So he was going to burn down the cabin with Sarah and him inside. “Make it look like an accident, is that it?”
“You got it.”
The theory grew as more bits fell into place. It was starting to make sense.
Crane studied Kaz, who stood opposite him his rage barely under control. It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.
“Was it the fishing boat? The Lucky Strike? Was that how you brought in the drugs?”
Kaz didn’t reply, but an eyelid flickered.
That was it! Why on earth hadn’t he seen it before?
“That’s why you wanted Copeland dead, because he survived the boating accident. He was the only one who could give you away.”
Still Kaz didn’t reply Instead, he gnawed on his lower lip, his narrowed gaze focused on the man in front of him.
“So how did it happen? Did you blackmail Chris after his affair with Sarah? Did you threatened to harm her or their child if he didn’t cooperate?”
Kaz scoffed. “He gave in easily. It was the perfect plan. No one suspected him. He was a pillar of the community, him and his idiot fishing pals.”
“So, they sailed out and met the container ship where they transferred the merchandise to the Lucky Strike, then brought it back into the marina. To everyone on the dock, it looked like any other day.”
“It worked for years,” sneered Kaz, shifting from one leg to the other. He was getting impatient. He kept glancing at the door, waiting for Sergio to return. Crane could hear the driver splashing gasoline around the outside of the cabin. The bastard was going to burn it down. He wondered where his dogs were. There’d been no sign of them as he’d approached the cabin. Perhaps they’d sensed danger and got the hell out of there. Crane turned his attention back to Kaz. “Until Chris decided he didn’t want to do it anymore, and you couldn’t have that.”
“It was a lucrative business arrangement. Obviously, I didn’t want it to end.”
“But if they weren’t working for you, they had to be disposed of.”
Kaz shrugged. That much was obvious.
So he’d tried to drown them in the storm, making it look like an accident, but Copeland had survived, which meant Kaz had to get rid of him another way. It all made sense now. Crane shook his head. He should have figured it out sooner. It had been right there, staring him in the face all this time. Why else would Kaz want Copeland dead? That had bugged him ever since ‘the job’. Copeland’s friendship with Sarah was too tenuous a link to warrant a professional hit.
He could understand Kaz wanting to get rid of Chris, the man his wife was in love with and the father of her child – well, in a twisted psycho way – but not his harmless fishing buddies. That’s the bit that had made no sense at all, until now.
“Enough chit-chat,” growled Kaz, as Sergio came back inside and nodded his head. He was ready. “It’s show time.”
He nodded towards his wife, his upper lip curled back in disgust, hatred oozing from every pore. “She’s all yours. You two deserve each other.”
Sarah was conscious but bleeding from the nose and in too much pain to even raise her head off the ground. Crane saw her try to look up, then groan as her head fell back onto the ground, the effort proving too much. Kaz had certainly worked her over, or maybe Sergio had, while the evil bastard watched.
Crane growled at the back of his throat, adrenalin surging through his veins. He wanted to kill Kaz with his bare hands, and would, as soon as he got out of these bonds. He tried to rip his arms free, one was lose, on the brink of ripping. It wouldn’t take long.
Kaz, unfortunately, had other ideas. Crane saw the glint in his enemy’s eye and knew it was going to happen. He braced himself as Kaz thumped him on the head with his own gun. There was an explosion of pain before Crane blacked out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sarah flinched as water splashed her face. No, it wasn’t water, it was more like a warm, damp sponge, washing her down. She tried to push it away, it hurt too much on her swollen cheeks and broken nose. Her hand came into contact with fur, lots of it, and hot breath. Was she being attacked? Eaten by wild animals?
Forcing her good eye open, she saw a wet nose nudging her. Then barking. It was a dog! As her senses kicked in, she smelled smoke. It filled her nostrils, making her cough. More barking. The wet nose urged her to move, to get up. Groggily, she tried to lift her head. Pain shot through her skull and she flopped down again. No, it was too painful, she couldn’t do it. Barking in her ear this time. Frantic barking from somewhere else too. Was there more than one dog? She peered through her semi-closed eyelids. Yes, two animals were racing around the cabin. One kept coming back to her, the other barking at the knees of a man slouched in a chair.
