Anna was in a dark skirt and white silk blouse with lace at neck and wrists, simple but stunning. She blushed. “Why thank you, Cassie, you’re quite lovely yourself.”
“I look like my mom. She died, but I have pictures. Want to see them? They’re in my room.” Cassie took Anna’s hand.
“Dinner’s almost ready, Cassie,” Mrs. Farnsworth said.
Cassie sighed. “Oh OK,” she said, releasing Anna’s hand. “After dinner, OK?”
Anna smiled. “I shall look forward to it, Cassie.”
Cassie insisted on sitting between Anna and Dugan, and dinner conversation was unforced, as Cassie chattered and Anna listened with unfeigned interest. Mrs. Farnsworth said little, but watched with grudging approval. By meal’s end, even Mrs. Hogan was smiling, serving coffee and nodding. During dessert, Anna gave Cassie’s hand an affectionate squeeze, but as she withdrew her own hand, the lace at her cuff tangled in Cassie’s charm bracelet and separated with an audible rip.
“Oh dear,” Anna said, inspecting the dangling lace with an embarrassed laugh.
“I’m really sorry,” Cassie said, “it was an accident.”
“My fault entirely,” Anna said. “No harm done. I’ll get it mended.”
“I can do it,” Cassie said, folding up the edge of her jumper to reveal a needle wrapped with thread stuck into the underside of the hem.
“A proper young lady,” she intoned in an unintended but accurate mimic of Mrs. Farnsworth, “prepares for any eventuality.”
Anna looked confused.
“At one time,” Mrs. Farnsworth explained, “young ladies always kept needles and thread near at hand. It seemed practical.”
“Yes,” Cassie said, “and that’s not all—”
“Cassie,” Mrs. Farnsworth said, “Ms. Walsh may wish to have it mended elsewhere.”
“Oh no,” Anna said. “I accept with thanks, Cassie. Then perhaps I can see the photos.”
“OK,” Cassie said. “We can go up now, and you can take your blouse off while I mend it. I don’t want to stick you. That hurts.”
“Excellent idea,” Mrs. Farnsworth said, rising. “I’ll get Ms. Walsh a robe.”
Alex smiled. “Seems we’re to be left on our own, Thomas. Join me in the study?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Minutes later, they sat in the study, brandy in hand. Dugan watched Alex over the rim of his glass. Alex looked older, much older. The gray at his temples spread through his black mane now, and dark-circled eyes topped pale, hollow cheeks. Dugan was reminded of those “before and after” pictures of past US presidents.
“I haven’t enjoyed a meal or the company as much in some time,” Alex said. “Thank you for joining us. And Thomas, I’m sorry for my earlier behavior. Anna is wonderful.” He smiled. “Cassie obviously likes her, and she has her mother’s sense of people. So if Anna passed muster with Cassie, defrosted Mrs. Coutts, and in one evening charmed both Mrs. Hogan and Mrs. Farnsworth, she is exemplary indeed. I toast your good fortune.” He raised his glass.
Dugan smiled and raised his own glass.
“Thomas, I’ve been thinking. We have a number of dry-dockings scheduled next year. We could save a great deal of money if we confined them to a single yard and negotiated a volume discount. I think it would be a good idea if you spent a week or two touring the Far East yards and discussing it with them.” Alex smiled over his brandy glass. “Anna wouldn’t have much to do while you were away. You could take her along. Make it a bit of a holiday.”
Son of a bitch, thought Dugan. He’s trying to get rid of me.
“Good idea,” Dugan said, trying to sound casual, “we’ll probably have most of our ships in the Far East trade if the China Star deal is any indication of market trends.”
Alex stiffened. “Whatever do you mean, Thomas?”
“Ibrahim mentioned the China Star deal to me. He seemed concerned, actually.”
“China Star is just some deal of Braun’s. I don’t really know the details.”
“The Alex Kairouz I know could recite every word of every charter agreement from memory,” Dugan said. “C’mon, Alex. What’s goin’ on?”
“Just drop it, Thomas. Please.” Alex’s eyes darted about the room.
