Tall Order Spider

by Stephen Leather

  A man said something in a language Yokely didn’t recognise.

  ‘Room service,’ repeated Yokely. He flashed a beaming smile. ‘I’m here to turn down your room.’

  The door opened another couple of inches. The man was big, a good three inches taller than Yokely, and broad. But that wasn’t a problem as Yokely wasn’t planning on getting into a fist fight with him. He brought up the Glock and fired twice in quick succession, once to the top of the chest, just below the throat, and a couple of inches to the right and lower where he hoped the man’s heart would be. As soon as he had put the two shots in the man he forced the door open. The man was staggering back, two red roses blossoming on his shirt.

  There were three other men in the warehouse. Kleintank was on his feet, the other two were sitting at a table. Kleintank was about five feet eight inches tall, wearing a black cashmere overcoat and gleaming patent leather shoes. His mouth was open in surprise.

  The man Yokely had shot fell to the ground, his breath rasping in his throat as he died. Yokely walked towards Kleintank, his gun pointing at his chest.

  Yokely heard Leclerc and McNee enter the building behind him and the door shut. Without looking he knew that Leclerc would move left and McNee would head right.

  The two men at the table pushed away their chairs and stood up. The chairs hit the ground as they pulled out automatic weapons but Leclerc and McNee were too quick for them. Half a dozen shots rang out in less than a second and both men slumped to the ground. The Dutchman slowly raised his hands above his head. ‘I’m not armed!’ he shouted.

  Yokely smiled. ‘You can see the irony in that,’ he said. ‘You being an arms dealer and all.’

  ‘There’s no money here but you can take anything you want,’ said Kleintank.

  ‘We’re not here to rob you,’ said Yokely.

  Kleintank frowned. ‘So what do you want?’

  ‘Information. Specifically about a dozen Stinger missiles that passed through your hands recently.’

  Kleintank shook his head. ‘I don’t have any Stingers.’

  ‘Maybe not now. But you had a dozen. Consecutive serial numbers.’

  Kleintank shrugged. ‘I handle a lot of inventory.’

  Yokely nodded at Leclerc and Leclerc punched Kleintank in the face. Kleintank staggered back, blood streaming from his nose.

  ‘Don’t fuck me around, Kleintank,’ said Yokely. ‘You had twelve. Who did you sell them to? And if I even think I’m going to hear the words “client confidentiality” I will put a bullet in your ball sack.’

  ‘Iraq,’ said Kleintank. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose. ‘They went to Iraq.’

  ‘You were selling to al-Qaeda?’

  ‘I sold to a couple of guys with beards. They were in town buying from me and a couple of other dealers. They were buying anything they could get their hands on and paying in cash. They didn’t tell me who they were or where the weapons were going but the shipper they used is an old friend. They were going to Iraq. I don’t know who was using them in Iraq, and I didn’t care. Cash is fucking cash, right?’

  ‘You were selling ground-to-air missiles to terrorists and you don’t care what they do with them, right?’

  Kleintank sneered at Yokely. ‘And who do you think makes them? You’re American, right? It’s your fucking country that manufactures them. Do your arms companies give a fuck who the end user is? Of course they don’t. Don’t pass judgement on me. I’m just a middleman. It’s your country that starts these fucking wars and then sells the weapons to fight them. You need to—’

  Leclerc punched Kleintank in the face again, this time so hard that the Dutchman went down like a sack of potatoes.

  Yokely shook his head and sighed. ‘Peter, the man is entitled to his opinion.’

  ‘Couldn’t think of any other way to shut him up,’ said Leclerc. ‘You think the Stinger used to shoot down the plane came from Iraq?’

  ‘No, I don’t. Strip off his clothes – being naked usually focuses the mind.’

  Leclerc bent down and began pulling off the Dutchman’s expensive shoes.

  Yokely heard footsteps off to his left and he pulled out his gun. He frowned when he recognised the man. It was Dan Shepherd. Why the hell had he come back to the warehouse?

  Yokely looked over at Leclerc and McNee. ‘It’s okay, I know him,’ he said. The two men relaxed and went back to stripping the clothing off Kleintank.

  Yokely walked towards Shepherd, an amused smile on his face. ‘You do turn up at the most inconvenient times, don’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here, Richard?’