Crane!
She’d recognise that stance anywhere. Even slumped over and unconscious, there was no mistaking his physique and broad shoulders. She coughed again, the smoke becoming unbearable. With a groan, she lifted her head and waited for the pain to subside. When it did, she pushed herself into a half-sitting, half-leaning position using the wall for support. A red-hot poker pierced her shoulder making her gasp. It must be dislocated or broken. Using her one good arm to balance her, she waited until her vision cleared and the room stopped spinning.
The place was on fire! Lethal orange flames licked the door and were taking hold of the wooden frame around it. Crane hadn’t moved. He was unconscious. If she didn’t get up they’d both burn to death.
“Crane!” she screamed, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. One of the dogs nuzzled her again, as if helping her stand up. She took a deep breath, then cringed as another poker sliced her rib. Hanging onto the dog’s collar, she pulled herself to her knees and crawled over to where Crane sat, still out cold.
She shook his knee. “Wake up, Crane. The place is on fire.” He didn’t move. A sob escaped her. “You have to wake up!”
Not sensing movement, the second dog launched himself onto his master, causing the wonky chair to fall backwards onto the wooden floorboards. Crane groaned and his eyes fluttered open. “What?”
“Oh, thank God! Crane, we have to get out of here.” She crawled around the chair and with her good hand, tried to tear off the tape holding his wrists to the sides. One came free but the other was too well secured and she couldn’t get a grip, thanks to her useless arm.
Crane quickly came to his senses and using his free hand ripped off the tape. “Sarah! Are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” she murmured. There wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t ache like crazy or burn with pain, but her injuries would have to wait. Right now it was more important they get out of this burning cabin.
“Good. Where’s Kaz?”
“I don’t know. He was gone when I came round. Your dog woke me up by licking my face.”
“Good boy,” said Crane, patting his dog on the head. He ripped the tape from his ankles and stood up, a little unsteadily. The chair was in pieces beneath him.
“You okay?” asked Sarah. He must have a concussion, but he merely shook his head to clear it then reached down to help her up.
“Better than you, I’d say. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Sarah nodded, gratefully. The walls were smoking now, and yellow and orange flames seeped in from under the windows and through the joins in the wood. The cabin felt like a furnace. Sarah feared at any moment it would combust, trapping them inside.
“Stand back.”
She did so, as Crane used his massive strength to kick down the front door. Embers flew in all directions, making her duck. The heat was intense.
Immediately, bullets hailed down on them. Crane dived to the side, taking her with him. She yelped as they hit the floor, the breath knocked out of her by the piercing pain in her side.
“Sorry,” muttered Crane, his attention focused on the metallic onslaught from the exterior. “Sergio – that means Kaz – is still around. Good.”
Sarah stared at him as if he wer
e mad. “What do you mean, good?”
“He’s mine,” growled Crane, picking her up off the floor. “He’s not going to get away this time.”
In that moment, Sarah wasn’t sure who was crazier, Crane or her husband.
“Follow me,” he hissed, dragging her towards a square hatch on the far side of the room. It was shut, which was why she hadn’t noticed it before. It must be a dog hatch.
He pulled it up and immediately the two dogs leaped through and scampered off. They knew better than to hang around now their owner was free and on the move.
Crane ushered Sarah down. She tried to ease herself through, but didn’t have the strength and her body crumpled onto the sparse grass beneath the cabin. With a groan, she rolled into the foetal position, it hurt too much to move.
“Come on, we have to get away from the fire, then you can rest.” With his help, she leopard-crawled under the log cabin to where the undergrowth was thickest and the forest grew right up to the back wall.
He half-pulled, half-dragged her into the bushes. They were cool, comfortable even, after the searing heat inside.
“I’m going to take care of Kaz.”
