Dylan removed his coat and began to unbutton his shirt as Aaron put his arm around the Mexican’s neck and began to negotiate a price for the man’s clothes. Dylan removed his trousers and underwear and stood shivering, and was surprised to see the Mexican starting to strip moments later.
‘Pass me the satchel,’ Aaron said. ‘He wants fifty thousand pesos for his clothes. He’s a bit bigger than you, but it will do for now until we find somewhere we can buy you some more.’
‘Do we have enough money?’
‘More than enough,’ Aaron grinned, pulling fifty notes out of the satchel and passing them over. ‘I told him to tell the police that he didn’t see anyone leave the vehicle and he’s agreed. It doesn’t matter whether he does it or not, as we’ll be long gone before anyone realises what is going on.’
Dylan began to put on the man’s clothes and was relieved to be able to shut out some of the cold again.
‘Are you alright to run? You’re not in shock or concussed?’ Aaron asked, stretching his legs gently.
‘I was just in a major car accident in which I banged my head, yet somehow managed to walk away from. Am I concussed? Probably. Am I in shock? I’m not sure my mind has finished processing what’s happened, to actually realise I should be in shock. Can I run? Probably not, but what choice do we have, right? I ache, but should be able to maintain a fast jog. How’s your rib?’
‘I don’t think I’d be breathing so well if it really was cracked. It’s more likely just bruised. I’m pretty sure the adrenaline is dulling the pain. As soon as we find somewhere we can sleep for the night we’ll stop. We shouldn’t stay out in these temperatures for too long either.’
‘Have you any idea where we are?’ Dylan asked.
‘None whatsoever.’
‘So which way shall we go?’
‘The cop was driving us this way,’ Aaron said, pointing into the darkness. ‘The last thing they’ll expect is for us to keep going the same way.’
‘Well that makes about as much sense as everything else that’s happened this evening. Let’s get moving.’
Aaron grabbed another five notes from the satchel before slipping it around his shoulders. He passed them to the Mexican and then took the torch from his hand. The Mexican nodded his understanding and watched as Aaron and Dylan tore off into the night, Aaron using the torch to pick out a path for them to follow.
6
‘I need a rest,’ Dylan panted. ‘Please, just for five minutes or so?’
Aaron slowed his pace as they reached a small clearing. ‘Okay, five minutes but then we need to get moving again.’
Dylan nodded his understanding and fell to his knees, sucking in deep breaths.
‘The oxygen will reach your tired leg muscles if you stay standing, you know,’ Aaron advised. ‘Gravity will help push the oxygenated blood down to where it’s needed.’
Dylan looked up. ‘That’s as may be,’ he panted. ‘But I’m knackered. This is the most running I’ve done in I don’t know how long. You’re like a damned machine!’
‘Old habits die hard I suppose.’
‘Old habits? You some kind of athlete?’
Aaron shook his head. ‘Royal Navy…I served for more than a decade…I’m used to waking for an early run.’
‘That explains why you’re in such good shape then…you’re not in the navy anymore?
Aaron shook his head. ‘After what happened…I…I needed a break.’
‘After what happened? Is there more to that? Back in the car you said you thought The Cadre were after both of us…what did you mean?’
Aaron squatted down on a nearby rock. ‘You were in England last May, right?’
Dylan nodded.
‘Do you remember there was an incident in Southampton? A terrorist planted a bomb outside a school and then had the police chasing shadows until he detonated a bomb on a bus?’
‘Sure I remember. It was in the news for days afterwards.’
‘Well I was one of the passengers on that bus.’
‘Jesus! You were lucky then.’
Aaron shook his head. ‘There were two bombs on the bus; I diffused one of them.’
‘That’s right, I remember now; one of the passengers was a naval Lieutenant, who was some kind of I.E.D. specialist. That was you, huh? I thought your face looked familiar when we first met; I remember your picture being in the paper.’
‘It was bad luck that I happened to be on that bus on that particular day; I was only in the city to attend my uncle’s funeral.’
