Deadly Straits (A Tom Dugan Novel) (9 page)

And so she had, finding she’d a real aptitude for the work. She worked for a succession of families, receiving glowing references from them all. Twelve years later, there was no better nanny in London than Gillian Farnsworth.

Kathleen Kairouz had hired her on the spot, and Gillian soon fell in love with the gentle woman and flawed child. When Kathleen was diagnosed with cancer, Gillian took on Kathleen’s care without a second thought but began to have misgivings. She’d grown to love Cassie and worried about the impact on the child if she were found out and arrested.

She found Alex Kairouz in his study one evening, staring into the fire. He looked up and motioned her to a chair across from his desk.

“How is she?”

“Resting comfortably. They increased her dosage. I hope she’ll have an easy night.”

Alex nodded as Gillian went on. “Mr. Kairouz, when Mrs. Kairouz… no longer needs me, I will be tendering notice.”

“But why, Mrs. Farnsworth? Cassie needs you. I need you. If it’s money—”

“No, no, sir. That’s not it at all. There are… things. Personal reasons I can’t discuss.”

Alex persisted. “You can’t just leave us in our hour of greatest need. Please, tell me what’s wrong. We can work something out.”

“I can’t say, sir. But I will stay until you’ve found someone.”

Alex stared at her a long moment and then nodded, almost to himself, as if he’d made a decision. He unlocked a drawer and handed her a file.

“Does it concern this?”

The file held a photo of Daisy Tatum stapled to her arrest report. There was a copy of her prison record, an article about Tommy Tatum’s death, and a copy of Gillian Farnsworth’s death certificate.

“When did you know?” she whispered.

“The second week,” Alex said. “Kathleen was supposed to wait for the report before hiring.” He smiled. “I didn’t sack you because she wouldn’t have it. She’s an uncanny judge of people, you know. I often included her in business dinners for her opinion of potential clients or associates. She’s never wrong.

“Anyway,” he continued, “she made me reread the damned report line by line as she stood at my shoulder, pointing out you were victim, not villain. So I didn’t turn you in. A decision for which I’m most thankful.” He held out his hand, and she returned the folder.

“But I won’t compel you to stay, though our need is great.” He paused. “I’m not without connections. Two months ago, the body of a street person was fished from the Thames, a drowning victim. Her fingerprints were a match to Daisy Tatum, allowing the police to close that file.” He paused again. “I also understand that when the records office in Oxford moved last month, several death certificates were misfiled. Just simple clerical errors, but I doubt Gillian Farnsworth’s death certificate will be located in a hundred years.”

He walked to the fireplace and tossed the file into the flames. “So Daisy Tatum is dead and Gillian Farnsworth very much alive. You’ve a place in my home as long as you wish, but the decision is yours. The file burning brightly is, I assure you, the only copy.”

Tears streaked her face as she watched her past disappear up the chimney.

“Thank you, sir. I should like very much to stay.”

“Then so you shall, Gillian. Welcome home.”

Kathleen passed ten days later. The death hung over the household, but Gillian refused to let Alex bury himself in work. “The child has lost her mother and shouldn’t lose her father as well,” she said, insisting he spend an hour with Cassie each morning and evening. He soon cherished his time with the laughing child and spent most of his free time with her.

Cassie was their salvation and their bond.

Chapter Eleven

Anna Walsh’s Apartment Building
15 June

“You’re sure the house isn’t bugged?” Dugan asked for the third time.

“Swept it myself after Anna alerted us to the dinner,” Harry said. “Showed up this afternoon as a meter reader while the cook was at market and the Farnsworth woman and driver were collecting the girl at school. I had time alone in the house. Things are unchanged; phone taps to a recorder in Farley’s quarters but no bugs in the house. Makes sense. Cuts out a lot of idle household chatter.”

“Not that it matters, Tom,” Lou said. “If Kairouz is under duress, he’ll assume he’s being monitored and say nothing. And if he’s a player, which seems likely, he’ll lie. The best you can hope for this evening is a return to a closer relationship that we can use to watch him for slipups. You may not like that, but it’s a fact.”

Dugan said nothing, frustrated he’d convinced no one of Alex’s innocence. His only partial convert was Anna, and her support was tepid at best.

“Tom. We best go if we’re to reach Alex’s by half seven,” Anna said.

Kairouz Residence

Dugan and Anna arrived shortly after Mrs. Farnsworth and Cassie had reached home from choir practice. Cassie was still in her school uniform. She hugged Dugan and smiled at Anna.

“You’re beautiful,” Cassie said, her sincerity evident.

Anna was in a dark skirt and white silk blouse with lace at neck and wrists, simple but stunning. She blushed. “Why thank you, Cassie, you’re quite lovely yourself.”

“I look like my mom. She died, but I have pictures. Want to see them? They’re in my room.” Cassie took Anna’s hand.

