Deadly Straits (Tom Dugan 1)

by McDermott, R. E.

  We better, Anna thought, hanging up and pushing through the crowd to Mrs. Coutts at the mob’s edge checking off arriving employees to start a list of missing colleagues. Anna looked around.

  “Mr. Kairouz?”

  Mrs. Coutts pointed to Alex some distance away, his back turned as he pocketed his phone. He turned as she approached, his face red.

  “So much for your bloody promises.”

  “Alex?… But how—”

  “From Mrs. Farnsworth, who is apparently more competent than the whole of Her Majesty’s bloody Security Service. Where the hell was the protection?”

  “We’ve a strong signal,” Anna said, “and I’m going after her. But you shouldn’t be alone now. Wait here while I get Mrs. Coutts.”

  Anna hurried away. When she returned with Mrs. Coutts, Alex was gone.

  ***

  Alex skirted arriving firefighters to walk north along the river, crossing Westminster Bridge to the tube station. He’d been wrong to entrust Cassie’s safety to others. Braun was too smart. He had no choice now but to play Braun’s game.

  Even now, pursuit endangered Cassie, but he knew he couldn’t stop it. Braun was the real target now, whatever Anna said, for only he held the key to the attacks. And if Braun did escape, it would mean he’d found and disabled the implant and knew he was compromised. In that scenario, Alex was Cassie’s last chance. Braun the desperate fugitive would kill her and flee. Unless Alex provided an option. Unless his confession and suicide made the news in time for Braun to hear. Braun couldn’t even be charged with kidnapping if acting on Alex’s orders. Assuming he left Cassie unharmed.

  Alex embraced that fragile hope and marched toward a date with death.

  Bridge Street

  Approaching Westminster Bridge

  “Any luck?” Lou asked over his shoulder as Dugan dialed again, unaware Alex was entering the tube station only yards away.

  “Another ‘unavailable’ message,” Dugan said from the backseat next to Reyes, glaring out at traffic. Assuming Lambeth Bridge would choke first, Lou had diverted to Westminster Bridge, along with most of the rest of London it seemed.

  “Try the Farnsworth woman,” Harry suggested.

  Dugan nodded and dialed. She answered at once.

  “Mr. Dugan,” she said, “thank God you’re here. Farley has kidnapped Cassie. I called Mr. Kairouz straightaway, but he hung up and hasn’t rung back. When I call, I get a bloody recording. The headmistress called the police, but Ms. Walsh’s ‘protection’ is nowhere to be seen. What should I do?”

  She was coming unwound. Dugan tried to calm her.

  “Mrs. Farnsworth—Gillian. You need to be calm for Cassie’s sake. Anna’s people are tracking her and have a rescue plan.” He hoped. “I can’t reach Alex either, but I’ll keep trying and call you when I do.”

  “All right,” she said, perceptibly calmer.

  “We don’t want the media involved. Suggest to the headmistress it’s likely a kidnapping for ransom. Swear her to silence. Can you do that for me?”

  “Of course. You needn’t speak to me as if I were a child, Mr. Dugan.”

  “You’re right. Forgive me,” he said, relieved at the steel in her voice.

  “Anna’s guys will deal with the police,” Dugan said, looking at Harry, who nodded and dialed his own phone. “You best go home. I’ll call when I know anything.”

  “See that you do,” she said, again in control. “Good-bye, Mr. Dugan.”

  Dugan hung up and waited for Harry to finish his call.

  “Cops say they went out the toilet window,” Harry said as he hung up. “A two-man job. Braun must be along.”

  “His plan is in motion,” Dugan said. “Burning the office cuts him off from the attack ship or ships and prevents us from searching for it. Which means—”

  “We have to take the bastard alive,” Lou finished from behind the wheel.

  They sat, digesting that. Harry broke the silence.

  “You handled the Farnsworth woman well, Yank.”

  “Maybe in gratitude you can describe the rescue plan I assured her we had,” Dugan said.

  Lambeth Road Eastbound

  Farley laid on his horn.

  “Are you trying to attract attention, you idiot?” Braun said.

