‘Let’s go on to junction four, just to be on the safe side,’ said Shepherd.
‘Delta One, junction four,’ echoed Delta One.
‘Delta Two, junction four.’
‘Delta Three, junction four.’
They carried on up the M1 to the fourth exit. It was starting to rain as Shepherd arrived at the Gateway Services and he switched on his wipers. He parked well away from the main buildings. Five minutes later Malik’s Golf arrived and parked four bays to the left of Shepherd’s Volvo. The rain was falling heavier, pitter-pattering on the roof of the car. Shepherd switched off the engine.
The three MI5 vehicles parked at various points around the car park. In the rear of the van there were two men in work clothes with holstered Glocks.
Shepherd climbed out of his Volvo, turned up the collar of his jacket and hurried over to Malik’s Golf. He got in the back and wiped the rain from his face. ‘Great weather for ducks,’ he said.
‘What does that mean anyway?’ said Malik. ‘I don’t see ducks looking particularly happy when it rains.’
Chaudhry punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. ‘Chill,’ he said.
‘Chill? We’ve had to drive to the arse end of nowhere again. Why couldn’t we meet in London?’
‘Because we don’t want to risk being seen. This way we can wipe your arse and know that no one sees us.’
‘Wipe our arse?’ asked Malik. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s how the surveillance boys refer to anti-surveillance,’ said Shepherd. He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, your arses are clean.’
‘So what’s the story?’ asked Chaudhry.
Shepherd took an envelope out of his jacket. ‘The van was outside your flat for most of the evening.’ He took out a photograph and showed it to Chaudhry. It was of a white van parked in a side street. There were two Asian men sitting in the front. ‘These are the guys,’ he said. ‘They stayed there until the lights went out. Then they drove to Willesden. They’re driving up to Scotland now. We’re tailing them to find out where they go. The good news is that they don’t seem to be pros. We didn’t see any sign of counter-surveillance activity. We’ve run a trace on the van and it’s registered to a trading company in Glasgow.’
‘Why would they send someone from Glasgow?’ asked Malik, taking the photograph from Chaudhry.
Shepherd ignored the question. He took two more photographs from the envelope, head-and-shoulders shots that looked as if they had come from a passport application. ‘Recognise them?’ he asked Chaudhry.
Chaudhry pointed at one of the pictures. ‘That’s the guy I saw,’ he said. ‘How bad is this, John? If it was serious they wouldn’t have gone back to Scotland, would they?’
‘They’re both British-born. Brothers. Their parents are from Pakistan.’ Shepherd tapped the photograph of the older of the two men. ‘Salman Hussain,’ he said. ‘He’s not on any watch lists and he’s not on the PNC, which is why we think they’re not pros.’
‘PNC?’ repeated Malik. ‘What’s that?’
‘Police National Computer,’ said Shepherd. ‘It means he’s never been in trouble with the police.’
He held up the other photograph. ‘This is his younger brother, Asad Hussain. Also not known to the police or the security services.’
Chaudhry frowned. ‘Asad? Asad and Salman?’
‘You know them?’
Chaudhry ran a hand through his hair. ‘Bloody idiots,’ he said. ‘Stupid bloody idiots.’
‘Who are they?’ asked Shepherd.
Chaudhry sighed and slumped back in his seat. ‘My dad’s trying to marry me off to this girl, the daughter of a friend of his. Jamila Hussain. She’s a student at UCL. I’ve been out for dinner with her a few times.’ He gestured at the photographs. ‘These idiots are her brothers. They’re obviously getting all protective over her, checking out that I’m suitable.’
‘By following you?’
‘Checking that I don’t have a girlfriend and that I’m not in the pub every night. Making sure that I’m a good Muslim and that I wouldn’t sully their virginal sister.’
‘And probably making sure that you’re not white,’ said Malik. He grinned at Shepherd. ‘No offence.’
‘None taken,’ said Shepherd. He looked at Chaudhry. ‘You’re sure, Raj?’
