Another rapid… Once again Crane went limp, best not to fight it, and let it throw him over the drop, embracing the foamy lip as it dunked him beneath the water on the downside, the familiar gurgling and hissing roaring in his ears.
Now the river widened out a bit, and was relatively calm for about a hundred metres. The violent flow in the middle spread out and dissipated somewhat. This was his chance. He swam to the opposite side, and scrambled out onto the rocks to catch his breath.
Up ahead the river was deceptively tranquil. Crane knew that around the meander was the first big drop, the one where his kayak flew over the rapid and he had to angle himself to land in a rock-free gully or risk being smashed to bits by the rocky outcrop on the left-hand side of the chute.
He stared in disbelief as his opponent waded into the river waist deep. Was he so desperate to shoot Crane that he’d risk his own life?
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he shouted across the watery expanse, but his opponent merely snarled in reply. His prey was injured, weakened by the loss of blood. Like a hunter, he sensed victory and was closing in.
Fine by me.
Crane manoeuvred himself so he was behind a large boulder. His bleeding shoulder added to the dizziness caused by the concussion, but there was no time to do anything about it. Kaz was a third of the way across the river now, his gun pointed directly at Crane. He’d moved downstream so the boulder was no longer in his path, he had a clear line to where Crane sat.
Making a snap decision, Crane threw himself back into the water. He saw his opponent’s eyes widen in surprise. It wasn’t long before he felt the pull of the current again. The urge to shut his eyes and drift into unconsciousness was overwhelming, but he forced them open, he had to stay awake.
Come and get me.
He glimpsed the fury on his enemy’s face as the current swept him away. Provoked, Kaz took one more step before his legs shot out from underneath him.
Crane grinned despite the pain in his shoulder and the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him. Kaz yelled and tried to tread water, his arms moving like mini motors as the current grabbed hold of him. His gun was useless now. Kaz would need every ounce of strength he had to stay afloat, especially with what was coming behind that bend.
It wouldn’t be an easy ride.
Crane tried to manoeuvre himself to the right side of the river as he was swept around the bend. He imagined he was on his kayak, getting into position to take the plunge. He made it before the river swept him through the meander and over the six foot drop that plunged the entire weight of the water through two narrow gorges. The one on the left was impossible, the landing characterised by a rocky outcrop that would rip a kayak to shreds and a body even more so.
As he went over, Crane used his feet to kick off the rocky ledge so he fell away from the churning backwater. Coming up meters away, he turned and floated on his back to see if Kaz made the landing. He saw a flash of black hair as Kaz was hurled over the drop, through the gorge. For a minute Crane thought he’d been caught in the backflow but then he saw his dark head appear and bob around as Kaz struggled for breath. He’d made it. Lucky bastard.
They both tried to kept their heads above water as the river pushed them forward. Another bend up ahead and beyond that the infamous Spirit Falls. Experienced kayakers had died on this waterfall and that was in the good months when rainfall hadn’t surged the flow to insane proportions. There was no way on earth Crane wanted to go over that, not without his boat. Even with it would be a suicide mission.
He swam frantically towards a big boulder in the middle of the river, the pain in his shoulder excruciating. He clenched his jaw and focused on putting one arm in front of the other and kicking his feet for all he was worth. He knew this was the only way to slow down his momentum. His powerful upper body, thanks to years of kayaking, allowed him to move slowly towards the centre of the river. He was losing ground, however, moving fast downstream. He kicked harder, he had to make that boulder.
Kaz was about five meters behind him and trying to swim to the shore on the right-hand side, which was closest but probably the worst thing he could do. The river meandered that way, the water carving a deep channel in the river bed, making it the deepest and fastest flowing section of the river. He wouldn’t make it to the shore before he was swept over Spirit Falls.
One last kick saw Crane reach the boulder. His fingers scraped the surface. It was slippery with moss and for a moment he didn’t think he was going to be able to hang on. With one last effort, he pummelled himself forward, his hand brushing the stone surface. He found a crevice and dug his fingers in, hanging on for dear life. His tendons strained as his legs whipped around with the water’s momentum, but he held firm.
He hurled himself onto the rock letting out a loud howl as hot coals stabbed at his wounded shoulder. Not even the cold water could dim the pain.
Kaz shot past moments later, his face paler than the white horses that danced around him. Instead of the usual hard gaze, his eyes were filled with terror.
“See ya on the other side,” yelled Crane, suppressing the urge to break into evil laughter. The loss of blood must be making him delirious.
He watched as Kaz rounded the bend, his arms flailing desperately but there was nothing to grab onto, nothing but churning white-water. There was a blood-curdling scream as Kaz flew over the falls, then nothing but the sound of the river.
Crane pictured Kaz panicking, pinned down by the monstrous volume of water plunging into a bowl beneath the falls. It was like a washing machine in there. Crane knew because that’s where he’d pulled out the injured kayaker with a broken back. Without anyone to save him, Kaz didn’t stand a chance. He’d be sucked down until he ran out of air, his body would be smashed to a pulp by the continuous onslaught of the water. It was relentless and the chance of survival was zero.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Crane sat on the riverbank, a thermal blanket draped around his shoulders, watching as the police divers retrieved Kaz’s body. They were using ropes and pulleys to prevent being sucked into the washing machine themselves.
