Yuri and Nazarov wrestled Tanya off the stool, but to Nazarov’s surprise, she was not the frightened girl of a few days before, and she fought like a tiger. As he struggled to hold the writhing girl, he glanced over to see Anatoli and Dimitri closing on the two women. The pair stood back to back and were obviously combative rather than intimidated. His men approached tentatively, mindful of orders not to harm the women. Anatoli shot Nazarov a questioning look.
“Take them! Now!” Nazarov barked, and his men rushed in. To unexpected results.
“Keep your bloody hands off me, you bastard!” shouted the older woman as she pulled a kitchen knife from the capacious pocket of her apron and slashed Anatoli’s outstretched hand.
Anatoli cursed as he retreated, staring at the blood gushing through a cut in his glove.
His curses were soon joined by those of Dimitri, as his partner was on the receiving end of a savage kick to the groin from the Kairouz woman. Dimitri doubled over, and the woman shot past him toward the hallway.
“Cassie! Lock your door, and call the police!” the woman screamed as she ran toward the door.
“Shit,” Nazarov said, as he struggled with the squirming Tanya. “Beat her down,” he yelled at Yuri, and the big Russian nodded and delivered a massive blow to the side of the girl’s head. She went limp, and Nazarov dumped her on the floor and took off after the Kairouz woman.
“Cassie! Lock your door,” the woman screamed again, as he burst into a long hallway and spotted her at the far end, racing for an ornate staircase. Her toe caught on the edge of a carpet runner that stretched the length of the hall, and she sprawled on the hardwood stairs. As Nazarov rushed to her, she raised her head, intent on calling out again, and he silenced her with a vicious open-handed slap, Arsov’s cautions forgotten in the crush of events.
He dragged the woman to her feet, savagely twisting her arm behind her and clamping his other hand over her mouth before pushing her toward the kitchen, controlling her with pressure on her arm. Christ, he couldn’t believe things had gone completely to hell so quickly.
In the kitchen, he was greeted with the ludicrous sight of Tanya unconscious on the floor and his three underlings surrounding the fat cook. The woman was in a corner, holding them all at bay with her knife.
“Yuri, get over here and help me,” Nazarov said, and Yuri left the cook to the others and rushed to Nazarov’s side.
“Tape her mouth,” Nazarov said, nodding at the woman squirming in his grasp. He twisted the woman’s arm back further, and she gasped against his palm clamped over her mouth.
“I’m going to take my hand away while my friend tapes your mouth,” Nazarov whispered in her ear. “And if you scream again, I’ll break your bloody arm and then kill everyone in the house. Do you understand?”
The woman bobbed her head, and Nazarov checked to see that Yuri had a piece of duct tape ready before he moved his hand from the woman’s mouth.
“Cassie! Call the police! Lock your doo—”
Nazarov gave the woman’s arm a savage twist, but only Yuri mashing the tape across her mouth silenced her. It was an imperfect job with the woman’s mouth open, and Yuri grabbed the roll and quickly wound a length of tape around her head several times, covering the bottom half of her face, as the woman fought.
“Tape her hands and feet, and cover her eyes! Quickly,” Nazarov said. He restrained the woman, and Yuri rushed to comply, but no sooner than they had the Kairouz woman subdued, the fat cook took up the cry.
“Cassie! Call the police!” the cook shouted.
“God damn it! Shut that bitch up! Now!” Nazarov yelled at Anatoli and Dimitri as he pushed the bound Kairouz woman to the floor. “Go help those idiots,” he said to Yuri before starting for the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Yuri asked.
“Obviously to find this Cassie. And I hope like hell she didn’t hear any of this fiasco and call the police.”
Kairouz Residence
London, UK
Cassie laughed and shook her head at something Nigel said, and then winced as the headphones pinched her ear. As she reached up to adjust them, she saw a look of concern on Nigel’s face as he stared up from the screen of her laptop.
