Deadly Straits (A Tom Dugan Novel) by R.E. McDermott Page A

say. We married, and I joined MI5 and David went to a private firm. After training, I joined a firm supplying temps, basically a front to place me in companies under investigation. In time,” she continued, “my job seemed to upset David. I guess it was emasculating, like he was a stodgy accountant and I was a spy. He hinted and then demanded I quit, but I quite liked my job.”
    She sighed. “Perhaps I was selfish. I might have dealt better with his insecurity, but I didn’t. He grew cold and had frequent—and open—affairs, as if advertising he was a stud. We divorced, and last I heard, he was married for the third time and living in the Midlands.”
    “Is the offer of a penny for my thoughts still open?”
    “Sure.”
    Dugan hugged her tight. “David was a fucking idiot.”
    Anna smiled into his chest.
    “I’ve often thought so myself,” she said.

Chapter Ten
    Offices of Phoenix Shipping
13 June
    Braun sat in Alex Kairouz’s favorite chair and watched over steepled fingers. Alex sat on the sofa, ashen faced and trembling as he digested the news. Ibrahim’s body was found in an alley, throat slashed and wallet missing. Metro Police considered it a random street crime, as did the media. There was a small story on an inside page of The Daily Telegraph and a thirty-second mention on the morning news shows. Braun was pleased.
    “Quit sniveling, Kairouz,” Braun said. “It’s your own bloody fault.”
    “M… my fault. You basta—”
    “Of course it’s your fault,” Braun said. “Didn’t I warn you what would happen if you didn’t control Ibrahim? As a matter of fact, please note I spared his wife and children. For now. I’ll remedy that if you don’t quit whining and get back in the game.”
    “What do you want?”
    “Your renewed participation. Does it surprise you to know your friend Dugan has been snooping about? He and Ibrahim became fast friends, unfortunately for Ibrahim. Dugan is out of control, and I’m holding you responsible for putting him back in the box.”
    “I warned you this would happen,” Alex said. “How can I possibly control Thomas?”
    “To start, get closer to him,” Braun said. “Play on his friendship and find a way to keep him ignorant and out of the picture. You’re a clever fellow. I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I don’t care how you do it, but contain him.”
    “And if I can’t?”
    “Then Mr. Dugan and the family Ibrahim will all meet with accidents. Are we clear?”
    Alex gave a stiff nod, and Braun rose and walked out.
    He was pleased with his solution. Delegation was the mark of a good manager, and surely Kairouz could control Dugan for a week or two. After that, it wouldn’t matter.
    Anna Walsh’s Apartment Building
    Anna awakened and lifted her head from Dugan’s chest to peer at the lighted alarm clock. Dugan stirred, his soft snoring interrupted as he shifted in his sleep. Anna smiled down at his sleeping face, barely visible in the light of the clock. She had never before mixed her professional and personal lives. She knew she should regret it. She didn’t.
    She shook his shoulder.
    “Wh… time is it?” Dugan’s voice was thick with sleep.
    “Ten thirty. Almost bedtime.”
    He smiled. “Again?”
    Anna poked him in the ribs. “ Separate bedtimes, I mean. Come on. Get up. We need to go over a few things before I go back my place.”
    Dugan pulled her close. “What’s wrong with staying right here? We seem to communicate just fine.”
    Anna laughed and pulled away. “You’re too easily distracted. Up.”
    Dugan sighed and sat up to grope for his boxer shorts.
    “I’m gonna grab a beer. Get you anything?”
    “Just a glass of wine,” Anna said. “I’ll be out after I visit the loo.”
    ***
    Anna came in, wrapped in a silk robe, and joined him on the sofa. Dugan was staring at his beer bottle, lost in thought.
    “It’s not your fault, you know,” she said.
    He shook his head. “Yeah, it is. Ibrahim trusted me, and