Chaudhry nodded. ‘I haven’t met them but she mentioned them a few times. Asad and Salman. Salman’s pretty fundamentalist but his dad keeps him in check. Asad’s more easy-going but they’re both very protective about Jamila. She said she had a real problem convincing them that she’d be okay in London on her own. In their eyes it’s worse than Sodom and Gomorrah.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Wasting everybody’s time.’
Shepherd put the photographs back in the envelope. ‘Hey, don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘I’m just glad it had a happy ending. And it shows that the training we did worked just fine. You spotted the tail and we checked it out and no one’s the wiser.’
‘Are you telling me this has all been a waste of time?’ asked Malik.
‘Better safe than sorry,’ said Shepherd. ‘Think of it as another training exercise.’
‘And you’ll pay for my petrol, right?’
Shepherd took his wallet out of his pocket. ‘No problem, Harvey.’
Malik and Chaudhry were sitting on the sofa watching TV when Malik’s mobile rang. He looked at the screen but didn’t recognise the number. He frowned over at Chaudhry. ‘Dunno who it is.’ he said. ‘Do you think it’s Khalid?’
‘Tell you what, brother, why not press the green button and you’ll find out?’
Malik took the call.
‘Harvey?’ It was a girl.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Nadia.’
‘Nadia?’
‘You’ve forgotten me already? Oh dear.’
Malik grimaced. The girl in the library. ‘Sorry, yes, Nadia, yeah, of course. Hey. How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘But my laptop’s given up the ghost. I couldn’t ask a huge favour …?’
‘Sure, you want me to have a look at it?’
‘Would you, Harvey? That would be great. I’ve got an essay here that’s got to be in tomorrow and the thing won’t even boot up. You couldn’t come round here now, could you?’
‘Where are you?’
‘Finsbury Park. Is that close to you?’
‘Just down the road,’ he said. ‘Text me your address and I’ll come right round.’
He ended the call and grinned at Chaudhry.
‘Not Khalid, then?’
‘Some bird I met in the library. Nadia. Fit like you wouldn’t believe me.’
‘What does she want?’
‘Why do you think she wants anything, brother?’
‘Because she’s a fit bird and she’s ringing you. I’m putting two and two together.’
‘She wants help with her laptop.’ Malik picked up a thick pullover and put it on.
‘Who’s going to take care of her dog?’
Malik frowned. ‘What dog?’
‘Her guide dog. She’s blind, right?’
Malik scowled. ‘Screw you, brother.’
Chaudhry laughed. ‘Well, that’ll be the only screwing you’ll get.’
‘I’m fixing her laptop. End of.’
‘You told her to switch it off and on again?’
Malik laughed. ‘That’ll be the first thing I try.’ He headed for the kitchen balcony to get his bike. ‘See you when I see you.’
‘You’ll be back for Isha’a?’
‘I don’t know brother,’ Malik called from the kitchen. ‘Maybe. Depends how it goes.’
‘We need to be seen at the mosque every day, brother. It’s important.’
‘I know. I was there this morning.’ He grinned. ‘But don’t wait up, yeah?’
‘You should take a biscuit for the dog,’ said Chaudhry. He was still laughing as Malik wheeled his bike from the kitchen a
nd out through the front door.
Malik looked up at the building where Nadia lived. She was in apartment 4G, which probably meant she was on the fourth floor, so he didn’t think there was much chance of taking his bike up with him. Outside an office he found a run of black railings with a painted metal notice warning that bikes would be removed but the office was in darkness so he figured he’d be okay. He pulled a plastic-covered chain from his pocket and padlocked the rear wheel and frame to the railings. He went back to the main entrance and pressed her bell on the entryphone. It rang out and she answered.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Harvey, computer repairs a speciality.’
‘Come on in, Harvey. Take the lift to the fourth floor.’
The lock buzzed and Malik pushed the door open. The lift was small and seemed to take for ever to reach the fourth floor. He walked along to Nadia’s door and knocked. He waited, switching his weight from foot to foot, and was just about to knock again when the door opened.
She smiled up at him. ‘My knight in shining armour,’ she said.