Lou was right, Dugan thought, Alex thinks we’re bugged. A catch-22. He needed Alex to confide in him, but the man would never do so if he thought he was monitored. Dugan considered his half-formed plan and decided to take a risk.
“You can speak freely, Alex,” he said. “We’re not being bugged.”
“What? What do you mean?” Alex asked.
“I know something’s wrong, so I hired an investigator,” Dugan lied. “He came in at night and swept the office. I know Braun is bugging our offices and phones. He swept your house today. Phones are bugged but not the house. Talk to me, Alex.”
Alex buried his face in his hands. Dugan waited for Alex to unburden himself or, if he was wrong, explode into angry denial. Either way, Dugan’s lie cast him as a concerned friend, not a covert agent. But when Alex looked up, his face held neither relief nor anger but terror.
“Thomas. What have you done?” Tears ran down ashen, stubbled cheeks.
“What do you mean, Alex? What’s wrong?”
“Cassie,” Alex said, “he’ll… wait, I’ll show you.”
He stood and locked the study door before moving a laptop from his desk to the low table beside Dugan. The computer booted as Alex opened his case and thrust a CD at Dugan.
“Look at it,” Alex ordered, and Dugan slid the disk into the computer.
The clip began with a narrator, a woman speaking French as she walked the streets of a Third World village to a rude hut. Inside, a young girl was held spread-eagle by a group of women. One produced a knife and began to cut at the girl’s genitals, in full view of the camera and explaining as she performed the butchery. Even with the volume turned down, the girl’s screams carried through the narration. The screen morphed to a new scene: large, dirty men sodomizing a blond girl of no more than six. Dugan slapped the computer closed and swallowed hard to keep Mrs. Hogan’s meal from ending up in the wastebasket.
“Good God, Alex, where did you get that filth?”
“Braun,” Alex said. “He says it will all happen to Cassie if I disobey. You watched seconds, but it’s over an hour and gets worse, much worse. I’m forced to watch it regularly.”
“But surely you contacted the police?”
Alex nodded. “I pretended to go along with Braun, then phoned Scotland Yard. I was on hold when a live video of Cassie walking up the school steps filled my computer screen, filmed through a sniper scope with crosshairs on her head. The message was clear. I hung up. Braun called at once, warning me not to try it again.”
He paused. “Even then, I didn’t give up, but I realized I couldn’t alert the police until Cassie was safe. I knew my phones were tapped, so while dining with a customer that night, I excused myself to visit the loo and ducked into the restaurant office to use the phone. I called a contact at the security firm I use and set up a meeting in St. James Park the following day at two. Time was short, so I told the man I would provide details at the meeting.
“I assumed Braun couldn’t watch everyone, so I intended to send written details to the park via Daniel, with instructions for a bodyguard and safe house. I would string Braun along until the security people whisked Cassie to safety. I never got that far. Braun rang the next morning and said he’d ‘taken the liberty’ of canceling my appointment. He said he wouldn’t do anything to Cassie immediately to lessen her hostage value, but if I continued my efforts, Mrs. Farnsworth would have a fatal accident.”
“But… but how did he find out about the park?” Dugan asked.
“He either anticipated whom I might call and bugged them or bugged the phones of my usual restaurants; there aren’t many. I only know he blocked me everywhere. I was terrified.”
“Wasn’t the guy you contacted suspicious at the cancellatio
n?”
Alex shook his head. “He rang to confirm an e-mail cancellation Braun sent in my name. I confirmed and apologized. He probed a bit, but had no reason to suspect duress.”
“So,” Alex continued, “I hired Braun and Farley. Braun forces me to watch the video weekly. ‘Motivational sessions’ he calls them. He stands over my shoulder as I watch, detailing additional things Cassie will face if I resist in any way. I had a session this afternoon.”
Dugan sat stunned. It was a wonder Alex wasn’t dead of a heart attack.
“What does he want, Alex?”
“Not money. I tried to buy him off. He needs the company for something.”
“What’s he done so far?” Dugan asked.
“I haven’t a clue,” Alex said. “He made me sign blank contracts and give him carte blanche on all accounts. For the most part it seems to be business as usual, but he’s doing things at the margins in my name, and perhaps yours. China Star is a case in point. When Ibrahim got curious, Braun told me that unless I kept him quiet, he would kill the man and his entire family. I had to threaten to sack poor Ibrahim and order him to refer inquiries to Braun.