  ‘Tidying up some loose ends. How did you get in?’

  ‘Side door,’ said Shepherd. ‘I have unfinished business with Mr Kleintank. I’m a bit surprised to see you, but you do have a habit of turning up when I least expect it.’

  ‘I’m going to have to ask you to go now, Spider.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Yes you can. You turn around and you walk away and you don’t look back.’

  ‘Is he dead?’ asked Shepherd, gesturing at Kleintank.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Yokely.

  ‘You’re going to kill him, right?

  ‘Not your business, old friend.’

  ‘We’re not friends, Richard. We’re just guys whose paths cross from time to time.’

  ‘You owe me.’ Yokely’s finger was still on the trigger of his Glock but the barrel was now pointing at the floor.

  ‘I owe you a favour,’ said Shepherd. ‘I don’t owe you a man’s life.’

  ‘Not just any man,’ said Yokely. ‘But that’s not the point. You owe me. You owe me big time. So turn around and walk away. You’re right, we don’t have to be friends but I’m going to do what I have to do no matter what.’

  ‘You did a big favour for me, I’m not denying that. But there’s a hell of a gap between a debt of honour and being an accomplice to a cold-blooded murder.’

  ‘I don’t need your complicity,’ said Yokely. ‘I just need you to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you here.’

  ‘I mean why do you want to kill him. What’s he done?’

  The gun moved. Now it was pointing at Shepherd’s knee but Yokely didn’t for one moment think of pulling the trigger. Spider Shepherd was an ally in a world full of enemies. ‘You’re making this very difficult for me, Spider.’

  ‘You think murder is easy?’

  Yokely snorted. ‘If it was anyone else but you—’

  ‘What, Richard? What would you do? Would you shoot me, is that what you’re saying?’

  The gun didn’t move but the finger tightened on the trigger. Yokely shook his head slowly. ‘I’ve got a job to do. And you’re in my way.’

  ‘This is Sarajevo, this is way out of your jurisdiction.’

  Yokely grinned. ‘I represent the United States of America, which means the whole God-damned world is my jurisdiction. And it’s like George W said, you’re either with us or you’re against us.’ He gestured at Kleintank with the gun. ‘Him, he’s against us. What about you, Spider? Which side are you on?’

  ‘There’s no sides in this,’ said Shepherd. ‘There’s just you and me and the guy you’re threatening to kill.’

  Yokely took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. He stared at Shepherd, his lips a tight line. The barrel of the gun moved slowly until it was aimed at Shepherd’s stomach. ‘You heard about the plane that crashed leaving JFK?’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘Engine failure, they’re saying. It crashed into the sea.’

  ‘Yeah, well they’re saying what they’ve been told to say,’ said Yokely. ‘The real situation is being kept under wraps. Islamic fundamentalists shot it out of the sky. And they shot it out of the sky with a missile supplied by that piece of shit. So he made his choice and now it’s time for him to pay the piper.’

  Yokely had no idea what Shepherd was doing i
n Sarajevo, but from the flurry of questions that followed it was clear he was also investigating Kleintank’s missile sales.

  ‘Can we go somewhere and talk?’ said Shepherd eventually. ‘I’m getting nervous hanging around here.’

  Yokely looked over at Leclerc, who was pulling off Kleintank’s underwear. ‘Keep him on ice,’ said Yokely.

  Leclerc nodded. ‘Like he was in a freezer,’ he said.

  Yokely flashed Shepherd an apologetic smile. ‘He watches a lot of Tarantino movies,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t we all,’ said Shepherd.

  Chapter 26

  Ten Years Ago, Sarajevo

  A waiter with a well-tended goatee placed cups of coffee on the table in front of Shepherd and Yokely, smiled and left. Yokely stirred in two spoonfuls of brown sugar but Shepherd left his untouched. They chatted a while before Shepherd got to the point. ‘I’ve infiltrated a group of armed robbers who need a missile for the robbery they’ve got planned,’ he said. ‘The guy who put the job together gave us Kleintank’s name for the ordnance.’

  ‘And the plan is to point a missile at the tellers and demand they hand over their takings? Sounds a bit like overkill.’