“How’s Sarah doing?” he asked as Doug sat down on the bank next to him.
“Her injuries were extensive, but she’ll be okay. A couple of broken ribs and a shattered collar bone with lots of bumps and bruises.”
Crane shook his head. “Sergio really did a number on her.”
“While her husband watched, no doubt.”
“Sadistic maniac.”
“Stand by!” yelled one of the divers, and the men on the bank got ready to haul Kaz’s body out of the river.
“Christ,” remarked Doug, staring at the battered corpse. He was hardly recognisable. His face was a pulverised mess, while his arms hung at obscene angles and his back bent the wrong way, the spine completely severed. “What a way to go.”
“He would have been alive for most of it,” muttered Crane, unable to take his eyes off his dead adversary. “Until his air ran out.”
Doug shook his head, then turned his attention to Crane. “Now, shouldn’t you be in that ambulance too?”
“Nah, I’m okay. Luckily the bullet went straight though. The paramedics bandaged me up pretty good, and I’ve only got a minor concussion. Besides, we’ve got work to do.”
Doug raised an eyebrow.
“I know how the drugs got in.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I figured it out when Kaz had me tied up. When I confronted him, he admitted it.”
“I’m all ears.”
“The fishing vessel. The Lucky Strike. You know the one involved in that accident off the Oregon coast? Two of the three fishermen drowned. Copeland survived.”
Realisation dawned. Crane could see it in Doug’s eyes.
“Kaz blackmailed them to smuggle in the drugs. He threatened to kill Sarah who was pregnant with Chris’s unborn child if they didn’t cooperate. So twice a year, the three fishermen met the container ship off the coast, trans
ferred the heroin to the fishing vessel, then sailed straight into the marina. No one suspected a thing.”
“So that’s why he hired you to get rid of Copeland. He could have given the game away.” Doug had a faraway look in his eyes as he connected the dots.
“Except he didn’t,” murmured Crane. Ironically, the injured witness had said nothing about the drugs.
“He will now.”
Crane gave a curt nod. He had no doubt the DEA agents would get it out of him.
“We’ll confront him with it and offer him a deal. Immunity to the drug smuggling charge if he corroborates everything that happened.”
“Good idea,” agreed Crane. After all, the men were doing it under duress. Chris must have told his buddies about the blackmail attempt and they agreed to help him. They were lifelong friends. They wouldn’t desert Chris in his time of need.
His shoulder had gone numb where they’d injected him with an antibiotic, or maybe it was the wound itself. The paramedics had bandaged it up. It was just a flesh wound, luckily the bullet hadn’t embedded itself in his arm, else he’d be in a hospital bed right now undergoing surgery.
They watched as the paramedics transferred Kaz’s body onto a gurney, covered it with a blue sheet and loaded it into the ambulance.
At least Sarah’s free of him now, Crane thought to himself. If nothing else came of this, if they never found the drugs, at least she’d have a life with her son and wouldn’t be at Kaz’s mercy anymore.
“Which still leaves us with the mystery of this particular shipment,” mused Doug, as the doors to the ambulance closed. “How did they get the drugs off that ship before it docked? Do you think they recruited another fisherman?”
“I have a theory about that, too,” said Crane, flexing his neck. At least his vision had cleared. His concussion wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought or the river water had cleared his head.
Doug smiled. “I thought you might.”
“Well, I know this is a long shot, but I remember meeting one of Kaz’s friends at a party some weeks back and he was boasting about a new boat. He was talking about sailing it down to the Florida quays to put it through its paces.”
“You mean it’s a coincidence that this guy got his new boat shortly after the Lucky Strike sank?”
“I’m wondering if Kaz bankrolled it?”
“We could find out. I’ll get the financial guys on it.”
“Sarah will know his name. Also, check if his boat was out to sea on the day of the shipment. The marina will have a record.”
“Good idea. We’ll get on it now. What are you going to do?”
“Well, since I no longer have a house, I’m going to check into a dog-friendly motel and get cleaned up. Then I’d like to be there when your agents interview Copeland.”
Doug nodded. “Not a problem. Oh, and Crane, don’t worry about accommodation, the department will cover your costs until you find somewhere else to stay. It’s the least they can do.”
Crane gave a grim smile. He was more upset about losing his house than he let on. It might only be a one bedroom lodge, but he’d built it himself at a time when he’d desperately needed something to pour his frustration into. It symbolised his recovery –and it was a damn fine cabin. But perhaps it was time to upgrade, to take his existence to the next level. He’d never move from this spot, he loved the solitude, the forest and river on his doorstep, and the sounds of the wild animals around him, but he could rebuild. Not alone this time, he’d hire some help, but he’d build a bigger, better log cabin, with more space and a real office and a separate kitchen.
He was smiling as he drove away. First stop was to collect Spirit and Blaster who were waiting for him at the burnt out cabin, and then a quick shower and change of clothes, which he’d also have to buy along with other essentials. He’d lost everything in the blaze.
