Tall Order: The 15th Spider Shepherd Thriller

by Stephen Leather

  ‘I’m not admitting anything, Richard.’

  ‘And this isn’t on the record, it’s just a chat between friends. Ten years ago Hakeem Khaled was behind the shooting down of that plane. We missed him then but we have a second chance now.’

  Button frowned. ‘Al-Qaeda claimed the credit for bringing down that plane.’

  ‘Yes, they did. And they made a small fortune shorting aviation shares.’

  ‘Then it can’t be the same person because the stadium bombing was carried out by ISIS. Al-Qaeda and ISIS hate each other.’

  ‘Hakeem Khaled doesn’t care who he works for, he just hates the West,’ said Yokely. ‘Hates us with a vengeance. If eskimos ever turned to terrorising the West he’d be showing them how to blow up igloos. ISIS, Al-Qaeda, the Taliban, Al-Shabaab, he doesn’t care. He’ll work for anyone. It’s definitely him, Charlotte. But I have to say up front that Hakeem Khaled might not be his real name. He’s a Palestinian, and you Brits in your wisdom gave him citizenship about fifteen years ago. He claims that his family were killed by the Israelis and he fled to the UK. You clearly didn’t do due diligence because I can tell you that he was a master bombmaker even back then.’

  ‘Why didn’t the Americans say anything at the time?’

  ‘You think you cross-check all your asylum claimants with the US? I wish you did, but that’s not the way the world works. He gave your immigration people a sob story and they took it as read. And he repaid you by helping a team that was planning to shoot down planes in the UK ten years ago.’

  Button’s jaw dropped. ‘And why am I only hearing about this now?’

  ‘Your man Spider was on the case. He stopped the attack at Heathrow Airport, remember? A group of jihadists with a ground-to-air missile. Well, it was Khaled who arranged the financing for it. He was also financing a Brit soldier who went over to the dark side.’

  ‘And again, you didn’t share that information with us?’

  Yokely sighed. ‘They were difficult times, Charlotte. There was a lot going on. Khaled had also put together the team that shot the plane down at JFK. That was where my focus was. But my investigation crossed Spider’s, out in Sarajevo.’

  ‘And Khaled wasn’t caught back then?’

  ‘We were close. Damn close. But no, he got away.’

  ‘And presumably came back to the UK? Hell, Richard, we should have been told.’

  ‘Let’s not start crying over spilt milk. Let’s get the bastard now.’

  ‘Easier said than done, Richard. As it happens, I do know where Saladin is. He’s gone to ground on the Afghanistan–Pakistan border.’

  ‘You have a location?’

  ‘We’re tracking his sat phone.’

  ‘That’s good news. That’s very good news.’ He nodded eagerly. ‘You don’t know what he looks like. I have an asset who has seen him face to face. We can get him, Charlotte. We can nail the bastard.’

  ‘Ten years is a long time.’

  ‘He got a good look at him. I don’t think he has Spider’s trick memory, but I don’t think he’ll have forgotten.’

  ‘And you’ll share this asset with me?’

  He nodded. ‘Happy to.’

  Button frowned. ‘If he’s your asset, and if he has seen Hakeem Khaled, then why don’t you use him?’

  Yokely shrugged. ‘There’s a history there. I can’t suddenly produce him like a rabbit from a hat.’

  ‘Because?’

  Yokely sighed. ‘Because ten years ago I was supposed to have killed him. Happy now?’

  Button shook her head in amazement. ‘What a complicated life you lead, Richard.’

  ‘I was told to get rid of the guy as he was regarded as a possible security risk, but I took a different view. It didn’t seem to be the right thing to do to kill him. So he went off the grid. New name, new everything. I fixed him up with a Canadian passport and gave him enough money to get started. If he turns up now, alive and well, then it’ll cause me all sorts of problems.’

  ‘But if I produce him, all’s well and good?’

  ‘Give him a new identity and a decent backstory. If we get involved I can say that the intel has come from you and despite what happened at Five you’re still highly regarded so you’ll be taken in good faith. And the really good news is that there’s a ten-million-dollar bounty on Khaled’s head.’

