“W-we left him. He hadn’t seen our faces, and you didn’t say anything about snatching him. But we didn’t kill anyone, just like you said.”
Arsov buried his face in his hands and struggled to control himself.
Chapter Nine
Offices of Phoenix Shipping Ltd.
London, UK
Alex pressed the intercom button. “Yes, Mrs. Coutts.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a Nigel Havelock on line one who insists he must speak to you. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but he seems quite upset and says it’s about Cassie.”
“Very well. Thank you, Mrs. Coutts.” Alex reached for his desk phone.
“This is Alex Kairouz. What can I do for yo—”
“Mr. Kairouz, thank God. Cassie’s been attacked. We were—”
“Attacked? What the hell are you talking about, Havelock? If this is your idea of some sort of sick joke—”
“It’s no joke, sir! We were video-chatting a few minutes ago, and a man in a black ski mask burst into her room and dragged her from her chair. The laptop was pulled out of position, and I couldn’t see anything after that, but it sounded like he dragged her out the door.”
Alex sat stunned.
“Mr. Kairouz, are you there?”
“Yes, yes, Havelock. The police—”
“I called them straightaway, sir. You were my second call.”
“Good, good,” Alex said absently. “Thank you. Now I must go.”
“Of course, sir. If you could only—”
Alex hung up and started for the door. “Mrs. Coutts,” he shouted, “have Daniel bring the car around straightaway.”
M/V Phoenix Lynx
Port of Southampton, UK
Nigel Havelock heard the line go dead and resisted an urge to throw his cell phone over the side of the ship. Instead he put it in his pocket and tried to assess his options. He had none really; there was no way in hell he was going to sit here idly while Cassie was in danger. The train would get him to London faster than a car, and he didn’t have the cash for an eighty mile cab ride in any event. He ran back into the deck house to have a word with the second officer, and then to his cabin to change. Five minutes later he rushed down the gangway and out to the street to flag down a cab for Southampton Central Station.
Kairouz Residence
London, UK
Halfway down Alex’s street, they encountered an ambulance speeding in the opposite direction, lights flashing. Alex swiveled in the back seat of the Bentley, momentarily torn between following the ambulance and continuing home. But no, he had no way of knowing if the ambulance was connected to events at his house, and he needed to find out what was going on. As they approached his house, there were several police cars parked on the street, colored lights flashing. Daniel pulled into the drive and was immediately confronted with yellow crime scene tape stretched across the drive between two trees. He brought the car to a stop, and Alex scrambled from the back.
“Hold it right there, sir,” said a uniformed constable as Alex ducked under the tape. “No one’s allowed beyond the tape.”
“This is my house.” Alex attempted to push past the policeman.
The policeman put a firm hand on Alex’s chest. “Right, sir. That would make you Mr. Kairouz, then?”
“Of course I’m Kairouz. Now get out of my damned way. I want to see my family.”
“Very good, sir,” the policeman said, his hand still in place. “I’ll just escort you to the house. Detective Sergeant Grimes will fill you in.”
He removed his hand, and Alex shot toward the house, forcing the policeman to run beside him to keep up. As Alex rounded the turn of the drive, he saw Gillian outside the kitchen door, talking to a man in civilian clothes who was writing in a small notebook.
“Gillian!” Alex rushed to her and wrapped her in a hug.
“Alex, thank God you’re here. They’ve taken Cassie and Tanya as well.”
Alex released her and stepped back, his hand still on her arm. “Taken Cassie? Who?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine, sir,” the man in civilian clothes said. “I’m Detective Sergeant Grimes of the Metropolitan Police, and if you’ll just step inside with Constable Hawkins here” — he nodded at the uniformed policeman — “I’ll finish taking Mrs. Kairouz’s statement, and we’ll try to get this sorted.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” Alex put a protective arm around Gillian’s shoulders. “I’m staying right here with my wife.”
