Crane didn’t comment on her attire and said very little in the car on the way to the market, but then the driver had monopolised the conversation. Sarah was relieved when they arrived and Crane told him they’d make their own way back to the hotel. The driver, excited at the prospect of the day off, didn’t argue.
The bazaar was a mishmash of shops and fast-food outlets all squished together like a badly fitting jigsaw puzzle. The stale smell of fried food hung in the air. Part of it had the authentic charm of old Islamabad untouched by modern commercialism, while others were made up of makeshift stalls laden with kitsch, commercial items. From what Sarah could see, the market sold everything from food, bargain shopping, CDs and gadgets to jewellery and clothes.
“They’ve got everything here,” she commented, running her fingers over an impressive array of pashminas and silks. Opposite, was a jeweller with a sign outside which read Silver is the new Gold.
“Everything is hideously overpriced,” Crane told her. “You’ll have to fight a hard bargain if you want to buy anything.”
“I’m terrible at bargaining,” she admitted. “You’ll have to do it for me.”
“At your service.” He grinned and Sarah felt a surge of happiness, an emotion so foreign to her it almost made her giddy. Being with Crane was so refreshing, she wanted to soak up every moment. Apart from the freedom of being away from her husband’s watchful eye, she could relax with him, there was no anxiety, worrying about what to say, or reigning in her thoughts so as not to displease. She could be herself. Something she hadn’t been for a very long time.
“How about this?” A beautiful silk scarf caught her eye. It was a mesmerizing mix of bronze and copper tones shot through with strands of gold. It felt soft and silky beneath her fingers. Seeing her interest, the store owner was at her side in a flash. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen, with unusual grey eyes that glinted with excitement at the prospect of a sale.
“How much is this?” Crane pointed to the scarf.
“A hundred and fifty rupee,” he replied without hesitation. “Special price for lovely lady.”
Crane shook his head and turned away.
“A hundred and twenty rupee,” the boy called after them. “Very special price.”
Crane turned back and had another look at the scarf. “I’ll give you a hundred rupee for it,” he said.
The boy hesitated, his mouth moving. Sarah reckoned he was doing a calculation in his head, working out how much profit he’d make if he reduced it that much.
“A hundred and ten?” He tried one last time. At that point, Sarah would probably have given in but Crane shrugged and pulled out a hundred rupee note.
“This is all I’ve got. It’s yours if you want it.” He waited, casting a furtive smile at Sarah, who watched intrigued.
“Okay, Mister,” the boy said and snatched the note which he slipped into his pocket before Crane could change his mind. Crane took the scarf down and handed it to Sarah, a satisfied grin on his face.
“Thank you,” she told the boy who nodded, his gaze shifting to the next potential buyer.
“He still made a profit,” Crane said as they walked away. “Just not as much as he would have liked.”
“I always feel sorry for them and cave in too early.” She pulled a face.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, they see tourists coming a mile away. They’d never charge a local that much.”
Sarah swopped her black headscarf for the tawny bronze one. It was exquisite. “Thank you,” she said, turning towards him.
“It looks good on you,” he remarked, gazing appreciatively at her.
Warmth flooded her body as his eyes roamed over her face. She gave him a coquettish smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
They strolled on, through the crazy array of multi-coloured stalls, shoved in side by side with hardly an inch between them. Sarah resisted the urge to link her arm with his, it would have been so easy and for some reason felt like the natural thing to do. As it was, her hand brushed his several times, heightening her awareness of him.
Crane didn’t seem to suffer from the same affliction.
“Do you know who those men were your husband met yesterday?” She noticed his eyes moved constantly, roaming over the crowd, scrutinising other people, gauging risk most likely. Thank God he was with her, she thought, not for the first time that trip.
“I think the older man was a friend of his father’s. Kaz said he owed everything to him, but I’m not sure what he meant.”
That explained it. “I knew there was something,” he mused.
“Do you think it’s drug related?” asked Sarah.
“Almost definitely.”
Sarah shook her head. She still couldn’t get her head around the drug trafficking, although it shouldn’t be a surprise. Kaz was unscrupulous – she’d learned that the hard way – so the moral angle wouldn’t bother him. He was also ambitious enough to do it. He’d always had a passion to succeed, which had attracted her when she’d first met him, but back then she hadn’t realised to what extent he was prepared to go. What was amazing was she hadn’t picked up on it before.
She put her thoughts into words. “I feel like an idiot for not realising what my husband was involved in.”
“You weren’t to know. Even the Feds weren’t sure until recently and the Mexicans still don’t know who he is.”
“The Mexicans?”
“Yes, the Mexican cartels own most of the drug routes in America. They import meth, cocaine and heroin. You name it, they’re in on it. You can bet if they knew about Kaz’s operation they’d have tried to shut it down years ago.” He paused, then added, “They’re not the type to value competition.”
Sarah didn’t say anything as she pondered this. “So if the Mexicans found out about Kaz, we’d be in danger?”
