He sighed. The gringos needed him to keep Dugan at large, just as he needed to remain close to the investigation. He would play their game, as they played his, until he learned who was really behind the death of his Maria and so many others. Then things would be different.
“That’s it. Kairouz’s was the last.” Sutton looked up from Alex Kairouz’s desk.
“Thank you, Sutton,” Braun said as he pulled a silenced pistol and shot his surprised underling in the head.
He returned the gun to his waistband and moved to his office, where he opened a small fireproof lockbox and checked the contents: cash, several false passports with Sutton’s photo, and the CD of conversations between Rodriguez, Kairouz, and Dugan. He locked the box and carried it to Sutton’s office, hiding it in a drawer just as Farley entered.
“All done,” Farley said. “I wedged open the stairwell fire doors and set incendiary charges on both the Phoenix Shipping floors. The main sprinkler supply valve is jammed shut. The place will go up in seconds.”
“It’s all concealed? I want no slipups.”
Farley shrugged. “Someone might close the fire doors, but it won’t matter. I’ve rigged both floors. The charges are out of sight.”
“And you’re sure Sutton’s and Kairouz’s offices will survive?”
“They should. They’re on the outer wall, away from the charges. The fire trucks will pump water through the windows first.” He looked around. “Sutton done?”
“Mr. Sutton has, and is, finished,” Braun said, “and as promised, his bonus money is now available to augment your own.”
Farley smiled. “Right then,” he said. “That leaves the timer. When you want to pop?”
Braun had struggled with timing until the Walsh slut’s call to Kairouz. Cassie had to be in their control to ensure Kairouz’s cooperation, but snatching her at home involved too many witnesses to silence. Authorities might believe Kairouz had the girl snatched, but not that he’d sanctioned the murder of his entire domestic staff. They had to grab the girl at school, and timing was key. It wouldn’t do for Kairouz to die in the office fire, but he normally arrived at the office about when Cassie reached school. Kairouz’s eight-thirty meeting with the slut was perfect. He’d even have a ringside seat to the destruction of his life’s work.
“Set it for eight forty,” Braun said.
Farley accelerated. The retard would dawdle, this of all mornings. If the old bitch had to sign her in as tardy, it would cock things up proper.
“SLOW DOWN, FARLEY,” demanded Gillian Farnsworth as he rocketed around a corner. He ignored her, lurching to a stop moments later before Sterling Academy, relieved to see the headmistress still atop of the steps. He leaped out, opening Cassie’s door. He grabbed her arm as she scrambled out.
“I gotta use the loo,” he said through the open door.
“Get back in this car at once,” Gillian Farnsworth said.
“I’ll be a while,” he grinned. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot, luv.”
He slammed the door and moved up the long steps, still gripping Cassie’s arm. He bobbed his head politely to the surprised headmistress, looking embarrassed as he whispered his need and brushed past before she could object. Inside, he feigned ignorance.
“Where’s the loo?”
“Down there,” Cassie pointed. “Now let me go. I’ll be late.”
“Show me first.”
“Oh, all right. But hurry.” She led him down an empty side hall.
At the toilet door, he clamped a hand over her mouth and pushed her in, her jerks exciting him as he pressed against her. He pinned her head against his chest, fished out a syringe, removed the cap with his teeth, and jabbed her neck. She went limp, and he lowered her to the floor to open the window.
“Right on time,” Braun said, framed in the window. Farley passed her out and then grabbed the top of the window frame to swing through the small opening feetfirst. He landed atop a panel truck painted in the livery of the International Parcel Service, backed up to the wall beneath the high window in the deserted alley. Braun was already scrambling to the ground, clad in an IPS uniform. Farley closed the window and lowered Cassie into Braun’s waiting arms, then jumped down beside them.
“I’ll put her in back,” Braun said. “Change and get behind the wheel.”
At 8:36, the truck turned onto Victoria Street.
“Nanny. Control. Over,” squawked the radio.
“We copy, Control. Over.”
“Nanny, be advised subject is moving east on Victoria. Over.”
The driver pulled around the corner. The two men in the car shared a look of relief at spotting the stationary Kairouz car.
“Negative, Control. Subject’s vehicle has not moved. Over.”
“I show the subject in motion, Nanny. Eastbound on Victoria. Over.”
“Control, I say again. Subject’s vehicle is stationary. Check your equipment. Over.”
“Nanny, DO YOU HAVE A VISUAL ON SUBJECT? Over.”
“Negative, Control. But the vehi—”
The operator abandoned protocol. “The bloody CAR may be there, but the SUBJECT is in motion, now southbound on Artillery Row and getting farther away by the minute. DO YOU COPY?”
“Bloody hell,” the driver said.
“Control. We’re on it,” said the second agent as the driver whipped the car onto Victoria, heading east.
Anna and Alex both arrived early and sat now in the Starbucks near the office, empty cups between them. She studied Alex. Panama and Dugan’s arrest had taken its toll.
“All those deaths. Thomas arrested,” he said. “If I’d just alerted you sooner… maybe you could’ve prevented it. I was just so afraid for Cassie.” His voice broke. “I am still.”
Anna took his hand. “She’s safe now. I promise.”
He sat, eyes downcast, and squeezed her hand before looking up.
“Right then,” he said. “Back to business. I’ll get you a position report, but how can you contact ships without alerting Braun?”
“We’re working on that,” Anna said vaguely.
“Well, you’re the expert. I’ll have Mrs. Coutts slip you a copy.”
Anna looked through the window. “You can tell her now.”
Alice Coutts was emerging from Vauxhall tube station. They went out to intercept her.
“Why good morning,” Mrs. Coutts said. “What a pleasant surp—”
A blast slapped them, followed so closely by a second it seemed like an echo. Shock waves cracked windows. They turned to see smoke billow above a familiar building, and the blood drained from Alex’s face as he watched the enterprise he’d built with years of blood, sweat, and tears go up in smoke.
Braun heard the explosions as they neared Lambeth Bridge. He’d chosen to cross the Thames at Lambeth for visual confirmation of the fire. Once on the bridge, he saw smoke billow on the far bank and heard the distant wail of fire engines. Gawkers jammed the walk south of the burning building.
He jumped at the sound of a horn. Farley was gawking too and almost hit a taxi.
“Keep your eyes on the bloody road,” Braun barked.
Farley muttered under his breath as Braun ignored him and dialed his cell phone. Alex Kairouz answered.
“Ah, Kairouz. Enjoying the bonfire?”
“You bastard. I’ll see you hang.”