“If the headphones are uncomfortable, why don’t you take them off and just use the speakers?” he asked.
“Because,” said Cassie, “there is NO privacy in this house. Everyone seems to think I’m two years old, and every time I close my door, I can just imagine them with their ears pressed against it.”
Nigel laughed. “Surely it can’t be that bad?”
“Well, I suppose not really, but sometimes it seems like it. I know they all love me, but it’s really tiring to be treated like a child. It seems even worse after I told them about us, but maybe that’s my imagination. Anyway, maybe it will be better after you come to dinner.”
Nigel’s face clouded. “About that, I really don’t know—”
“Oh, Nigel, you ARE coming, aren’t you? I couldn’t bear it if you don’t come after I’ve told everyone.”
“Well, about that—”
“That’s it isn’t it? You’re angry that I told about us without discussing it with you. I am SO sorry. Please don’t be mad. I was just so happy, and it slipped out, and Mum pounced on it and wheedled the rest out of me—”
“Cassie, Cassie, calm down,” Nigel said. “I’m not angry that you told. We had to tell them sooner or later. Perhaps it would have been better if we discussed it, but I understand how it happened, and I’m not the least bit angry. Okay?
“O-okay. But then why don’t you want to come to dinner?”
“I WANT to come, but I have the watch. I know you think I’m the commodore of the fleet, but I’m a very, very junior officer who must do as he is told.”
“But can’t you talk to the captain or something? I know, I’ll have Papa call him and tell him to let you—”
“Absolutely not,” Nigel said. “None of my shipmates must know about us.”
Cassie’s face fell, and tears welled up in her eyes.
“Cassie, what is it?”
“Is it… is it because I’m… I’m… you know … Are you ashamed of me?”
“Cassie, oh God, no! Ashamed of you? Never EVER think that. I’d shout your name to the rooftops if I could. You’re beautiful and caring, and I feel incredibly fortunate that you care for me.”
Cassie blushed at Nigel’s praise. “And just who are these women you’re comparing me to, Mr. Havelock?”
Nigel smiled, relieved at her mock indignation. “No one you have to worry about, and that’s a promise.”
“Well, I still don’t understand why you want to keep our relationship a secret from everyone. I could understand it when Mum and Papa didn’t know, but what’s the point now?”
“The point is, that you’re the daughter of the chairman of the board of my employer, and some cheeky bastard is bound to make a snide remark about you or our relationship. At that point, I’d be compelled to punch him in the nose, and I don’t think that would be very good for my career.”
“It’s bound to come out sooner or later. You’ll just have to learn to control yourself.”
“I’m not quite rational in regard to you, but I’ll try to work on it.” Nigel touched the computer screen, partially obscuring his face.
Cassie touched her own screen in return, as if they could share a tactile connection digitally. When she removed her hand, Nigel’s face came back into view and took on a look of concern.
“Cassie, the door behind you is opening.”
Cassie turned as she spoke. “Probably just Mum—”
A man in a black ski mask burst into the room, and Cassie leaped from her chair, the cord from her headphones to the laptop almost dragging the laptop off the desk before tearing the headphones from her ears. The intruder closed the short distance between them, trapping Cassie against the desk before she could move away.
“Who are you?” Cassie demanded as the int
ruder threw her over his shoulder, then started through the door toward the stairs.
She struggled at first, then let herself go limp, dead weight over the man’s shoulder. She felt him relax, and as they started down the stairs, she struck, driving her right knee into his chest and hammering the side of his head with her elbow as she threw all her weight to one side, overbalancing him.
The man cursed in a foreign language as they collapsed on the stairs in a jumbled heap, and Cassie felt his grip lessen. She squirmed from his grasp and almost got away, crawling back up the stairs, but a strong hand closed on her ankle.
“Not so fast, you little bitch,” he said and pulled her back down.