  ‘Which I split with you?’

  Yokely chuckled and shook his head. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘I just thought it might cover your expenses. So, are we good to go, Charlotte? Do we have a plan?’

  ‘I suppose we do,’ said Button. ‘So, where is he? This asset?’

  Yokely’s smile widened. ‘Paradise, I’m told.’

  Chapter 68

  Present Day, London

  P atsy Ellis waited until her assistant had placed a cup of tea and two digestive biscuits in front of her before reaching for her office phone and calling Dan Shepherd. He answered almost immediately and from the background sound she could tell he was at his desk in the Super-Recogniser Unit.

  ‘What happened last night?’ said Ellis, brusquely.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Don’t get coy with me, Shepherd,’ Ellis snapped. ‘You know what I’m talking about. First of all you tell me that Usman Yussuf is staying with Andrew Millen AKA Mohammed al-Britani and then a few hours later you tell me that the intel is wrong. How does that happen?’

  ‘It was a flawed ID. Millen was there but Yussuf wasn’t.’

  ‘The whole point of that unit is that it doesn’t make flawed IDs.’

  ‘Mistakes happen,’ said Shepherd. ‘It didn’t cause any problems, did it? I spotted the mistake pretty quickly.’

  ‘You and I need to talk,’ she said icily.

  ‘We are talking.’

  ‘We need a face to face, and soon.’

  ‘I’m very busy here,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘You’re getting very close to insubordination, Shepherd,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry if it seems that way, it’s just that we are snowed under here and if all you’re going to do is rebuke me for a mistaken ID then you can take it that I have been rebuked and we can move on.’

  ‘There’s more to talk about than that, Shepherd. And you know there is. There’s someone else who needs to talk to you.’ The mobile phone on her desk started to ring and she looked at the screen to see who was calling. She smiled thinly. ‘Speak of the devil,’ she said.

  Chapter 69

  Present Day, London

  T hey met at a pub near Charing Cross station. It was eleven o’clock in the morning so it was almost empty. The lunchtime rush wouldn’t start for an hour or so and when Shepherd walked in he had the pick of the tables. He chose one in the far corner that gave him a view of the toilets, the main entrance and the bar. He put his coat over the back of one of the chairs and went to buy himself a coffee. He was halfway through it when Charlotte Button arrived. She beamed when she saw him and hurried over. He stood up and they air-kissed but on the second pass her lips brushed his cheek.

  ‘You’re looking well,’ she said. ‘But are you putting on a bit of weight?’

  ‘Bloody desk job,’ he said. ‘I still run but eight hours a day in front of a computer takes its toll.’

  ‘Still with the Memory Men? How long’s it now?’

  Shepherd smiled. He knew that she knew exactly where he was and how long he’d been there. ‘Almost a year,’ he said. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘White wine would be lovely,’ she said. And she laughed when Shepherd glanced at his watch. ‘It’s never too early for wine, Dan.’ She took off her coat and sat down as he went to order her drink.

  The barman was pouring the wine when Patsy Ellis walked in. She was wearing dark glasses and had her hair tied back, which Shepherd assumed was an attempt at changing her appearance. She was wearing a dark blue trench coat with the collar turned up and had a large Dior bag over one shoulder.

  Shepherd motioned that he was buying dri
nks and she nodded. ‘I’ll have what Charlie’s having,’ she said, and went over to join Button.

  When Shepherd took the two glasses of wine over they were deep in conversation, but they stopped abruptly as he sat down. ‘So, this is awkward, isn’t it?’ he said.

  Ellis glared at him and Shepherd raised his hands. ‘I’m trying to lighten the moment, that’s all,’ he said.

  ‘Please don’t,’ said Ellis frostily. ‘This is difficult enough as it is.’ She sighed and sipped her drink, then raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s not bad,’ she said. ‘I’m pleasantly surprised.’ She put down her glass. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better kick this off.’ She smiled at Button. ‘Dan knows pretty much everything, obviously. There’s no use crying over spilt milk or locking stable doors; all we can do is move forward from here. I’m hoping that this can be resolved without us all losing our careers, or worse.’