  Farley sulked. Traffic was worse than anticipated. They had cutout vehicles in multiple locations, but they’d yet to reach the first one. Braun decided to forgo multiple switches and go to the safe house after the first change.

  The shadow flickered again, and Braun leaned out to see a helicopter high overhead. He drew in and studied the traffic. The left lane was moving well as cars turned left to escape the accident ahead.

  “Turn left on Saint Georges Road.”

  “But we’re almost past the jam.”

  “Do it.”

  Lambeth Road at Pratt Walk

  The car pulled to the curb in front of Anna. The agent in the front passenger seat jumped out and got in back, yielding his seat to Anna. Anna got in, and the driver laid on his horn and forced his way back into traffic.

  “This is a bloody balls-up,” Anna said. “Was watching one young girl too taxing for you two?”

  The driver shot a sheepish glance over his shoulder, deferring to his partner in the back. After a long pause the man in back spoke. “Anna—”

  “Stow it. There is absolutely nothing you can say to help yourselves. Now give me the damn radio,” she said, holding out her hand.

  The agent in back passed over the radio, and Anna took charge.

  “Control. This is Walsh. I’m now in the chase car at Lambeth Road and Pratt Walk. Do you have the link with all units yet?”

  “Affirmative, Walsh. You’re Chase One. Chesterton is Chase Two. Chopper is Air One. Target is east of your position on Lambeth, near the War Museum.”

  “Chase One to Air One. Do you have an ID?”

  “Negative, Walsh. I can’t separate him yet,” the chopper pilot said.

  “Chase Two, did you copy? What’s your location, Lou?” Anna asked.

  “I copy Anna,” Lou said. “We’re across the bridge, east on Westminster Bridge Road. We’ll parallel you in case he breaks north. Where do you want the police?”

  “Out of sight,” she said. “When the chopper IDs him, we’ll fake an accident in his path. When he stops, we’ll surprise him.”

  “Got it,” Lou said, then added, “Anna, have you seen Kairouz?”

  “Negative. He’s disappeared.”

  “Understood,” Lou said.

  She wondered briefly about Alex, then cursed traffic. At least Braun was trapped too.

  Saint Georges Road Northbound

  Traffic moved faster on Saint Georges Road, most turning east on to Westminster Bridge Road back toward Saint Georges Circus.

  “Make the right. Stay with the eastbound traffic,” Braun said, leaning out again.

  As Farley complied, Braun pulled his head in. “Still there,” he said.

  “Who?”

  “The helicopter that’s tracking us.”

  Farley tried to look up through the windshield.

  “Eyes on the road,” Braun snapped.

  Farley shot Braun a glare, then stared ahead.

  “Interesting,” Braun said. “The police couldn’t have found us. Even if someone saw an IPS truck at the school, there are hundreds in the city; that’s why I chose it. They’re tracking us somehow. It can only be the girl. She must have a tracking device or an implant.”

  “Christ, the flu jab,” Farley said. “It seemed legit. She whined all the way home. Even missed school the next day, which now that I think on seems a bit of a carry-on for a jab.”

  “Right under your bloody nose,” Braun started, then contained himself. First things first.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s take stock. Our opponents coerced a doctor, have remote surveillance and a helicopter. That says authorities.”

  “Shit. Cut out the implant and toss it. Better yet, toss
her out as a diversion.”

  “And do what, you idiot? Magically speed through the snarl in this brightly colored shoe box? No, I have plans for our little simpleton. They obviously haven’t identified us, or they’d have attempted something. We’re still only a signal. Just drive while I think.”

  It came to him as they neared Saint Georges Circus.

  “Take London Road to New Kent,” Braun said. “Most of these cars will stay with us, and an IPS van headed to the terminal is normal.” He laid out the rest.

  Later on New Hope Road, Farley purposely caught the light near a B&Q Super Center.

  “OK,” Braun said, “the loading dock in ten minutes. And Farley, do act like you belong.”

  Farley gave an affirmative grunt as Braun left the truck to melt into the crowd.

  Lambeth Road

  Approaching Saint Georges Circus

  Anna swore. Braun’s lead had widened.

  “Target is stationary at New Kent Road and Balfour Street,” Control said.