She twisted in his grasp and flipped over on her back to kick at him with her free leg, but he was too strong and too fast and was soon on top of her, grabbing at her flailing arms. Cassie clawed at his face, and her fingers closed on his ski mask and ripped it from his head. The man stopped, as if shocked, and then his face flushed red.
He drew back his arm, and Cassie felt his fist explode against her face.
***
The cook was still bellowing when Nazarov returned to the kitchen, his mask back in place and the girl over his shoulder. The cook’s cry died on her lips at the sight of the girl.
“Cassie!” she said, her eyes on the girl as Nazarov lowered the girl to the floor and began to tape her hands and feet.
Yuri took advantage of the cook’s momentary distraction to grab her right wrist, and with the threat of the knife neutralized, Anatoli and Dimitri closed in. They subdued her quickly, physically but not verbally, for she continued to scream abuse until they got tape over her mouth. Seconds later, she was trussed up on the floor beside the Kairouz woman.
“What now?” Yuri asked.
“Put those two in the pantry, out of sight,” Nazarov said, nodding toward the Kairouz woman and the cook. “And tape Tanya up and carry her to the van.”
He looked around at the blood on the floor.
“And get some tape on Anatoli’s hand so he’s not bleeding all over the place and then clean up this blood. Use some bleach; there must be some around here somewhere.”
“What about her?” Yuri nodded at the blond girl they’d called Cassie.
Nazarov thought for a moment. Arsov had been clear; no one was to see their faces. He shook his head. “She saw my face. We’ll take her with us.”
Chapter Eight
Club Pyatnitsa
London, UK
Arsov sat and drummed his fingers against his desk. He’d expected to hear from Nazarov by now, but he didn’t want to call him if he was still in the middle of the operation. The simpleton would probably find snatching Tanya challenging enough without a distraction. He comforted himself with the thought that even Nazarov couldn’t screw up such a simple mission.
His thoughts turned to his friends outside. They would expect him to move at some point, and if he just slipped away and left them sitting there, they would figure things out sooner or later. Besides, even these amateurs couldn’t be so inept as to think they could tail him in a BT van without being spotted. They must have a chase car somewhere nearby, and it would be good to smoke that out as well. Arsov punched the intercom and summoned Victor from the bar. Twenty seconds later, the bartender stuck his head into the door to find Arsov undressing.
“Yes, Boss,” Victor said, obviously confused.
“Get in here and change clothes with me,” Arsov said.
***
“We have movement,” Harry said from the driver’s seat.
“I have him.” In the back of the van, Anna watched on her monitor as a cab pulled up in front of the club. Moments later Arsov walked out the front door and climbed into the cab.
“He’s moving,” Anna said. “Call Lou and give him the plate number. The cab should pass him in the next block.”
“On it,” Harry said.
***
Arsov climbed into a cab several blocks away. His exit through the kitchen of the Italian restaurant had gone more smoothly this time, after he apologized for his earlier deception and explained to the cook that it was all really a matter of the heart. His jealous wife had hired a private investigator to watch him, making it difficult for him to slip away from his club to meet his mistress, and so he needed a way to enter and exit the club unobserved. The cook had smiled and nodded at the story, his understanding and future help assured by the gift of a hundred pounds to compensate for his ‘inconvenience.’
It was working out well. Victor had orders to have the cab drive about aimlessly for an hour or so and then to go to Arsov’s apartment and stay there. The chase car would no doubt sit on the apartment, and the van would likely remain at the club. He’d hesitated at leading the pursuers back to his own apartment and briefly considered having Victor lead the pursuit to his own place, but quickly dismissed that idea. Victor likely lived in some shit hole, and he wanted the deception to be realistic. Besides, there was little of value in his own apartment he couldn’t abandon if necessary, so the risk was minimal. And while his bumbling pursuers were chasing ghosts, he’d go deal with Tanya, find out who these people were and what she’d told them, and then return to take care of them as necessary. After all, he knew just where to find them.
