Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller

by Louise Rose-Innes

  There were no windows, only a door on the far side which he guessed, given the layout of the building, led into the garage. The garage, he knew, was accessible from inside the house. If Kaz was going to check the control room, he’d do it from that direction. Peter was unlikely to check it for another few hours.

  Crane closed the door behind him and felt along the wall for a light switch. He flicked it on and the interior was flooded with a stark, white light, stronger than he expected. It temporarily blinded him. He kept his eyes lowered and waited for them to adjust, listening to the low hum of the technology.

  It was warm inside the room, much warmer than outside, thanks to the computer and hard-drive which was constantly on, even though the screen was in darkness. He raised his balaclava so it sat on his forehead and took a good, hard look at the monitor. It was larger and thinner than any he’d ever seen, more like a television than a computer and was definitely an LED. He touched the mouse and the screen came to life, glowing eerily in full colour. The quality was excellent even if the picture it portrayed was subdued due to the darkness outside. The screen was divided into four segments, each showing a different image of the exterior of the house. That meant four cameras.

  In the first image, in the upper left corner of the screen, he could make out the illuminated deck, thanks to the two lamps positioned in the rafters. Beyond the deck the lake shimmered in oily blackness, rather than its usual grey-green. Next to it, on the top right, was the front of the house. This camera had to be positioned in the corner, under the roof, for it angled down the length of the house giving an unobstructed view of most of the carpark, the steps leading to the front door and everything in between. Nobody could arrive unnoticed.

  The lower left covered the side of the house where the control room was located. Thankfully, this screen was grainy and dark. The broken security light made it virtually impossible to identify someone approaching from here. He exhaled. He was safe.

  The final image was of the far side of the house but it didn’t capture the entire length, thanks to several large oak trees with large, drooping branches that obscured the view. It was here the kitchen window was located, his point of entry the other night when he’d broken into the study. He’d chosen it because it was shrouded in darkness, not realising it was probably the only point of entry, other than the control room, that wasn’t visible on camera. He’d got lucky.

  Under the table was a slim hard-drive, humming gently. The images from the screen were being saved to this machine, rather than to a disc or tape. Everything was digitalised. That would make his job a lot easier. A keyboard sat beneath the monitor with a mouse beside it on a purple mousepad. It even had a bump in it to support one’s wrist. Crane folded his hand over the mouse and moved the cursor to the menu icon on the screen. A quick tap brought up the different options. He went to the search function and typed in the date and time of the evening the Arab guests had arrived for dinner. According to Sarah, it had been around eight o’clock, which was pretty spot on. They’d actually arrived at seven fifty-three.

  He played the video from where the guests arrived. Two blacked-out, 7 Series BMW’s glided to a halt outside the house. The respective drivers jumped out and opened the back door for their passengers. Four men climbed out. Two from each car. They were greeted by a waiting Kaz, who ushered them inside out of the rain. The drivers returned to their vehicles to wait.

  The first thing that struck him was the weather. It had been raining that night too, a slow, steady drizzle which made it difficult to see properly, especially since Kaz’s dinner guests were wearing robes, had beards and kept their heads down against the rain. He hoped Doug’s guys had the resources to identify these guys, perhaps through facial recognition or something like that. He had a strong feeling they were involved in the drug smuggling operation.

  Crane fast-forwarded to where the front door opened and the guests departed. Once again, Kaz came out to bid them goodbye. The time on the screen was eleven ten.

  Crane inserted a flash-drive into the USB port and saved a four-hour long section from seven-thirty to eleven-thirty. That should capture their departure as well. The whole process took roughly five minutes. There were some advantages to modern technology. He slipped the flash-drive back into his pocket.

  Time to leave.

  He glanced at the images on the monitor. Nothing was amiss. It was safe to make his exit. He flicked off the light and opened the door a crack. The cold night air made him blink. Then he heard the faint growl of an engine which turned into a roar as it raced up the drive. Who could be visiting at this hour? He glanced at his watch, the luminous dial telling him it was nearly midnight. He had roughly half an hour until Peter began his next patrol.

  Shit.

  Crane hurriedly closed the door and turned back to the camera feed. Sure enough, headlights could be seen coming up the drive towards the house. The driver must be drunk for he swerved all over the road like a maniac. Crane watched as he overshot the designated parking area and skidded to an abrupt halt down the side of the house, not five metres from the control room door!

  Crane cursed again. There’d be no escaping now, not until this guy had left. The burgundy Audi’s headlights shone directly on the heavy metal door. Crane watched on the screen as the driver got out, visibly distressed. He stumbled towards the house, leaving his lights on and the car door wide open. He shouted something, his face a mask of fury. He was clearly angry, but Crane couldn’t make out what he was saying. The monitor had no sound and the room was too well insulated to hear anything. As the distraught man disappeared from camera three, which was no longer in darkness thanks to the Audi’s headlights, he reappeared in camera two. Under the more powerful security lights at the front entrance, Crane thought he looked familiar. Then it struck him, this was Senator Malloy, only a more dishevelled version. What was the U.S. Senator doing here in the middle of the night, shit-faced and apoplectic?

