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

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Double Cross: A gripping political thriller (The Cadre Book 3) Page 23

by Stephen Edger


  ‘We will, Guv, I mean, we are,’ Kyle said. ‘There was just one detail that needed resolving, and now that it’s done, I can finally close the case.’

  Payne stopped pacing and looked at the two of them, her eyes darting from one to the next. ‘Good,’ she finally said, before starting to pace again. ‘I assume you two are up to speed with this evening’s events in London?’

  ‘Uh,’ Kyle began.

  ‘Terrible events,’ White quickly declared, before Kyle could finish. ‘It scares me to think that some people can feel a bomb is a better resolution than talking.’ He glanced at Kyle, a look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

  ‘Did you catch the Prime Minister’s speech in the aftermath?’ Payne asked, calmer now.

  ‘We heard about it,’ White lied, ‘but we haven’t seen the whole thing yet.’

  ‘Right, well, I want you two up to speed. I know you’ve been on all day, but we’re giving overtime for those who want it. It seems the man behind today’s atrocity used to rent a flat in Southampton. We’ve been asked to investigate his connections in the city and to report all findings to the Met as we get them. I’ve got the team chasing down their informants for any information. I want you two to go to the guy’s flat and look for anything that might have indicated he was a possible threat. I don’t need to tell you, but we need to make sure we cover our arses on this one. Do you understand? I want no stone left unturned. Watkins is sorting out the search warrant. As soon as you’ve got it, get over there and see what you can find.’

  ‘Understood, Ma’am,’ White said, ushering Kyle from the room.

  ‘What the fuck is going on, Guv?’ Kyle asked, as they made their way back towards White’s desk. ‘A bomb in London, seven months after we have a terrorist plot in Southampton, and Payne doesn’t even suggest they could be linked?

  ‘I know, man. At the very least, she should have asked us to forward the Burns’ case details up to the Met as well. Maybe we were right that she’s involved in the conspiracy somehow. After all, Eve Partridge did personally recommend her.’ White loaded up his computer and started eagerly typing.

  ‘What are you doing, Guv?’

  ‘Payne thinks we have an idea about what’s gone on. If we go into the Incident Room and start asking questions, she’s going to know we were lying. I’m looking up BBC News for the details. I suggest you come round and start reading too.

  *

  Forty minutes later, Kyle parked the unmarked car outside of the address Payne had given them. They were on Broadlands Road, in the Highfield area of the city, just down from the main University.

  ‘Which one is it?’ White asked.

  ‘Number twenty-three,’ Kyle replied, pointing at the house that had been converted into four or five self-contained flats. ‘His flat is number three apparently.’

  ‘Which one do you reckon it is?’

  ‘No idea, Guv. Let’s go and find out.’

  They exited the car and moved to the communal front entrance. Kyle pressed each of the buttons on the intercom system, hoping there would be somebody home who would let them in.

  ‘Who is it?’ a gruff voice crackled.

  ‘Police,’ Kyle replied. ‘We need to get to flat three. Can you let us in?’

  The gruff voice didn’t reply. Kyle pressed each of the buttons again, but this time there was no reply. Impatient, White started pounding his fist against the front door. Kyle pressed each of the buttons again. Finally, a large man in a dark bomber jacket appeared behind the frosted glass; his head was shaved and tattooed, and the skin on his hands looked worn and cracked. He opened the door a fraction and asked for identification. Both men removed their warrant cards and held them up at the gap for the man to see. He pulled the door open fully and invited them in.

  ‘I think I must be the only one home,’ he said, watching the two of them nervously.

  White had noticed the man’s dilated, weeping eyes and the line of sweat clinging to his forehead. ‘What’s yer name?’

  ‘Everyone calls me Titch.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked, is it? What’s your full name?’

  The large man wiped his head with the back of his hand. ‘Kevin Strickland. I prefer Titch.’

  ‘It must be a sarcastic nickname I guess,’ White whispered to Kyle. ‘I don’t suppose you have a spare key for flat three do you, Kevin?’

  Strickland looked down, shaking his head.

