“May I help you, Mr. Dugan?”
Dugan spun to see Abdul Ibrahim sitting at his desk with a perplexed expression. Even on a Saturday, the little Pakistani wore a well-tailored suit and a perfectly knotted silk tie.
“Uh… Mr. Ibrahim. Forgive me for not knocking. I didn’t know you were here. I was uh… just going to leave a note on your desk to call me. I would have messaged you, but I’m having some problem with my e-mail.”
Ibrahim smiled and gestured to a chair. “No apology necessary. Please. Sit and tell me how I may be of service.”
Dugan took the chair, his mind racing. Shit.
“I’m just curious,” he said. “I saw a VLCC on the position report… China Star, I think her name is. I noticed she was subchartered to lift a cargo to Japan. I figure if rates are good enough to charter in, then subcharter on that route, I should check it out. If that trade picks up, it means I can get our ships positioned in the Far East much more cheaply for repairs. That will really help our maintenance budget.”
Christ, thought Dugan, pretty smooth. That even sounded believable to me.
Ibrahim looked uncomfortable. “I have only a vague recollection of the details, but I will look into it and get back with you Monday, if that’s all right.”
He’d hit a nerve. Dugan started to back off, then realized that any damage was already done. He may as well find out what he could. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“You’re head of chartering,” Dugan said. “This is a big-money deal that went down three days ago.”
Ibrahim was sweating. “I… I…”
“Mr. Ibrahim,” Dugan said, “I’ve known you almost ten years and know you’re honest. If you’ve somehow caught up in something illegal—”
Ibrahim shook his head. “Not me,” he said, lowering his voice. “Braun put together the charters. I went to Mr. Kairouz, but—”
He stopped and looked around, then lowered his voice further. “I will not speak of it here. But I know you are Mr. Kairouz’s friend, and something is very, very wrong. I will tell you what I know. Meet me near the entrance to Vauxhall tube station in one hour.”
Dugan nodded and rose to leave. He opened the door quietly and looked around before slipping out and down the corridor to his own office. He closed his office door just as the elevator doors opened down the hall.
***
Braun stepped off the elevator and swiveled toward the quiet click of Dugan’s office door closing. What the bloody hell was Dugan doing here?
Vauxhall Tube Station
London
Braun watched Dugan and Ibrahim from a distance as they stood on the platform, staring straight ahead as they pretended to be disinterested strangers waiting for a train. He couldn’t see their faces but noted tension in their postures. They were obviously conversing. Amateurs.
Braun mulled the possibilities. Dugan’s fumbling attempts to catch him in some malfeasance or incompetent action were apparent and concerned him not at all. Nor did Ibrahim know anything except the barest financial essentials of the China Star deal, and Braun had arranged those to look like a kickback scheme. So even if Dugan learned of China Star, he couldn’t go to the authorities without implicating his friend Kairouz.
Braun considered killing them both, just to be sure, but dismissed the idea. Two dead executives from the same company were bound to attract unwanted attention. But there was the problem of perception. He’d promised Kairouz that if he couldn’t control the little Pakistani, the man would die, along with his family. Braun hated breaking promises. Kairouz had to understand Braun was a man of his word. Otherwise, when things got really challenging, Kairouz might feel insufficiently motivated.
It was a conundrum, and he now regretted the specificity of his threat. Killing the Paki and his entire family would be far too sensational and sure to attract media attention. Braun sighed. How tedious. He continued to mull things over as he waited until the men boarded separate trains. He had no need to follow. He knew where Ibrahim lived.
Anna Walsh’s Apartment Building
1615 Hours Local Time
11 June
“He’s really stressed out,” Dugan said. “Apparently Braun handled the charters of China Star personally. The first Ibrahim learned of it was when the ship appeared on the position report. Like me, he thought it looked hinky and started asking questions.” Dugan paused. “That’s when it got interesting. He went to Braun, who blew up. When he failed to get satisfaction there, he approached Alex, who told him if he didn’t back off, he’d be fired.”
