didn’t have to do it. In fact, I’m sure most others would have rejected the responsibility, but not Harry. He was determined to make sure that Toby grew up knowing he was loved. That responsibility passed to me the moment that bastard killed Harry.’

  ‘He was the guy that died at the woman’s flat, right? I read up about what happened in May when Victoria told me about you.’

  ‘The guy who planted the bombs, and killed Harry, attacked one of the other survivors from the bus. I interrupted him and he died as he tried to escape.’

  ‘Where’s Toby now?’

  ‘He’s living with his Godparents, Janet and Rob. They’re old friends of the family. They said they would watch Toby whilst I was away. As soon as I’ve found who ordered Troy’s death, I’m going to return home and look after him.’

  ‘He’s lucky to have you.’

  Aaron smiled to acknowledge the compliment, though he didn’t accept kind words easily. ‘Did you know? About the rest of us, I mean. Did Troy ever tell you he had another family?’

  ‘Not in so many words. I can remember when I was growing up, my mom told me that dad was a very important man, and that was why he was away so much. I remember coming home from school one day when I was maybe eight or nine and asking her if dad was in prison. It was then that she told me he had a second family in England and that he had to split his time between us. She warned me not to ask him about it, and I never did. I knew he had another family in England and he knew I knew, but when he was with me that was our time and I didn’t want to waste it talking about his other family. Does that make me sound selfish?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Aaron said sincerely. ‘It’s just a shame we’ve only just met now, after all these years.’ Aaron paused as something on the television caught his attention. ‘Hey, where’s the remote? Can you turn this up?’

  Cruz walked over to the television and pressed a button on the side. ‘Remote’s broken,’ he admitted, returning to the sofa.

  The image of the newscaster filled the majority of the screen. She had a healthy glow to her skin, and her shoulder-length blonde hair seemed to bounce with positivity. To the right of her was an image of Prime Minister Tom Houseman standing at a podium, the black door of 10 Downing Street behind him. A ticker tape banner moved along the bottom of the screen announcing ‘BREAKING NEWS’. ‘Prime Minister Tom Houseman spoke to the media just over an hour ago and condemned the organisers of today’s terrorist atrocity,’ she said. ‘We’ve got his full speech coming up in the next hour. To recap for those of you just joining us, a building has been destroyed in London, England in the last three hours, but the emergency services have confirmed that the suicide bomber is the only person to have lost his life.’

  The image of Houseman was replaced with a mugshot image of Dylan. ‘More now on the man behind today’s terror attack. British police have confirmed that the man, pictured here during a spell behind bars, is Dylan Taylor, a British-born Islamic State extremist. Taylor, who faked his own death several weeks ago to evade the attention of the authorities, is believed to have acted alone today, but it is also feared that this may just be the start of a new period of terror for the Western world. Gary Jennings reports for us now from London.’

  The screen filled with an image of a tall block of flats, moments before a flash resulted in the building collapsing in a cloud of grey dust. ‘This was the moment that extremist Dylan Taylor took his own life after the allied authorities refused to bow to his demands for US troops to be pulled back from the Syrian border. These disturbing images bring back memories of the Twin Towers collapsing in New York and the horrific attacks on the public transport system here in London in 2005. Thankfully, on this occasion, the only person to lose his life was the man who detonated the device. Police have now confirmed that the terrorist was Dylan Taylor, a recent convert to Islam, who arrived back in the country three days ago to start planning today’s atrocity. He warned the authorities of his plan at lunchtime today, and we believe they were quickly able to narrow down his location and ensure that the building was evacuated before the device detonated. Attempts to communicate with Taylor were unsuccessful, and at four o’clock he killed himself. The Prime Minister has described today’s attack as ‘barbaric’ and ‘cowardly’ and has vowed that the British forces will deliver justice to those responsible for the attack. This is the first real challenge that Houseman’s administration has faced since his election, and his aggressive speech from Downing Street earlier has caused quite a stir on social media with the hashtag ‘#PMKicksAss’ currently trending.’

  ‘Wait, that’s your friend, right?’ Cruz asked.

  Aaron nodded. ‘That’s what The Cadre are capable of. First they discredit you; then they kill you. I’ve spoken to Dylan. He wasn’t in the tower block when it exploded, but, with all this media attention, he’s got nowhere he can turn.’

  The newscaster’s image filled the screen once more. ‘World leaders have offered their support to the UK, and Presidential candidate Joseph D’Angelo had this to say to reporters earlier.’

  On the screen, a limousine pulled up outside a hotel and half a dozen men, in dark suits and sunglasses, surrounded D’Angelo as he exited the back of the car. The image then cut to D’Angelo standing more comfortably on the carpeted steps of the hotel addressing several gathered journalists. ‘It pains me to see yet another so-called stand of independence resulting in terror on our streets. My prayers are with the families of those affected by this callous act. I promise the American public that, if elected, I will join with the Prime Minister in bringing this war on terror to a satisfactory conclusion. I agree that it is time we take a stand.’

  D’Angelo’s image replaced Houseman’s on the right of the newscaster. ‘Mr D’Angelo was speaking from the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverley Hills where he is staying ahead of tomorrow’s campaign speech.’