“Dinner’s almost ready, Cassie,” Mrs. Farnsworth said.

Cassie sighed. “Oh OK,” she said, releasing Anna’s hand. “After dinner, OK?”

Anna smiled. “I shall look forward to it, Cassie.”

Cassie insisted on sitting between Anna and Dugan, and dinner conversation was unforced, as Cassie chattered and Anna listened with unfeigned interest. Mrs. Farnsworth said little, but watched with grudging approval. By meal’s end, even Mrs. Hogan was smiling, serving coffee and nodding. During dessert, Anna gave Cassie’s hand an affectionate squeeze, but as she withdrew her own hand, the lace at her cuff tangled in Cassie’s charm bracelet and separated with an audible rip.

“Oh dear,” Anna said, inspecting the dangling lace with an embarrassed laugh.

“I’m really sorry,” Cassie said, “it was an accident.”

“My fault entirely,” Anna said. “No harm done. I’ll get it mended.”

“I can do it,” Cassie said, folding up the edge of her jumper to reveal a needle wrapped with thread stuck into the underside of the hem.

“A proper young lady,” she intoned in an unintended but accurate mimic of Mrs. Farnsworth, “prepares for any eventuality.”

Anna looked confused.

“At one time,” Mrs. Farnsworth explained, “young ladies always kept needles and thread near at hand. It seemed practical.”

“Yes,” Cassie said, “and that’s not all—”

“Cassie,” Mrs. Farnsworth said, “Ms. Walsh may wish to have it mended elsewhere.”

“Oh no,” Anna said. “I accept with thanks, Cassie. Then perhaps I can see the photos.”

“OK,” Cassie said. “We can go up now, and you can take your blouse off while I mend it. I don’t want to stick you. That hurts.”

“Excellent idea,” Mrs. Farnsworth said, rising. “I’ll get Ms. Walsh a robe.”

Alex smiled. “Seems we’re to be left on our own, Thomas. Join me in the study?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Minutes later, they sat in the study, brandy in hand. Dugan watched Alex over the rim of his glass. Alex looked older, much older. The gray at his temples spread through his black mane now, and dark-circled eyes topped pale, hollow cheeks. Dugan was reminded of those “before and after” pictures of past US presidents.

“I haven’t enjoyed a meal or the company as much in some time,” Alex said. “Thank you for joining us. And Thomas, I’m sorry for my earlier behavior. Anna is wonderful.” He smiled. “Cassie obviously likes her, and she has her mother’s sense of people. So if Anna passed muster with Cassie, defrosted Mrs. Coutts, and in one evening charmed both Mrs. Hogan and Mrs. Farnsworth, she is exemplary indeed. I toast your good fortune.” He raised his glass.

Dugan smiled and raised his own glass.

“Thomas, I’ve been thinking. We have a number of dry-dockings scheduled next year. We could save a great deal of money if we confined them to a single yard and negotiated a volume discount. I think it would be a good idea if you spent a week or two touring the Far East yards and discussing it with them.” Alex smiled over his brandy glass. “Anna wouldn’t have much to do while you were away. You could take her along. Make it a bit of a holiday.”

Son of a bitch, thought Dugan. He’s trying to get rid of me.

“Good idea,” Dugan said, trying to sound casual, “we’ll probably have most of our ships in the Far East trade if the
China Star
deal is any indication of market trends.”

Alex stiffened. “Whatever do you mean, Thomas?”

“Ibrahim mentioned the
China Star
deal to me. He seemed concerned, actually.”

“
China Star
is just some deal of Braun’s. I don’t really know the details.”

“The Alex Kairouz I know could recite every word of every charter agreement from memory,” Dugan said. “C’mon, Alex. What’s goin’ on?”

“Just drop it, Thomas. Please.” Alex’s eyes darted about the room.

Lou was right, Dugan thought, Alex thinks we’re bugged. A catch-22. He needed Alex to confide in him, but the man would never do so if he thought he was monitored. Dugan considered his half-formed plan and decided to take a risk.

“You can speak freely, Alex,” he said. “We’re not being bugged.”

“What? What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“I know something’s wrong, so I hired an investigator,” Dugan lied. “He came in at night and swept the office. I know Braun is bugging our offices and phones. He swept your house today. Phones are bugged but not the house. Talk to me, Alex.”

Alex buried his face in his hands. Dugan waited for Alex to unburden himself or, if he was wrong, explode into angry denial. Either way, Dugan’s lie cast him as a concerned friend, not a covert agent. But when Alex looked up, his face held neither relief nor anger but terror.

“Thomas. What have you done?” Tears ran down ashen, stubbled cheeks.

“What do you mean, Alex? What’s wrong?”

“Cassie,” Alex said, “he’ll… wait, I’ll show you.”

He stood and locked the study door before moving a laptop from his desk to the low table beside Dugan. The computer booted as Alex opened his case and thrust a CD at Dugan.