‘Bad luck for you maybe, but good luck for the people you saved. Is that why you left the navy?’
‘Kind of…how much do you remember about why the bomb was planted on that particular bus?’
Dylan shrugged.
‘The police said that a renowned assassin called ‘The Serpent’ had been hired by a man called Paul Burns, who had links to an international investment firm called Parvon Trading. Burns worked for the city’s M.P., who was alleged to be the target of the assassin’s endeavours.’
‘You don’t sound too convinced.’
‘I’m not! Parvon Trading was a front for an international money laundering conspiracy. The police said that Burns was some kind of criminal mastermind who had become embroiled in the conspiracy.’
‘What did they say when they caught him?’
‘That’s just it: they didn’t catch him. He accidentally electrocuted himself while evading arrest, meaning he was unable to name his fellow conspirators.’
‘That was unfortunate,’ Dylan smirked.
‘Or convenient.’
‘Why convenient?’
‘It tied up any loose ends rather nicely.’
‘You think the police were involved in a cover-up?’
‘No, well not exactly…I think the police were fed a set of convenient facts, and bought into them. The thing is: I met Paul Burns, albeit only briefly, and…there’s no way he was the person they described. He was weak. I’ve met some real scumbags in my time, people who would kill you as soon as look at you, and he just didn’t have it in him.’
‘How can you be so certain? Desperate people will do more than you expect. Take it from one who knows.’
‘I saw in his eyes that he was no killer. The person behind the events of that day was cold and prepared to do anything to achieve their means. I think Burns was a fall guy, a scapegoat, and that the real person responsible for hiring that assassin is still at large.’
‘Did you share your suspicions with the police?’
‘The guy in charge of the investigation, D.I. Tony White, listened to what I had to say, but told me I was seeing a conspiracy where there wasn’t one. He told me there was more than enough evidence to confirm Burns’ involvement.’
‘How come you met him?’ Dylan asked.
‘Burns? He supplied me with some files that I needed.’
‘Files for what?’
‘Uh…okay…I was going to expose some of the politicians responsible for assigning military budgets. I met Burns online and he told me he had come across some files which would support my allegations…he met me a couple of hours before the explosion to hand over the files.’
‘Wait a second, how did he come across these files you needed?’
‘Eve Partridge, the M.P. he was the P.A. for, had attended a couple of meetings with the budget assigners. He told me he had made copies of the files because he was so angered by what they contained. He told me he wanted to see the same people exposed, and that’s why he wanted to help me.’
‘He sounds pretty ruthless, if you ask me,’ Dylan challenged.
‘It’s one thing to leak some documents, it’s an entirely different thing to organise a terrorist attack, threatening the lives of thousands. Trust me: Burns was not the man they made him out to be.’
‘So who was responsible then?’ Dylan pressed.
‘If I knew I’d have told the police…the truth is: I don’t know who was behind the attacks that day
, but I’m sure The Cadre had something to do with it. One of the other passengers was a legal secretary who was involved in a civil suit against Parvon Trading. She was carrying the files relating to the suit when the bomb went off. Anyway, I overheard a conversation between her and one of the other passengers, a French guy called Retourget; he said that the group behind Parvon were not to be messed with. He warned me not to look into the group any further or I could wind up dead.’
‘Did he mention The Cadre to you?’
‘Not specifically, but the way you described them reminded me of the tone he used.’
‘But why would The Cadre target Southampton? I know the city well, and there’s nothing there of any value, save for the access to international waters.’
‘I wish I knew…I’m sure there is something bigger here that I’m missing, but I can’t even begin to figure out what it is.’
‘That still doesn’t explain what you happened to be doing in a prison cell in Mexico.’
Aaron rolled his eyes. ‘After the bus…I began an affair with Nazir; the legal secretary I saved…I don’t know why…maybe it was the shared experience…anyway, we were happy for a little while, but then something changed. Maybe it was subconscious, or maybe I’d just been hiding from it, but I just knew I couldn’t rest easy and continue with my life. My uncle was working for Parvon when he died.’
