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

by Stephen Edger

  ‘You sick fuck!’ he practically spat into the phone.

  ‘Good, you watched it.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘The video you just watched is only a small clip of what will be on its way to your wife, if you don’t do as you’re told.’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘You already did, Kyle. Nobody forced you to climb into bed with me last night. It was entirely of your own volition. If you’re looking for somebody to blame, go look in a fucking mirror!’

  ‘What do you want bitch?’

  ‘In a few moments you will be sent details of what you need to do to avoid the video being sent to your wife.’

  ‘I’ll fucking kill you if you send that to my wife.’

  Kate laughed mockingly. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I’m not the kind of person you can just find. Speaking of finding things, have you spent the money in the wallet I handed to you yesterday? We’ve checked at the station and you didn’t hand it in. Tut-tut, D.S. Davies.’

  It took Kyle a moment to remember what she was talking about but then it came flooding back. ‘I haven’t spent anything. It’s in my fucking car. It’s in the glove box. I forgot to hand it in, that’s all. I wasn’t going to keep it!’

  ‘Sure you weren’t. I mean it’s not like you couldn’t benefit from that kind of money, not on your salary.’

  Kyle’s mouth was dry. ‘Fuck you! You know nothing about me.’

  ‘Oh please, Kyle. Do you really think our meeting yesterday was an accident? Do you really think we leave these things to chance? I know everything about you. You think I’m naturally a redhead? We know you cheated on your wife with that air stewardess, so I was made up to look like her. Your wife’s such a lucky woman.’

  ‘Go to hell.’

  ‘I’ll probably see you there one day, D.S. Davies, but in the meantime, you need to listen to me carefully. If you don’t do as we instruct that video will be couriered to your wife this afternoon, along with details of your affair with the stewardess. We will also report the stolen wallet to your superiors and the local press. Finally, once your wife has left you, and taken your children with her, we will arrange for a gang to rape her while your children are forced to watch.’

  ‘You’re fucking sick!’

  ‘If you do as you’re told, Kyle, then maybe you won’t have to find out if that’s true. We will send you instructions through shortly. Do what we ask and this all goes away. Oh and Kyle, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, we’ll do everything I have just warned you about, and more.’

  The line went dead. Kyle dropped to a squat as he began to hyperventilate.

  44

  ‘I can’t believe you ever thought you would get away with all this,’ Mercure said.

  ‘Why not? It’s been done before. Have you never heard of ‘The Business Plot’?’

  Mercure shook her head.

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me? Back in the thirties, a retired marine General, chap called Smedley Butler, confessed that he’d been involved in a conspiracy to overthrow the US government and the President of the time, Franklin D. Roosevelt. Butler was a national hero, having served with honours across the globe, and for the support he had shown veterans during The Great Depression. He was a man of the people for the people. Anyway, at the same time, Roosevelt was exploring options to help America rise out of the financial dire straits it found itself in. This made him unpopular with a number of industry senior figures. In 1934, General Butler appeared before Congress and alleged that members of a secret organisation had attempted to hire him to recruit and train an army of veterans to stage a military coup to overthrow Roosevelt and his policies. Butler claimed he had played along initially, whilst attempting to obtain evidence of the conspiracy and to identify those steering it. Butler stated that the conspirators were seeking an army of half a million men which would be funded by the conspirators directly. He claimed that the conspirators wanted to introduce a new rule of law modelled on Italian fascism that would speed up America’s recovery. Although Butler’s claims were ridiculed by media outlets, Congress had little choice but to instigate a formal investigation into the claims.

  ‘In 1934 a committee began examining Butler’s claims and alleged evidence. Those implicated in the plot by Butler all denied any involvement, with only one of the alleged conspirators ever being called forward to speak to the committee. Butler was outraged that other named individuals were not required to testify and launched a tirade on national radio, ridiculing the committee’s published findings.’

  Mercure frowned. ‘What does any of this have to do with The Cadre?’