  The front door opened and a clearly agitated Kaz appeared, judging by the scowl on his face. He was wearing tracksuit pants and a T-shirt, so either he’d pulled them on in a hurry or he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Crane was betting the latter.

  Senator Malloy went inside the house. Crane sighed and tried the handle on the door leading into the garage, not that it would be much use. The exterior of the garage doors were clearly lit and camera two would pick him up. That was a no-go area.

  The door was locked, as he expected. Bending down he could see it was a sash lock, requiring a mortise key, not a Yale. The key was also still in the latch, making it impossible for him to get out of the control room that way.

  Pulling out his phone he fired a text message off to Sarah.

  I’m stuck in the control room. Can you help?

  No reply.

  He paced up and down debating what to do. Obviously, she was asleep and hadn’t heard her phone or wasn’t able to respond. Worst case scenario he’d have to wait it out until the Senator left, but who knew when that would be, and if Peter decided to check the control room again, he’d be screwed.

  Why did this have to happen now?

  With nothing else to do, Crane took a seat in front of the computer and settled down to wait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ten minutes later, the key in the door to the garage rattled. Someone was there. Crane pulled his balaclava back down and hid behind the wall ready to jump out and pummel whoever was about to come in, in case it wasn’t Sarah.

  It opened slowly, and a soft voice whispered, “Crane, are you in there?”

  Thank God.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward. Sarah saw the balaclava and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

  “It’s only me,” he hissed, tugging it off and putting it in his pocket.

  “Oh, thank God. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He squeezed her arm. “Thanks for coming to get me. What the hell is going on? Senator Malloy has parked me in.” He nodded to screen three. Sarah
followed his gaze.

  “Wow, I’ve never been in here before,” she said, wandering further into the control room. She gazed at the four camera feeds projected on the screen. “My husband must be up to something if he needs all this security.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Now, what do you know about the Senator?”

  “I’ve no idea what’s happened, but he’s hysterical, accusing Kaz of murdering his wife! Something about a car accident.”

  “A car accident?”

  “Yes, that’s what he said.”

  Just then Crane’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

  “It’s Kaz,” he mouthed to Sarah, who’d gone pale.

  “What are you going to do?” she whispered. Her expression told Crane she was terrified. She glanced back into the garage as if she wanted to bolt. He didn’t blame her. They both knew what Kaz would do to her if they were caught.

  Instead of replying, he answered the phone, keeping his voice casual, like he’d been about to go to sleep. “Hello? Is everything all right?”

  “No, it isn’t. Can you come up to the house immediately? I need you to take care of something for me.” Kaz’s voice was clipped and abrupt.

  “Sure, I’ll be right there.”

  He hung up and looked at Sarah. She was in the same striped pyjamas she’d been wearing the night he’d discovered her breaking into her husband’s study, and like before, her feet were bare.

  “How are we going to get you out of the house so you can come back in via the front door? She glanced at the screens again. The problem was self-evident.

  “The kitchen,” he said. “It’s too dark for the cameras to pick me up. If I go through the house and out that way, I can circle round and approach from the front. He’ll never know I haven’t come from the bungalow.”

  “Okay.”

  She led the way into the vast double garage, careful to relock the door to the security room behind them. As Crane brushed past he detected the faint scent of vanilla on her hair. It was alluring.

  Inside the garage was a navy blue Jaguar, which Crane had never seen Kaz drive, and Sarah’s Mercedes. The SUV, Kaz’s vehicle of choice, lived outside in the carpark. They tiptoed around the cars and to an adjoining door which led into the house. It fed onto the corridor outside Kaz’s study.

  Sarah opened it and peeked out. Voices could be heard coming from the lounge. The senator’s loud and uncontrolled and Kaz’s calmer and more subdued.

  “All clear,” she whispered. “He’s in the lounge with the Senator.”

  They snuck out of the garage and down the corridor towards the kitchen.

  “I know it was you,” shouted the senator. Then came the sound of sobbing. “You fucking bastard.”

  Crane grabbed Sarah’s wrist. “Change of plan. There’s no point in me going out and coming back in.”

  At her alarmed expression he said, “Follow my lead. He won’t know the difference.”

  He beckoned for Sarah to follow him and they tiptoed down the passage towards the front door. The lounge, where Kaz had taken the Senator, was off the hallway and the door was nearly closed, so no one could see out into the passage.

  Crane opened and closed the front door with a reasonable degree of loudness, then said, “Your husband called me.”

  Sarah nodded, playing along and showed him into the lounge where Kaz sat with Senator Malloy. Then she gave him a small smile and disappeared back upstairs.

  “Your wife let me in,” Crane stated, as he walked into the room. Kaz looked up, relief in his eyes.

  “Senator Malloy has had a family tragedy and needs a lift home. He’s in no condition to drive.”

  Crane nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

  “I can bloody drive,” slurred the Senator, stumbling to his feet. He looked wrecked. His thinning hair was sticking out in tufts all over his head, his eyes were wild and glazed, and his cheeks were mottled with emotion. He was a far cry from the suave politician in all the papers. Even from where he was standing, Crane could smell the booze on him.