“But what about Sergio?” whispered Sarah. “He’s still out there.” Her husband’s driver was still shooting at the house. Every now and then a hail of bullets embedded themselves into the pine boards of the cabin.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Here, take my phone,” he pulled it out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her. “Call the police, get them out here pronto, with an ambulance. Whatever you do, don’t move!”
The dogs pranced around until Crane told them to sit down. “They’ll keep you company,” he said, patting them each on the heads. “Now stay, boys.”
Sarah took the phone, her hands shaking. “Okay,” she whispered, and attempted to hold it in her injured arm while she dialled 911.
Sarah watched as Crane disappeared between the trees, crouching low, a hunter in search of his prey – in this case, her husband. Both dogs watched him with forlorn expressions, like they knew he was walking into danger, but being well trained, they didn’t go after him. One rested its furry head on her knee. The other lay down at her side and gave a soft whine. “He’ll be okay,” she whispered, praying she was right. Then she turned her attention to the telephone call as the emergency operator picked up.
The bastard was going to die, that much he knew for certain. How? Well, that remained to be seen. Crane moved silently through the undergrowth, around the burning cabin, to where Kaz’s SUV was parked. Sergio stood a few paces in front of the vehicle, facing the cabin. His rifle was poised but he’d stopped shooting. There was no point now that Crane and Sarah were trapped inside, slowly roasting. Kaz stood a short distance away watching the cabin burn, a maniacal expression on his face. No remorse. No regret. Just a self-satisfied gleam, like the gladiator left standing at the end of a fight, basking in the glory of his victory. Except the fight wasn’t over.
Crane approached the SUV from behind, making sure to keep low and out of sight. He noticed two things. The passenger door of the SUV was still open. First mistake. The keys were still in the ignition. Second mistake. One that Sergio would not live long enough to regret.
Crane climbed into the car via the open passenger door and skimmed over to the driver’s side. In one swift movement, he’d started the car and stepped on the accelerator. Before Sergio had time to turn around, the heavy four-by-four pummelled into him, knocking him down. His ponytail flew as his body buckled like a crash-test dummy. There was a dull clunk as his head, or some other body part, hit the underside of the bonnet. Crane didn’t even flinch.
Kaz was momentarily stunned by what had happened, then pulled himself together and backed away into the forest. He wasn’t running away, that wasn’t his style. No, he’d regroup and try to regain control of the situation. The businessman still had Crane’s gun and knife, so he was armed. Crane knew his adversary would wait for the right moment then try to shoot him from the cover of the trees. That’s what he’d do, anyway, and Kaz was no coward.
Crane was okay with that. He was ready. He could hunt anyone and anything down in a jungle – had done many times in the field. This was his terrain, where he felt most at home, and as an added advantage, he knew this forest like the back of his hand. Even with his enemy armed, Crane figured the odds were in his favour.
The jungle had a funny way of playing tricks on you. Trees and branches distorted your perception, shadows made you see things that weren’t there, and leaves rustled and moved on their own accord. Crane figured even if Kaz did take a pot-shot at him, the chances of accurately hitting him were low, especially if Crane was on the move. In addition, Kaz wouldn’t have fired a weapon in a while, which meant he’d be out of practice. His bodyguards and thugs did his dirty work for him. The odds were getting better and better.
Crane quickly checked the trunk for any spare weapons, but they’d been cleaned out. Even the rifle he’d put there was gone. Kaz had taken no chances. He didn’t bother fishing under the vehicle for Sergio’s rifle as he doubted there’d be any ammo left, given how he’d emptied it into the cabin. Nor did he spare a glance at his house, which was now fully aflame, sending a thick funnel of black smoke into the sky above. One thing he’d learned in combat situations was how to do was focus, and right now his entire being was focused on hunting down his prey.
Crane didn’t enter the forest in the same place Kaz had, the businessman would be expecting that. Instead, he circled round and inserted further south. It was further away but he needed the element of surprise, and he made up ground quickly, moving in the direction of where he thought Kaz would be. His enemy had moved through the undergrowth faster than Crane had expected, but his trail was still easy to pick up. Kaz was headed towards the river. As Crane tracked him, the steady hiss of the water as it raced downhill through the valley, twisting and bubbling over the uneven surface, got increasingly louder.