Gillian nodded, and Grimes started to protest but then seemed to think better of it. He looked at Constable Hawkins and jerked his head toward the drive, and Hawkins nodded and headed back down to the perimeter tape.
“Now, Mrs. Kairouz,” Grimes began, “you say you’d never—”
Gillian faced the policeman and brushed back her hair, and Alex saw an ugly bruise below her ear along her jawline.
“My God, Gillian. You’re injured.”
“It’s nothing,” Gillian said. “The bastards slapped me and Mrs. Hogan around a bit, but nothing serious. Tom’s injury was much more serious. He got a nasty crack on the head.”
“Thomas? Here?” Then he remembered the ambulance. “Is he… is he… all right?”
“Mr. Dugan was apparently clubbed from behind with a rock,” Grimes said. “He was groggy but conscious when we arrived, staggering around the back garden. The paramedics don’t think it’s too serious. However, they transported him to hospital for x-rays and scans. He may have a concussion.”
Alex nodded, and Grimes waited a moment to see if he would continue; when he didn’t, Grimes turned back to Gillian.
“Now, Mrs. Kairouz, this Russian girl …” He glanced at his notebook. “Tanya. You say she was taken along with your daughter. What was her relationship? Also, I’ll need her address so we can notify her family.”
Gillian hesitated for the slightest moment. “Tanya was Cassie’s friend and our houseguest. To the best of my knowledge she has no family in this country.”
Grimes nodded. “Fair enough, but I’ll at least need her surname. Can you give me that?”
Gillian looked shaken. “Ah… no. I’m afraid I can’t. She’d just been here for a day or so, you see. She told us, of course, but it was some unpronounceable Russian name that I didn’t retain.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Grimes said. “Just how did Tanya and your daughter become friends?”
“Ah… well, they… ah—”
“What has all this got to do with anything?” Alex demanded. “This is a waste of time. We need to get on with finding them.”
Grimes slowly closed his notebook and slipped it into his coat pocket, then cocked his head slightly as he stared at Alex.
“With all due respect, Mr. Kairouz, things aren’t quite adding up here. Normally in a situation involving a family of obvious wealth, I’d treat this as a kidnap for ransom. However, we have this mysterious Russian girl no one seems to know much about, and the cook let something slip about ‘bloody Russian bastards.’ He paused. “And then there’s this American Dugan found staggering around your back garden with an unregistered handgun. Fortunately he retained the presence of mind to drop it when ordered to, but that could have developed into a very bad situation.”
Alex looked down and said nothing.
“If you expect our help, Mr. Kairouz, we have to know what’s going on.”
Alex looked at Gillian.
“Best call Anna,” she said, and Alex nodded, pulling out his cell phone.
“I have to make a call, Detective Sergeant Grimes,” Alex said. “Then I suggest we all go sit down in the house and wait. There’s someone you need to meet.”
St. Ignatius Hospital
London, UK
Dugan saw Cassie’s inert body slung over a man’s shoulder, moving through a fog. He tried to run toward them, but his legs wouldn’t move.
“Cassie!” he cried, then jerked awake. He was in an unfamil
iar bed in a dimly lighted room, and he saw a silhouette at a nearby window, framed against the night sky and lights of London.
“Easy,” Anna said as she moved from the window to his bedside and took his hand.
“Where the hell am I?”
“St. Ignatius Hospital. You took a nasty blow to the back of your head, but you’re going to be all right.”
“Is Cassie okay? I saw—”
“Cassie and Tanya were both abducted. Obviously Arsov’s work. We’re—”
“Abducted? Shit. I have to get out of here.” Dugan began to sit up.
“Easy, tiger,” Anna said, hands on his chest pressing him back down on the bed. “You took quite a pounding. They’ve done all the scans, and you appear to be all right, but they’ve been waiting for you to wake up to do some follow-up. I’ll pop out to the nurse’s station and let them know. Do NOT get out of that bed while I’m gone. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dugan said, and Anna left the room and returned in less than a minute.