  ‘Look who it is,’ Cruz said moving to the screen and pointing at a face just over D’Angelo’s shoulder.

  Aaron didn’t recognise the face until he moved closer. ‘Wait, that’s Browning.’

  Cruz nodded. ‘Well he is D’Angelo’s campaign manager. I suppose it makes sense that he’s at the hotel with him. I wonder if the two of them knew about the bombing before it happened.’

  ‘Why don’t we go and ask him?’ Aaron said, his eyes transfixed on the screen.

  ‘Oh sure,’ Cruz said, pulling a face. ‘We’ll just go and knock on his door and ask him, shall we?’

  ‘Why not?’ Aaron said, without a trace of humour. ‘We know Browning’s involved in all this, let’s go and find out just how much he knows.’

  ‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’

  Aaron looked up at him. ‘Deadly serious. We don’t know how much D’Angelo knows, and I’m not suggesting we try and speak to him, as he’ll be too well protected. But, Browning, he’ll be easier to get to.’

  ‘I don’t know how things work in England, but here you don’t just walk up to the future President’s campaign manager and accuse him of conspiring
to oust the previous administration.’

  ‘Give me an hour alone with him, and I’ll have him singing like a canary.’

  ‘What does that even mean? Aaron, you’re crazy if you think you’ve got any shot at getting anywhere near Browning.’

  ‘I disagree. When Victoria gets back here with our new passports, I say we should fly to L.A. and confront Browning. You got something better to be doing?’

  Cruz opened and closed his mouth as he searched for the best response. ‘Okay,’ he eventually offered. ‘You won’t be able to do this alone, so fuck it, I’ll go with you. But for the record, I think this plan is crazy.’

  Aaron grinned at him. ‘They won’t see us coming.’

  37

  SOUTHAMPTON, UK

  20:45 (G.M.T.)

  White and Kyle had been stationary in traffic for more than twenty minutes. The rain and wind was battering the windscreen on the outside whilst condensation was fogging up the glass inside.

  ‘What the hell is the delay, man?’ White shouted angrily at nobody in particular.

  ‘It’s always like this through Lyndhurst,’ Kyle replied calmly, trying to cut the tension. ‘We’re moving up gradually, Guv. Once we’re through the town centre, it’ll start moving again. It’s just one of those things. You should just be grateful you don’t live out this way. I remember Mercure telling me once that the only reason she arrived so early and left so late was to avoid this very traffic.’

  White thumped his fist on the dashboard.

  ‘Have a cigarette, Guv. Crack the window open a bit; I don’t mind.’

  White reached into his jacket pocket and removed his cigarettes, placing one between his lips, without even acknowledging Kyle’s disposition. He lit the cigarette and blew smoke in the vague direction of the window. Kyle cracked his window open a fraction, ignoring the splashing of rain on his cheek.

  ‘Are you sure this woman can be trusted?’ Dylan asked from the rear seat. ‘I mean, you’re certain she’s not in on it?’

  Kyle caught Dylan’s eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘She lost more than most during the attack that day. I’m certain she can be trusted.’

  ‘Do you reckon this contains what we need to know?’ Dylan continued, nodding his head towards the laptop on the seat next to him.

  Carmichael had phoned White to advise that he had performed a thorough search of the laptop’s hard drive, and had managed to recover some deleted files that he believed they would be interested in. They had driven to his office and reclaimed the laptop with Dylan in tow, and now they were on their way to Mercure’s house in Lymington. She had told them that her husband Walter would be at the local social club for the evening, so they would not be disturbed. White had neglected to tell her about Dylan and the laptop, certain that she wouldn’t approve of their methods.

  ‘Relax, Guv,’ Kyle said, noticing White had disposed of his cigarette and was now hunting for a second. ‘Look, the traffic is starting to move again. I’m sure we’ll be through it soon and then we’ll be on our way. I bet we’ll be at her house within twenty minutes.’

  White ignored him and lit the cigarette. Traffic continued to move slowly, but as predicted, twenty minutes later, they were pulling the car onto Mercure’s gravel driveway. The three of them clambered out of the car and stretched their tired limbs.

  ‘Do you reckon this friend of yours will have any food?’ Dylan asked, looking around for any trace of a shop where he could buy a snack. He hadn’t eaten since the burger in Newham, and his stomach was beginning to rumble.

  Both officers ignored the question and moved towards the front door, Kyle grabbing the laptop from the rear seat. Mercure was wearing a business suit when she answered the door, and it looked like her hair had been recently styled.

  ‘You going on a date after this?’ White said sarcastically as he walked in.

  ‘I had to return my uniforms when I left the force,’ Mercure admitted. ‘I always thought more inquisitively when I was properly attired. This was the closest thing I could find. Dress smart, think smart; it’s what my father used to say to me. Who’s this?’ she added as Dylan appeared at the doorway.

  ‘I’ll explain inside,’ Kyle said, as he pushed Dylan through the door, closing it behind him.