‘I am here to serve,’ he joked. She opened the door wide and he stepped across the threshold. She was wearing a blue sweatshirt with the word LONDON across the front in alternating red, white and blue letters, and a dark-blue skirt. She’d tied her hair back with a scrunchy and for the first time he noticed the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her neck. He realised that she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought. In her thirties, maybe. But still pretty. ‘So where’s the laptop?’
She closed the door. ‘No need to rush,’ she said. ‘We can have a chat first.’
There was a small kitchen to the right, and a door to the left that he assumed led to the bedroom. There was a two-seater sofa in green leather facing a flatscreen TV on the wall. He took off his jacket and sat down on the sofa. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Chatting is one of my favourite things.’
The bedroom door opened and a man walked out. He was Asian, wearing a Chelsea football shirt and holding a gun. Malik started to get up but the man moved quickly and pushed him back down, prodding him in the chest with the barrel of the gun.
‘What is this?’ asked Malik, his voice a frightened squeak. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Like I said, Harvey, we’re going to have a chat. You, me and my two friends.’
A second man came out of the bedroom. Another Asian. This one was holding a knife and a coil of wire.
Malik looked at Nadia fearfully. ‘I haven’t done anything,’ he said.
‘I hope that’s true,’ said Nadia.
Chaudhry’s alarm woke him at six-thirty, which gave him plenty of time to shower and eat breakfast before heading to the mosque for Fajr, the first prayers of the day. He went to the mosque for Fajr most days. Malik tended to oversleep and more often than not performed his prayers on a mat in the bedroom, positioned so that it pointed to Mecca.
After he’d showered and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, Chaudhry popped two slices of bread into the toaster and then knocked on Malik’s door before pushing it open. ‘Rise and shine, Harvey,’ he said. He flicked on the light. Malik’s bed was empty. Chaudhry grinned. ‘You naughty, naughty boy,’ he whispered to himself.
His mobile phone began to ring and he hurried back into the kitchen. He picked it up, expecting to talk to his friend, but it was a number he didn’t recognise. It was Khalid.
‘Good morning, brother,’ said Khalid. ‘Today is a joyous day because today is the day we carry out Allah’s work.’
‘That’s great news, brother,’ said Chaudhry. His heart began to pound and he took a deep breath to steady himself.
‘I need you and Harveer to be ready to go at five o’clock, brother,’ said Khalid. ‘The same place as last time. You will be collected.’
‘We will be there,’ said Chaudhry.
‘Today we shall teach the kaffir a lesson they will never forget,’ said Khalid. ‘Inshallah.’
‘Inshallah,’ repeated Chaudhry. God willing.
Shepherd was dragged from a dreamless sleep by his ringing BlackBerry. He rolled over in his bed and grabbed for the phone. It was Chaudhry. ‘Hey, Raj, what’s up?’
‘It’s today,’ said Chaudhry. ‘We’re to be picked up at five o’clock.’
Shepherd sat up, suddenly wide awake. ‘What happened?’
‘Khalid just phoned. Pretty much the same as last time. We’re to be picked up outside the restaurant again.’
‘And no indication of what they’re planning?’
‘Same as before,’ said Chaudhry. ‘But there’s a problem. Harvey’s not here.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He went to see some girl last night and didn’t come back.’
‘Have you called him?’
‘His mobile’s off. It goes straight through to voicemail.’
‘Hell’s bells. Does he often do that?’
‘It’s a first. I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘What about Khalid?’ asked Shepherd. ‘Did you tell him that Harvey was AWOL?’
‘I couldn’t,’ said Chaudhry. ‘He’d hit the roof. Look, can you get access to text messages?’
‘Why?’
‘She phoned him last night. Then she sent him a text with her address.’
Shepherd already had Malik’s number. ‘What company does he use?’ he asked.
‘T-Mobile, I think.’
‘All right, Raj, I’m on it. This girl, do you know anything about her?’
‘Just that she’s called Nadia and that she’s fit. What do I do?’
‘We’ve got your back, Raj. Just turn up and we’ll follow you, same as before.’
‘But this time it’s for real, right?’
