Deadly Crossing (Tom Dugan 2)

Deadly Crossing

A Thriller By

R. E. McDermott

Copyright © 2014 by R.E. McDermott
Deadly Crossing
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
For more information about the author, please visit:
www.remcdermott.com

Contents

Deadly Crossing

Dedication

Author's Notes

Acknowledgements

Thanks

More Books by R.E. McDermott

To Our Sons
Chris and Andy
Each passing day makes me prouder to be your dad

Acknowledgements

With each new book, the number of people to whom I owe thanks grows, and my greatest fear is that I’ll unintentionally leave someone out. I suppose that’s inevitable, and I could take the less perilous route of issuing a generic and non-specific thanks, but that doesn’t seem quite right somehow. Therefore, I’ll give it my best shot and issue a preemptive and generic (but nonetheless sincere) apology to anyone I might have missed.

First I owe thanks to my wife, Andrea, always first reader and sounding board. Readers owe her thanks as well, for she’s rescued you from more lame plot twists and tortured sentences than you’ll ever know.

Captain Ken Varall again read an early draft (on a very tight deadline) and provided valuable input. Sean Killian helped me keep my US Coast Guard scenes technically accurate and within the realm of the believable. My friend and old roommate, Captain Seth Harris, lent his many years’ experience as a container ship master to the cause, reading the shipboard scenes and making valuable suggestions to improve both their technical accuracy and plausibility. (I might add at this point that Seth’s excellent note-taking ability got us BOTH through our undergraduate years.)

Also from the fraternity of ex-sailormen, Captains Andy Lavies and Chris Allport weighed in from the far side of the pond, saving me from a couple of potentially embarrassing errors relative to British terminology and geography. Nor were they my only British contributers. As she has with previous books, Barbara Elsborg read the early manuscript multiple times, making terrific suggestions with each iteration. Roy Brocklebank RAF (retired) also gave generously of his time, offering needed corrections and suggestions, and researching and nailing down details. If my Brits sound like Brits, I suspect it has more to do with my British friends than the efforts of this Texan.

On the publishing front, Neal Hock took on a new role finding the weak spots in the story and then helping me strengthen them. And just when I thought the multitalented Jeroen ten Berge couldn’t possibly match his previous efforts, he delivers yet another stunning cover. I think this is his best one yet.

And last and far from least, over a hundred readers of my previous books volunteered to read the advance review copy of DEADLY CROSSING. Space prevents me from mentioning each by name, but you know who you are, and you have my profound thanks.

Any errors made, despite all this excellent help and support, are mine and mine alone.

Thank you for taking a chance on a new author. I sincerely hope you enjoy Deadly Crossing. If you do, please consider the links to the other books in the Tom Dugan series listed at the end of this ebook. And if you'd like to be notified when I release a new book, please consider signing up for my
mailing list
at this
link
.

Prologue

Prague
Czech Republic

Karina shifted in her sleep and groaned, dragged by pain to the edge of consciousness. Her eyes flew open to stare into the darkness, and her heart began to pound like that of a captured bird. Had they heard her? If they knew she was conscious, they’d come back. Then it would all start again. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to sleep. Just another hour, or even another minute. Anything to escape, if just for a moment.

But sleep would not come, and she lay still, listening for approaching footsteps. She heard none, and her pulse slowed, then spiked again as she turned on the bare mattress and pain shot through her naked body. Despair washed over her, and her shoulders began to shake in silent sobs, but there were no tears, for there were none left.

She thought again of killing herself, but that was impossible, even if she had the means. They had warned her what would happen to her sisters if she defied them.

Then there were footsteps in the hall, accompanied by laughter. She curled into the fetal position and trembled, dreading the squeak of the opening door.

Chapter One

London, UK

“Whatever is wrong with you?” asked Anna Walsh in the back seat of the taxi. “You’ve been behaving strangely for days, and now you’re sweating. Are you ill? Perhaps we should skip dinner.”