“Without a doubt.”
She bit her lip. Great. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to concern you.” Crane cast a worried glance in her direction. “But I’m not going to lie to you either. Your husband is up to his neck in illegal drug trafficking and it’s a dangerous game. People get hurt.”
“I’m worried about Ben,” whispered Sarah, her mind flying though a myriad of disastrous possibilities. “What if something were to happen to him? I’d never forgive myself.” Her breath caught in her throat.
He stopped and took her by the arms. “That’s why we need to take Kaz and his entire organisation down as soon as possible, so we get you out of harm’s way.”
She took a deep breath. “I’ll help in any way I can. Just tell me what I need to do.”
“For now, nothing. Just keep your eyes and ears open and if you notice anything suspicious or something that might help, let me know. Act normally, that’s very important. If he thinks you’re acting strangely, he’ll be concerned.”
She gave a wry grin. “You mean more than he currently is?”
Crane shrugged. “Nothing we can do about that, besides, those numbers you gave us may turn out to be invaluable. But from now on try to allay his suspicions.”
“You mean be the perfect wife.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Crane squeezed her arm although his brow was furrowed. “Something like that. It’s for your own safety.”
“I know, you’re right.” She gave a big sigh, her shoulders drooping as the weight of her situation came crushing down on her. It wasn’t just the ongoing pretence. That was hard but she could handle it, she’d been doing it for years. During the day, she was left to her own devices so she didn’t have to be around him. It was the evenings she found excruciating, sitting down to dinner like they were a real family who loved each other, the forced intimacy, having his hands on her body…
She gave a short intake of breath, then at his quizzical glance found herself admitting, “I can’t stand it when he touches me. I’m repulsed. I want to recoil and run for cover, instead I have to lie there
and bear it.” To her embarrassment her lip quivered. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”
Crane’s scowl deepened. The muscles in his jaw worked and the pressure from his hands intensified. Sarah fought the urge to lean into his hard body and have his arms wrap around her. She sensed the power within him, his strength and his fury, and she appreciated it, more than he knew. He understood what she was going through and would protect her if needs be. That was enough. In fact, it was more than she could have hoped for. Crane was a good man, someone she could trust.
His voice was husky when he said, “You won’t have to endure it for much longer. I promise.”
“I believe you,” she whispered because the alternative was too terrible to comprehend. Crane would take care of it. The authorities would arrest Kaz and she’d be free again. She had to believe that.
They walked on in silence, absorbing the activity of the bazaar. “Sometimes I wonder how I got myself into this mess,” she confessed, as they rounded a corner. A group of locals were haggling loudly over music CDs. Crane steered her out of their path and towards a quieter section. He was always looking out for her.
“I can’t believe I married a drug dealer.” She gave a laugh that bordered on hysterical. She really must get a grip but it was so surreal.
“If it’s any consolation, he probably wasn’t when he married you. I’ll bet he made those contacts in his father’s village during the war. That man we met yesterday, he’s involved somehow. I think he’s the main supplier.”
“So when he went to Afghanistan all those years ago to fight, he met his father’s friend and they started trafficking drugs?”
“That’s what I’d guess. Or something along those lines.”
She nodded, thinking aloud. “That is when he started to change. He was a different person when he came back. Hard, ruthless. The war changed him.”
“It’s a life-changing experience,” agreed Crane soberly.
“I thought his business had taken off. He began importing textiles from Afghanistan, but he never said who his suppliers were.” She stared at the ground. “Kaz didn’t tell me anything. I think we were beyond talking by that stage.”
“Because of Chris?”
“I didn’t tell you what he did to Chris, did I?”
Crane shook his head.
“When Kaz realised I’d been living with Chris, he went round to his house with that thug, Aneez, and they beat Chris to a pulp.” Her voice quivered and she closed her eyes. The memory was still so vivid, all these years later. “He was in hospital for a week with broken ribs, a fractured collar bone, his face all bruised and bloody. Rick told me, although I never saw it myself. Kaz forbid me to go and see him.”
Crane said nothing. She liked that about him. He didn’t judge. He just waited patiently for her to continue.
“I didn’t know my husband was capable of such violence.” She shook her head. “I was shocked. Terrified. I was pregnant with Ben, so I went back to him and didn’t argue.”
“Is that why you stayed with him, because he threatened your child?”
She nodded miserably. “Even now, he says if I leave him he’ll make sure I never see Ben again.” A sob escaped her. “So for Ben’s sake I stayed away and let my parents raise him, but it’s so hard. I miss him so much.”
The urge to cry was overwhelming, but she couldn’t. Not here in the middle of the marketplace with Crane beside her. Frantically, she blinked back the tears and bit her lip so hard it hurt.
“It’s okay,” Crane said, putting an arm around her. She burrowed into his shoulder, trying to get a grip on her emotions, trying to reign them in like she’d forced herself over the years. If Kaz saw them like this he’d go ballistic. Then she relaxed. Her husband wasn’t here. There was nobody here that knew them. They could walk around holding hands if they wanted to and no one would be the wiser. The thought calmed her and she pulled away.