“He’s dangerous, Thomas, and very, very good. Your investigator may already be dead and Braun listening to our every word.” He paused. “Initially I feared you’d endangered Cassie, but I realize now nothing’s changed. Braun still needs me, and she’s his guarantee. But if Braun is listening, you’ll be dead by morning. And if your efforts have somehow escaped his attention, you should go. Take my offer to visit the yards and keep going. You can’t help us, Thomas. I have to see it through and hope Braun spares Cassie. Save yourself and tell no one so Cassie isn’t endangered further.”
Dugan realized any promise to safeguard Cassie would seem unbelievable to Alex. If Alex Kairouz, with all his connections, had been unable to do so, what chance did Dugan have alone? And Alex thought Braun was listening, despite Dugan’s assurances. Suddenly Dugan realized Alex was playing to the bugs, assuring Braun of continued cooperation while, if there were no bugs, warning Dugan to escape. Alex might be cowed, but his brain was working.
The revelation was more disquieting than encouraging. Alex was stretched to the breaking point, and Dugan was concerned for his health, mental and physical. He had to let his friend know the situation wasn’t hopeless, and he would never have a better opportunity.
“Alex, I know Braun isn’t listening because the house was swept with much better equipment than is available commercially. I’m working with US and British intelligence.”
Alex listened as Dugan explained and assured him Cassie would be protected. They stood and Alex hugged Dugan with a ferocity born of relief. For the first time in months, Alex Kairouz did not feel he was alone, staring into a black abyss.
And Dugan wondered how to tell the others about the newest member of the team.
Chapter Twelve
Constrained by the driver’s presence, Anna was quiet during the cab ride as Dugan pondered a way to break the news. He hadn’t found one by the time they walked into the apartment.
“So, how’d it go?” Lou asked.
“Well, I think,” Anna said, turning to Dugan. “Tom, did you learn anything from Alex?”
He tried to ease into it. “We discussed China Star. He thinks—”
“Bloody hell, Dugan,” Lou said. “How did that come up? You weren’t supposed to—”
Anna waved Lou to silence and gestured for Dugan to continue. He took a deep breath and made a clean breast of it, finishing to dead silence.
“Bloody unbelievable,” Lou said. “You revealed an operation to a prime suspect.”
“He’s a victim,” Dugan said. “How much evidence do you need?”
“More than a bloody fairy tale,” Lou said.
“Bullshit. He made up a story complete with video, then waited weeks to present it? No way. We can use him, and I decided to enlist him.”
Anna exploded. “YOU decided! On whose bloody authority? I’m lead agent, not you. You might have at least discussed it before charging in on a white horse to save the bloody day.”
“Things were happening fast,” Dugan said. “I wasn’t sure I’d have another chance. Maybe I should have discussed it first, but what’s done is done.”
“Yes, Tom. Maybe you should have,” Anna said, ice in her voice.
“Actually,” Harry said, “we can verify Kairouz’s story. Phone records will confirm calls to Scotland Yard and from the security firm, and we can question the security firm under the Official Secrets Act. If that checks out, I doubt it’s a fairy tale. British Telcom has a night shift. We can confirm the calls straightaway.”
Dugan shot Harry a grateful look.
“Do it,” Anna said, and Harry dialed. Moments later, he hung up and nodded.
“Phone records corroborate Kairouz’s story,” Harry said.
“OK,” Anna said, “we’ll deal with the security firm tomorrow. Perhaps this can be salvaged. But we have to tell Ward.” She gave Dugan a withering look. “I believe that will be your job, Tom.”
Dugan gave a resigned nod, pushed a preset on his sat phone, and set it on the coffee table in speaker mode.
***
Five time zones away, Ward’s phone trilled as he worked late. He saw Dugan’s number on the display.
“Hold one, Tom,” he said into his own sat phone as he reached for the office phone.
Gardner wanted in on field agents’ calls, but in reality, disturbing him after hours incurred his wrath. Ward protected himself by leaving voice mail on Gardner’s office number to verify attempted contact. Gardner was seldom there after hours, so Ward preferred to talk with field agents then just to avoid his boss’s interference.