“How long have I been here? Was anyone else hurt?” Dugan asked when she returned.
“You’ve been here most of the day, and Gillian and Mrs. Hogan were knocked about a bit, but not seriously injured. Mrs. Hogan evidently got a piece of one of the kidnappers with a kitchen knife.”
“Good for her.” Dugan started to push himself up in the bed.
“Hold on.” Anna reached for the bed control. There was a whirring sound as Dugan’s head elevated.
“Better?”
“Much,” Dugan said. “Now what’s the situation?”
Anna sighed. “Evolving, I guess would be the best way to describe it. A Detective Sergeant Grimes was the officer at the scene, and he wasn’t particularly happy with our freelance activities or with your possession of an unlicensed handgun. However, between my association with MI5 and Alex’s contacts in government, there won’t be any repercussions on either score. The Clubs and Vice Unit of the Metropolitan Police are now officially involved, though recent events haven’t exactly enhanced my relationship with them either, I’m afraid. Gillian is in a state of depression and hardly talks. I’ve never seen her like this. She obviously blames herself for Cassie’s abduction. Alex is at the other extreme. He alternates between black silence and rage, and he’s calling in every favor anyone in government ever owed him. He must have contacted at least half a dozen MPs and senior government officials. He’s succeeding in raising awareness, but is simultaneously stirring up quite a bit of resentment among the Metropolitan Police. In short, and to use one of your colorful American expressions, it’s a complete cluster fuck.”
“What about Borgdanov and Ilya?”
“I had Borgdanov with Lou watching Arsov’s apartment, and Ilya stayed with Harry on the club. The one piece of positive news is that the police have taken over those stakeouts, so we’re not spread as thin. That said, there’s been absolutely no movement by Arsov, so I’m beginning to think he may have given us the slip. I sent Harry and Lou home to get some rest, and the Russians are doing the same in our apartment. We have a meeting with the Clubs and Vice Unit tomorrow to plan and coordinate a city-wide raid on suspected Russian mob operations.”
“That’s it?”
“For the moment. We’ve also got pictures of Cassie up all over the media and will soon have pictures of Tanya. We didn’t have any of her, but Ilya remembered that Tanya said they had taken her passport. He suggested that if they had her here working ‘legally,’ that she had to have some sort of entry paperwork, and we found some. We figure they must have used one of their ‘trained’ girls who looks like Tanya to pose as her for entry purposes, using Tanya’s real passport. We found an entry permit with a passport photo, and we’ve posted her picture on the media beside Cassie’s. Ilya had another photo of Karina, and we’re giving that to the media as well; by the late evening news, their pictures should be everywhere.”
Dugan looked doubtful. “That might have unintended consequences.”
“We thought of that, but Arsov already knows we’re looking for all three girls, so we didn’t think we had anything to lose. Going public doesn’t change that, it just makes it more difficult for him to hide or transport them.”
“That’s the best option, I guess.” Dugan glanced toward the door. “Why do I have to see the doctor, anyway? I feel fine.”
“I suppose they want to make sure you know who you are and where you are and that you’re not loopy.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “At least not any loopier than normal.”
“Very funny,” he said and returned her squeeze. “I’m overwhelmed by your sympathy.”
“Well, the shaved patch and stitches might garner you sympathy in some quarters, I suppose.”
Dugan reflexively put his free hand to the back of his head and probed at the bump. “I vaguely recall a little of that. I think they used staples, without any anesthesia I might add. You Brits don’t seem to be much on painkillers.”
“Stiff upper lip, Yank. It builds character.”
“Yeah, well, my character’s just fine, thanks. Now where the hell is that doctor? I want to get home, crowded though it is.”
“Oh yes,” she said. “There is something I forgot to mention. It will be a bit more crowded than you realize, I’m afraid. We’ve added a houseguest.”
“What? Who?”
“Cassie’s boyfriend, Nigel, showed up at Alex’s house while the police were questioning everyone. Evidently he saw Cassie’s abduction while they were video-chatting and phoned the police straightaway. He also called Alex.”