  ‘How much does he know, exactly?’ asked Button.

  The two women looked at him. Shepherd knew the only way forward was to be completely honest and accept the consequences, no matter what. He leaned towards them and lowered his voice. ‘It became clear to me fairly quickly that someone was killing those people connected to Ali Naveed, connected by birth or by association. Khuram Zaghba, Israr Farooqi, Imran Masood and his family. It was also clear that someone was making it look as if the killings were something they weren’t. Clearly professionals at work. It was the sort of thing the Pool would usually be carrying out. I checked all the CCTV footage in the Farooqi case and I spotted Lex Harper, who works for the Pool. Charlie runs the Pool, so how was Charlie getting the intel because I sure as hell wasn’t giving it to her.’ He looked at Ellis. ‘I personally gave you details of Zaghba and his van and within hours Harper had killed him. How is that possible?’

  ‘How do you think it’s possible, Dan?’ asked Ellis quietly.

  He smiled thinly. ‘I think you passed the information on to Charlie and Charlie passed it on to Lex and within hours Khuram Zaghba was dead in a pool of blood. No pun intended.’

  ‘Pun?’ repeated Ellis.

  ‘Pool,’ said Shepherd.

  Ellis frowned. ‘That’s not really a pun, is it? And please don’t say you were trying to lighten the moment, I really hate it when you do that.’

  Shepherd held up his hands and apologised. ‘Can I just say that what I know stays with me. I haven’t spoken to anybody about what I’ve learnt and I don’t intend to.’

  ‘Our secret is safe with you, is that what you’re saying?’ asked Ellis.

  ‘I’m not sure I do know the real secret,’ said Shepherd. ‘Because, for the life of me, I can’t understand why you are doing what you are doing. It makes no sense to me at all. There’s something I don’t know, isn’t there?’

  Ellis looked at Button and the two women locked eyes for a second. Button smiled the faintest of smiles and Ellis turned to Shepherd.

  ‘My goddaughter was killed in the bombing. It’s not generally known and hopefully never will be. But I wanted revenge. I didn’t want them arrested, I didn’t want them having their day in court and being behind bars with a choice of meals and a TV and a PlayStation. I wanted them dead and I wanted them dead quickly.’

  Shepherd felt as if he had been slapped across the face. It was the last thing he had expected to hear. He looked at Ellis, then at Button, and then back at Ellis and it was clear from the looks on their faces that she was deadly serious. ‘Wow,’ was all he could think of saying.

  Button smiled. ‘Wow?’

  Shepherd shrugged. ‘I’m … wow.’ He was still lost for words. Then he realised what Ellis had said and he leaned forward. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Sorry about your loss. I had no idea. Really, I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ellis.

  ‘You should have—’ He stopped mid-sentence. He was going to say that she should have confided in him but there was no way she could have done that. He took a deep breath. ‘What I’m saying is that where revenge is concerned, I’m not one to be throwing the first stone. Charlie knows that. I empathise and I sympathise. I was more concerned about the way your actions were affecting the investigation than I was about the morality or legality of what you were doing.’ He looked into Ellis’s eyes. ‘And seriously, from the bottom of my heart. I am deeply, deeply sorry about your loss.’

  Ellis forced a smile and nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She sipped her wine before continuing, more to steady herself than because she wanted a drink. ‘Anyway, we need to decide how to take this forward. Charlie, fill us both in, will you?’

  Button put down her glass. ‘I was approached by Richard Yokely this morning. He’s in London but unofficially. He came around to my house and we had a very interesting conversation. For a start, he’s fully aware of what I’ve been doing, and while he almost certainly doesn’t have any proof, he knows that I have been responsible for sanctioning the killings of Imran Masood, Khuram Zaghba and Israr Farooqi.’

  ‘Sanctioning?’ repeated Shepherd. ‘Is that what you’re calling it now?’ He waved an apology as Ellis threw him a withering look.