“More proof of Kairouz’s involvement,” Lou said, “but what’s Ibrahim make of it?”
“He doesn’t know what to think,” Dugan said. “On the surface it looks like some sort of kickback deal. His main fear is personal. He believes Braun has somehow forced Alex to enter a shady deal, and he’s afraid that he will somehow become the fall guy if the deal goes sour. He’s pretty conflicted. He’s worked for Alex a long time and knows he’s scrupulously honest. On the other hand, Alex seems to be deferring to Braun completely, and Ibrahim thinks he’s screwed no matter what he does. I guess that’s why he opened up to me so easily.”
“You’re sure no one saw you?” Harry asked.
“I can’t see how,” Dugan said. “We left the office separately and met off site.”
“Still,” Anna said, “I wish you had consulted us before the meet.”
“No time,” Dugan said, “Ibrahim seemed to be in a talkative mood, and I didn’t want to give him time to think about it.”
“Well, your instincts were probably right on that,” Anna said.
“I guess that’s it then,” Lou said. “China Star’s not even at the load port yet, so I doubt there’s an immediate threat. We’ll just keep an eye on it and see what develops. Is there anything else, Anna?”
Anna shook her head, and Harry and Lou stood up. Anna followed them to the door. Just as they reached the door, Lou turned. “By the way, good work, Tom,” he said.
Dugan nodded as Anna let the pair out and locked the door behind them.
“Let me second that,” Anna said as she returned. “It was good work.”
Dugan sighed. “Something’s obviously up with Alex, but I know he’s a victim.”
“Given the evidence, Tom, I can’t understand your certainty.”
“I just am,” Dugan said. “I know him.”
“You seem unlikely friends, really.”
“How so?”
“Well, you’re just… different, that’s all. Alex is so… so ‘European’ I guess is the word. Tactful, multilingual, almost courtly, and…” Anna stopped.
“And I’m what…” Dugan deadpanned. “Blunt? Monolingual? Abrasive?”
“Tom, please, I didn’t—”
Dugan grinned. “How ‘bout ‘American’… will that sum it up?”
Relieved, she smiled. “Quite nicely, you bloody annoying Yank. But seriously, whatever do you and Alex Kairouz have in common?”
“Dead wives,” he said softly and looked away.
He lapsed into silence, and she thought he’d said all he intended. Then he went on.
“Years ago, Alex hired me to inspect a ship. He liked my work and became a regular client. Later I was working a short project in his office that got delayed. I tried to extend my hotel, but they were booked, as were most hotels in London, so Alex invited me home.”
Dugan smiled. “Cassie was just a toddler. Mrs. Hogan served a great meal, and after Mrs. Farnsworth took Cassie to bed, Alex and I had brandy and coffee.” He smiled again. “Mostly brandy. That’s when he told me his wife had died of cancer two years earlier. His wounds were raw, and it was obvious he was burying his grief in work and raising Cassie.”
“The more we drank, the more we opened up. My wife had been dead awhile, but it all came back.” He paused. “Because I had suppressed it too. My kid sister was a rock after Ginny’s death, but some things I couldn’t share even with her, but Alex and I connected. We dr
ank and talked and vented. About good things and bad and things we missed most. We got shitfaced and maudlin and toasted lost loves, and sober and hungover and finally”—Dugan gave a sheepish smile—”embarrassed by our behavior. We never spoke of it again. But I know Alex Kairouz, and Alex Kairouz is no terrorist.”
Anna nodded, understanding and intrigued.
“Will you tell me about Ginny?”
She was afraid she’d offended him, but slowly his face softened.
“The love of my life,” he said with a wistful smile. “Her name was Virginia.”
“How’d you meet?”
Dugan chuckled. “I ran into her. Literally. I bashed my old pickup into her brand-new Mustang convertible in a parking lot.”
“You met in a car crash?” Anna asked, incredulous.
“More like a fender bender. She was livid. The first words she ever said to me were ‘Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re going, you big jerk?’”