  ‘It’s just I really need to see inside flat three today, and if I can’t, I’m going to need to phone my D.C.I. and explain that I couldn’t get in. I’d have to make that call from your flat, Kevin, as my phone battery is dead. You don’t mind if I make that call from inside your flat do you, Kevin?’

  Strickland’s head shot up and his wide-eyed stare was followed up with a stammer. ‘I’ve just remembered,’ he said, wiping more sweat with his hand, ‘I do actually have a spare key for Dylan’s flat. If you guys wait here, I’ll go and get it for you.’ With that, Strickland clomped up the staircase.

  White smiled at Kyle. ‘You’ve got to love the modern community spirit.’ The two of them began to slowly climb the stairs and stopped outside the door for flat three, at the opposite end of a narrow corridor to flat four.

  Strickland emerged from his door and marched towards them with his hand outstretched. ‘Here you go. These are the keys for Dylan’s flat. That’s it, right? You don’t need to speak to me about anything else right?’

  White accepted the keys. ‘You need to be somewhere, Kevin? You’re acting mightily odd. Are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Strickland replied too quickly. ‘I’m late for an appointment. If that’s everything, I’ll be on my way.’ He began to move towards the staircase.

  ‘Kevin? You forgot to close your door,’ White pointed out.

  Strickland stomped back to his flat and pulled the door closed, before walking swiftly back towards the stairs.

  ‘Uh, Kevin, one more thing before you go,’ White said. ‘What should I do with these?’ he asked, holding out the set of keys.

  ‘Keep them,’ Strickland shouted back, without breaking his stride.

  ‘What d’you reckon is in his flat?’ Kyle smiled. ‘Drugs?’

  White shrugged. ‘He could be running a brothel from in there for all we know. It doesn’t matter right now. We’ll pass his details onto uniform when we’re done here. They can see what Titch is in to. Let’s see what Dylan Taylor was doing, shall we?’

  White pushed the key into the lock and opened the door. They entered a small hall with a door almost immediately to their left and a doorway into a small living room, with kitchen area to their right. At the far side of the room was a doorway to a small bedroom. There was a stale odour hanging in the air, which the two men tried to ignore.

  ‘It looks like someone’s already been here,’ White commented as he saw books and papers scattered all over the floor of the living room. Somebody had even pulled the television from its frame on the wall. The drawers from a unit in the opposite corner of the room were upside down on the floor. The thin curtains that hung in front of the window were drawn, casting a dim shadow over everything.

  ‘You reckon squatters have been here?’ Kyle asked, kicking over an empty sandwich container.

  White bent down and picked up the container, before discarding it. ‘Whoever was here, was here recently,’ White whispered. ‘That sandwich was purchased today.’

  ‘How do you know that, Guv?’ Kyle whispered back, suddenly aware of what White was implying.

  ‘Its best before date isn’t for a couple of days. That’s the standard sandwich’s shelf life.’

  ‘I’ll check out the bedroom,’ Kyle whispered, stepping forward. He gently pushed open the door with his foot. As he did, he saw sudden movement in his peripheral vision as a figure charged over the bed towards him. He tried to reposition his body for impact, but he was too slow and he felt the figure’s shoulder collide with his chest, knocking him backwards, w
inded. The figure didn’t hesitate and charged towards the front door, unaware that White had stepped into the bathroom. As the figure fumbled at the door latch, White stepped out of his hiding place and slammed his arm down between the figure’s shoulder blades. The hooded man dropped to the floor.

  ‘You alright, Kyle?’ White shouted to his partner.

  ‘I’ll live,’ Kyle winced back.

  White dropped to his knees, landing uncomfortably on the figure’s back. He pulled the man’s arms together and cuffed them, before climbing to his feet and dragging the man up with him. The two men walked back into the living room, where Kyle was now back on his feet too.

  ‘Assaulting an officer of the law in pursuit of his or her duties is a criminal offence,’ White declared grandly. ‘If you don’t want to see the inside of a prison cell, you’d better start talking. Who are you and what are you doing here?’

