Short Range (The Spider Shepherd Thrillers Book 16)

by Stephen Leather

  Shepherd sipped his coffee as his mind processed everything he’d been told. Pritchard was right, it was never a good idea to judge someone by their CV, especially when that CV had been put together by MI5. He had always assumed that the director was a career civil servant who had spent all his time behind a desk, where a papercut was the most damaging injury he faced, but now he realised that Pritchard had been prepared to put his life on the line to protect civilians he didn’t even know. So was that why he was now in Slovenia? To relive his glory days?

  His unspoken question was answered when Pritchard looked over at the entrance to the bar and smiled. ‘Speak of the devil,’ he said. ‘Here’s the man himself.’

  Shepherd turned to look at the entrance to the bar. Pritchard was already on his feet. One of the men from Gunfire Tours, the one called Neno, was walking across the bar towards them, beaming from ear to ear. He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket, black jeans and gleaming white trainers. His eyes scanned Shepherd but then returned to Pritchard and it was clearly him that the smile was aimed at. Pritchard met him halfway and the two men hugged, hard. They broke apart and Pritchard said something in Serbo-Croat and Neno laughed and the two men hugged again.

  Shepherd watched in confusion. So Neno was Andrej, the soldier that Pritchard had almost killed in Bosnia. How had Pritchard tracked him down after all this time? The answer to the question hit him almost immediately. The previous night Shepherd had emailed Pritchard a link to the videos and photographs he’d taken in Sid. Neno hadn’t been in any of the photographs on the tour company’s website, but he was in the pictures that Shepherd had uploaded. So Pritchard must have seen Neno and recognised him as Andrej. But why were they now meeting in Ljubljana? Shepherd’s mind whirled as he tried to process what he was seeing.

  The two men had one final hug and then Pritchard brought Andrej over. ‘John, you obviously know Andrej,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but I know him as Neno,’ said Shepherd. He stood up and offered his hand.

  Andrej shook Shepherd’s hand. ‘Neno has been my nickname for many years,’ he said. ‘It’s a small world, you knowing Colin.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ said Shepherd. So Pritchard was sticking with Colin and Shepherd was continuing with his John Whitehill legend? It would have been nice to have been forewarned but Shepherd had the impression that Pritchard was enjoying keeping him on his toes.

  Pritchard waved over a waitress and asked Andrej what he wanted to drink. He asked for a black coffee and pulled over a chair. ‘So you and Colin work together?’ asked Andrej.

  Shepherd nodded, unsure of what to say. He had no way of knowing how much Pritchard had told Andrej. He looked across at Pritchard. Pritchard was smiling, and he held his look for a couple of seconds before speaking. ‘I’ve explained to Andrej that he needs to steer clear of Gary Dexter and his team, that they are planning a terrorist attack in London. He’s going to make sure that Branko doesn’t sell them any weaponry.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘He won’t tell Branko that you were there following Dexter, he’ll simply say that he has heard that Dexter has been approaching similar weapons training groups with a view to purchasing grenades and rockets and that the word on the street is that Dexter is under investigation by Europol.’

  ‘Once I tell him that, he’ll have nothing to do with Dexter,’ said Andrej.

  ‘Okay,’ said Shepherd again.

  The waitress returned with Andrej’s drink and Pritchard waited until she had walked away before continuing. ‘Andrej will also talk to Dexter. He’ll tell him that Gunfire Tours won’t be able to sell them weaponry, but he will give them the name and number of someone in the UK who can. And that someone will obviously be provided by us.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I also asked Andrej if he’ll help us with our current problem, and he has agreed,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Forgive me for asking, but when was all this agreed?’ asked Shepherd.

  Pritchard smiled. ‘Before you met me for lunch.’

  Shepherd nodded, impressed. ‘All this on the back of some video I took in Serbia and a few requests for phone records?’

  Pritchard smiled thinly. ‘As I said before, I have a proven aptitude for data analysis.’

  Andrej leaned towards Shepherd. ‘Colin tells me that your girlfriend and son have been kidnapped?’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘It happened yesterday. They were here, while I was with you in Sid.’

  ‘And they want a ransom paid?’

  Shepherd nodded again. ‘Half a million euros.’

  Andrej blew softly between his teeth. ‘That’s a lot of money.’

  Pritchard’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and then hurried out to the corridor to take the call.

  ‘You’re okay to help?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘Did Colin tell you how we met?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘So you know he’s a good man. So if a friend of his needs help, of course I’ll do what I can. And tipping me off about Dexter helps me and helps Branko.’

  ‘Would you have sold the weapons to Dexter?’

  ‘Branko said he would, but he couldn’t deliver them to the UK, which is what Dexter wanted. Branko said Dexter could buy them here and then it was up to Dexter to get them to the UK.’ He shrugged. ‘They were going around in circles.’

  ‘Why did Dexter say he wants grenades and rockets?’