  “Copy that,” the chopper pilot said. “An IPS van and two cars caught the light. It’s one of those. Wait; someone is leaving the van. Damn. I lost him in the crowd and—”

  “Air One, stay on the signal,” Anna said. “We’re a mile back. Lou, location?”

  “A quarter mile behind you, Anna.”

  “The cars are turning,” the chopper pilot said, “but the van’s going straight for the terminal.”

  “This is Control. Signal is still on New Kent Road.”

  “Bingo!” the pilot said. “Positive ID on IPS truck.”

  “Brilliant,” Anna said. “Lou, have the police close to two blocks while we work out how to engage.”

  “Will do, Anna.”

  She leaned forward as if to speed traffic by force of will just as squealing tires preceded a loud bang ahead, and a wave of flashing brake lights rippled toward her.

  Sudsbury and Smythe

  Private Bankers

  Lombard Street, London

  Clive Carrington-Smythe, managing director and majority shareholder of Sudsbury and Smythe, stared at the case uneasily. If generations of Smythes and hyphenated Smythes had learned anything, it was that one’s reputation was all, and this felt dodgy. But he couldn’t refuse. Thanks to Braun’s appearance months ago, Phoenix Shipping was his largest account, and Braun never questioned charges. Almost like halcyon days of old when family fortunes were managed by gentlemen far too polite to question fees. But it was a great deal of money, he thought again, looking at the oversize case.

  “Mr. Kairouz, sir,” his secretary said, showing a man in.

  “Mr. Kairouz, at long last. I’ve so enjoyed dealing with Captain Braun. I am sorry your own schedule has precluded our meeting.”

  The man nodded but looked puzzled. The banker was puzzled as well. His visitor was disheveled, with circles under his eyes and a vacant look.

  “Coffee or tea?” Carrington-Smythe asked, waving his guest to a sofa.

  “Nothing, thank you. I’m pressed, I’m afraid.”

  “Of course,” the banker said, moving the case to the coffee table. “Nasty buggers, these pirates. The Royal Navy should hang the lot, like the old days.”

  He opened the case. “Had to be creative to fit it all in, I’m afraid. Dollars, pounds, and bearer bonds.” He offered a paper. “If you’ll verify and sign, we’re done.”

  “I’m sure it’s all in order.” Kairouz scrawled his signature.

  “But… but… my God, sir, that’s twelve million doll—”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” Kairouz closed the case and rose, hefting it in his left hand and extending his right. “Do forgive my rush, but as I said, I am pressed.”

  “Of course,” the banker said. “Is there anything else?”

  “No, I… Actually, yes. My phone battery is flat. Could you call a cab?”

  “Absolutely. Where to?”

  “Heathrow. The private terminal.”

  B&Q Super Center

  New Kent Road

  Near IPS Main Terminal, London

  Braun left the B&Q with a long box on his shoulder. He dashed for the terminal, slowing as he reached the gate to wave to a bored guard and get a nod in return. He spotted Farley at the far end of the covered loading dock next to another truck, both backed in with only their fronts visible from above. He crossed the distance and climbed in, motioning Farley to follow him to the back.

  “Tape her up so she can’t flail about,” Braun said, tossing Farley a roll of duct tape.

  Farley worked quickly, glancing over as Braun opened the box.

  “Data Shield—Window Film,” he read aloud. “What the bloody hell is that?”

  “This, Farley, will make our guest invisible. Help me wrap her.”

  Minutes later, Cassie was encased in a silvery cocoon.

  “OK,” Braun said, “when you hear my tap, be ready to carry her to the next truck.”

  “But why—”

  “JUST DO IT,” Braun said, raising the rear door to exit, then closing it after himself.

  He moved into the back of the next truck. The driver was stacking boxes, his back turned. He turned as the van shifted with Braun’s weight and got a bullet in the forehead, the soft pop of the silenced pistol lost in the dock noise. Braun moved boxes to the dock, building a wall behind the two trucks, then tapped the back of his own truck and ripped up the roller door. Farley carried Cassie into the next truck unseen.

  Braun looked in, nodding at the dead driver. “Get the keys and be ready.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Braun smiled. “To arrange a little distraction,” he said and rolled the door down.