  ‘My name’s Dylan Taylor,’ the figure replied. ‘This is my flat. I want to speak with detectives White and Davies. I won’t speak to anybody else.’

  White pulled the man’s hood back and his mouth dropped open as he recognised the dead suspect’s face.

  ‘You’re Dylan Taylor?’ Kyle said. ‘But you’re supposed to be dead. What the hell are you doing here? Guv, what the fuck is going on?’

  White’s mouth remained open as he tried to process the new information.

  ‘I’m only going to speak to detectives White and Davies,’ Dylan repeated. ‘Take me to them.’

  ‘We’re them,’ Kyle declared, waving his warrant card in front of Dylan’s face.

  Dylan studied the identification and then asked to see White’s.

  ‘Why do you want to speak to us?’ White asked, showing his identification.

  ‘Take these cuffs off and I’ll tell you everything I know,’ Dylan said.

  White reluctantly removed the handcuffs and the three of them picked up chairs and sat down.

  ‘I didn’t detonate a bomb in London,’ Dylan began. ‘I was set up by someone.’

  ‘Why should we believe you?’ Kyle asked.

  ‘I was told that you two are on the level; that I can trust you.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Kyle pressed.

  ‘A mate of mine. A guy called Tyrese. Do you know him?’

  Kyle’s sudden stare at White confirmed that they did.

  ‘How do you know Tyrese?’ White asked.

  ‘I used to do a bit of business for him,’ Dylan admitted.

  ‘What kind of business?’ White asked.

  Dylan paused for a moment. ‘Non-kosher business. That’s all I’m prepared to say. Now are you two going to help me or not?’

  ‘Help you? Help you with what?’ Kyle said.

  ‘What do you mean with what? With clearing my name of course!’

  ‘How can we do that?’ Kyle asked. ‘It’s all over the press that you planted and detonated a bomb in London, not even two hours ago. There’s only one place you’re going: custody.’

  ‘No!’ Dylan declared. ‘If you arrest me, I’m a dead man. They’ll kill me before morning.’

  ‘Who will?’ White asked.

  Dylan shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘Try us,’ Kyle said.

  Dylan let out a long and deep sigh. ‘There is a group who call themselves The Cadre. They are planning to cause a new world war, which will culminate with Britain at the helm of a New World Order.’

  Kyle and White exchanged glances again.

  ‘See, I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,’ Kyle said when he saw the looks.

  ‘How do you know about this group?’ White asked as casually as he could.

  ‘I inadvertently did some work for them a few months ago, and now they want me dead as I’m a loose end. That’s what they’re like. They discredit you and then they kill you. Tyrese suggested that you’d be able to help me, but it looks like he was wrong. With all due respect, you can try and arrest me, but I will put up a fight.’

  ‘Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?’ White asked.

  ‘There’s one guy. His name’s Aaron Cross. He used to live in the city. He can confirm everything that I’ve told you.’

  Kyle couldn’t prevent the grin spreading across his face. ‘Guv, this is it. The evidence we’ve been looking for.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Dylan frowned.

  ‘We know Aaron Cross,’ Kyle confirmed. ‘We know about The Cadre and the conspiracy they’re involved in. We’ve been trying to find proof of their actions and I think fate just dealt us a winning hand.’

  White answered his phone and hung up a moment later. ‘That was the P.I., he thinks he’s found something on the laptop.’

  36

  FALLON, NEVADA, US

  09:45 (P.S.T.)

  ‘Do you want a coffee?’ Cruz asked, as Aaron relaxed back into the sofa. The television was on but had been muted.

  ‘Sure,’ Aaron replied calmly. ‘No milk or sugar thanks.’

  Cruz filled the kettle with water and began hunting for clean cups.

  ‘You live by yourself?’ Aaron called over, noticing the pile of plates stacked up in the kitchen sink.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about the mess. If I’d known Victoria was going to bring you over I’d have made more of an effort to clean.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Aaron quickly said, concerned he may have inadvertently offended his new relation. ‘It reminds me of the barracks I stayed in when I first joined up. I’d never realised how much cleaning up after me Aunt Marilyn had done.’