Anna smiled. “Not a terribly auspicious beginning.”
“Oh, but it was. There she was, green eyes flashing and the wind in her red hair, ready to kick my ass, all five foot two inches of her, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She calmed down and we traded contact info, and then she called the next day. She was having trouble with the insurance because the accident happened on a private lot with no police report. I told her just to get her car fixed and I would pay for it, provided she let me buy her dinner to apologize. Long story short, we married a year later.”
“What did she do?” Anna asked.
“She was a teacher. First grade. She loved kids,” Dugan said.
“Did she die of cancer too?”
“Accident,” Dugan said. His face clouded, and he looked away. Anna moved closer and took his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “it was wrong of me to pry.”
“No. It’s OK,” he said, turning back to her. “I want to tell you, though I don’t know why. It’s just… difficult to get out.” She squeezed his hand, and he went on. “We were both off for the summer when I was offered some relief-chief work. Since the only way to a permanent chief-engineer job was to start as relief, I jumped at it. We postponed a planned trip, and I went back to sea.
“It was a container ship on a North Europe run. Sat phones were new, and the ship didn’t have one. I called Ginny from pay phones on the dock in US ports, but in Europe then you had to go to the phone company or a hotel to call the US. I couldn’t always get away from the ship, but I did call from our last European port with our ETA in New York so she could meet us, and we could spend a few hours together before the next trip.”
Dugan paused. “When I called, she told me she had a surprise for me in New York, but I couldn’t drag it out of her. Then we just talked about everything and nothing, like you do when you’re in love, just feeling connected. She was talking about visiting her sister in upstate New York when we got cut off. I kept trying back but kept getting a German recording. I got through a half hour later, but there was no answer, and I had to get back to the ship.
“We hit a storm coming back, lost some containers overboard and took minor damage. We were delayed, but I knew Ginny would call the company for an updated ETA before she left home. When we docked, the Coast Guard and a crowd of insurance surveyors boarded to inspect the damage. When the crowd cleared and I hadn’t seen Ginny, I grabbed my coffee can of quarters and headed for the pay phone. I got no answer at home, so I called Ginny’s sister.” Dugan paused. “That’s when I found out.
“We had a renovated apartment, hardwood floors and rugs everywhere, all sizes. Ginny loved the damned things. She slipped on one and smashed her head on the coffee table. When she didn’t show up and her sister couldn’t reach her, she called the police. They found Ginny.
“Ginny wasn’t great with administrative details. Her sister was still listed as next of kin, and she didn’t know how to reach me or when I’d return. After the autopsy, she went ahead with the funeral. Ginny was buried the day before I arrived. I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
Anna squeezed his hand and nodded, not trusting herself to speak, as Dugan went on.
“I know now her sister did the best she could, but I wasn’t rational. I said terrible things to her. I apologized later, but scars remain. I don’t hear from her.”
“Oh Tom, I’m—”
He ignored her, as if having started, he couldn’t stop.
“My shipmates found me crying on the dock. The first thing I remember is my sister, Katy, packing up my stuff. She took me home and moved in and commuted to school. I drank. She tried to help, but she was a college kid with no idea how to handle a morose, nutty drunk. I got it in my head Ginny was murdered. I needed a target for my hate, I guess. I went down and demanded a copy of the autopsy report.”
Dugan took a ragged breath as a tear leaked from his eye. “It took a bottle of Wild Turkey to get through it, but I found Ginny’s surprise. She was pregnant.”
“Oh God. Tom, I’m so sorry.”
“I was in a drunken rage, still convinced someone had killed her. I read it all again and again—date, time, and cause of death—until I understood. Until I found the bastard.” He turned, his anguish unbearable, as he revealed a dark secret he’d shared with no one, not even Alex, in twenty years.
“It was me,” he whispered. “I killed them.”
Anna sat entranced as it poured out. His realization that Ginny died near the time of their last call. His image of Ginny irritated at the disconnection. Of an impatient wait for a callback and a slip on the rug as she rushed to answer.
