[Spider Shepherd #13] - Dark Forces

by Stephen Leather

  ‘I’ve a car on standby,’ said Willoughby-Brown. ‘I’ll get it ready to go at the roadside.’

  ‘Make sure they keep them tied up for some time,’ said Shepherd. ‘I don’t want them catching me up.’

  ‘I think I can smell alcohol on their breath from here,’ said Willoughby-Brown. ‘Okay, you stay put until the car’s in place. I’ll let you know when they’re ready.’

  Shepherd ended the call and made a point of checking his watch again and frowning. If he was under surveillance he wanted to make it look as if he was waiting for somebody and they were late.

  He finished his fish and chips, then bought himself another coffee and a copy of the Daily Telegraph. He went back to his table and spent the next fifteen minutes reading the paper, looking out of the window and checking his watch. Eventually his phone buzzed again. A message from Willoughby-Brown: Good to go.

  Shepherd peered at his watch again, faked another frown, then finished his coffee and closed his paper. He picked up his car keys and walked to the exit. A man sitting alone at a table by the door grabbed his phone and made a call. It might have been a coincidence but as Shepherd left the building the man rushed off in the opposite direction. Shepherd let him go. If he was the tail, the cops would take care of him on the motorway.

  A few minutes after leaving the service station and heading back to London, Shepherd drove past a police patrol car parked at the side of the motorway. He accelerated smoothly and took the BMW up to eighty. The Toyota kept pace with him but stayed about two hundred yards back. He eased down on the accelerator and gradually got the speed up to ninety. The Toyota accelerated too. Shepherd had to move into the outside lane and the Toyota was forced to follow suit. That was when the patrol car behind them hit the blues and twos. At the sound of the siren the Toyota slowed and indicated it was pulling over. Shepherd grinned and kept going.

  Once he was sure the Toyota had pulled over he slowed the BMW and drove the rest of the way to Heston Services at just over the speed limit, spending most of the time in the outside lane. If the cops did their job right they could detain the Toyota for up to half an hour.

  His mobile phone rang when he was ten minutes away. It was Amar Singh. ‘You can’t keep away from me, can you?’ he said.

  ‘Must be love,’ said Shepherd. ‘Are you going to clean my car?’

  Singh laughed. ‘I’ve got your replacement and I’m to drive the Beamer back to London. Where are you?’

  ‘About ten minutes away. You?’

  ‘I’m at Heston already.’

  ‘Excellent. Look, park behind the coaches. Somewhere quiet.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Shepherd kept the BMW at a steady eighty to the service station, keeping a close eye on his rear-view mirror. He moved to the left and slowed for the exit, then drove along to the coach parking area. He saw a grey Audi TT sports car, and as he parked next to it, Amar Singh climbed out, immaculately dressed as usual, this time in a black Hugo Boss suit, pink shirt and red tie. He shook hands with Shepherd. ‘You’ve got a tail, I’m told.’

  ‘Picked them up in Slough and they were with me all the way to Reading. They stuck close so I’m hoping the car’s clean.’ He gestured at the Audi. ‘Is that my replacement?’

  Singh tossed him the keys. ‘Be careful with it.’

  ‘How is this in the car pool?’

  ‘It isn’t. It’s mine. I didn’t have time to get one from the pool and I know you’re a careful driver.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It’s a bit late to be asking me that now,’ said Singh. He took a small black box with three stubby antennas on it and walked slowly around the BMW, staring at a series of small lights. He bent down to examine the underside of the car, taking care not to dirty his trousers, then ran the box over the boot and the bonnet. ‘Nothing I can see,’ said Singh, ‘and this thing will pick up pretty much anything.’

  Shepherd gave him the keys. ‘Thing is, you have to just drop this at my place in Battersea. Whatever you do, don’t drive it around.’

  ‘You don’t trust me?’ Singh looked hurt but grinned when Shepherd started to explain. ‘I’m only pulling your chain, Spider,’ he said. ‘Willoughby-Brown explained the situation. I’ll put it back in your parking space and make sure no one sees me.’ Shepherd gave him the keycard for the car park. ‘Any idea when you’ll be back?’ asked Singh.