  ‘Marilyn? She was dad’s, sorry, Troy’s wife, right?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Aaron said, as memories of her filled his mind. ‘She was one of a kind. Even though we weren’t related by blood, she cared for me like a son.’

  ‘Victoria mentioned that they raised you after your mum passed away. It must have been tough.’

  ‘On them or on me?’ Aaron said, unable to hide the anger in his voice.

  ‘Hey, listen, I’m sorry. I meant no offence. I meant it must have been tough on all of you. For you, losing your mother so young must have been horrific; and for them, taking on a third child must have taken some adjustment.’

  Aaron relaxed again, realising Cruz was just trying to bond. ‘I often think that moving in with Troy and Marilyn was the best thing that could have happened to me. I was on a rocky path before they set me straight again.’

  ‘I can feel that! I wasn’t always such an upstanding citizen either. It was hard growing up in the barrio with no dad to talk to. Don’t get me wrong, my mom did what she could, but she was working three jobs a week just to put food on our table. I wanted to be a good son, but I think I must have resented the fact that I only saw my dad a couple of times a year. He used to send my mom money occasionally, but she never spent any of it. Not a dime.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘She was too proud to accept hand-outs. I knew nothing about it until I was eighteen. She handed me a parcel of cash and told me she had saved every cent that my dad had ever sent over and was giving it to me as reward for finishing high school. There was more than twenty thousand dollars!’

  ‘Did Troy know she wasn’t spending the money?’

  ‘I doubt it, otherwise he’d probably have stopped sending it. That’s the thing with my mom: she never wanted anything from Troy. Their one night together was a mistake for both of them really. She only looked for him after my birth, as she thought he had the right to know that he had a son out here.’

  Cruz returned to the sofa and placed the mugs of coffee on the small table before them.

  ‘It’s incredible to think all this was going on, and he kept it all to himself,’ Aaron said. ‘As far as I know he never told a soul.’

  ‘Apart from Victoria.’

  ‘Yeah, apart from Victoria.’

  ‘Speaking of whom, I wonder how she’s getting on sourcing our documents.’

  ‘She said she had
contacts who could sort us false passports and driving licences; she seemed confident when she left.’

  ‘Oh I believe her!’ Cruz said. ‘She’s an incredibly resourceful woman.’

  ‘Is she always like that?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. So independent, I guess. Like when I asked her if she wanted me to walk her back to her place; she was adamant that she didn’t need protection. I only offered to be chivalrous.’

  Cruz laughed. ‘Oh yeah, she is one independent woman! And nothing seems to worry her either. I mean, God knows what neighbourhood she’s gone to in order to collect what we need, but you can bet it’s not safe.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll be alright?’

  ‘I’m certain of it, buddy. Relax. She’ll call if she needs us.’

  Aaron reached out for his mug and noticed a framed photograph on the table. He picked it up and studied the picture. It was a picture of Troy, wearing a yellow life jacket, with his arm around a young boy. ‘Is this you?’ Aaron asked, passing the picture over.

  Cruz took the frame and smiled as he recognised the picture. ‘Yeah, that’s me and dad. It was taken shortly after my ninth birthday. He knew I’d never been out of Los Angeles, so he promised to take me on an adventure. He hired this small fishing boat for the day and we set off onto the water. He told me we were going to sail to England, and being a dumb kid, I believed him. He spent the entire day telling me how horrible the UK was; how it rained all the time and suffered ice cold temperatures. He told me anything to make me want to stay in California. It worked. By the time it started to grow dark, I was begging him to take me home to my mom.’

  Cruz stood the frame on the table and picked up his own mug. ‘Does it make you angry?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That he had another child?’

  Aaron frowned and considered his feelings. ‘No, I don’t think I’m angry. If anything, I’m sad that he felt he could never tell me about it; about you and his time here. I can understand why he felt he needed to keep it a secret, but I don’t think anyone would have blamed him for what happened. Sure, it might have caused a few arguments, but I think we all would have forgiven him; even Aunt Marilyn.’

 

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