‘Your uncle? Was he part of The Cadre?’
Aaron shook his head. ‘Not that I’m aware of. I don’t really know what happened to him, but he sent me and my cousin a letter right before he died, warning us that his life was in danger. He said that he’d done things in his life that he wasn’t proud of and that, if he died suddenly, we should know that he was murdered. He warned us that our lives would be in danger too, if we tried to find out what had happened to him.’
‘Jesus! What a mind fuck!’
‘My Uncle Troy changed my life. I was on a crooked road, and he pulled me back, and he’s the reason I joined The Navy. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t helped me. I think that’s why I couldn’t ignore what happened to him. I began to hunt for any information about Parvon that I could find, but the company was dissolved the day after the bombing, and virtually all trace of it disappeared too. I had a list of alleged company directors, but that was all. Paul Burns was named as one of the directors, but, as I said earlier, I think he was framed to take the fall for what happened in Southampton. I’ve been hunting for clues ever since. My uncle’s girlfriend gave me his belongings, which included his passport. I’ve been retracing his steps for the last six months, moving from country to country, hunting down news events that occurred when my uncle was in the country, trying to piece together whatever he was involved in.’
‘And?’
‘And I’ve not learned much…what I do know is that prominent people have died suspiciously, around the time he was present in a particular country or city.’
‘You think he was a hit man?’ Dylan said cautiously.
‘Yes…I don’t know…maybe…he said he wasn’t proud of what he’d done, and I know he was pretty wealthy at the time of his death. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it’s the only plausible theory I have.’
‘What does your cousin think about the theory?’
‘He’s dead…well at least one of my cousins is. Troy’s eldest son Harry was killed by the same assassin who planted the bomb on the bus.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Aaron paused before continuing. ‘Because he told me as much before I killed him.’
Dylan remained quiet.
‘He tried to silence Nazir, and I couldn’t let that happen…I’ve killed before, but I’ve never taken the life of someone who didn’t want to take my own. That police officer, for example, he rolled the dice and took his chances.’
‘Was your uncle in Mexico when he died then?’
‘What? No…he was on his yacht in Monaco when he died, but…he was in Tijuana a week before. He was here for six weeks, but I can’t seem to find out why. The media is not as free here as it is in other countries. Not every death is reported, for fear of cartel-reprisals. If he was sent here to execute somebody, I’ve no idea if he was successful or not.’
‘Is there any pattern to the other people he killed?’
Aaron shrugged. ‘Other than their wealth, no.’
‘What makes you think that The Cadre are looking for you too?’
‘My uncle’s girlfriend, Victoria: she’s been helping me. I had a phone call from her last week to warn me that she’d heard rumours a contract had been taken out on me by someone very powerful.’
‘His girlfriend? How does she figure in all this?’
‘She still knows some of Troy’s old friends; she wouldn’t have contacted me if she didn’t think it was true. That’s why I got myself arrested this morning.’
‘Wait, you got yourself arrested?’ Dylan said, raising his eyebrows.
‘I figured I would be safer in police custody than roaming the streets alone…I guess I was a bit naïve.’
‘That’s the understatement of the year isn’t it?’
Aaron laughed. ‘I suppose you could say that. Listen, I think we’ve rested long enough. We need to move on. It won’t take our pursuers long to realise we left your tracers with the guy who stopped to help us. It’s after ten already. I think we should look for a motel at the first town we come across. We’ve got enough money to get our heads down for the night and then in the morning, we’ll make a plan of action.’
‘A plan of action? For what?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best lead I’ve found to the men responsible for my uncle’s death. I’m going to help you track down your girlfriend, and then maybe, just maybe, we’ll discover who’s behind all this.’
The two clambered to their feet and jogged further into the woods.
TUESDAY 02 DECEMBER
7
SOUTHAMPTON, UK
09:25 (GMT)
‘Pass us the broon sauce, like.’ Tony White said, clicking his fingers.