  ‘Two days, max,’ he said.

  ‘If you need anything, give me a call,’ said Singh.

  The two men shook hands and Shepherd climbed into the Audi. A few minutes later he was powering his way towards Hereford.

  Omar parked his bike at the back of the unit and took off his helmet. The main door was locked so he took out his key and let himself in. ‘It’s me,’ he shouted, as he locked the door behind him, realising immediately how stupid it was to announce himself. The police would have charged in with guns and stun grenades, not let themselves in with a key.

  He could hear the hum of the compressor powering Faisal’s spray gun. There were three vehicles in the unit now, all bought with cash. Two had been in the colours they needed. The last had been the exact make and model they wanted but had been all white so Faisal was having to respray it.

  Omar went to the far end of the unit, which had been sealed off with sheets of polythene hanging from the ceiling. A ghostly figure was walking back and forth as he gave it its first coat of yellow paint. Omar put his helmet and gloves on a metal table and waited for Faisal to finish.

  After a few minutes Faisal turned off the compressor and placed the spray gun on the floor. He parted the polythene sheet, then took off his goggles and dust mask. He was wearing paint-spattered overalls and rubber gloves. ‘You missed all the hard work again,’ he said.

  ‘My dad said I had to stay late,’ said Omar. ‘We’ve got jobs backed up but he’s too tight to hire anyone else.’

  Faisal grinned. ‘I’m joking,’ he said. ‘Spraying’s an art. It’s got to be done right.’

  Omar nodded at the vehicle behind the polythene sheeting. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Yellow’s done. I’ll let it dry, then do the green. You should be able to fix the lights tomorrow. What about the plates?’

  ‘I haven’t been given the numbers yet but I’ve a guy lined up to make them for me. He’s in Stretford so they can be here within an hour.’

  Faisal took off his gloves and picked up a bottle of water. ‘I’m starving,’ he said.

  Omar glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got to be in Lancaster by seven but we can stop for a bite on the way,’ he said.

  ‘What state is it in?’

  ‘The advert says it’s a runner but the fittings have been removed. The paintwork is good, so I don’t think it’s going to need a respray.’

  ‘Have they told you when they’ll be needed?’

  ‘No, but as soon as I know so will you.’

  ‘It’s going to be big, isn’t it?’

  Omar grinned. ‘Huge.’

  It was starting to get dark when Shepherd arrived at his house in Hereford. He parked in the driveway and climbed out, just as Liam appeared at the front door. His son looked admiringly at the Audi. ‘A TT? Nice.’

  ‘It’s a loaner, so don’t get too attached,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘What about the R8? You should get one.’

  ‘Are you serious? They’re over a hundred grand. Who pays a hundred grand for a car?’

  ‘People who like cars,’ said Liam.

  Shepherd gestured at the BMW X5 parked at the side of the house. ‘You can’t beat an SUV,’ he said. ‘They’re tough, they’re safe and you can take them off-road.’ He ruffled his son’s hair. ‘When you come up with the money to buy a car you can have what you want. Until then, the R8 can wait.’

  ‘Can I drive the TT?’

  ‘It’s not mine. A friend lent it to me.’

  ‘I’ll be careful.’

  ‘Let me think about it. Where’s Katra?’

  �
��Supermarket.’

  ‘You can make the coffee, then.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the recipe.’

  Shepherd joke-punched his arm. ‘Then that very expensive private education is going to waste,’ he said. They went into the house and along to the kitchen. Liam switched on the kettle and set out two mugs. Shepherd leaned against the fridge. ‘So what’s happening?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘On the phone you said you wanted to talk about university.’

  Liam took a deep breath as if he was steadying himself, then let it out slowly before speaking. ‘I don’t want to go to university,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  Liam held up a hand. ‘I know, I know, but hear me out, Dad. I don’t think a degree is going to do me any good. It’s a waste of three years and it’ll cost a fortune. Nine grand a year plus living costs.’

  ‘You can live here.’