  ‘The story he told Branko was that he hates Muslims. Branko is the same.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘You have to understand our history,’ said Andrej. ‘The Ottomans moved into Bosnia and the Muslims took over. It was not a good place to be a Christian. Back then, only Muslims could buy or inherit land. If you wanted to own your own home, you had to convert. The Jews have a saying about what happened to them under the Nazis. “Never again”. We have the same saying. We will never allow the Muslims to have power over us again. That was why Branko could be persuaded to sell weapons to Dexter and his group. But as soon as he knows that Dexter is under investigation, he’ll have nothing to do with them.’

  Pritchard put his phone away. ‘David’s phone was here in Ljubljana when you made your first call last night,’ he said. ‘Near the city centre, not far from where we are now, as it happens. The phone then moved east and when Thatcher made the second call, the phone was on the outskirts of the town of Novo Mesto, which is pretty much midway between here and Zagreb, linked by the A2 motorway. The phone’s back in Ljubljana as we speak.’

  ‘So we go and get David now?’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I think not,’ said Pritchard. ‘I think our first priority is rescuing Katra and Liam. Besides, all we know about David is his name and the fact he has the phone. Say we turn up at his location and there are a couple of dozen heavies there? We won’t know who’s who. But there’ll be no confusion when we find Liam and Katra.’

  ‘Assuming that they haven’t been moved,’ said Shepherd. ‘But yes, I hear what you’re saying. If we go after David and something goes wrong, one phone call and they’re dead. What about hitting the two locations at the same time?’

  ‘We don’t have the manpower,’ said Pritchard.

  ‘What do we have?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘You’re looking at it,’ said Pritchard. ‘I was happy to take Andrej into my confidence because of our history, but that’s as far as it goes. So it’s the three of us.’

  They finished their coffees and left the hotel. Andrej had left his car in the street outside. It was a ten-year-old BMW that looked as if it had been recently resprayed dark blue. He took them around to the boot and opened it. Inside was a selection of weapons including three Glocks, a sawn-off shotgun, an AK-47 and three sets of night vision goggles. There were also several machetes and a baseball bat. Shepherd laughed and patted Andrej on the back. ‘I can’t fault your kit, mate,’ he said.

  The building was on the outskirts of Novo Mesto. There was a parking area t
o the left with a dozen vehicles lined up. Security lights illuminated the car park and the front of the building. It stood in a couple of acres of land and the nearest neighbour was a farmhouse about a hundred yards away.

  Andrej parked a short distance away in a layby that gave them a view of the front of the building through a line of trees. There was a small pair of binoculars in the glove compartment and Andrej used them to check out the building, then he gave them to Pritchard. As he put the glasses to his eyes, the front door opened and two young men came out and headed over to a black pickup truck with landscaping equipment in the back. They climbed in and drove off. As they pulled onto the main road they passed another vehicle driving towards the house. It was a new-model Mercedes. The driver was wearing a suit and tie and he locked the car and went to the front door. It opened as he approached and he stepped inside. The door closed behind him.

  The windows were all barred with decorative ironwork but Pritchard could see that the blinds were drawn. ‘It’s a brothel,’ he said, lowering the binoculars.

  Andrej nodded. ‘That sounds right.’

  ‘So David is what, a pimp?’ asked Shepherd. ‘And he’s keeping Liam and Katra in his brothel? What the hell’s going on?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure that it’s his place,’ said Pritchard. ‘But I’m guessing a brothel is as good a place as any to hide hostages. These places tend to pay off the local cops so they won’t be getting any unexpected visits.’

  ‘So we’re going in?’ asked Andrej.

  ‘Are you okay with that?’ asked Pritchard. ‘I know you don’t have a dog in this fight.’

  ‘I don’t have anything else to do,’ said Andrej.

  Pritchard twisted around in his seat to look at Shepherd. ‘I think we go in with concealed guns, get the lay of the land and play it by ear.’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  Pritchard grinned. ‘More of a premise than a plan, to be honest,’ he said. ‘The problem is, we don’t know if they search the clientele. If they start to pat us down we’ll have to go full tilt straight away.’

  ‘Either way we’re going to have to pull out guns at some point. They’re not just going to hand them over.’

  Andrej got out of the car, went around to the boot and opened it. He returned a couple of minutes later with the three Glocks. ‘I’ve got holsters, but I think tucked into the belt will work better,’ he said as he got back into the car. He handed a gun to Pritchard and another to Shepherd.

  Shepherd knew that Andrej was right. Shoulder holsters were comfortable and reliable but they had a tendency to show themselves and a simple pat down would reveal the gun. If the weapon was hidden in the small of the back, a loose jacket would hide it and it would take a concerted search to reveal it. The downside was that drawing the weapon was an effort. Swings and roundabouts.

  The Glock was a 17, possibly the same one that Shepherd had used in the quarry. He ejected the magazine. It was full, with seventeen rounds. He slotted the magazine back and pulled back the slide to slot one into the chamber. The Glock’s safety trigger meant there was no way the gun could be fired accidentally and having one in the chamber could save a vital second or two.

  He tucked the gun into his belt. Pritchard and Andrej did the same.

  ‘Good to go?’ asked Pritchard.

  Shepherd nodded.