  Mercure led them through to the conservatory. She had set up a filter coffee machine on the sideboard and a newly opened tin of digestives sat next to it.

  ‘First things first,’ Mercure began. ‘Have you all eaten? We won’t get anything done if you’re hungry.’

  ‘We’re fine,’ White answered for all of them.

  Dylan was about to argue with him, but thought better of it and helped himself to a couple of biscuits from the tin. Mercure poured four coffees and handed them round. White topped his up from his hip flask. ‘What?’ he said when he saw Mercure’s disapproving look.

  ‘Let’s get started,’ Mercure said, opening a pad of paper on the desk. Even though she no longer had her rank, she still managed to command their respect. ‘Start from the beginning: what do we know? Approach it as if we know Eve Partridge is guilt of collusion and we are preparing to present facts to the CPS.’

  ‘Before we do that, Ma’am,’ Kyle began, ‘we should probably take a look at what is on this.’ Kyle placed the laptop down on the table and lifted the lid.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Mercure asked.

  Kyle looked at White to see if he was going to accept responsibility, but when he turned away, Kyle decided to try and explain. ‘Don’t ask us how we got this, but it’s Partridge’s laptop. We’ve had the password broken so we can access what is on it.’ Kyle paused as he saw Mercure was about to interrupt him. He held his hand up to her face and quickly continued. ‘You should know that it contains references to The Cadre and their activities. The person who broke the security protocols managed to recover multiple documents from the hard drive. I think we should see what we’ve got here, as this might be able to tie it all together.’

  Against her better judgement, Mercure told him to continue.

  ‘Carmichael has saved all the recovered documents in a folder on the desktop. He said he’d found a drive named as ‘CEDAR’ that had been deleted several months ago. Some of the documents may be partly corrupted, so this is going to be a bit of a lucky dip.’

  ‘Okay, you look at what’s on the laptop and give us a summary at the end. Meanwhile, D.I. White can bring me up to speed on who this other man is, and how he fits into what we’re looking at. White took a large gulp from his mug.

  Kyle sat down at the table and began to systematically open documents, filing them in two new folders: useful and junk. Any documents pertaining to the conspiracy were saved in the useful folder and the rest, including email correspondence with supporters, was moved to the second folder. After half an hour, Kyle leant back in his chair and proudly declared, ‘We’ve got her.’

  Mercure stopped her conversation with Dylan and turned to listen to Kyle.

  ‘I’ve got letters with Parvon insignia, allegedly from Paul Burns. The thing is, the signature on the letters is a digital image of a signature. I presume she or somebody scanned his signature as a picture file and applied it to the letters. I’ve got scanned copies of telephone bills showing calls to South America. I can only presume she kept this kind of stuff in case things turned sour. You know what politicians are like about protecting their own arses. I’ve also found copies of emails between Partridge and The Chairman of General Financial. It’s pretty tame stuff and far from incriminating, but does make references to a big project in May 2014. It’s circumstantial but I’d bet it’s referring to the attack on Southampton. Regardless, it proves that Partridge knows The Chairman. Along with Dylan’s statement that The Chairman runs The Cadre, we’ve got an indirect link.’

  ‘Is that it? That’s not enough!’ Mercure said angrily.

  ‘The cherry on the cake is copies of Parvon bank statements showing transactions to Partridge, The Chairman and,’ he paused for effect. ‘And
one Mr Angelos Papparigou.’

  White, Dylan and Mercure stared back at him with blank faces.

  ‘Angelos Papparigou,’ he repeated. ‘Oh God, how do you not know who he is? It’s in the Burns file. Interpol confirmed that Angelos Papparigou is the real name of ‘The Serpent’, the man we know was responsible for the bombing of the bus. Why would Partridge have these accounts if she’s not involved? At the very least, she can be charged with perverting the course of justice for not handing this information in to us for investigation.’

  ‘Great! White declared. ‘Let’s go and get her.’

  ‘Wait,’ Mercure said. ‘It’s too soon. We don’t have what we need.’

  ‘We’ve got enough,’ White countered, slamming his empty mug down on the table.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Mercure challenged. ‘What have we got? Think about it. Some circumstantial letters and documents on a laptop that was illegally obtained? That’s not enough! What else have we got? It’s all just theory and supposition.’

  ‘I feel it in my gut! She’s in this up to her neck, like.’

  ‘I agree with the Guv,’ Kyle said. ‘It all fits. We need to bring her in now and get her talking. Just because we know the case wouldn’t stand up in court, doesn’t mean she knows it. Maybe we can bluff her into confessing. She must have made these copies in case it all blew up in her face. This woman was looking for an escape plan. Maybe we can offer that to her.’

  ‘She’s not stupid, Davies,’ Mercure said. ‘You think a woman like that gets to become Home Secretary by luck? I mean, look at the planning of all this; the strategizing. Framing Burns to take the fall; manipulating her way into oversight of Operation Fortress. She’s too smart to fall for our lies. Besides, my replacement will want to know why she’s been arrested. What are you planning to tell D.C.I. Payne? If she is involved, do you really think she’s going to allow you to question the one person who can implicate her? Don’t be ridiculous!’