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

by Stephen Edger

  ‘Victor Stratovsky? The head of the Russian mafia in London? How the hell did you get mixed up with him?’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘I’ve heard his name mentioned in the past. I heard he’s one serious son of a bitch!’

  Dylan nodded. ‘My girlfriend, Maria, was working for him when I met her…she’s the reason I owed him. Believe me, he is the last person I wanted anything to do with, but love can make you strike up crazy deals with the devil.’

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

  ‘About a month ago, I heard a rumour that it was The Cadre who hired Victor to carry out the job he chose me for. I knew very little about them, but my best friend did some digging and managed to identify some of the members. We believe that The Chairman is the group’s self-appointed leader. The other members represent key individuals in major industry: the intelligence services, the energy market, the media; you name the area and I’ll guarantee they have somebody that works there. We’re talking senior fucking guys too; I mean heads of industry rather than middlemen.’

  ‘The kind of men who would hire a professional assassin to detonate a bomb in Southampton?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘You keep saying you carried out a job for them. What was the job?’

  Dylan eyed him carefully, unsure whether to reveal the secret that had been haunting him. ‘I was hired to kill former Prime Minister Edward Dreyfuss.’

  ‘Dreyfuss? I thought he was killed by a prostitute on Hampstead Heath,’ Aaron remarked.

  ‘That’s what they wanted it to look like…they wanted him discredited. He was killed so that they could get one of their own in Parliament. Something big is coming…I don’t know what, but they’ll do anything to get their way.’

  ‘Back at the police station you said you had money. Maybe we could offer our driver more than they’re paying him, and then he’ll let us go.’

  ‘It’s worth a try I suppose,’ Dylan nodded. ‘Do you know of any banks open this late where I could wire money?’

  Aaron lowered the glass partition, sat forward and began to try and speak to the officer in broken Spanish. After a minute, he slid back into his seat.

  ‘What did he say?’ Dylan asked hopefully.

  ‘It’s no good,’ Aaron replied. ‘He wouldn’t even tell me who was paying him. I’m not sure he believed that we had any real money to give him.’

  ‘Do you think he’s really taking us to meet someone, or is he just looking for a secluded spot to bury our bodies?’

  Aaron shrugged. ‘He’s taken a huge risk to abduct us…he killed two Embassy officials in cold blood and left their bodies at the side of the road next to his patrol car. I don’t think this guy has any intention of returning to his former life. I’m not sure all the gold in Fort Knox would convince him to let us go. As for whether he will deliver us alive or dead, your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘There’s something that’s still troubling me: how did they manage to find me so quickly? I haven’t been Dylan Taylor since I stepped into that flat in Ealing. I had my new identity ready from the moment I escaped from the blaze. Even the captain who brought me across the ocean knew me as Charles Adams. For all intents and purposes Dylan Taylor died. There is no way The Cadre could have known I was in Mexico!’

  ‘How did you get from Miami to Tijuana?’

  ‘I used buses to get from state to state and then hired a car to cross the San Ysidro border. You think they have facial recognition software at the border?’

  Aaron shook his head. ‘I doubt it, but even if they did, it wouldn’t do any good; you’re dead, remember? Your face won’t be on any most wanted databases.’

  ‘We don’t know that. The Embassy paperwork said there’s an arrest warrant for me in the UK.’

  ‘Bull shit! Dylan Taylor has not formerly entered US soil, let alone Mexico. There would need to be a mountain of paperwork filed and reviewed before a dead man could be extradited. I think the Embassy paperwork was false. Hell, we don’t even know if Dickinson was genuine. For all we know he could be in on this thing.’

  ‘So what are you saying, Aaron?’