“Smart boy. But why is he at our place?”
“Because it was patently obvious to anyone with eyes that he has no intention of leaving with Cassie still in danger. And it was equally obvious to me that the poor boy is extremely uncomfortable in Alex’s presence, so I invited him to our place and put him on the couch. The major didn’t fit on it very well anyway, and Ilya can’t fit on it at all. He barely fits on the bed in the spare room. I moved the major into the spare room and bought an inflatable mattress for Ilya and put it in the living room. I think everyone will be more comfortable, but we won’t have much privacy for a while.”
“Sounds real friggin’ cozy,” Dugan said. “I can hardly wait to sit around in our jammies and tell ghost stories by candlelight.”
Chapter Ten
Holding Warehouse
516 Copeland Road
Southwark, London, UK
Arsov glared at the collage of photos on the screen of the small TV in the shabby office and thumbed the remote to raise the volume.
“… believed to be victims of a kidnapping ring engaged in human trafficking. The suspected kidnappers are thought to be Russian or Eastern European, but that has yet to be confirmed. Anyone seeing these girls is requested to call the number on your screen. The Metropolitan Police have emphasized that the kidnappers are armed and dangerous, and no one should attempt to intervene. Again, if you see anything or have any information, you should call the number on—”
“Shit!” Arsov screamed and hurled the remote across the room at Nazarov sitting on the couch. His underling ducked, and the remote slammed against the cinder-block wall and popped open, raining batteries down on Nazarov as the TV screen blinked off.
“I hope you’re happy, you idiot! Our very low profile and profitable business is now going to get a lot of attention. This is on every fucking station!”
“So what?” Nazarov said. “They couldn’t prove anything before, and they can’t prove anything now. We have the girls, and there are no witnesses. We keep the girls who aren’t fully trained out of sight and threaten their families for good measure. The trained girls will support us as usual.” He shrugged. “Nothing has changed.”
“Can you really be this fucking obtuse? Of course things have changed. How much juice and influence do you think it takes to get these pictures all over the media this quickly? And the lead story on every single channel? The shit is about to hit the f
an, Nazarov, and we’re going to be splattered.”
“But they know nothing—”
“They know about the connection to Club Pyatnitsa, or at least the American and the Spetsnaz do, so we can assume the police know now as well. And besides, do you think our little pleasure operations are a secret? Our methods make it impossible for them to get a conviction, and we don’t get our girls from the local population, so they’ve learned that prosecuting us has a low political priority. We are out of sight and out of mind, at worst the public perception is that we are facilitators of a ‘victimless crime.’ In one afternoon you’ve managed to make us kidnappers and the subject of a media campaign. The authorities have no choice now. Even if they know it will be difficult to get convictions, they have to be seen as trying, and that will have a major impact on our operations.”
Arsov could see from the expression on Nazarov’s face that it was finally sinking in.
“Wh-what should we do?”
“Partially what you already suggested,” Arsov said. “They already know about Club Pyatnitsa, so there’s no point in shutting that down. However, make sure to leave no girls there except the most trustworthy. The same for the other clubs. They won’t necessarily know of our ownership, but in this shit storm you’ve stirred up, they will likely be hitting any adult business with suspected Russian involvement. Bring any girls you have the slightest doubt about back here to the warehouse. And shut down all of the brothels for the time being. Close the ones with the kids first. Bring everyone here. Stop all drug operations as well—”
“The street distributors won’t like that. The junkies will be howling, and the distributors may try to find other sources.”
“The junkies can howl for a month or so. They’ll come back when we’re ready,” Arsov said. “Brand loyalty is not exactly something junkies care about. And if the distributors desert us temporarily, it won’t be a problem. If they won’t come back when we’re ready, we’ll just kill a few and their families as well. Understood?”
“But where am I going to put all the whores? We don’t have enough cages here to hold them all.”
Deadly Crossing (Tom Dugan 2) Page 9