Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller

by Louise Rose-Innes

  Kaz introduced Crane who nodded respectfully. He knew his place. The brother eyed him up, probably coming to the same conclusion about him, that Crane had done. Soldier. Battle-hardened. Dangerous.

  Their host beckoned for them to follow him and they exited the thread-bare front room with its concrete floor and dark interior and walked through to what seemed like a different house. Light from a large skylight flooded this room, made all the brighter by its whitewashed walls and beige marble flooring. Both Kaz and Crane blinked as their pupils adjusted. Kaz didn’t appear surprised which made Crane think he’d been here before.

  “Please, sit down,” said their host.

  They sat on leather sofas, positioned around a low, hand-carved wooden coffee table. On cue, three other men entered the room, all in robes, which Crane assumed concealed a variety of weapons. He stood up, but Kaz gestured for him to sit down. “We’re among friends.”

  So he nodded at the newcomers, all of whom checked him out, and sat down again, keeping his hand close to his holster. He was surprised their host hadn’t taken it off him. That said a lot. Trust was a big deal amongst thieves.

  “My father is too sick to travel,” Faisal said in heavily accented English.

  “I’m sorry he is not well. Please send him my regards.”

  Their host nodded. “Would you like some refreshment before we get down to business?”

  Kaz agreed and a woman in a full burqa, with only her eyes visible, brought in a tray of what looked like iced tea and an assortment of syrupy, nutty pastries. They waited while she poured for everyone. She kept her gaze downwards in a subservient pose, her hand steady. Crane noticed her eyes were a vivid olive green, but despite his scrutiny, she didn’t look up.

  “Apologies,” Faisal said to Crane, but we must speak in Arabic as my English is not so good.

  It was probably better than he made out, but Crane nodded and let them get on with it. He picked out a few words here and there but nothing that told him what they were up to, which, of course, was the point.

  A shadow passed overhead and looking up through the skylight, Crane spotted a man patrolling the rooftop. He was heavily armed holding some sort of assault rifle. It was hard to tell the make from down here, although if he had to guess, he’d say Kalashnikov.

  This room had windows along one side which looked out onto a rectangular courtyard, but even they were enforced with burglar bars. A security camera was mounted to the roof in the corner of the room, angled at the table. Everything they did would be observed by someone else in the house, with an army ready to come running if the need arose.

  The place was a fortress.

  Crane was willing to bet Faisal was the supplier. Who better than a childhood friend, someone with ties that went back to the village where they were both born, someone he could trust? He’d be the man in charge of the farmers who grew the opium-producing poppies and manufactured the heroin. If so, he was a powerful player in Kaz’s organisation.

  The meeting lasted a little over an hour and Kaz and Faisal did most of the talking. Occasionally, a question would be directed at one of the other men, who answered as succinctly as possible. Crane watched carefully, observing their body language. The man to Faisal’s right was next in command. The way he sat to attention, listened and occasionally added some information of his own confirmed it. He was used to being in charge, he wasn’t afraid of confrontation and answered succinctly and with authority when questioned.

  The other two men were lower down on the hierarchical scale. Possibly local managers. Crane committed all their faces to memory, paying special attention to eye colour, moles and other facial features so he could identify them from photographs at a later date, if necessary.

  Finally, the meeting was over and the two friends embraced once again. There was real warmth between them.

  The car was right where they’d left it, engine running. Relief spread over the driver’s face as they got in. He couldn’t wait to get out of there. Crane didn’t blame him. He was quite keen to get out of there himself, and back to the hotel to check on Sarah. It had been an enlightening day, however, and he had much to report.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Crane met Doug at the put-in point. There’d been a substantial rainfall while they were away and the Little White Salmon river was thick and full. It thrust forward with ill-disguised power, carving its way through the ragged, tree-covered valley. Crane couldn’t wait to get out there. His kayak was in the back of his pickup, securely fastened, but before he could take it off and get paddling, he had to meet Doug.

  Crane had suggested meeting here, not only to kill two birds with one stone, but because it wasn’t the kind of place anyone would bother follow him. With his kayak on the back of his pickup, it was fairly obvious where he was headed and what he was doing.

  Even if Kaz had put a tail on him, the put-in point was off the beaten track, along a dirt road running upstream. The only people who used it were extreme kayakers eager to tame the infamous river, or park rangers going about their daily tasks. He’d know if someone was following him.

  He had to wait five minutes before he heard the crunch of tires. Sure enough, Doug’s ancient Chevy rolled to a stop beside his vehicle, the window wide open despite the fresh wind that had sprung up.

  “How was Pakistan?” asked Doug, as he climbed out of the car. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a shirt with a baseball cap on his head. Doug’s attempt at incognito.

  Crane smiled. “All good. So you got the photo?”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking shipment. What about you?”

  “Same. It has to be. Everything points towards it. I don’t know how he’s going to bring it in, but it’s going to be on that ship. I’d stake my career on it.”

  The river hissed and gurgled as it rushed past.