“If I hadn’t kept trying,” he said, “Ginny and our baby would be alive.”
Anna sat, unsure how to respond, but knowing grief, survivor’s guilt, and failure to share these terrible thoughts had solidified this horrible notion. No words could heal this. She hugged him awkwardly as he hid his face in her shoulder, ashamed of his horrible secret.
After a while, he lifted his head. “Sorry,” he said with an embarrassed smile.
She kissed him tenderly, and he tensed. She stood and tugged him to his feet.
“Anna, wait.”
She placed a finger on his lips and pulled him toward the bedroom. Sex was slow and tender as they explored each other with the wonder of new lovers, mingled with an inexplicable familiarity. Afterward, Anna lay in the crook of his arm as she toyed with his chest hair.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
“I’m wondering why women always ask that after sex.”
He jumped as she jerked his chest hair. “Ouch. That hurt, damn it.”
“Serves you right for spoiling the moment.”
Dugan hugged her close. “Lady, it would take a lot more than that to spoil this moment.”
They lapsed into silence, each thinking their own thoughts.
“Ah… actually,” Dugan said, “I may spoil it. What about Mr. Walsh?”
“Who?” She raised her head, confused.
“You know. Your husband.”
Anna began to laugh. “My God, Dugan. You are a bloody Boy Scout, aren’t you? Ex-husband, Tom. I’m long since divorced.”
“But you said—”
“Cast as a slut,” she said, “I needed to discourage you. Actually, I was pleasantly surprised I wasn’t forced to use a knee to the groin.”
“So what happened?” Dugan asked.
“Not much to tell. We met in school, both studying forensic accounting. You know, finding people ‘cooking the books’ as you Yanks say. We married, and I joined MI5 and David went to a private firm. After training, I joined a firm supplying temps, basically a front to place me in companies under investigation. In time,” she continued, “my job seemed to upset David. I guess it was emasculating, like he was a stodgy accountant and I was a spy. He hinted and then demanded I quit, but I quite liked my job.”
She sighed. “Perhaps I was selfish. I might have dealt better with his insecurity, but I didn’t. He grew cold an
d had frequent—and open—affairs, as if advertising he was a stud. We divorced, and last I heard, he was married for the third time and living in the Midlands.”
“Is the offer of a penny for my thoughts still open?”
“Sure.”
Dugan hugged her tight. “David was a fucking idiot.”
Anna smiled into his chest.
“I’ve often thought so myself,” she said.
Chapter Ten
Offices of Phoenix Shipping
13 June
Braun sat in Alex Kairouz’s favorite chair and watched over steepled fingers. Alex sat on the sofa, ashen faced and trembling as he digested the news. Ibrahim’s body was found in an alley, throat slashed and wallet missing. Metro Police considered it a random street crime, as did the media. There was a small story on an inside page of The Daily Telegraph and a thirty-second mention on the morning news shows. Braun was pleased.
“Quit sniveling, Kairouz,” Braun said. “It’s your own bloody fault.”
“M… my fault. You basta—”
“Of course it’s your fault,” Braun said. “Didn’t I warn you what would happen if you didn’t control Ibrahim? As a matter of fact, please note I spared his wife and children. For now. I’ll remedy that if you don’t quit whining and get back in the game.”
“What do you want?”
“Your renewed participation. Does it surprise you to know your friend Dugan has been snooping about? He and Ibrahim became fast friends, unfortunately for Ibrahim. Dugan is out of control, and I’m holding you responsible for putting him back in the box.”
“I warned you this would happen,” Alex said. “How can I possibly control Thomas?”
“To start, get closer to him,” Braun said. “Play on his friendship and find a way to keep him ignorant and out of the picture. You’re a clever fellow. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I don’t care how you do it, but contain him.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then Mr. Dugan and the family Ibrahim will all meet with accidents. Are we clear?”
Deadly Straits (Tom Dugan 1) Page 8