‘I guess so. It’s very unlikely they’d test you twice.’
‘Can’t you just arrest them now?’
‘We need to get everybody in the act,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ll let you know about Harvey. But if he gets in touch with you first, let me know.’
Shepherd ended the call. He went into his kitchen and switched on the kettle, then phoned Charlotte Button. He relayed what Chaudhry had told him.
‘I’ll get everyone in gear,’ said Button.
‘I need to access a phone,’ said Shepherd. ‘Malik is AWOL.’
‘Is that a problem?’
‘He’s away with a girl. I just need to talk to him and get him back on track.’
‘The best person to talk to is Rob Waterman. He’s our go-to guy with the phone companies. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll text you his home number. I’ll see you in Thames House.’
The line went dead. The kettle still hadn’t boiled so Shepherd left the phone by the sink and went through to the bathroom and showered and shaved. When he got back to the kitchen with a towel wrapped round his waist there was a text message on his office mobile phone. He made himself a coffee with a splash of milk and then phoned Rob Waterman, who was surprisingly cheerful despite the early hour.
‘No need to apologise. I’m an early riser and I’ve been up since four,’ said Waterman. ‘Charlotte has already called to tip me the wink. Give me the number and if you have the company that would save me a step.’
Shepherd gave him the information and Waterman said he’d phone back. Shepherd changed into blue jeans and a black polo shirt and was just pulling on socks when Waterman called back.
‘Already?’ asked Shepherd.
‘These days it’s as easy as pushing a few buttons,’ said Waterman. ‘The text message was just an address followed by a name, Nadia, and a smiley face. Do you have a pen?’
‘Don’t need one,’ said Shepherd.
Waterman gave him the address of a flat in Finsbury Park. ‘Couple of things you need to know,’ he said. ‘The phone is off now but the last time it was on it looks as if it was in the apartment. It was certainly in the immediate vicinity. That doesn’t mean it’s still there, of course.’
‘And the other thing?’
‘Th
e phone that sent the text message has been very busy. It’s a pay-as-you-go sim card and it’s been operative for only twenty-four hours, but in that time it’s made several calls to Dubai, Palestine and Pakistan. Short calls, never more than a minute.’
‘Any significance in the numbers?’ asked Shepherd.
‘My guys are checking that now, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. I’m guessing disposable sim cards all round.’
‘Any other calls or texts made within the UK?’
‘No texts. Several calls, all under a minute and all to other pay-as-you-go mobiles. Three phones in all, but that’s including the number you gave me.’
‘What about a location?’
‘It’s off too but was last on at the same Finsbury Park address. In the area, anyway.’
‘You’re a marvel, Rob, thanks,’ said Shepherd. ‘Do me a favour and keep an eye on both phones and give me a call as soon as they go live again.’
Waterman promised he would and Shepherd ended the call. He sipped his coffee and put two slices of bread into the toaster, figuring it was going to be a long day and he’d best stock up with fuel. He ran through his options, then phoned Amar Singh. Singh was also wide awake. He had young children so lie-ins were generally reserved for the weekend.
‘What’s up, Spider?’ asked Singh.
‘It’s a bit embarrassing, but I need someone who looks Asian,’ said Shepherd.
‘And what, I’m the only Asian you know?’
‘The only one I can trust this with, yeah,’ said Shepherd.
Chaudhry stopped combing his hair and stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, wondering if it was possible to see a lie in a man’s eyes. He’d read a couple of books on body language and he knew that there were signs that gave away when a lie was being told. If he was going to get through the day he’d have to conceal all those signs. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘It’s going to be fine,’ he said to himself. ‘Everything is going to work out just fine. By tonight, it’ll all be over.’ He took another deep breath, then gave his hair a final comb. As he walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea he began to tremble uncontrollably and he put both hands against the fridge to steady himself. He took slow deep breaths, trying to quell the rising sense of dread that was threatening to overwhelm him. ‘A few hours,’ he muttered to himself. ‘All you have to do is keep it together for a few more hours. You can do it, Raj.’
False Friends (The 9th Spider Shepherd Thriller) Page 34