  “You seriously going down that?”

  Crane grinned. “You bet! She’s in a frenzy this morning. Perfect conditions.”

  Doug shook his head. “Crazy bastard. I hope you make it to the other end. I heard a report on the radio warning kayakers to keep away. Levels are dangerously high, apparently.”

  “They are. That’s what makes it fun.”

  Rolling his eyes, Doug said, “So tell me about these suppliers.”

  “Kaz called Faisal – the one in charge – brother but I don’t think he meant it literally. According to Sarah, he doesn’t have any siblings, so I’m guessing they come from the same village in Afghanistan or maybe fought together. Could even be cousins. Like with the older guy, there was definitely a connection.”

  “Brothers in arms. You get a second name?”

  “No, sorry. I didn’t get the names of any of the others either. They spoke Arabic.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Oh, Faisal had a nasty shrapnel wound on his neck. Would have required surgery.” He touched his neck. “Right side.”

  “Okay, that helps.”

  “The place was like Fort Knox. Snipers on the roof, security cameras inside and out, burglar bars on the windows. I don’t know what they do there, but it’s dodgy as hell. I’m willing to bet they had a bunch of mercs upstairs too, just in case.”

  Doug frowned. “We’ll see what we can dig up. By the way, Naser Haziz is a big shot in the Afghani government. He’s got a lot of high profile friends. Word in political circles is nothing happens without him knowing about it.”

  “Good man to have on your side if you’re exporting drugs,” murmured Crane thinking back to the man with the clipped beard and manicured fingernails. “You’ll have a hard time proving his involvement. He’s going to be well protected.”

  “We’ve got an Interpol team watching him as we speak.” Doug’s eyes gleamed with determination. “He’ll slip up eventually and we’ll catch him. With this deal in the pipeline, something’s got to give soon.”

  “I hope so.” Crane watched the water, already he was figuring out his line through the first set of rapids.

  “I’ll let you know when
The Pride of the East is underway. I’ll have a team waiting to search her when she docks. If there’s drugs on board, we’ll find them.”

  “You know it’s going to blow my cover.” Crane dragged his gaze away from the river to glance at Doug. “He’ll know it’s me.”

  Doug spread his arms out in a ‘there’s nothing I can do’ gesture. “It’s three weeks away. Hopefully, we’ll have wrapped this up by then. In the meantime the DEA are tracking those three guys you gave us. Based on their activities over the last few days, we’re a hundred percent convinced they’re involved in the distribution of the drugs, but we’ve got to wait for the shipment to arrive before we bust them. We need to catch them in the act, so to speak, besides, we don’t want to spook Kaz into changing his plans.”

  Crane got up. “It all depends on the shipment coming in as planned.”

  Doug cast a wary glance at the drop-in point. “Right, I’ll leave you to it. I’d tell you to be careful, but I’d be wasting my breath.”

  Crane was already lifting his kayak out of the pickup. The adrenalin pumped through his veins, he was itching to get out there. It had been a week since he’d last felt the rush of the rapids and the spray in his face.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  He hoisted it onto one shoulder, carried it to the river bank and set it down on the small, sandy verge. This was a relatively calm point where the river jutted out in mid-meander. The water slowed down considerably here, allowing kayakers to launch their vessels with minimum disruption. As soon as he paddled into the main flow, however, his speed would increase and the river would take over.

  All he’d be able to do from that point onwards would be control his kayak as the current spun him around boulders and over death-defying drops into churning cauldrons with so much spray he’d have to paddle his way out of it blind. It was a hell of a ride – and today would be hairier than most.

  It was late when Crane got back to his bungalow at Kaz’s place. The digital clock on his dashboard read ten o’clock when he paused so the security guard at the front gate could wave him through. He parked in the main parking lot and looked up at the house. Despite the hour, there were lights twinkling in all the windows, making it appear warm and inviting. What an illusion that was, considering Sarah was a virtual prisoner in there.

  The narrow path to the staff bungalows was well lit, given the three-quarter moon. There didn’t appear to be anyone else about. The surface of the lake kept catching his eye as it undulated eerily thanks to the wind that broke the normally sheer, glassy reflection into hundreds of tiny shards. To make matters worse, the trees swayed violently, casting dark moving shadows over the surface.

  Lights were on in all five bungalows. Everyone was home tonight, but then with the wind howling and the temperatures plummeting it wasn’t the type of night to go out. Peter would be between shifts. Crane didn’t envy him patrolling the property on a night like this. Sergio, Kaz’s new driver, hadn’t drawn the blind and Crane saw him standing at the window, coffee cup in hand, staring out into the dark woods. Crane lifted a hand in greeting, but Sergio didn’t notice and soon turned away, moving further into the room.

  It was gone midnight when Crane saw the flash of headlights through the thin curtains. He got up and looked out of the window. Kaz’s SUV was disappearing down the driveway. Where was he going at this hour? He hesitated. Should he go and see if Sarah was okay? How could he be sure that was Kaz and not someone else? He picked up his phone to message her. Then put it down again. Too risky.