Crane looked directly into her eyes. “We’re going to get him. He’s going to go down for drug trafficking and possibly murder. You don’t need to worry. He will be locked away for a very long time.”
“I’ll pray for that day,” was all she said. At the moment she was too scared to even hope. If Crane could pull that off, it would be amazing, but she knew her husband. He was ruthless and certainly no fool. If he suspected Crane had betrayed him, there was no telling what he might do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Crane wished he felt as confident as he sounded. He suspected the old guy was the organisation’s primary supplier, but how could he prove it? He didn’t even have a name.
“If Kaz finds out what you’re up to, he’ll kill you,” Sarah whispered, casting worried eyes up to him.
Truer words were never spoken.
“He won’t find out. Come on, let’s get something to drink.” Time to change the subject or at least distract her. She was upset enough talking about Chris and her son and he wanted to take her away from that, even if it was just for a day.
He led the way to a small coffee bar with white-clothed tables arranged outside. A group of middle-aged men sat around one talking and smoking. At another, two elderly gentlemen in flowing robes played a game of backgammon. Crane gestured to Sarah to sit down, then they ordered coffee.
“So what do you like to do when you’re not undercover?” Sarah, leant back in her chair and studied him.
“I’m into extreme sports,” he told her, thinking fleetingly of his kayak locked up in the shed at home. “Kayaking mostly. I live next to a river with some class five rapids.”
“I can see that about you.” She smiled in a way which made his heart beat a little faster.
“You mean the crazy type?” he joked.
“The type that’s not scared of anything.” She corrected. For a minute he didn’t know what to say, so he sipped his coffee. It was strong and fortifying.
“My husband trusts you,” she continued. “I can tell by the way he talks to you. It’s not like the others. He respects you.”
“That’s the idea,” he muttered. He had to keep Kaz trusting him until he’d solved this case. Any whiff of what he was up to and like she’d already pointed out, he’d be a goner.
“Tell me what happened again, I mean when Kaz saved your life.”
So for the second time, Crane told the story of how he was captured. He went into a bit more detail this time, but something made him leave out the opium. He didn’t want her thinking he was some sort of recovering addict. He hadn’t been that person for a long time.
“Is that when they discharged you from the Marines?” she asked, when he was done.
He nodded. “Yeah, my ankle wasn’t up to it.”
“Have you ever thought of going back into the forces. There are other things you could do, apart from going on missions, surely?”
“It wouldn’t be the same.” He had thought about it. Often. But he needed to move forward, not backwards. “Besides, that’s all behind me now.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re an excellent undercover operative. I mean, you had me fooled, and my husband believes in you.”
He smiled his thanks. After they’d finished their coffees he nodded to the left. “Ready to explore the underground market?”
“There’s more?” Her eyes widened.
He nodded, enjoying her surprise. “There’s a huge warren of stores underground, it’s quite something. Come on, I’ll show you.”
So they explored the depths of the bazaar, which was becoming more and more crowded. They walked shoulder to shoulder, often bumping into each other. Crane found he was putting his arm around her more frequently as they meandered around other shoppers. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she moved closer to him and after a while he let his arm linger around her waist, gently guiding her as they strolled.
It was well past lunch time by the time they surfaced and they were both hungry. “Let’s go find something to eat,” Sarah suggested as her stomach growled.
They
got take away hot dogs and sat on some steps while they ate. “I haven’t done this since I was in college,” said Sarah, glancing up at him, her eyes alight. “It feels great.”
“You studied journalism, right?”
She nodded, her mouth full. He stared at her lips. It was hard not to. She even ate sensually. “So why didn’t you keep going? Get a job at the local paper, that sort of thing?”
“I didn’t have the time. Once we were married there was always so much to do. We entertained a lot, I ran his household, he had staff. Getting a job seemed superfluous. I convinced myself I was doing it for my marriage, to create a loving home.” She scoffed. “I was naïve.”
“It’s not too late. Once this is over, you can go back to work. Pick up your career.”
She looked at him with such longing, in that moment he’d slay dragons for her. “It’s a nice thought.”
They sat on the step and talked until Crane looked at his watch and decided they ought to head back.
“Really? Do we have to?”
He chuckled. He knew how she felt. The afternoon had flown by and he couldn’t remember when last he’d had so much fun doing nothing but strolling around a market and eating a hotdog.
“Come on,” he said, offering her a hand. She took it and pulled herself up off the step. As they walked back to the road to get a taxi, she slipped her arm through his. He left it there, sensing her need for reassurance, for security and just to feel human again. If he were honest, he needed it to. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman and he relished the closeness which had developed between them. Friendship. That’s all it was. A close friendship born out of necessity, he was her protector until all this was over, and he intended to see the job through. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, or her son. Of that, he was adamant.
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 17