Tom Dugan smiled to cover his unease. “I’m fine. I’m just preoccupied with work — and it is a bit stuffy in here. Besides it’s your favorite restaurant, and we’ve had the reservation for a week.”

He gave her hand a gentle, and what he hoped was reassuring, squeeze. Anna nodded but appeared unconvinced. He leaned over and kissed her, curtailing further discussion. One kiss led to another until she pushed him away, laughing.

“Yes, well, we best stop this and give you a chance to cool down a bit before you have to be seen in public. Otherwise, we’ll have to turn the cab around and go home straightaway.”

Dugan glanced down and moved back to his own side of the backseat with some reluctance. He gazed out the rain-speckled window, at the lights of London refracted through the drops clinging to the glass, and was soon lost in uneasy thoughts.

The source of his unease rested in his jacket pocket, a small black velvet ring box. He’d wrestled with ‘popping the question’ for weeks, but as the moment approached, he was beset by doubts. There was the age difference, of course, and the demands of her career and his, and a dozen reasons why their relationship shouldn’t work. The fact that it had worked for the last three years was a source of continual amazement to him.

But what if she said no? She’d never even hinted at marriage, and if he crossed that line without invitation, the dynamic between them might be subtly but forever changed. Perhaps he was being greedy, wishing for more happiness when he already had more than any man deserved.

His reflections were interrupted by the trill of his cell phone, and as he fished it from his pocket, he reminded himself to turn it off before they got to the restaurant.

“Dugan,” he said into the phone.

“
Dyed
, I am sorry to disturb you, but we need your help,” said a familiar voice.

“Andrei?”

“
Da
, it is me, and I need to talk to you urgently,” Andrei Borgdanov replied.

Dugan glanced over at Anna, who arched her eyebrows in a question. “Okay, I’ll call you back in a couple of hours. I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

His reply was met with a momentary silence before the Russian responded. “Very well,
Dyed
, but please hurry.”

Dugan sighed and suppressed his irritation at being addressed as
dyed
, Russian slang for ‘gramps.’ Borgdanov had given him the nickname at their first meeting, when they were far from being friends. Their relationship had changed, but the nickname was apparently here to stay.

“Okay,” Dugan said. “But where are you? I thought you were still in the Indian Ocean.”

“We are here.”

“Here? As in London? Where?”

“In lobby of your building,” Borgdanov said. “I tried to go to your apartment, but man at desk stopped us. He called your apartment to see if is all right, but he got no answer.”

“Shit,” Dugan said. “Pass the phone to the doorman. Wait a minute. You said ‘we.’ Who’s with you?”

“Ilya.”

“Okay. I’m going to have security let you in to the apartment. Make yourselves at home and wait for us. Now pass the phone to the guy at the desk.”

“Security,” said a voice.

“Walter, this is Tom Dugan. Do you recognize my voice?”

“Yes, Mr. Dugan.”

“Great. Could you please escort these two gentlemen up to our apartment and let them in with your passkey?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks, Walter. We’ll be home in a bit.” Dugan hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“So Borgdanov is at our apartment,” Anna said, “and there’s someone with him?”

“Ilya Denosovitch, though damned if I can figure out what they’re doing here. It’s not like them to just show up out of the blue, so it must be something pretty serious.”

“And something we’d both spend dinner worrying over, so we best go find out.” She leaned forward and told the driver to take them home.

“That’s probably the right call.” Dugan felt the ring box in his pocket, and relief washed over him, along with a bit of guilt at his own reaction.

Dugan and Anna’s Apartment
London, UK

“But how do you even know she’s in London?” asked Anna.

“We don’t for sure,” Borgdanov replied, “but we have information she is probably in the UK, and I think London is logical place if she is in hands of bad people.”