  ‘A group of wealthy individuals with political aspirations and narcissistic personalities come together in an effort to overthrow the government; that doesn’t sound familiar to you? Back in the 30’s it was a group of wealthy families: the DuPont’s, even George W. Bush’s grandfather was allegedly involved! They were looking to take control of the political climate in the US and help put it back on the map financially. Fast-forward eighty years and it’s happening again, only this time the conspirators are the heads of industry in the UK and are hell-bent on global power!’

  ‘But ‘The Business Plot’ must have failed, otherwise it would be a more memorable piece of history.’

  ‘It did fail: Smedley Butler’s very public denouncement, followed by the Congressional hearing was enough to frighten off the conspirators.’

  ‘So the likelihood is that this plot will fail too,’ Mercure interrupted.

  Eve shook her head vehemently. ‘You’re wrong! The Chairman will not be stopped. He’s been planning this for far too long.’

  ‘So we follow Smedley Butler’s steps and go public with the conspiracy.’

  Eve’s head continued to shake. ‘Do you realise how naïve you sound right now? Do you have any idea how many people have tried to publicise this thing? The Chairman has people he uses to quieten unrest. You’d have a hard enough time convincing anyone to tell your story, but even if you did find that one person, you’d probably both be dead or discredited before the story ever saw the light of day.’

  ‘I think you underestimate the British Justice System, Home Secretary.’

  ‘I think you put too much faith in it. It didn’t do you any favours did it?’

  Mercure stopped short of reminding Eve of the pivotal role she had played in her downfall.

  Eve looked at her watch before standing and putting her coat on. ‘It’s nearly two; I better be on my way before people start to wonder where I am.’

  Mercure stood to block her way. ‘We’re not finished yet. I have so many more questions for you.’

  ‘They will have to wait, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I could have you arrested on what you’ve told me this afternoon.’

  Eve smiled for the first time since her arrival. ‘I think we both know that’s a lie. You need real evidence, and all you’ve got at best is a recording of me making wild allegations about people who aren’t here to defend themselves.’

  ‘I want the names of all the conspirators before I let you go,’ Mercure said, standing firm.

  ‘No way! Did you really think I would give up my comrades in arms? No wonder you lost your job.’

  Mercure didn’t know what to say. ‘But…you…why did you tell me all about Dreyfuss and The Chairman today?’

  ‘Because you need to know who and what you’re up against. I’ll admit my involvement with the plot in May, but that’s all you’re going to get out of me. The moment any of this comes out, my head will be on the block. I’m taking a huge risk in speaking to you at all! You’ve got me, and for a reduced sentence I’ll write a formal confession, but only about May’s attack.’

  ‘A reduced sentence? Your actions were virtually treasonous!’

  ‘Even so, if you want to close the case on the bus bombing, and get your dismissal overturned, I need certain guarantees. I won’t go to prison, and I also want to be relocated abroad; somewhere hot.’
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  ‘I’ve heard everything now!’ Mercure gasped. ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate…’

  ‘That’s precisely the position I’m in. You have nothing without me, and I am the one with everything to lose. Once any trial is completed, I want relocating to a country with no extradition treaty in place with Britain or her allies, along with an allowance that will mean I don’t have to scrub pots for a living.’

  Mercure wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of what she was hearing but resisted. ‘If I can arrange all that, and it’s a huge if at the moment, but if I can, then I want it all! I want names, dates, locations, you will tell me everything you know.’

  Eve shook her head. ‘No, I told you, you get me with my hands in the air, but I won’t say anything about the rest of it.’

  It was Mercure’s turn to shake her head. ‘No deal. It’s not enough for what you’re asking.’

  Partridge eventually sighed. ‘Okay, maybe we can reach a compromise.’

  ‘No compromises.’

  ‘Wait, hear me out first. I won’t give up the group, but I know someone who would. I will give you him and then you can extract what you need.’

  Mercure eyed her cautiously. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘Jock McManus.’

  ‘McManus? What makes you think he’d be willing to tell us what you won’t?’