“Gardner,” came the answer. Shit, Ward thought.
“Yes, Larry,” Ward said, “I’ve got Dugan. You want in?”
“Damn. Yeah, OK. Come down here.” Gardner hung up without awaiting a reply.
Ward told Dugan he’d call him right back and went down the hall to Gardner’s office. Gardner was in a tux.
“Don’t you look spiffy,” Ward said.
“I’m due at the symphony with the Gunthers in twenty minutes. This better be good.”
Ward understood. Image enhancement. Senator Gunther chaired the Senate Intelligence Committee, and Gardner would spin a tale of having to stop by the office to handle a problem. The indispensable man.
Gardner pointed at the conference table. “Use the speakerphone,” he said.
“Hello, Tom,” Ward said as Dugan answered, “Larry Gardner is with me on speaker.”
Dugan paused. “Hello, Jesse. Hello, Larry. I have—”
“Cut to the chase, Dugan,” Gardner said. “I’m running late.”
Dugan hadn’t expected Gardner. He led with China Star again, stalling.
“We have suspicious activity on a ship named China Star, now loading at Kharg—”
“Where?” Gardner asked.
“Kharg Island, Iran,” Ward said. “Go ahead, Tom.”
“If there’s anything to it,” Dugan continued, “the mostly likely target would be the Malacca Strait near Singapore.”
“When does she sail?” Ward asked, scribbling.
“Unknown,” Dugan said. “I’ll keep on it, but you might initiate satellite surveillance—”
“Just worry about your end, Dugan,” Gardner said. “What else? Or did you call just to alert us to a ship which ‘might’ be suspect and may be days away from leaving port?”
There was a long pause, then Dugan spoke in a rush, as if eager to finish his recitation of the events of the last few hours before he was interrupted. He needn’t have worried; both Ward and Gardner were shocked speechless. Gardner recovered first.
“YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?” Gardner screamed, launching an abusive tirade punctuated with a list of Dugan’s violations of the Patriot Act. Then he turned on Ward.
“God damn you, Ward, where the hell is that limey cunt you had sitting on this
idiot?”
Dugan interrupted before Ward could respond.
“Look, Larry, calm down,” Dugan said. “I’ve explained that Alex Kairouz is not—”
“That’s not your call, asshole. Leave that to the intelligence professionals.”
Dugan lost it. “’Intelligence professional’? And that would be you? You couldn’t track a fucking elephant through ten feet of snow.”
The Brits regarded their shoes in the sudden silence.
“You’re done, asshole,” Gardner’s voice whispered through the speaker. “You’ve killed the operation. I’ll have the Brits arrest you. You and Kairouz can be cell mates in Gitmo.”
“Actually, Mr. Gardner,” Anna said, “the operation is far from compromised.”
“Who’s that?” Gardner demanded. “Damn it, Ward, this line was supposed to be secure.”
“We’re perfectly secure,” Anna said. “I’m Agent Anna Walsh, AKA the ‘limey cunt.’”
Oh shit, can this get any worse, Ward thought as Gardner gaped at the phone.
“I do not intend to end this operation,” Anna continued, “and expect your continued support. Of course, we’re recording now as standard procedure, as, I’m sure, are you. Should you proceed with action against Mr. Dugan, I will ask for an official review, including this conversation. Dugan’s remarks were intemperate, but he was provoked, and your language was equally foul. On that subject, while I admire your ability to malign my nationality, gender, and character in the space of two words, your terminology was most objectionable. I believe our superiors will agree, should it come to that. So let’s just move on, shall we?”
“Yes, of course,” Gardner said. “Uh… what do you propose?”
“We’ll work out a way to communicate with Kairouz, and I’ll detail assets to shadow the girl and her nanny and to intercede if necessary,” Anna said.
“Why? You might tip off Braun.”
“Risks are minimal. It will reassure Kairouz, and it’s the right thing to do,” she said.
“Still, it seems a waste of assets,” Gardner said.
“British assets, protecting British subjects, at the discretion of Her Majesty’s representative. That would be me,” Anna said.
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