“That’s another thing,” Dugan said. “Why do you think there’s foul play? I mean, she’s nineteen and out on her own for the first time. Maybe she’s just caught up in the adventure of living life and has been too busy to write or phone home. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“
Nyet
!” Ilya Denosovitch said. “My niece is good girl and very devoted to family. And even if she would be so cruel as not to contact my sister and brother-in-law, she is very close to her younger sisters and little brother.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t contact family, can only mean she cannot do so, and that she is in trouble.”

“Okay. Let’s go over it again,” Anna said. “You say she left home two months ago?”

“
Da
,” Denosovitch said. “Besides being beautiful girl, Karina is very smart. She speaks very good English and also French and German. She also loves children and is very good with them. She applied for job with agency in Volgograd. This agency places Russian girls as … ” Denosovitch looked to Borgdanov for help. “How you say
nyanya
?”

“Nanny,” said Borgdanov.

“
Da
, nanny,” Denosovitch said, continuing. “This was two months ago, and little Karina flew to Prague, where there is training school. She told my sister there is one month training course, and then she gets assignment in Western Europe or the UK, or maybe even USA. My sister got a phone call from her when she arrived in Prague, and Karina was very happy and excited. Since then, nothing.”

“And your sister wasn’t able to contact Karina?” Dugan asked.

Denosovitch shook his head. “After one week with no word, they tried calling number in Prague, but it is disconnected. Then my brother-in-law goes to the office of the agency in Volgograd, but office is closed, like no company ever exists. Police in Russia are no help, so my brother-in-law goes to Prague, but he has no address. He tries police there, but they have no record of the company. He tries many days but is difficult for him because he does not speak Czech. He goes everywhere, showing Karina’s picture, but no one knows anything. Finally, he goes home to Volgograd. Then my sister contacts me, but I am with the major” — he nods at Borgdanov — “providing security on ship transiting near Somalia. It was ten days before we could leave ship in Aden; then we come straight here.”

He looked down, composing himself. He was a blond giant, six foot five in his bare feet, and tipping the scales at two hundred and eighty pounds, none of it fat. Yet when he looked up, he was the picture of helplessness. His hands were trembling, and his eyes were wet with barely concealed grief.

He turned to Dugan. “Can you help us,
Dyed
?”

Dugan reached over and laid a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can, Ilya.”

The room grew quiet for a long moment before Anna broke the silence. “You said you had information Karina was in the UK. What kind of information?”

“Under the circumstances, I think it is clear that Karina was taken by the
mafiya
,” Borgdanov said. “It seems only logical answer. I know a few ex-
Spetsnaz
that work for mob. I do not like what they do, and we are not friends but we are not enemies. I put out discreet inquiries, and one fellow told me that normally when the
mafiya
steals girls and takes them to Prague, final destination is usually the UK or USA. They have many clubs here, and they force the girls to…”

Borgdanov glanced over at Ilya, who was sitting with his jaw clenched and hands curled into fists.

“ …to work in clubs. I think you understand.”

Dugan and Anna nodded, and Borgdanov continued. “Maybe she is in US, but I figure we start here first.”

Borgdanov looked at Anna. “We were hoping that maybe you could use your contacts to help us, and if we have no luck here, that maybe
Dyed
, could help us in US. We have nowhere else to turn.”

Anna nodded. “Officially, of course, MI5 can do nothing regarding a personal matter that has no impact on national security. Unofficially, you’ll have all the help I can give you, and if we do have to make inquiries in the States, I suspect Jesse Ward will make some very ‘unofficial’ inquiries as well.”

“I think you can count on that,” Dugan agreed.

“Thank you,” said Borgdanov, relief in his voice.

Denosovitch merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“But I think there’s another person you haven’t considered who may have some helpful contacts,” Anna said, glancing at her watch. “Tom, would you please ring Alex and ask if we might all pay him a visit?”

Kairouz Residence
London, UK

“And just how long has this been going on?” Alex Kairouz demanded, his face flushed.

His wife, Gillian, hesitated. “Almost a year, though Cassie only confided in me a month ago.”

“A month ago!” Alex’s face grew redder still. “You’ve known a month and you’re just getting around to telling me?”