  ‘Jock was never particularly keen on funding The Chairman’s master plan, but went along with it to build his network. I wasn’t lying before: he really is a philanthropist. He’ll do anything for the right price. If you want to persist in your quest to bring down The Cadre, then McManus is the man you want to break.’

  ‘How do we get him? He’s as slippery as a fish.’

  ‘First, I need your word that you’ll make a call and meet my demands: no custodial sentence and relocation. Get me that, and I’ll give you all you need to hang Jock McManus.’

  ‘He’s got plenty of people in his pockets.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Partridge mused, ‘but his legion of fans would soon stop taking his calls if you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘McManus has a major delivery due in tonight. He doesn’t usually like to get too close to the business; he prefers to keep his own hands clean. But tonight’s different. That’s what we met about in the hotel on Tuesday morning. Whatever he’s bringing in has got him panicked. He wouldn’t elude to the contents of the crate, but I’m sure it’s the most valuable thing he’s brought in to date.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘The fact that he’s flying back to Southampton this afternoon to personally take control of the operation. Whatever is coming in, it must be big.’

  Mercure moved over to a porcelain vase just inside the conservatory and cleared her throat. ‘White, Davies, you can come in now. Bring the recording equipment with you. The Home Secretary has something she needs to get off her chest.’

  45

  SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

  13:00 (P.S.T.)

  Aaron could feel drool leaking from the side of his mouth. His head felt heavy.

  Where the hell am I?

  He forced his eyes open, and blinked against the bright sunlight peeking round the edges of the blind covering the window in front of him. He tried to focus his mind. He stared at the floral pattern on the blind and tried to remember if he’d ever seen it before. His mind was blank. He tried moving his hands, but they were stuck fast. Wherever he was, he was well secured to the chair on which he was seated. His upper arms ached, as if they’d been in this position for several hours. He craned his neck as far as he could to see if he recognised any other items in the room. The green lamp shade to his left looked like something from an IKEA catalogue, but was otherwise unfamiliar. The floor was a pale laminated wood, but again it didn’t spark his long-term memory.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out hoarsely.

  He heard footsteps behind him; heavy treads, like workman boots. The sound seemed to echo off the hard flooring, but he was certain the steps belonged to a man.

  ‘Hello?’ he tried again. ‘Please, I need a drink.’

  The footsteps moved away and returned a moment later. An arm shot out and fixed Aaron in a headlock, yanking his head backwards before the plastic rim of a bottle forced his lips open. Aaron’s instinct was to resist whatever poison they might be trying to pour into his mouth, but his need for survival took control and he swallowed the generous flow of liquid as quickly as he could. To his relief, it didn’t taste toxic. As quickly as it had arrived, the bottle of water was torn away and his head was released and fell forward once again.

  ‘Thank you,’ he gasped.

  Again the heavy footfalls moved away from him before returning, but this time they proceeded around the chair until Aaron was staring up at the olive-skinned man with close-cropped black hair. His memory’s return hit Aaron like an out-of-control steam train. He desperately struggled against his restraints, shifting one way and then the next. His wrists were loose, so whatever was holding him was at arm-level. He panted as he desperately shuffled around in the seat. The assassin continued to stare down at him, a thin smile on his face.

  Aaron realised escape was going to be impossible, for now at least. He stopped struggling and watched the assassin, waiting for him to engage. The captor continued to watch him back, making no attempt to speak.

  Eventually Aaron took the lead. ‘Who are you? Why did you kill D’Angelo?’

  The man smirked at the question.

  ‘Where am I? Why have you tied me up?’ Aaron pressed. ‘You’re making a big mistake. There will be people looking for me; I have friends here.’

  The man continued to smile without speaking. Aaron tried his restraints again but there was still no give.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ he demanded. ‘You can’t hold me here indefinitely! If you don’t give me food or water, I’ll eventually die and then you’ll need to move my body. Come on, what the fuck do you want?’