  Kaz met Crane’s gaze and gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

  Crane took the Senator by the arm. “Come on, Sir. I’ll get you home.”

  Kaz was only too glad to hand the problem to someone else. He stood up. “It’s for the best, Jim. I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” Turning to Crane, Kaz said, “Take the SUV.”

  The Senator looked like he might lunge at the businessman, but Crane kept a firm hold on his arm. “This way, Sir.”

  He shepherded the drunk and dishevelled politician out to the car, grabbing the keys from the bureau in the hall as he passed.

  Deflated, and realising there was nothing more he could do, Senator Malloy hung his head and obliged, leaning on Crane to stay upright. How he’d driven here in one piece, God only knew. It was a miracle he hadn’t killed himself, or anybody else.

  On the way back to the Senator’s house, Crane tried to piece together what had happened. The Senator hiccoughed his way through the story, alternatively sobbing into his lap and holding his head like it was about to explode. Crane actually felt sorry for the guy. It was clear he was devastated by his wife’s death.

  “She was driving home when a truck ran a red light and barrelled into her. She was killed instantly.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Crane said, and meant it.

  “She didn’t stand a chance.” More sobbing. “She was young, only thirty-five. She didn’t deserve to die.”

  Second wife then. The Senator was well into his fifties.

  Crane let the Senator wallow for a while, then he asked, “Why do you think Kaz had something to do with it?”

  “It was a warning. I know him.” The Senator moaned in anguish and hit the window with his fist. “Because I didn’t do what he wanted, but he doesn’t understand, my hands were tied.”

  “A warning? About what?”

  But the Senator was too distraught to continue. They drove in silence until Crane pulled into the Senator’s road. He knew this was his only chance to pump the politician while he was inebriated. He wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning.

  “What warning?” he prompted.

  “What?” The Senator gazed at him, misty eyed.

  “You said it was a warning. Why was Kaz warning you?”

  “That bastard.” The Senator rocked back and forth like a child trying to sooth himself. “The drug bill. It’s all about the drug bill.”

  “The drug bill?” Crane frowned. He remembered reading something about a new drug bill in the press recently. Tougher measures. Sharing of information between departments. It had sounded like a good idea.

  “And we’re expected to turn a blind eye…” he laughed manically. “He thinks he’s above the law.” A short pause, then he added, “Maybe he is. Look what he’s done to me. To my Ana.”

  Crane battled to understand. “So it was a warning? That he’d hurt your family if you went along with these new measures? Is that it?”

  The Senator nodded and murmured. “I’ve got two daughters at university.” He turned his anguished eyes towards Crane. “I can’t risk their lives.”

  Crane was beginning to get it.

  He turned off the engine. They were outside the Senator’s house. It was an elegant Georgian-style building on a tree-lined avenue in an upmarket suburb of Portland near the golf course. Lights glowed in every window. The Senator had obviously left in a hurry.

  So Kaz was blackmailing the Senator to turn a blind eye to his operation. The Senator hadn’t cooperated, and now his wife was dead, possibly murdered.

  The message was clear.

  If it was true, Kaz was a ruthless bastard. But then he already knew that. Look what he’d done to Sarah’s lover, and tried to do to Copeland, and for far less reason than this.

  He turned to Senator Malloy and asked outright. “Is Kaz Erkel involved in drug smuggling?”

  The Senator’s face crumpled wi
th rage. “Up to his fucking neck.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “What was that all about last night?” Sarah asked her husband at breakfast the next morning. He looked tired, she thought. They only ate breakfast together on a Sunday, when their Filipino housekeeper made cheese omelettes. Kaz liked to keep up the pretence of a normal family life, at least once a week.

  He set down his newspaper. “Jim’s wife was killed in a car crash last night.”

  “That’s terrible. How?” Even though she’d overheard that much, Kaz hadn’t wanted her downstairs, so apart from ‘letting Crane in’, she hadn’t left her room.

  “I don’t know the details.” He shrugged. “But I think her car was hit by a truck.”

  “Oh, my God! Poor Ana.” She’d met the Senator’s new wife a couple of times over the last six months and liked her. They were the same age and she’d seemed like a decent human being, involved in charity work and social development. What a waste.

  “Yes, it is a tragedy.”

  She said carefully, “Jim was extremely drunk when he arrived. I heard him shouting at you, saying it was your fault? Why would he say that?”

  She studied her husband to see how he’d react. Was it his fault, and if so, how? Why did the Senator think Ana’s accident had anything to do with Kaz? She must be careful not to get paranoid. With the boating accident and then Rick’s death in the fire, it was hard not to read into things.

  Kaz frowned. “Jim was plastered. I think he must have hit the bottle after he got the news. Then for some reason, he drove here and took it out on me. Probably just demented with grief, poor guy.”

  Sarah didn’t respond. Jim had been demented with grief, but he’d been adamant that Kaz was somehow involved. Knowing her husband, it wouldn’t be wise to push that point right now. So she let it slide.