  ‘There’s a wall involved,’ said Shepherd. ‘We were in the market for a few RPGs but all Kleintank had was a training Grail. I told Kleintank that we weren’t interested so we’re going to have a rethink about where we’re going to get the RPGs from. But while I was chatting with Kleintank he let slip about the Brits who bought a Grail and who wanted a Stinger and I came back for a chat.’

  ‘A chat?’ said Yokely. He grinned malevolently. ‘We’re not too different, you and I, are we?’

  ‘Chalk and cheese,’ said Shepherd. ‘I was just going to talk to him.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the Brits he sold the Grail to. They’ve now got a Grail and a Stinger and that can only mean one thing.’

  ‘You think they’re home-grown fundamentalists who want to bring down a plane? Nasty.’

  ‘I was going to pass any info on to our anti-terrorism people,’ said Shepherd. ‘But that’s a non-starter after what you’ve done to Kleintank.’

  ‘Don’t expect me to apologise for doing my job,’ said Yokely. ‘First I knew you were involved was when you came barging in with a bad attitude.’ He sipped his coffee and then told Shepherd that he would interrogate Kleintank and share any intel with him. He figured he owed the man that much.

  ‘You could blow my case, Richard. If Kleintank talks to my guys, alarm bells could start ringing.’

  ‘Give me some credit, Spider. We’ll keep him on ice, as my Tarantino-loving colleague said. We’ll take him well away from here.’

  ‘Rendition?’

  Yokely grinned. ‘Haven’t you heard, we don’t do that any more. We’ll find a place here, somewhere secluded. You let me know when you’re in the clear. Deal?’ He smiled. He was lying, of course. There was going to be no rendition for Kleintank, just a bullet or two in the chest.

  They finished their coffees soon after and Shepherd left. Yokely went back to the warehouse. He knocked twice on the door and Leclerc let him in.

  Kleintank was hanging upside down, naked, from a metal beam in the ceiling. Blood had trickled from between his lips on to the floor. His eyes were closed but his chest was heaving. His wrists had been tied behind his back. Yokely walked over to the holdall and took out the stun gun. It was over a foot long, black and baton-shaped with two steel prongs at one end and a button for a trigger. He pressed the button and sparks arced across the gap.

  ‘Give him some water,’ said Yokely.

  Leclerc picked up a plastic bottle of water and McNee helped lift the Dutchman so that Leclerc could put the bottle to his mouth. Kleintank coughed and spluttered but managed to swallow some of the water.

  He blinked up at Yokely. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. What do you want?’

  ‘We need to talk, Alex,’ said Yokely, brandishing the stun gun.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Your customers.’

  Kleintank coughed. ‘What do you want to know?’

  Blue sparks crackled across the top of the stun gun. ‘Everything.’

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ said Kleintank. ‘I’ll talk.’

  ‘Then talk. Did all the Stingers go to Iraq? And don’t lie to me.’

  ‘No,’ said Kleintank. ‘Not all.’

  ‘The rest. Who did you sell them to?’

  ‘A dealer in Dubai.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Jamahl Benikhlef.’

  ‘Spell it.’

  Kleintank slowly spelled out the name. ‘I think along the line it was Bin Khalif but Benikhlef is on his passport.’

  ‘Where in Dubai do I find him?’

  ‘I don’t know. We don’t socialise. But he mentioned the marina, the new one. Said I should buy there. Maybe he lives there.’

  ‘What did this Benikhlef want with Stingers?’

  ‘He didn’t say. I didn’t ask. We’re middlemen, we buy and sell.’ He coughed and spluttered, then spat to clear his mouth. ‘You don’t have to do this to me, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.’

  ‘I prefer it this way,’ said Yokely. ‘Did he buy anything else from you?’

  ‘He only wanted Stingers. He wanted more but the ten were already on their way to Iraq. Look, let me down, I can’t think, all the blood is going to my head.’

  ‘You’re doing just fine, Alex,’ said Yokely. He tossed the stun gun back in the holdall. ‘The three men who were here before. What are they buying?

  ‘They want RPGs. I don’t have any. I offered them a training Grail but they didn’t want it.’

  ‘And you sold another Grail recently?’

  Kleintank nodded. ‘Two Brits bought it.’

  ‘Names?’

  ‘I only got the name of the white guy. Paul Bradshaw. Former soldier. He fought in Iraq. Knew his stuff.’