“And with good reason, obviously. I knew you’d overreact.”

Alex glared. “I’m not overreacting. You know Cassie is vulnerable, and she’s far too young to be romantically involved, even if she were… she were…”

Gillian’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Even if she were what, Alex? Normal?”

Alex wilted under her gaze and slumped in his chair.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. I just don’t want her hurt, that’s all.”

Gillian shook her head. “I know you THINK that dear, but the problem is you really did mean it that way. You’re so intent on protecting Cassie you can’t see her as anyone except a flawed and fragile child. But she just turned eighteen, Alex, and the cognitive rehabilitation therapy has worked wonders over the last three years. She’s come further than we ever dared hope. She tested low normal on the last battery of tests. That’s low NORMAL, Alex. We can’t keep her wrapped up in some sort of cocoon, and if we try, we’ll only ruin her chances for a happy life.” Her voice hardened. “And she WILL have a happy life, Alex, even if I have to fight you to achieve it. I promised that to Kathleen on her deathbed, and I keep my promises.”

Alex softened at the memory of his dead wife. “I know you do, dear. And God knows no one’s worked harder to give Cassie her chance in life. It’s just so unsettling. Who is this boy? Where did she meet him, and how have they been seeing one another? She’s hardly had the opportunity. She’s always attended all-girl schools, and we’ve never allowed her to date.”

“Apparently they’ve pursued their relationship through emails and texting.”

“My God! She met him online? What if he’s a predator!”

“I didn’t say she met him online. I said they pursued their relationship online. She actually met him face to face last year. So did we.”

“What? Where? Who is he?” Alex demanded.

“Do you remember when we all flew to the shipyard in Korea for the christening and delivery party for the
M/V Lynx
?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“Do you also remember the handsome young cadet that escorted Cassie and I on a private tour of the ship while you and Tom conferred with the captain?”

“Vaguely,” Alex replied, awareness dawning.

“Well, evidently young Nigel Havelock was quite smitten with Cassie, and the feeling was reciprocated. He apparently slipped her his contact information, and they’ve been communicating ever since.” Gillian paused. “Cassie told me proudly that ‘her Nigel’ is now third officer on the
Lynx
.”

Alex exploded anew. “The bloody cheeky little bastard! Chatting up the boss’s daughter in hopes of currying favor, is he? We’ll just see about that. I’ll sack the little bugger!”

“Alex Kairouz, you will do nothing of the sort. And quit being a pompous ass! Why do you think it’s all about YOU and your company? Are you blind to the fact that our little girl is not so little any longer? She’s a warm and beautiful young woman, and you best learn to accept that.”

Alex sputtered, at a loss for words, and Gillian continued.

“And besides, you’ve often remarked on how Kathleen had an uncanny ability to read people and that Cassie inherited that gift. If this boy’s feelings weren’t genuine, don’t you think Cassie would have seen through him by this time?”

“I suppose,” Alex said, the concession grudging, “but if it’s to continue, I insist we engage our security consultants to run a background check on him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Alex colored. “I’m NOT being ridiculous! And I would think you would be the first…” He stopped mid-sentence and looked quizzically at Gillian, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve already done it, haven’t you?”

It was Gillian’s turn to flush red. “It seemed prudent,” she responded primly.

“And?”

“And he’s just what he seems to be,” Gillian said. “A nice English boy from a solidly middle-class family. No skeletons in the closet as far as the security people could determine. He got full marks through school and glowing recommendations from your own captains while he was a cadet. He seems a fine young man.”

“Perhaps,” Alex said, somewhat mollified, “but I think we should—” He was interrupted by the ring of the phone on the table beside him. He glanced down at the caller ID.

“Thomas,” he said, reaching for the phone, “whatever can he want at this time of night.”

“Yes, Thomas,” he said into the receiver. “What? Borgdanov? Here? Yes, yes, of course you can come over. We’ll see you in a few minutes.” He hung up.