“I’ll go this way, you go that way,” said Crane, as they rounded the path on the approach to the bungalows. By splitting up they’d cover more ground. Peter grunted and peeled off into the woods.
Crane charged through the undergrowth to where he’d left Sarah. She was still there, hugging herself in his oversized fleece, trying to keep warm. She jumped up off the tree trunk as he approached.
“What’s happening?”
“It’s okay. You’re still safe. They spotted you on the security camera and are searching the grounds. We’ve got to get you back now. Kaz is in the security room. He doesn’t know you’re missing.
Sarah closed her eyes. “Oh God. How am I going to get back?”
“Take off your hoodie,” he ordered.
“What? I’ll freeze.”
“You can’t be seen in that. They’ll know it’s you. Better to freeze.”
In response, she pulled off Crane’s fleece and handed it to him. Then she tugged the hoodie over her head. The skimpy T-shirt she wore underneath did nothing to protect her from the biting cold.
Crane put his own fleece back on and hid the hoodie under the tree trunk. He couldn’t go back into the bungalow and risk Peter seeing him. “We’d better get out of here. Peter’s searching the woods.”
As if on cue they heard the crunching of boots not far away. “Quick,” whispered Crane, grabbing her hand and pulling her further into the undergrowth. With a bit of luck they could bypass Peter and head back to the house the way they’d just come. “Keep low and watch where you tread.”
Sarah didn’t argue. Crane was impressed by her silent acquiescence. She followed his lead, crouching as low as she could while treading lightly on the mushy foliage underfoot.
Crane, who was used to avoiding the enemy, guided them deeper into the woods where the foliage was so thick that at times it scraped their legs through their pants. The tree trunks were so close together they had to hold their breath as they squeezed through.
Peter was easy to track and therefore easy to avoid. The heavyset man couldn’t help but make a noise as he moved. It might not be obvious to everyone, but Crane knew what a man traipsing through the undergrowth sounded like. His ears were tuned to that frequency. The bulky security guard might be perfectly suited to urban guerrilla warfare but he wasn’t used to wooded terrain. Here, Crane was in his element.
They backtracked through the forest until they came to a copse of trees in line with the kitchen door. By this time Sarah was blue with cold and her arms were covered with red scratches, yet she didn’t complain. Fear of her husband overrode any superficial pain she might be experiencing.
She was just about to run for the door when Crane grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he hissed. One of the FBI agents came round the corner, holding his weapon out in front of him. The timing sucked.
There were more voices not far behind him. “We have no choice, we’ve got to get you inside,” said Crane, and pulled her into the clearing. It took the FBI agent less than a second to clock them. He raised his weapon. Crane held up his hands. “It’s me, Crane.”
The FBI agent narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you doing, Crane?” His gaze shifted to Sarah who’d been hiding behind him. “Is this the intruder?”
“No, it’s Erkel’s wife. I’ve got to get her indoors before she’s seen.”
The give the agent credit, he put two and two together pretty fast. “Christ, Crane. What the fuck are you playing at?”
“Get inside,” Crane told Sarah who was shivering violently now. She darted from behind him into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. At that moment, two more guards rounded the corner. The FBI agent lowered his weapon.
“All clear,” he said to the others, giving Crane a pointed look.
“I’ll go this way,” said Crane, once again melting into the trees. He hoped to God the agent wouldn’t say anything, but he knew Doug would get wind of it and he’d get lambasted. He’d deal with that tomorrow. Right now, he had to get back to searching the woods, then he’d go and check in with Kaz.
Crane shuddered against the cold. That was close. Too close. With the shipment due tomorrow he was playing with fire. He’d allowed his relationship with Sarah to get way out of control and it had very nearly jeopardised the entire operation. They were together every night, taking crazy risks, right under the noses of her husband and the FBI. What the hell had he been thinking?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
November, 27th
The Pride of the East docked at the Port of Portland, eighty miles up the Columbia River, shortly before six a.m. She’d made the long journey from Karachi, Pakistan in just under three weeks.
The DEA had agents in position all over the dock, both on foot and in surveillance vehicles. They watched the ship unload, the massive cranes hard at work lifting containers from the deck to the shore, where they were transported to various warehouses.
They were ready to pounce. Warrants had been obtained, the bust signed off.
“Here we go,” mumbled Crane as customs officials boarded the Pride of the East and demanded to see her manifesto. The inventory checked out, the weights of the containers were aligned to what was written on the weigh bill. Everything seemed in order. But then Crane didn’t expect otherwise.
He’d left the bungalow early, taking his few belongings with him. After today, he wouldn’t be going back there. With customs officials swarming all over the ship like flies, Kaz would know he was the leak.
Everything relied on them finding the drugs. The FBI agents at Kaz’s house called in. The boss was still asleep. He hadn’t even come to see if his shipment had arrived safely. Not entirely unexpected. It was just like Kaz to stay away from the illegal activity. Crane was a bit disappointed. He wanted to look his adversary in the eye when he arrested him.
An hour had passed. The customs team were still on board searching. So far they’d turned up nothing. Crane frowned. He didn’t expect it to be easy, but the anticipating was killing him. It was all he could do not to board the vessel himself and search along with them.