  ‘Let’s just say, hypothetically speaking, that your face did flag up on some database somewhere when you crossed the border; it would have triggered an alarm on someone’s computer screen somewhere. And let’s just say that the person had been expecting the alarm to trigger at some point, how is he going to track you from the border? Even if he had a team on standby waiting to follow you, how would he know you would pop up in Mexico? It’s not possible. He would need to dispatch a team from somewhere, but I doubt very much that there is a tracking team in every city in the world waiting for you to pop up on the radar. So I say again, how is he going to track you from the border to some random bar in the middle of Tijuana, and from there to a police station in the desert? It’s just not possible.’

  ‘So how did he know who and where I was?’

  ‘I think they’ve known where you are since the moment you stepped out of that flat. I think they knew you boarded that cargo ship as Charles Adams, that you would look for Maria when you arrived in Miami, and that they’ve been tracking you ever since. Who did you fight with in the bar?’

  ‘I don’t know, some local thugs I think.’

  ‘The kind of men who could be paid to start a fight with a stranger?’

  Dylan gulped audibly.

  ‘Maybe those thugs were hired to kill you,’ Aaron continued. ‘Or maybe The Cadre knew this schmuck would arrest you, I don’t know. Either way, they tracked you to the station, arranged for Dickinson to get you to the airport and then unleashed this pit-bull to intercept you.’

  ‘Holy shit!’

  ‘Holy shit indeed!’

  ‘Then they have Maria…there’s no other explanation for her disappearance. If they knew I was going to board that ship, then they knew she had too. Oh shit.’

  ‘I’m sorry, man. Even if this prick does deliver us unharmed, I think our life expectancy has been dramatically cut.’

  ‘I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.’

  ‘Don’t apologise yet, Dylan…I didn’t say I was ready to go along with their plan.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Aaron smiled mischievously. ‘Put your seatbelt on, and keep quiet. I’m getting us out of here.’

  Dylan pulled the seatbelt strap around his body and clicked it in place. Then he watched as Aaron quietly slipped forward on his seat and reached out for the driver’s side seatbelt. In one motion he clasped it in his left hand and had wrapped it around the driver’s throat three times before the Mexican had realised what was happening. The car swerved wildly to the left and right as the officer struggled to keep control of the steering wheel. Aaron gripped the back of the driver’s seat to maintain his own balance, before swinging his right fist into the officer’s neck. The car lurched to the left, crossing in front of oncoming traffic before mounting the kerb at great velocity. The officer fought against his restraint and the pain and tried to pull the wheel to the right. Horns blared as approaching vehicles swerved out of the way.

  The driver tightly gripped the wheel with his left hand whilst reaching out for something in the satchel on the passenger seat with his right. Aaron glanced down just in time to see the officer’s fingers graze the handle of a six-shooter. Aaron pulled tighter on the seat belt and yanked the officer away from the passenger seat. The car lurched left again and the gun fell out of the satchel and slid closer to the officer. Aaron pushed his arm through the lowered partition and tried to stretch for the weapon, but it was just out of his reach. The officer used his flailing right arm to try and batter Aaron away, but the connections were soft. Aaron brushed the arm aside and squeezed himself through the partition, so he could reach the weapon.

  Dylan could see the restraint around the officer’s neck loosening and unclipped his own belt so he could slide across and keep it in place. He pulled it hard and the car lurched again. Aaro
n managed to pick the gun up with his right hand and pointed it at the officer’s temple. The officer laughed manically and swerved right, causing Aaron to lose his balance and squeeze the trigger. The weapon clicked but didn’t fire. He moved it back to the officer’s head and squeezed again. It clicked again; the bullets were spent. With no other choice, he manoeuvred the gun so that he was holding the barrel, and then he proceeded to repeatedly smash the butt into the driver’s forehead. The Mexican’s grip on the wheel loosened as he passed out and the car made one final lurch to the right at full speed. The Land Rover mounted the kerb, crashed through the safety barrier and proceeded to roll down the steep slope into the ravine below.

  5

  Dylan’s head ached as he opened his eyes. In the distance he could hear shouting, but at first he had no idea where he was. As he glanced into the darkness, his memory began to return. He was on his back, but something was pressing on his neck, forcing his head at a right angle to his body. He tried to push back against the object, but his head remained still. His shoulders ached as he tried to slide his body forwards to relieve the pressure on his neck.