  The break room was empty, its worn furniture littered with newspaper. Vending machines lined a wall across from a counter holding small appliances. In a corner, Braun found a utility closet with a gas water heater. He moved to the counter and stuffed newspaper into a toaster oven, leaving the oven door ajar before returning to the utility closet. Gas hissed as he unscrewed the connection. He turned the oven on and left.

  New Kent Road

  Half Mile West of IPS Terminal

  “Control. This is Chase One. We’re moving again on New Kent Road,” Anna said.

  “I copy, Chase One. Target is… wait… no signal, repeat, no signal.”

  “Air One,” Anna said, “do you have visual?”

  “I can see the front of the truck,” the pilot said. “He hasn’t moved.”

  “Control, is your equipment OK?” Anna asked.

  “We’re fine, Chase One. The transmitter has been disabled.”

  The bastard’s made us, Anna thought. “Lou. Status?”

  “A half mile back,” Lou said, “Harry’s on with the police. They’re hamstrung by jams; they need more time to close.”

  “Chase One,” the chopper broke in, “movement in the terminal.”

  “Braun’s van?” Anna asked.

  “Negative. But four others are queuing to leave.”

  Braun was taking Cassie, Anna realized, else he would’ve left the signal as a decoy. He was moving, but not his van, and men afoot dragging a girl could hardly escape notice.

  “All units,” Anna said, “Cassie’s in one of those trucks.”

  “This is Air One. All four are eastbound on New Kent. Whom do I tail?”

  “Air One,” Anna said, “they have to take the Great Dover roundabout. That leaves four trucks with three possible exits. Stay over the largest group. Chase Two and I will tail trucks that split off. Keep as many in sight as long as possible to vector in police cars. All units confirm.”

  “Understood, Chase One,” the pilot said, doubt in his voice.

  “We copy,” Lou said. “Harry’s called a second chopper, and the police are ordering IPS to ring all of their drivers to stop. Even if he slips us, he’ll be the only truck moving.”

  “Brilliant, Lou,” Anna said. “I see the back of the last truck ahead of us now.”

  “We have you
in sight as well,” Lou said. “We’ll get the bastards, Anna.”

  Your lips to God’s ears, Anna thought, focusing on the truck ahead.

  New Kent Road Eastbound

  Farley drove third of four.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “One chopper can’t follow us all. We’ll go wherever the others don’t,” Braun said, watching the trucks ahead and glancing in the side mirror at the truck behind.

  The lead truck and the last truck moved left as the second truck edged right.

  “Good,” Braun said. “Two look to be heading northbound on Great Dover, and the one behind us is going south on Old Kent Road. We’ll take Tower Bridge Road. Odds are the chopper will follow the two northbound trucks. And”—he peered back at the terminal in the side mirror—”we should get a little help right about… now.”

  He grinned as flame bloomed behind them, followed by a low rumble.

  Tower Bridge Road

  “We’ve lost them,” Braun said. “Time to dump the truck.”

  Farley nodded. “Our closest cutout is in the car park on Saint Thomas.”

  “Think, Farley. We stick out like a sore thumb. Duck into the next covered parking. I’ll sit on the girl while you change and take a cab to bring the car from Saint Thomas.”

  Farley nodded, and minutes later, was pulling into a space on the second floor of a parking garage. He changed into street clothes. As he left, Braun dialed his phone.

  “Mr. Carrington-Smythe, please. Captain Braun calling,” he said.

  A moment later, Carrington-Smythe was on the line.

  “Good morning ,Captain Braun. How may I—”

  “Please,” Braun whispered, “you must help me. Has he been there yet?”

  “Who? Kairouz? Why yes, some time ago. I did just as you asked.”

  “Only under duress. Kairouz threatened my family. Poor Sutton resisted, and the monster shot him and torched the office to cover it. He’s looting the company and fleeing.”

  “Good Lord, man! You must go to—”

  “I can’t. His goons are watching. Notify the authorities, but please, please, leave my name out of it for the sake of my children. Wait! Someone’s coming. I must—”

  Braun hung up, smiling. That should do it.