Copeland looked much better when Crane joined the other agents around his bed. He was propped up by pillows, colour back in his cheeks and his eyes had regained some of their previous sparkle.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” remarked Crane, positioning himself at the back of the room.
The DEA agents had been there for some time and had explained to Copeland the wisdom in brokering a deal. He was about to give his statement.
“A year after Sarah had left, Chris came to us with a problem. Erkel had approached him and asked him to use his boat to smuggle heroin into the marina. At first he’d refused, point blank.” He looked up at the agents. “Chris was a good man. But then Kaz threatened him. Said he’d hurt Sarah if he refused. Well, that’s what he told us anyway. We had no idea Sarah had had a baby.” He took a steadying breath.
“Go on,” prompted one of the agents.
“Erkel offered him a substantial amount of money to sweeten the deal. When Chris told us the amount we couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to do it but Chef and I persuaded him. The money would see all our kids through college and then some. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. So, Chris reluctantly agreed. What else could he do? He loved Sarah, and I suppose he thought the money would come in useful for his kid someday.”
Crane nodded. He could understand. “And so you began smuggling in the drugs?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t even that hard. Twice a year we met a ship and transferred the drugs on board Lucky Strike then sailed back as normal. Nobody suspected a thing.”
“What happened to the drugs after that?” A DEA man was recording the conversation on a mobile device.
“A couple of days later we’d load them into containers and take them to a local address.”
“We’ll need that address.”
“Sure.” Copeland nodded. There was no resistance. Now that Kaz was dead he had nothing to fear. Amazing how one man could torment so many. There was no need to keep Copeland in witness protection, he was free to go. His wife and kids had been notified he was still alive.
He wrote the address on a notepad given to him by an agent. “I’m afraid I don’t have the zip code, just a street address.”
“How did you get paid?”
“We opened off-shore bank accounts. Once the money was wired to Chris, he transferred our share to our accounts. For a job we only had to pull twice a year, it seemed like a great deal.”
“So what happened?” Crane asked, stepping forward. “Why did it come to an end?”
Copeland shrugged. “Chris wanted out. He said he wasn’t interested in doing it anymore. It had never sat well with him.”
“But Erkel had other ideas.”
“Yeah. He threatened Sarah but it had been over four years since she’d left and Chris hadn’t heard a word from her, so he figured Erkel was bluffing. I don’t know if he knew about the kid, or not.”
“Have we checked for activity on Chris’s bank accounts?” Crane directed his question to Doug.
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t involved in the investigation before now. We will check, of course, to corroborate what Copeland said. If he transferred the drug money to his friends, there will be a trail.”
“You’ll have to give the drug money back, I’m afraid.” Doug told Copeland who looked forlorn but shrugged.
“I’d rather be a free man.”
“So what happened next?” The DEA agent stuck to his interview agenda.
“Chris told Erkel it was over. Finished. To tell you the truth, we were a little upset with him. The money had been great and we’d done it without a hitch for four years. But Chris was adamant. He’d had enough.”
“So you stopped.”
“Yeah, and a week later the Lucky Strike was rammed in that storm and went over.”
“Erkel had obviously hoped to take all three of you out in the accident.”
Copeland gave a little shiver. “I’m still amazed I survived.”
The DEA agents wound up the interview, while Crane had a quiet word with Doug outside. “Let me know when the last transaction was on Chris’s accounts, won’t you?”
Crane shook his head. Pain and fatigue had caught up with him and he desperately needed to lie down. “Keep me posted. I’m going to head back to the motel now and get some shut eye.”
“You do look a bit pale,” remarked Doug, putting him on his good shoulder. “Take care of yourself and stay in touch.”
Crane nodded. He was shattered. Heading back to the motel he could barely keep his eyes open. His dogs were overjoyed to see him and covered him with kisses as he walked in. Too tired to even talk, he collapsed on the bed and shut his eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Crane was woken by the phone ringing in his pocket. Doug had retrieved it from the emergency services who’d taken Sarah to hospital.
“Yeah?” He sat up, feeling groggy, and he had a hell of a headache. He put the phone on speaker as he fumbled in the bedside drawer for some painkillers. They were one of the first things he’d put in his basket at the supply store down the road, before he’d checked in.
“You okay?” It was Doug.
“I’m good. What’s news?” He popped the painkillers in his mouth and washed them down with some bottled water supplied by the motel. It would no doubt be added to his bill.
“The address Copeland gave us didn’t turn up any leads. It’s been cleaned out. Forensics didn’t find so much as a fingerprint in the place.”
That was unfortunate, but Doug sounded too upbeat for that to be it, so Crane wasn’t surprised when he continued. “We got the name of Erkel’s friend with the boat from Sarah and it was out the night of the shipment. You were right on that front. So we tracked it down in the marina and it had traces of heroin all over it. Seemingly, this was its first drug run, and the owner hadn’t fitted it out properly. We’ve taken him into custody and expect him to give us the location of the new store house in due course.”
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 24