Outside the Kairouz Residence
London, UK
Dugan ordered the cab to the curb and shoved money over the seat, exiting the cab without waiting for change. The taxi stand had been empty when he got there, and he’d had difficulty flagging down a cab. Evidently his British Telecom repairman’s uniform didn’t mark him as a prospective customer. A dozen cabs passed him before he caught one discharging a passenger and jumped into the back before the cab pulled away.
He’d had the cab stop at the entrance to the long drive leading to the back of the house, knowing that Gillian was likely in the kitchen with Mrs. Hogan. He rushed up the curving drive and stopped short at the sight of a black panel truck pulled up near the kitchen door. As he watched, the door opened and a large man in a ski mask walked out with a bundle over his shoulder. Then he saw the blond hair. Cassie!
Dugan slipped the Glock from his waistband just as another masked man emerged, speaking and pointing toward the panel truck. Dugan racked the slide on the Glock to chamber a round, and the men’s heads jerked toward the sound in unison. They found Dugan in a shooter’s crouch, the Glock steady on the center mass of the man giving the orders.
“Hold it right there, assholes,” Dugan said. “Put the girl on the ground gently, and then both of you move away slowly and lay face down. Now!”
Dugan felt a tremendous jolt on the back of his skull, and his world went black.
***
Nazarov looked at Ivan, standing over the unconscious American, holding a bloody landscaping stone he’d obviously picked up from the flower bed.
His man shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do. You said no shooting.”
“Da. You did the right thing,” Nazarov said.
“Should I kill him?” His man gestured with the rock.
“No, my orders were clear. We weren’t to kill anyone. Leave him. Let’s just get the girls in the truck and get the hell out of here.”
Holding Warehouse
516 Copeland Road
Southwark, London, UK
Arsov sat at a battered desk in the office warehouse, seething as he stared across at Nazarov seated on a threadbare sofa. He suppressed an urge to scream. When he spoke, his voice was calm, almost conversational.
“You continually exceed my expectations, Nazarov. For instance, I knew you weren’t the brightest fellow around, but I never expected that you were quite this stupid and so completely incompetent.”
“It wasn’t as easy as you think—”
“Yes, I’m eager to hear how six large men had difficulty subduing two middle-aged women? Go ahead, please. I’m all ears.”
Nazarov glared. “We got Tanya back, didn’t we?”
Arsov erupted.
“You fucking idiot! Yes, you got Tanya back AND some girl who’s likely Kairouz’s daughter. And in the process, you assaulted two other British citizens. What part of ‘low profile’ don’t you understand? A large part of our success here hinges on the fact that no one cares about these foreign girls. Even these people realize that, or they would have gone to the authorities by now. But things are a bit different now, aren’t they? You’ve kidnapped a rich Brit, and I seriously doubt they’ll hesitate to go to the police. This girl’s face will probably be all over the media by this time tomorrow. How could you be so stupid?”
“I had to grab her. She saw my face.”
“Which, from what you told me, would never have happened if you’d left her happily up in her room with her headphones clamped on her head. She’d have wandered down some time later and found the other two tied up, and that would have been the end of it. They couldn’t report anything about Tanya, so at worst it would have been a home invasion by persons unknown.”
Arsov sank back in his chair and glared at Nazarov, who wisely said nothing. After a long moment Arsov spoke.
“Well, I’ll have to figure out something. We can’t turn the girl loose, and she is a looker. Maybe we can get her out of the country and use her elsewhere. In the meantime, we have to take care of these damned Spetsnaz and the American. They seem to be the driving force, and with them out of the way, I suspect the authorities will give up in time, no matter how connected this Kairouz might be. We’ll spread money around to hasten that result if need be.”
Nazarov smirked.
“I don’t think the American will be much of a problem for a while. I had Ivan brain him with a rock.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was trying to tell you before. He showed up at the Kairouz place when we were loading the girls. I had Ivan on lookout, and he got behind him and smashed him with a rock.”
“Where is he now?”
Deadly Crossing (Tom Dugan 2) Page 8