  Andrej drove the BMW along the main road and turned into the parking area of the house. As he stopped and switched off the engine the front door opened and a white-haired man appeared, his back stooped with age. The man waved goodbye to someone inside and then walked unsteadily over towards a rusting Škoda. A girl appeared in the doorway wearing stockings, suspenders and a babydoll nightie that left little to the imagination. She blew kisses at the old man as he opened the car door with a shaking hand.

  ‘Clearly a big tipper,’ said Shepherd and Pritchard laughed.

  The front door closed again as the three men climbed out of the BMW. The Škoda drove off.

  ‘Best you let us do the talking,’ Andrej said to Shepherd. ‘They tend not to let foreigners into these places. If anyone says anything to you, just say “Da” and pretend you’re a bit drunk. Okay?’

  ‘Da,’ said Shepherd.

  They walked up to the building. Shepherd didn’t see anything in the way of CCTV but he kept his head down anyway. Andrej knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a heavily built man with a crew cut and a diamond stud in his left ear. He looked Andrej up and down, then scrutinised Shepherd and Pritchard. Andrej said something and the man grunted and held the door open. He was wearing a shiny black leather jacket with a belt that was swinging loose. Shepherd caught a glimpse of the butt of a gun in a holster under the man’s left armpit.

  Andrej said something to the heavy and the man laughed. He patted Shepherd on the shoulder and said something in Serbo-Croat. ‘Da,’ said Shepherd.

  The heavy continued to laugh as Andrej took Shepherd and Pritchard over to a sofa by the window. Shepherd sat down in the middle. ‘What just happened?’ he whispered to Pritchard.

  ‘Andrej said you wanted a discount because you have a very small dick,’ he said. ‘The bouncer asked you if you really did have a small dick and you said yes.’ He grinned at Shepherd. ‘It was funny.’

  The ground floor was open plan, one large room with a small bar fronted by a line of wooden stools. There was a door at the side of the bar and next to the door was a wide staircase leading upstairs. To the left was a blue-topped pool table where a lanky man with greasy hair tied back in a ponytail was watching a plump blonde girl in a silver minidress try to balance on stupidly high stiletto heels to make her shot.

  There was a second bouncer standing by the bar with his arms folded across a barrel-sized chest. He had cauliflower ears that suggested a former career as a wrestler or mixed martial artist, or maybe he had just been unlucky and had an abusive father.

  The barman was as large and intimidating as the bouncers, though he was more casually dressed, wearing a tight black T-shirt that showed off his bulging forearms and a gold medallion around his neck. The barman said something to the heavy and he nodded, opening the door at the side of the bar and disappearing inside.

  There were three other customers in the bar: a guy in his fifties wearing overalls, standing at the bar, and two younger men sitting on a sofa, each with a girl straddling him. The girls both had waist-length hair, one blonde and one brunette.

  A waitress in hot pants and a bright orange halter top walked over and Andrej ordered three beers. He asked the waitress a question that took at least two minutes to answer, and then she walked over to the bar, her hips swinging from side to side. As she reached it, the heavy came back through the door holding a bottle of spirits in each hand.

  Andrej leaned towards Pritchard and Shepherd and lowered his voice. ‘Customers can sit here as long as they keep buying drinks. If you want to sit with a girl, you have to buy her a bottle of champagne.’ He grinned. ‘A hundred euros a bottle, if we’re on expenses. If you want to take a girl upstairs, that’s two hundred euros, paid in advance. Two shots.’

  ‘Two shots?’ repeated Pritchard.

  ‘You get to come twice,’ said Andrej.

  ‘Good to know,’ said Pritchard, dryly. He looked around. ‘Do you think there’s a basement?’ He nodded at the door by the bar. ‘There maybe? Katra and Liam could be there. And there’s two floors of bedrooms upstairs, right?’

  ‘We need to get upstairs to take a look around,’ said Shepherd. ‘I don’t see a toilet here, maybe that’s upstairs.’

  The waitress returned with their beers and put them down on the table in front of them. Pritchard paid her in cash. He spoke to her in Serbo-Croat and she pointed at the stairs. ‘You’re right,’ said Pritchard, once she’d left. ‘The loos are upstairs on the left.’

  ‘So one of us goes up and looks around?’ said Shepherd. ‘Can’t be me, obviously. “Da” isn’t going to get me very far if I walk
in on a couple in flagrante delicto.’

  Andrej frowned, not getting the reference, so Pritchard translated for him and he laughed.

  Shepherd stiffened as he saw a young girl coming down the stairs. She looked as if she was drunk and she kept one hand on the banister as she carefully took one step at a time, tottering on heels that were clearly too high for her. At first glance he thought she had made a bad job of applying her make-up but then he realised she had purplish bruises on her face. Somebody had hit her. Her hair was bunched into pigtails and she was wearing a cropped white top with a mini necktie and a short blue skirt. It was only as she reached the bottom of the stairs that he recognised her; she looked totally different from the last time he had seen her.

  ‘Guys, we might have a problem here,’ said Shepherd, keeping his voice low. ‘That’s Katra’s sister. Mia.’