“Let the professionals do their thing,” Doug had told him. They were thorough and systematic, and knew where to look. Narcotics were often found in soft toys or added to crates containing other merchandise. Nothing escaped their notice.
“They’re taking too long,” Crane told Doug another hour later. He was worried. “They should have found something by now.”
“Give it time,” said Doug, but Crane could see by the tension in his shoulders he was also concerned.
The entire search took three hours. Containers had been opened, crates unlocked and boxes torn apart so their insides spilled out all over the holding deck. The ship contained nothing but textiles, rugs and cushions, along with other legitimate merchandise from the Middle East.
After issuing an apology to the shipping company, the customs official called it a day. They hadn’t found a hint of heroin, or anything else contraband. Not even the sniffer dogs had turned up anything. The ship was squeaky clean. If there had been drugs on it, they weren’t there now.
“Where the hell are they?” growled Crane, pacing up and down the loading dock. “I know they came in on that ship. Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”
“There are no drugs on that ship,” the weary customs official told him, his face flushed. “We can’t detain them any longer.”
Doug stared at the Star of the East, his hands on his hips. “What an almighty fuck-up.”
Crane ran a hand through his hair. “They’ve got to be on board. It’s the only way he could have bought them in. There are no other shipments. This is it.”
“Perhaps he cancelled it,” suggested Doug. “Maybe he knew we were onto him.”
“Could be, but I doubt it. He was adamant this was the last shipment, then it was time for a rest. Those were his exact words.”
“Well, there’s nothing here now. Nothing more we can do.”
Crane kicked a contain
er in frustration.
At that moment, his phone rang.
All he could hear was crying.
“Sarah?”
“Crane. He knows,” she sobbed, before the phone went dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Sarah’s in trouble!”
Doug stopped talking to the customs official. “What?”
“Kaz knows about us. I need to get over there now.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Crane broke every speed limit on the way back to Kaz’s house. He kept his hazard lights on to give other motorists as much warning as possible, but his mind was focused on getting to Kaz before he did some serious damage to Sarah. How had he found out? Was it Peter? Or Sergio? Had someone seen them?
Doug got on the phone right away and called the FBI point-man on the property. Their conversation was brief. Hanging up, he said, “She left with her husband a few minutes ago. The guy with the ponytail was driving. No one knows where they went.”
“Shit,” yelled Crane. “Where’s her fucking bodyguard? Isn’t he supposed to be watching her?”
Doug cast him a sideways glance. “I heard about last night.” He shook his head.
“Save the ‘I told you so’ talk, Doug. You can give it to me later. Right now, I have to find Sarah before her husband kills her.”
“You honestly think he’s capable of killing his own wife?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s unhinged when it comes to her.”
Doug lost his temper. “Even more reason why you should have stayed the hell away.”
“I couldn’t. She was falling apart. I was the only thing preventing her from freaking out completely.”
“That wasn’t your problem.”
“She would have given the game away. I needed to keep her in check. Look how helpful she was? We wouldn’t have known about the shipment without her.”
“Okay, I get your point, but look at the shit we’re in now. The DEA is going to have a field day blaming us for this cock-up. And to make matters worse, there were no fucking drugs on board anyway.”
“There were. We just couldn’t find them.”
Doug fell silent as Crane screeched around the corner into the driveway. The guard recognised his car and opened the gates. Crane stood on the accelerator. Dust flew as he screeched to a halt outside the house. The front door was unlocked. Phil, a young FBI agent, was waiting outside. He had a massive bump on his head, turning blue.
“They’ve gone man. I tried to stop him, but…” he gestured to his head.
“Get that seen to,” said Doug. “And call the others off. This mission is over. We’re moving out.”
Phil nodded. “Sure thing. Hey, I’m sorry man.” He directed his apology towards Crane. “Mrs. Erkel didn’t look happy. He had her by the arm and forced her into the car. She was shouting for you.”
Christ. If that didn’t make him feel like a shit, nothing did.
“It’s not your fault,” he told Phil, then turned to Doug. “We need to find her.”
“I’ll get on it,” said Doug, and he marched off with Phil to where the other agents were gathering.
Crane sprinted to Peter’s bungalow and pounded on the door. “Where is she?” he yelled as it opened.
Peter was still groggy with sleep. It was clear he had no idea what was going down. “What?”
“Erkel. Where did he take her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter bristled. “Take who?”
He obviously didn’t like being woken this early. Despite it being almost eleven, the Czech had been on patrol all night, and thanks to the prowler, probably hadn’t got to bed much before six or seven.
Crane pounded the door frame and turned away. “Don’t worry.”
Charging back to the house, he wondered where Kaz might take Sarah. Instinct told him his adversary would use her to get to him. It was a waiting game. By now he’d know about the search and he would have figured out Crane was the snitch.
He searched Sarah’s room and found blood on her pillow. Not a good sign. He gritted his teeth, sick at the thought of her at the hands of that bastard.
Her handbag was still on the chair. He ruffled through it. No phone. Did that mean she still had it with her? He dialled it again. From somewhere on the bed came a muffled ring. His heart sank. Throwing back the sheets, he found her phone where she must have dropped it after ringing him in a panic earlier that morning.
