Deadly Crossing (Tom Dugan 2) by R.E. McDermott Page B

another door. He opened the door and stepped into the busy kitchen of an Italian restaurant preparing for the lunch rush. He was immediately confronted by a burly man in a once-white apron smeared with tomato sauce.
    “You cannot come in this door—”
    “Food Standards Agency. Surprise inspection.” Arsov held up his open wallet as if it were credentials.
    The surprised cook stepped back, and Arsov pushed past him, straight through the kitchen and into the dining room. He nodded at the servers setting up tables and continued out the front door without pausing. Five minutes and a block later, he climbed into a cab at the prearranged pickup point and gave the driver the address of the club.
    “What?” said the angry cabbie. “My dispatcher said you was going to Heathrow. This bloody address is two streets away. You can walk it.”
    “Yes, but if you take me there, I’ll pay the full fare to Heathrow with a nice tip besides.”
    The cabbie shrugged, mollified. “Your money, mate.”
    Berwick Street, Soho
Near Club Pyatnitsa
London, UK
    Harry Albright sat in the driver’s seat of the van, pretending to study a clipboard as he conversed with Anna, unseen in the back of the van.
    “You think they made us, Harry?”
    “Hard to say. That was the world’s fastest smoke break. The bloke only took a few puffs before he tossed the butt, and he did seem a bit too interested in what was up and down the street. Then again, they are a criminal enterprise, so I suppose it’s only normal that they be cautious. It might just be routine. One thing’s for sure though, whether they’ve twigged to us now or not, we can’t be mucking about in this van too much longer without raising suspicions.”
    Anna sighed. “Agreed. However, I was hoping we’d at least spot Arsov before we had to come up with another means of surveillance. My inventory of favors subject to call is fairly limi—”
    “Hello! What’s this? You have that on your screen back there, Anna?” Harry asked.
    “Affirmative.” Anna watched on the monitor as a cab pulled up in front of Club Pyatnitsa . A tall man emerged from the cab, dressed impeccably in a suit that said Saville Row and wearing a snap-brim fedora set at a rakish angle. He stretched and checked the street in both directions, then strolled to the front door and entered the club.”
    “Well, well,” Anna said. “Here’s our guest of honor now. Now we just have to stay in touch.”
    “It shouldn’t be too difficult, as long as he doesn’t suspect we’re onto him.”

Chapter Seven
    Kairouz Residence
London, UK
    The smell of fresh-baked cookies filled the spacious kitchen, and Gillian watched as Tanya took two from the pile and then hesitated before placing a third on her plate. Mrs. Hogan beamed as she set a glass of cold milk beside Tanya’s plate.
    “Now that’s what I like to see,” the cook said. “A girl with a healthy appetite. A girl needs a few curves. None of this string bean stuff. It ain’t healthy.”
    Tanya laughed around a mouthful of cookie and took a swallow of milk to wash it down. “If I keep eating your cooking, Mrs. Hogan, I think I have more than ‘few’ curves, da ? Soon I look like beach ball.”
    “And a beautiful beach ball you’ll be, dearie,” Mrs. Hogan gave Tanya’s back an affectionate pat.
    Gillian smiled, amazed at the change in Tanya that even a short time in a safe environment had caused. The scars were deep, but Gillian knew they would heal, given time, and she wanted to keep the girl’s life as stress free as possible.
    Beside her on the counter, Gillian’s cell phone chirped, and she recognized Anna’s number on the caller ID.
    “Yes, Anna,” she said, and then listened a moment, tensing slightly.
    “No, we’re fine and enjoying some of Mrs. Hogan’s delicious cookies. Thomas? He is? Well, we’ll be sure to save him some cookies. Yes, dear, and thank you for calling.” As Gillian disconnected, Mrs. Hogan gave her an inquisitive