‘You know you really need to lose that accent, Guv,’ Kyle Davies replied, passing the bottle over. ‘I mean, I’m getting used to the Geordie, but it’s a pain in the arse having to translate your questions during an interrogation.’
‘Give over, man. There’s nowt wrong with the way I speak, like.’
Kyle wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and threw it on the remains of his fried breakfast. The sausage, bacon, egg and beans had gone down well, but he knew he’d feel gassy later. ‘I don’t know where you put it all, Guv. You ordered twice the meat I did, as well as mushrooms, black pudding and tomatoes.’
White grinned as he popped another slice of sausage into his mouth. ‘It’s the most important meal of the day, man. I’d rather have a big breakfast than worry about those bloody milkshakes you have for lunch, like.’
‘It’s the wife, Guv. She’s obsessed with detox-ing in the run up to Christmas. She’s determined to recover her pre-birth figure, and says she needs me to support her.’
White burst out laughing. ‘This had better remain our little secret then.’
Kyle shrugged. ‘It wasn’t my idea to come to this shithole for breakfast. I’ve noticed that all of our meetings occur in the close proximity of food. Early morning meetings are in a shitty café like this, my monthly progress meetings are always at the pub, and our evening debriefs are at the bar in your hotel. Don’t get me wrong, Guv, I’m not complaining, I’m just amazed at how your stomach seems to dictate your every waking minute.’
White grinned again. ‘Ya too soft, man. The biggest criminal cases in history were solved by a bobby with a pint in his hand, you mark my words. I’m giving you an education in how to become a better policeman; you should be thanking me instead of judging me.’
Kyle raised his mug of tea and toasted his new mentor’s health. They’d been working together for the best part of seven months and, although Whit
e had a few unusual habits, he was proving to be quite an astute Detective Inspector. Kyle had not been so sure when they’d first met. It was understandable: they’d both applied for the same role. Kyle had been covering the role, knew the team and the area, but was overlooked for the promotion he craved. White, on the other hand, was an existing D.I. from Newcastle of all places, who seemed to saunter in without so much as an interview.
It had riled him at first. He had blamed it all on the former D.C.I., Jan Mercure, who had since left the force following her handling of the terrorist bus bombing back in May. In hindsight, he had to admit that she’d made a good call in appointing White to come in and steady the ship. It was the last appointment she had made before she had been hauled before a disciplinary hearing and given her marching orders. Things sure had changed in the last seven months. A new D.C.I. had inevitably been appointed, an inexperienced woman called Naomi Payne. She was friendly enough and didn’t make unnecessary demands on their personal time. However, there was something he didn’t implicitly trust about her, yet he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
In the wake of the terrorist plot, the target of the attack, M.P. Eve Partridge had subsequently been appointed Home Secretary under new Prime Minister Tom Houseman. Despite her new role, she still managed to spend at least half her time in the city, attending fundraising events, opening hospital wings and the like. As a result of Mercure’s handling of the terrorist plot, the Detective Chief Superintendent had decreed that Partridge would provide civilian oversight for all major operations to ensure the type of incident wasn’t repeated.
In Kyle’s opinion, Mercure had made the right call on that day. A known assassin had placed a bomb on a bus carrying six civilians. The bus had been left in a very public place in the city, and the terrorist had told the police that the only way to prevent the bomb exploding was to shoot the passenger holding the detonator. He hadn’t told them which passenger held it, so she’d had to go with her gut instinct. At her hearing she argued that the direction she had received from D.C.S.I. Peter Gulliver had been insufficient, and that she had acted in the best interests of the city. Had she ordered the right target to be shot, she may have avoided disciplinary action. What none of them could have known was that the terrorist had lied, and that nobody on board had been in control of the detonator. It had been a public relations nightmare. Nobody seemed interested in the fact that the executed passenger would have died seconds later when the first bomb detonated anyway.
Double Cross: A gripping political thriller (The Cadre Book 3) Page 4