A shot rang out. Crane instinctively ducked. The bullet struck a tree a few yards away. Another flew over his head, closer this time. Crane took cover. Kaz was a better shot than he’d thought. He knew exactly where Kaz was, he just couldn’t see him because his line of sight was obscured by dense foliage. It didn’t help that his vision kept blurring at inconvenient moments. The bump on the head had concussed him. He forced down a bout of nausea and moved in the direction of the shot, keeping trees between himself and the shooter. If he could trap Kaz between the river and the forest, then he’d be pinned in with nowhere to hide. That’s when Crane would advance slowly, under the cover of the bushes, until he was close enough to attack.
The river was running high, thick and full as it had been recently. Not many kayakers went near it this time of year, unless they had a death wish. Even Crane chose his days carefully, and today was not one of them.
He advanced, moving inch by inch, careful not to make a noise. He was one with the forest. Kaz was less stealthy. His body rustled leaves and bushes as he moved, his attention diverted by the hunter following him.
Then Kaz stopped. Even though Crane couldn’t see him, he knew he’d reached the river. The trees had suddenly given way to a misty pebbled bank where the water swirled and pushed against the edges. Moving any further would mean getting wet, and with the water running this fast, that meant your legs could be washed from under you at any given time, and once you were at the mercy of the river, well… your chances were minimal. Crane wanted to get to Kaz before that happened.
“You’re trapped, Kaz,” he called from his position beneath a dense bush. He lay flat on the ground, barely moving, the only sound other than the river and the forest was that of Kaz’s breathing.
“I’m armed, Crane. Come near me and I’ll shoot.”
Crane didn’t reply. He slid closer. Another metre…then another, like a snake in the undergrowth. The foliage barely moved. He had a visual on Kaz now. His enemy hid behind a broken tree, offering a modicum of coverage. The river snarled
and hissed behind him. Crane had him right where he wanted him.
“The police are on their way. You can’t escape.”
A bullet whizzed over his head and embedded itself into a tree trunk. Crane didn’t move a muscle. There was a loud click as Kaz fired again, except the gun was empty. No bullets. The game was up.
Slowly, Crane stood up. He could see the surprise on his enemy’s face at how close he was. Barely three metres away.
“I’ve got you now, Kaz. You may as well give up. There’s nowhere to run.”
A slow smile slid over his adversary’s face and in that split-second, Crane knew he’d made a vital mistake. Kaz lifted his arm and fired, but not before Crane threw himself to the left. The bullet pierced his shoulder, the same arm as before, although higher up. It ripped through flesh and muscle, but he thought it had missed the bone. That didn’t make it any less painful. Crane wasn’t sure whether Kaz had another bullet, but didn’t want to wait to find out. He dived for the river and rolled over and over until he let the water swallow him up.
Kaz stood on the bank watching, his arm raised, looking for the final shot which would finish him off. He must have one bullet left. Crane could kick himself for falling for that one. He’d been so eager to catch the bastard he’d let it obscure his judgement. Kaz was smart, he’d tricked him and now the hunter had become the hunted.
Crane relaxed and let the current drag him out into the centre of the river. The surface was rough with white-horses and eddies kicking up a fine mist. Getting an accurate shot would be difficult.
He could see Kaz waiting on the bank, gun poised. When it became obvious he wasn’t going to get off a shot, he moved downstream, his eyes fixed on Crane’s head, which was the only part of him visible in the swirling white-water. Crane knew the next few rapids were reasonably manageable. If he relaxed and made sure he had enough air, he’d get through them no problem. There were no major waterfalls or backwashes here, just a shitload of drops that forced the river down two hundred meters in under a mile. Over the first rapid he went, feeling the surge of the water beneath him. Like a bumpy conveyer belt, it pulled him over the first drop, hurling him into the bowl below. He braced himself and made sure his lungs were filled with air. He kicked out on landing and popped up several meters downstream only to find Kaz still with him, hovering on the bank of the river.
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 23