  The Land Rover was upside down and he was lying awkwardly on the car’s ceiling. The car was dark inside, and wherever they had landed was devoid of light too. He tried to call out for Aaron, but his mouth was dry, and it took several coughs before he was able to say the words. Even as he spoke, he could barely hear himself. He rubbed at his ears and was greeted by a high pitch ringing. The more he rubbed, the louder the ringing grew, but was gradually replaced by the distant shouting growing louder. He swallowed several times to clear up the distortion. The shouting wasn’t in English.

  ‘Aaron?’ he coughed again, uncertain where his friend had finished up. There was no answer to the question.

  His shoulders were still aching but he began to feel around his body to assess further injuries. He was able to rotate his hands and feet without too much effort, which was positive. He even managed to bend both legs at the knees and arms at the elbows. Miraculously, it didn’t feel like anything was broken. His head ached though, but he concluded he had bashed it during the roll.

  A beam of light suddenly cut through the gloom of the car, causing him to blink rapidly. Someone was shining a torch through the window from outside. He wondered if the torch belonged to the same man who was still shouting something.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he managed to splutter, to signal where he was. The light stopped on his face. He squinted at the figure who was now peering through the window.

  I need to get out of here, he thought.

  Dylan slid towards the window, and kicked at it with the heel of one of his shoes. He kicked several times without even cracking the pane. It was then he remembered what Dickinson had told him about the vehicle. Carefully sitting up, he adjusted his body position so that he was now lying on his front, his arms outstretched as he hunted for the door handle with both hands. He found the handle and yanked hard, but the door remained secure.

  The man with the torch was shouting something again.

  ‘I can’t,’ Dylan shouted back. ‘It’s locked. I need to find another way out.’

  The man didn’t seem to understand what Dylan was saying.

  ‘Point the torch at the front,’ he shouted, gesticulating with his fingers. The man stared back blankly.

  Dylan could see that the glass partition was still down and, realising that the front of the car was the most reasonable chance of escape, he slid through the gap. There was a sticky liquid coating the edge of the glass, which he tried to ignore. Above him, he could see that the driver was still firmly secured by the belt around his neck, but as the torch’s beam followed his line of sight, he knew instantly that the State Trooper was dead. The dead man’s eyes looked like they were bulging, ready to pop out. The man’s face was red down one side, where Aaron had hit him with the butt of the gun, maybe accounting for the sticky substance on the glass partition.

  Keeping his eyes on the police officer, he slid carefully towards the passenger door, at which point he came into contact with Aaron’s static body. The car roll must have caused Aaron’s body to fall into the front of the vehicle. Dylan slid along the windscreen until he was adjacent to Aaron’s head. Reaching out, he pressed two fingers against Aaron’s neck and was relieved to find a pulse.

  ‘Aaron? Aaron? Can you hear me?’ he said into his friend’s ear. There was no response. ‘Don’t worry, buddy, I’m going to get us out of here. Hang on.’

  Dylan moved closer to the door, until his head was only inches from the window. He felt for the door handle and yanked it. The door swung open, and he was grateful to feel someone grab his hands and pull him clear. The torchlight was shone on his face, temporarily blinding him. He blinked and squinted against it until the Mexican passer-by realised his mistake. The man began speaking in rapid Spanish again.

  ‘No hablo…’ was all Dylan could manage as fresh air rushed into his lungs. It was then that he smelt it: a scent he was only too familiar with. Pushing the Mexican out of the way, Dylan scrambled to his feet, fighting the ache in his shoulders and the pain in his chest. He rushed back to the car and, leaning on the door, pulled Aaron clear of the vehicle. He saw the officer’s satchel peeking out from under the seat, and grabbed it, slipping it around his neck. He knew it wasn’t good to move a body after an accident such as this, but he had to get them clear of any potential explosion.