  He was still debating what to do when he heard a soft knock on his door. He opened it, gun behind his back, just in case.

  Sarah.

  She wore a black tracksuit with the hood up, her hair tucked in behind her neck. Only her pale face was visible in the moonlight.

  He tucked his gun into the back of his pants and glanced outside to make sure the coast was clear. He couldn’t hear anything other than the mad rustling of the trees in the strong wind. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, pulling her hood down and gliding past him into the bungalow. She shook her head so her hair fell forward around her face. “Kaz got a phone call and went out. I’m not sure who it was but it must have been urgent. I thought you should know.”

  Crane shut the door, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It was risky coming here. Peter does his rounds at night and could have spotted you.” He didn’t know whether Sergio was still up, but with his blind open he would be able to see anyone slinking along the path without them necessarily spotting him.

  “I know. Peter was in his room. I checked. All the other lights were off. My husband will be gone for a while.” She walked towards him and put her hands on his chest. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” he said honestly and pulled her towards him for a kiss. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The kiss went on and on until, with a low moan, he led her backwards across the room to the bed, pausing only to put his gun on the bedside table.

  “I wish I could stay with you all night,” whispered Sarah, as she stroked his chest some time later.

  So did he, thought Crane, but he brushed such emotion aside and instead said, “Not wise. Kaz could be back any minute.”

  “Party-pooper,” she groaned, sitting up. He brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want you getting into trouble.”

  Trouble was putting it lightly. He had no doubt Kaz would kill them both if he found them together. “We’d better make sure you get home before your husband does.”

  “I know.” Giving him one last lingering kiss, she slipped out from under the covers and got back into her tracksuit which lay discarded at the foot of the bed. He loved watching her get dressed, her lithe body translucent in the darkness, her hair all mussed up, sexy as hell.

  “I’m beginning to think I was being paranoid about my husband being involved in the boating accident,” she said suddenly. Crane wondered where that had come from. It was kind of out of the blue.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if he’s so involved in drug smuggling, why would he care about Chris and the others? It doesn’t seem realistic. He’s got bigger fish to fry. Do you know what I mean?” She paused and stared at him. “It must have been a horrible accident.”

  “Hmm… I’m not sure about that,” muttered Crane, remembering what Doug had said. He sat up in bed.

  “Do you know something?” she asked, coming closer.

  There was no point in sugar coating it. “A motor boat was found abandoned up the coast. It looks like it was the one used to ram into your friend’s fishing vessel.”

  “They found the boat?”

  “Yeah, they did.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  When he nodded, she pleaded, “Tell me. I want to know.”

  He grimaced. “It was rented by a man who matched Aneez’s description. False name, of course, but the rental agency identified him from a picture.”

  Sarah gasped. “So it was Kaz? Oh, my God.” She collapsed on the edge of the bed as if her legs couldn’t support her. Crane saw the confusion in her eyes as she stared at him. “Why? Why would he bother with them? They’re nothing to him?”

  “I don’t know. Lose end, maybe?” He was grasping at straws. “I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t understand.” She gnawed on her lower lip, shaking her head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  He agreed. Was Kaz so obsessed with Sarah, he couldn’t rest until Chris was dead? But what about Rick? What had he done?

  Sarah rubbed her forehead. She was in shock, he could see that. Even if she’d suspected her husband of being involved, having it proven changed everything. With trembling hands she pulled on her shoes.

  “Are you okay?” Silly question. Of course, she wasn’t okay.

  She nodded, then shook her head. “Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. I’m so confused. I don’t un
derstand why this is happening?” She closed her eyes as if to squeeze out the horrible thoughts.

  Crane put an arm around her, conscious that he was still naked. “I’m sorry to tell you this way.”

  “It’s okay. There’s no good way of telling me, is there?” She studied his face for a moment, then broke down. “Oh, God, Crane. I don’t know if I can go back there. Not now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “He killed Chris and Chef, and now Rick. My husband is a murderer.”

  Crane was worried. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes wild, she was on the brink of panic. He had to calm her down or risk jeopardising the entire operation.

  He held her by the shoulders, gently, but firmly. “Look, you have to be brave. I know you don’t want to go back there, but if there’s any chance of convicting your husband for both the murders and the drug smuggling, we have to catch him in the act. It’s the only way. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t reply, but he could see she did.

  “It won’t be much longer. Three weeks at the most. Those details you sent me were of a shipment of drugs coming into the country. That’s when we’re going to nab him, but until then you can’t let on. Okay? You’ve got to play along, act like nothing’s changed. Your husband can’t know we’re on to him.”

  She inhaled and nodded, making a concerted effort to pull herself together. He hugged her. “You can do this.”

  “Three weeks?”

  “Yeah, then we’ll arrest him and he’ll go away for a long time. You’ll be free of him.”

  “You promise?” Her eyes bore into his.

  “I promise,” he said, holding her gaze. “Now let’s get you back home before Kaz comes back.”