  ‘And he was with an Asian?’

  ‘A Pakistani Brit. I didn’t get his name. Then another Asian came in with the money.’

  ‘This Bradshaw, what did he want?’

  ‘A Grail missile with a guidance system. The practice model wasn’t good enough. So I put him in touch with a French guy, down in Nice. Marcel Calvert. He was in the Legion. He was going to sell him a Stinger.’

  ‘How did Bradshaw know to contact you? It’s not as if you guys advertise on Craigslist, is it?’

  ‘Friend of a friend. Word of mouth. I think it was a guy who he’d served with who now works for Blackwater.’

  Yokely nodded. ‘Thank you, Alex, you’ve been very helpful. Now, do you have a contact number for this Bradshaw?’

  ‘My phone. In my coat.’

  Yokely went over to Kleintank’s cashmere overcoat and fished an iPhone out of one of the pockets. ‘Password?’

  Kleintank gave him the digits and Yokely tapped them into the phone. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘Now will you let me go?’ asked Kleintank.

  ‘Have you told me everything?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kleintank.

  ‘You are sure?’

  ‘Yes!’ screamed the Dutchman.

  Yokely took the gun from its holster and shot Kleintank twice in the chest. Kleintank’s body went into spasm as blood dripped on to the floor, then he went still. Yokely turned to look at Leclerc. ‘Peter, are you okay going point in Dubai? It’s a while since I was there.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Who do you suggest we use?’

  ‘Michael Bardot in Abu Dhabi is always reliable for kit. Puts a bit of distance in there. He can drive into Dubai with any equipment we need.’

  Yokely nodded. ‘Good call.’ Yokely had worked with Bardot before. Another Navy SEAL who had moved into the commercial sector. ‘Fix up some potassium chloride. I don’t want to be making too many waves in Dubai.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Okay, Peter, see if you can get to Dubai tonight. Gerry and I will fly over tomorrow.’


  Leclerc dropped Yokely and McNee at the Marriott Hotel and headed for the airport. The two men checked in and went to their rooms. Yokely took a couple of miniature whiskies from the minibar, poured them into a tumbler and took a sip before calling Karl Traynor on his throwaway mobile. The FCEN analyst answered almost immediately. Yokely gave him Benikhlef’s details. ‘Can you check if he was involved in any of the airline stock shorting?’ asked Yokely. ‘And try an alternate spelling of the family name.’ He spelled out Bin Khalid. ‘Also, we’ve got a Saudi name who lives in Dubai. Hamid bin Faisal. Have a look at him, too.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ said Traynor.

  Yokely showered and changed into a clean shirt and chinos before phoning Spider Shepherd. Yokely got to the point immediately and told Shepherd what Kleintank had said and gave him Paul Bradshaw’s details and phone number.

  ‘You can spread the word, but you can’t ever identify your source,’ said Yokely. ‘You have a good day now.’ Yokely ended the call.

  He used the hotel phone to call McNee. ‘Fancy dinner?’ asked Yokely.

  ‘Hell, yeah. Drinks first? I know a place.’

  Yokely chuckled. There wasn’t a city in the world where Gerry McNee didn’t know a place.

  Chapter 27

  Present Day, London

  ‘H ow do you want to handle it?’ asked O’Hara. Harper had been deep in thought for the best part of twenty minutes, staring at the Acton house where Khuram Zaghba lived. It was just after midnight and the house was in darkness. Harper and O’Hara were sitting in the Toyota with the engine running to keep the interior warm. Generally the richer the target, the easier it was to get to. Harper was considering his options. High-profile targets often had security systems and even bodyguards, but more often than not they lived in detached houses. Targets at the lower end of the income scale tended to share flats and houses and there were always other people around.

  ‘I don’t think we’ve got time to fuck around,’ said Harper. ‘I’ve got a couple of fluorescent jackets in the boot; we’ll say we’re with British Gas and that there’s been a leak. As soon as he opens the door, we slot him.’

  ‘That works,’ said O’Hara.

  ‘Are you okay to do the dirty if necessary?’ asked Harper. O’Hara had a Glock with a silencer and it made more sense to use a silenced weapon, though Harper hoped not to have to use a gun.