  Dylan signalled for the Mexican to help him lift Aaron to his feet and then, with an arm around each of their shoulders, the two of them dragged Aaron twenty metres deeper into the ravine, before lowering him to the ground.

  ‘Algo más?’ the Mexican asked, turning to move back to the vehicle.

  ‘Muerto,’ Dylan managed to stammer back, pulling on the man’s shoulder.

  The Mexican stopped, as if he was about to argue the point, when there was a large explosion, as the Land Rover became engulfed in a fireball. The noise was enough to shock Aaron back to life and he began to cough.

  ‘Aaron, thank God. It’s okay…we were in a car accident, but we’re both okay…how are you feeling?’

  Aaron rolled gingerly onto his side and took several deep breaths to regain his composure. ‘I’m okay…I think,’ he said.

  The passer-by pointed back up to the main road before hurrying off, climbing the steep slope back to his car.

  Aaron rolled onto his back before sitting up, using his elbows as support on the ground. ‘I feel like I cracked a rib,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

  Dylan sat down next to him. ‘Nothing a week’s sleep and a case of scotch wouldn’t solve.’

  ‘Your face looks pretty sore too; there’s dried blood on your cheek.’

  Dylan felt the side of his face. ‘I think I banged my head during the roll…did you really think that causing a crash was the best chance of us getting out?’ He smiled.

  Aaron returned the sheepish grin. ‘Well it worked, didn’t it? How about I make a deal with you: next time we’re trapped and our lives are in danger, I’ll let you formulate the escape plan.’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ Dylan smirked.

  ‘Hey, what happened to the guy who was driving?’

  ‘He’s still in that smouldering wreck,’ Dylan said, pointing at the growing fire over Aaron’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh Jesus! Shouldn’t we try and help him?’

  Dylan shook his head. ‘He was dead before the two of us escaped. Think about it this way: we’ve saved his family paying for a cremation.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh; it hurts too much.’

  The passer-by reappeared, clutching a plastic bottle of water, which he handed to them. Aaron took a long drink first, before passing it to Dylan.

  ‘I…uh…telephone…ambulancia…’ the man said.

  ‘I think it’s time for us to move,’ Aaron said, attempting to stand.

  ‘Wait, are you kidding? We’ve just been in a major car accident. Don’t you think we should get checked over?’

&
nbsp; Aaron shook his head. ‘The last thing we need is questions about what happened and why a local police officer is currently cooking in the driver’s seat of an armoured car belonging to a murdered British Embassy official. If you want to find your girlfriend, we need to go now.’

  Dylan nodded his understanding. ‘Do you think The Cadre know about the accident? I mean, if they’re tracking me with some kind of drone then they are probably watching now.’

  Aaron looked into the sky. ‘There’s no drone up there; it’s too dark.’ He lowered his head. ‘Take off your clothes,’ he ordered.

  ‘What? Fuck you! You take off your clothes,’ Dylan fired back.

  ‘That’s how they’ve been tracking you: your clothes! You need to lose them all: coat, trousers, shoes, pants, the whole lot.’

  ‘I’m not running off in the dark with no clothes on. It’s fucking freezing out here!’

  ‘If you keep your clothes on, they’ll know you survived and they’ll send someone else after us.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  Aaron nodded at the satchel around Dylan’s neck. ‘What’s that?’

  Dylan removed the satchel and began to open it. ‘The cop had it when he got in the car.’

  ‘What’s inside? Any clothes?’

  Dylan shook his head. ‘No clothes; just money,’ he said, pulling out a wad of thousand peso notes.

  ‘You reckon it’s the fee he got for abducting us?’

  ‘What else could it be? God knows how much it is, but the satchel is pretty full.’

  Aaron glanced around their surroundings, looking for inspiration, when his eyes fell on the Mexican, who was still pointing his torch at them. ‘Start taking your clothes off, Dylan. I have an idea.’