  ‘Now, Richard made it clear that he and only he is aware of what has been going on and that he has no intentions of sharing his, let’s say, theories with anyone else. But he did drop something of a bombshell. The Americans are aware of Saladin, but that information has been classified at a level so stratospherically high that probably fewer than half a dozen people would be aware of him.’

  ‘Do we know why that is?” asked Ellis. ‘It would explain why my inquiries to the Americans came back negative.’

  ‘Richard does love to play his cards close to his chest. But he said it was connected to that plane that was shot down leaving JFK ten years ago. Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility, though it was never ascertained what actually brought the plane down. If you recall, the Defense Secretary’s wife and young son were killed in the crash. And a few days later he committed suicide. Media reports were that he was overcome with grief but Richard said there was more to it. In fact he told me the Defense Secretary had been involved in an operation very similar to what we have been carrying out.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Shepherd. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘He didn’t go into details but he said the Defense Secretary wanted revenge but the President found out what was going on and put a stop to it. Most of what happened will remain classified, there’s no paper trail, it’s all been swept well under the carpet and Richard is one of the very few people who knows what happened.’

  ‘Probably because he was involved,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I think there’s no doubt about that,’ said Button. She took a sip of her wine. ‘But, moving forward. It was the man called Saladin who planned and organised the attack on the plane. Much of his planning involved the same email draft folder technique that we saw with the stadium bombing. But Richard, bless him, has a name. Hakeem Khaled. A British citizen, originally from Palestine.’

  Shepherd swore. ‘Why do so many of the world’s terrorists turn out to have British passports?’ He held up his hands. ‘Because we’ll give citizenship to pretty much anybody. When did he get his papers? During the Blair–Mandelson years?’

  ‘Fifteen years ago.’

  ‘When they were handing out passports like sweeties,’ said Shepherd. ‘And now that bloody chicken has come home to roost.’

  ‘Dan, I already said this isn’t about locking stable doors,’ said Ellis. ‘It’s about moving forward.’

  Ellis opened her bag and took out a folded sheet of paper. ‘Charlie gave me the name and I ran a check,’ she said. She unfolded the piece of paper. It was a printout of a photograph of a clean-shaven man wearing dark-framed glasses. ‘This is the only photograph we have of Khaled.’ She passed it to Shepherd. ‘I’m guessing that it wouldn’t be of much use, identification-wise?’

  ‘It would be hard to get a match on CCTV if that’s what you’re asking. A head-and-shoulders shot is all well and good but we tend to be looking
at the whole body to make an identification.’

  ‘According to Richard, the last time he was seen he had a long grey beard, was considerably heavier than he looks in this photograph and wasn’t wearing glasses,’ said Button.

  ‘Seen?’ said Shepherd. ‘There’s a witness?’

  Button nodded. ‘A former Navy SEAL almost caught him just after the plane went down. Got very close to him.’

  ‘There’s no trace of Khaled entering or leaving the UK since the JFK jet incident,’ said Ellis. ‘In fact his original passport expired and he never applied for a replacement. That suggests he’s now travelling using another identity.’

  ‘And the Americans won’t help?’ asked Shepherd, handing back the printout.

  ‘I think can’t help is more appropriate,’ said Ellis. ‘Officially they know nothing about Khaled – it’s only because of the information Richard gave you that I was able to get the details of his asylum application.’ She turned to look at Shepherd. ‘What you don’t know is that we used the information on Farooqi’s laptop to access the draft email folder he uses to make contact with Khaled.’

  Shepherd raised his eyebrows. ‘And Khaled bit?’

  Ellis grinned. ‘Yes, he did. He used a sat phone and was online long enough for GCHQ to pinpoint his location. He’s close to the Afghan–Pakistan border in a network of caves that ISIS use for training.’

  ‘Small world,’ said Shepherd. ‘When I was in the SAS I was on an operation to neutralise an al-Qaeda cave network near the border that they were using as a base and an opium storage facility.’

  ‘Where was that?’ asked Ellis.

  ‘In the Registan Desert in Helmand Province, about four hundred kilometres south-west of Kandahar and fifteen from the border with Pakistan.’