  The man pulled a thin phone from his trouser pocket and hit redial. ‘He’s awake,’ he said into it. ‘I’ll soften him up for you.’ He put the phone away and cracked his knuckles. Aaron’s eyes widened. The man moved quickly towards him and a fist flew into his cheek. Aaron’s head recoiled with the blow, but the chair didn’t move. He glanced down just long enough to see that the chair’s legs were bolted to the floor, and that rope had been used to tie his ankles. Another fist connected with his face, this time in an uppercut motion. He felt a shooting pain erupt in his nose and wanted to cry out, but, before he could, a third blow came down and hit his ear, sending different pain signals to his brain.

  The man stepped backwards and admired his handiwork. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, like that of a used car salesman. ‘Why did you follow me last night? You stuck your nose into something that didn’t concern you.’

  ‘I followed you because you’re the son of a bitch who shot at D’Angelo and left my cousin to take the blame.’

  The assassin smiled again.

  ‘Why the fuck do you keep smiling?’ Aaron chided. ‘Are you proud of being a hired killer? Do you have any idea who D’Angelo was working for? I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when his people come looking for his killer.’

  ‘D’Angelo wasn’t the target,’ a new voice said behind him, sending a chill down Aaron’s spine. It wasn’t the words that scared him, it was the voice that had spoken them. He tried to turn his head enough to confirm his suspicions but she was too far away. He hadn’t heard anyone new enter the room, so he wondered how long she had been there, and why she had done nothing to stop this guy hitting him.

  ‘Victoria?’ he said. ‘Are you okay? Are you tied up too?’

  He smelt her perfume waft closer although he couldn’t hear any footsteps. She placed a comforting arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek before straightening up and moving towards the window. She was wearing a f
igure-hugging black dress that stopped just above the knee. It was an outfit more befitting a cocktail party than an interrogation. Her legs looked smooth beneath the satin stockings, but she wasn’t wearing shoes. She meandered towards the olive-skinned man and rubbed his bicep affectionately. Aaron’s mind raced with possibilities as he tried to work out what was happening, fighting to avoid the inevitable conclusion that he kept reaching.

  ‘I can handle it from here,’ she said, leaning in and kissing the assassin on both cheeks. He looked over her shoulder at Aaron and fired off a threatening stare, before stepping to the side and walking off towards wherever Victoria had emerged from. Aaron listened to the heavy footsteps disappear before he heard a door being closed.

  Victoria continued to face the window, summoning the courage to speak. Aaron desperately wanted her to turn around and tell him that everything was going to be okay; that she had tracked him down to this room, wherever it was, and had infiltrated the group that was holding him, and would help him escape. But there was something about her posture and clothing that just didn’t fit with that scenario. The very fact that her shoes were missing suggested she was some place very comfortable.

  She finally turned to face him, and he could see her eyes were watering. ‘I’m sure you must have hundreds of questions…it’s maybe better if I talk first, as what I have to say will undoubtedly answer the majority of them.’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘I work for The Cadre.’ She paused again and let out the breath. ‘Do you remember when we first met at the crematorium in Southampton? I told you that I was living in Bacoli on the coast near Naples and that was the truth. I was introduced to your uncle at a party that I was invited to attend by Lorenzo Morelos, the head of the Naples crime syndicate. He was the man your uncle was working for when he first arrived in Italy. Like all Italian men, Lorenzo believes that loyalty should be rewarded, so he hired me to become involved with Troy. I wasn’t lying when I said I had spent time in the UK, but I wasn’t attending university. I used to be a model when I was seventeen, but the agency I worked for closed down and I found myself back home with my parents, without a formal education I could rely on to find a career. Lorenzo was kind to me. I had been at school with one of his sons, so he thought he was helping me by giving me this role. At first I was against the idea, as I wasn’t prepared to prostitute myself. But Lorenzo told me I only had to spend time with Troy; that I didn’t have to sleep with him. So I agreed to go to the party. Your uncle was quite handsome for an older man and after we started talking, I realised he was a sweet and kind man. He took me to nice restaurants, and bought me nice things and I found I was starting to fall for him.’