“Look at it,” Alex ordered, and Dugan slid the disk into the computer.

The clip began with a narrator, a woman speaking French as she walked the streets of a Third World village to a rude hut. Inside, a young girl was held spread-eagle by a group of women. One produced a knife and began to cut at the girl’s genitals, in full view of the camera and explaining as she performed the butchery. Even with the volume turned down, the girl’s screams carried through the narration. The screen morphed to a new scene: large, dirty men sodomizing a blond girl of no more than six. Dugan slapped the computer closed and swallowed hard to keep Mrs. Hogan’s meal from ending up in the wastebasket.

“Good God, Alex, where did you get that filth?”

“Braun,” Alex said. “He says it will all happen to Cassie if I disobey. You watched seconds, but it’s over an hour and gets worse, much worse. I’m forced to watch it regularly.”

“But surely you contacted the police?”

Alex nodded. “I pretended to go along with Braun, then phoned Scotland Yard. I was on hold when a live video of Cassie walking up the school steps filled my computer screen, filmed through a sniper scope with crosshairs on her head. The message was clear. I hung up. Braun called at once, warning me not to try it again.”

He paused. “Even then, I didn’t give up, but I realized I couldn’t alert the police until Cassie was safe. I knew my phones were tapped, so while dining with a customer that night, I excused myself to visit the loo and ducked into the restaurant office to use the phone. I called a contact at the security firm I use and set up a meeting in St. James Park the following day at two. Time was short, so I told the man I would provide details at the meeting.

“I assumed Braun couldn’t watch everyone, so I intended to send written details to the park via Daniel, with instructions for a bodyguard and safe house. I would string Braun along until the security people whisked Cassie to safety. I never got that far. Braun rang the next morning and said he’d ‘taken the liberty’ of canceling my appointment. He said he wouldn’t do anything to Cassie immediately to lessen her hostage value, but if I continued my efforts, Mrs. Farnsworth would have a fatal accident.”

“But… but how did he find out about the park?” Dugan asked.

“He either anticipated whom I might call and bugged them or bugged the phones of my usual restaurants; there aren’t many. I only know he blocked me everywhere. I was terrified.”

“Wasn’t the guy you contacted suspicious at the cancellation?”

Alex shook his head. “He rang to confirm an e-mail cancellation Braun sent in my name. I confirmed and apologized. He probed a bit, but had no reason to suspect duress.”

“So,” Alex continued, “I hired Braun and Farley. Braun forces me to watch the video weekly. ‘Motivational sessions’ he calls them. He stands over my shoulder as I watch, detailing additional things Cassie will face if I resist in any way. I had a session this afternoon.”

Dugan sat stunned. It was a wonder Alex wasn’t dead of a heart attack.

“What does he want, Alex?”

“Not money. I tried to buy him off. He needs the company for something.”

“What’s he done so far?” Dugan asked.

“I haven’t a clue,” Alex said. “He made me sign blank contracts and give him carte blanche on all accounts. For the most part it seems to be business as usual, but he’s doing things at the margins in my name, and perhaps yours
. China Star
is a case in point. When Ibrahim got curious, Braun told me that unless I kept him quiet, he would kill the man and his entire family. I had to threaten to sack poor Ibrahim and order him to refer inquiries to Braun.

“He’s dangerous, Thomas, and very, very good. Your investigator may already be dead and Braun listening to our every word.” He paused. “Initially I feared you’d endangered Cassie, but I realize now nothing’s changed. Braun still needs me, and she’s his guarantee. But if Braun is listening, you’ll be dead by morning. And if your efforts have somehow escaped his attention, you should go. Take my offer to visit the yards and keep going. You can’t help us, Thomas. I have to see it through and hope Braun spares Cassie. Save yourself and tell no one so Cassie isn’t endangered further.”

Dugan realized any promise to safeguard Cassie would seem unbelievable to Alex. If Alex Kairouz, with all his connections, had been unable to do so, what chance did Dugan have alone? And Alex thought Braun was listening, despite Dugan’s assurances. Suddenly Dugan realized Alex was playing to the bugs, assuring Braun of continued cooperation while, if there were no bugs, warning Dugan to escape. Alex might be cowed, but his brain was working.

The revelation was more disquieting than encouraging. Alex was stretched to the breaking point, and Dugan was concerned for his health, mental and physical. He had to let his friend know the situation wasn’t hopeless, and he would never have a better opportunity.

“Alex, I know Braun isn’t listening because the house was swept with much better equipment than is available commercially. I’m working with US and British intelligence.”

Alex listened as Dugan explained and assured him Cassie would be protected. They stood and Alex hugged Dugan with a ferocity born of relief. For the first time in months, Alex Kairouz did not feel he was alone, staring into a black abyss.

And Dugan wondered how to tell the others about the newest member of the team.