He sat on the bed thinking. What a mess? The bust had turned up nothing. His cover was blown and Sarah had disappeared.
Then his phone rang again. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“You betrayed me.” The voice was low and gravelly, filled with menace.
Kaz.
“Where’s Sarah?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
Kaz continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I trusted you. We had an understanding. Yet, you went behind my back and screwed my wife.” The steely, barely controlled rage sent shivers down Crane’s spine.
“Where is she, Kaz?” His own voice was hard.
A pause. Then Kaz said, “At your cabin. Come alone, Crane, else she’ll be dead when you get here.”
Crane believed him.
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up and seconds later was speeding down the drive. Doug tried to hail him but he kept going. He wouldn’t risk Sarah’s life by calling in the cavalry just yet. First he wanted to suss out the situation and determine the damage (to Sarah) before he put her life in even more danger.
He made the two-hour drive to his cabin in under ninety minutes. He took every short-cut he knew, racing down dirt tracks, his pick-up kicking up a cloud of dust as he gorged a path through the forest. Timing was everything.
He was relatively certain Sarah was still alive, or else Kaz wouldn’t have used her as a bargaining chip. He only hoped she wasn’t too badly injured. He was tempted to call the paramedics, but if they arrived, sirens blaring, Kaz would panic and there was no telling what he might do to her. His fists clenched on the steering wheel, how had he allowed things to get so out of control? If anything happened to Sarah… He exhaled through pursed lips in an attempt to calm himself. Kaz was going down, one way or the other.
He parked half a mile away then proceeded on foot to the cabin, scoping out the territory as he went. He came across Kaz’s SUV parked at a crazy angle out front, a testament to its owner’s state of mind. There was no sign of Sergio. Crane hazarded a guess he was inside, with Kaz.
He circled the cabin. All the curtains were drawn. There was no way of seeing who was inside. Crane pulled out his gun, took a deep breath and knocked on the front door. As it opened, Crane raised his weapon. “Where is she?”
Kaz studied him, his eyes hard, his expression devoid of emotion. “Did you come alone?”
“Obviously. Now let me see Sarah.”
Kaz idly kicked the door so it swung back on its hinges. In the corner lay Sarah, curled up like a broken ragdoll. She wasn’t moving.
“Sarah!” He held the gun against Kaz’s forehead so the steel pressed into his skin. “What have you done to her, you bastard?”
“Nothing she didn’t deserve.”
At Crane’s thunderous look, he added, “Oh, she’s alive. For now. I saved her for you. So you can die together. The two traitors.”
“You’re the dead man,” muttered Crane.
“I don’t think so.”
“Put the gun down,” growled a voice from inside. Sergio appeared from behind the door holding a semi-automatic aimed at Crane. His hands were steady, but his eyes were those of a man who wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger.
It was a stand-off. If Crane lowered his weapon he’d be taken prisoner, but if he didn’t, Sergio would probably shoot to kill. He had anticipated this. His bravado was more for show than anything else. Slowly, he lowered his arm.
His adversary smiled slowly, not unlike a crocodile. It was in that mome
nt that Crane realised he was quite mad. Kaz, Harvard graduate, businessman and rebel soldier stood at ease with his hands by his sides, a glint of sheer lunacy in his eyes.
It’s not over yet, thought Crane. Not by a long shot.
Sergio was tense, the rifle steady, willing to do whatever it took to protect his boss.
Kaz took the gun out of Crane’s hand, placing it in his own waistband, then proceeded to pat him down.
“I’ll take that,” he said, extracting the knife at his ankle. “Now, why don’t you sit down and we’ll have a little chat.” Sergio gestured for him to move to a wooden chair in the centre of the room. It was his desk chair, the one with the wonky leg.
Crane sat and gritted his teeth as Kaz taped his wrists down and his feet together. It wouldn’t hold him for long, but then Crane didn’t think Kaz planned on keeping him conscious long enough to do any damage.
“So you were working for the FBI all along?” Kaz laughed bitterly. “I should have known.”
Crane scowled. “They’ve been on to you for years. You were on a watch list.” He knew the dig would annoy Kaz. Wind him up. The drug baron thought he was so smart, flying beneath the radar, when all the time the DEA had been watching him, building a profile, checking out his known associates and basically waiting for him to fuck up.
“The inside man, huh? Very impressive. Tell me, did you really kill Copeland along with Aneez or was that all an elaborate ruse.”
“What do you think?”
Kaz nodded slowly. Despite his cold rage, there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “I thought so. Where is he? Witness protection, I suppose?”
Crane shrugged. “Why did you want him dead? What had he ever done to you?”
Kaz narrowed his eyes. “Not so smart, huh? Let’s just say I had my reasons.”
Crane fell silent, thoughts ricocheting around his head. The semblance of a theory began to form in his mind.
Sarah moaned gently in the corner. He had to get her to a hospital. He flexed his wrists trying to loosen the tape.
“Don’t bother,” scoffed Kaz, “You won’t be alive long enough.” Then he turned to Sergio. “Fetch the gasoline from the car.”
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 22