  ‘Dad, Herefordshire doesn’t have a university. Not yet, anyway. And the one they’ve got planned is mainly for engineering. Living at home and commuting isn’t an option. So we’re looking at almost twenty grand a year to get me through university. That’s a shedload of debt to be saddled with.’

  ‘I’ll chip in,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I know you would, but that’s not what I want,’ said Liam. ‘Even if I did get a degree, there’s no guarantee that I’d find a job at the end of it. Not a real job, anyway. A third of graduates are working as cleaners, office juniors and road sweepers six months after leaving university. And seven per cent don’t work at all.’

  ‘That may be true, but if you’ve got a degree, you’ve got more chance of getting a job than someone who hasn’t been to university.’

  ‘Perhaps. But there are plenty of guys who’ve been mega-successful without doing a degree.’

  ‘So you want to be the next Bill Gates or Richard Branson, do you?’ There was an opened packet of Jaffa Cakes on the table. Shepherd took one and popped it into his mouth, whole.

  Liam laughed. ‘No. An entrepreneur I’m not. But I do know now what I want to do.’

  Shepherd waited expectantly. Liam was looking at him and Shepherd could see he felt strongly about whatever it was he was going to say. ‘I want to join the army.’

  It was the last thing Shepherd had expected to hear and his mouth fell open. ‘What? The army? Since when?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’ve talked to the recruiting people and got all the details. It’s what I want to do, Dad.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to work in the video game business.’

  Liam laughed. ‘Yeah, when I was a kid. I also toyed with the idea of being an astronaut. And a superhero.’

  Shepherd shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he heard the front door open.

  ‘Liam? Whose car is that in the driveway?’ shouted Katra, their au pair.

  ‘It’s Dad’s!’ Liam replied. ‘We’re here, in the kitchen.’

  They heard hurried footsteps in the hallway and Katra burst in, laden with full carrier bags. She was wearing tight jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, and her dark hair was pulled back in a multi-coloured scrunchie. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here,’ she said. There was virtually no trace of her Slovenian origin in her accent, which was hardly surprising as she had been with the family for more than a decade.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Shepherd. ‘Liam struggled to remember the recipe for coffee but he got there in the end. We’re just waiting for the kettle to boil.’

  Katra put the bags on the table. ‘I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘How long are you staying?’

  ‘Tonight for sure, don’t know about the day after.’

  ‘You’re working hard?’

  ‘Always.’ He nodded at Liam. ‘Let’s go out in the garden,’ he said. He grabbed a couple more Jaffa Cakes and went outside. Liam followed him. There was a football and Shepherd kicked it across the grass. Liam ran after it, dribbled it and passed it back. Shepherd grinned at his son’s skills and returned it to him. ‘Remember when I was tiny and just couldn’t kick?’ asked Liam. ‘I kept falling over.’

  ‘You remember that? You couldn’t have been much more than two and a half.’

  ‘I remember Mum laughing at me.’

  ‘You were funny. But you got better quickly. Do you still play at school?’

  ‘I prefer rugby.’ He lifted the ball up to his knee and bounced it onto his head. He kept it up for several seconds before letting it drop to his feet and kicking it back to Shepherd.

  ‘Which part of the army are you interested in?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘The Army Air Corps,’ said Liam. ‘I want to fly helicopters if I can but I’d be okay as ground crew. You know I love cars, and choppers are way more fun. Plus I’d get to travel the world.’

  ‘And a degree wouldn’t increase your chances?’

  ‘Not really. I can join up straight from school. If I get selected for flight training I could be flying within a few months.’

  Shepherd kicked the ball back to Liam, harder than he’d planned, but Liam caught it effortlessly with his left foot. ‘You realise you could end up serving in one of the trouble spots?’ said Shepherd. ‘Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria. Who knows where over the next few years? It’s all very well saying you want to travel, but six months in the desert fighting jihadists is no fun.’

  ‘It’s not supposed to be fun, Dad. It’s about learning a skill and serving the country. I love this country and I want to protect it.’

  ‘You don’t have to join the army to do that.’

  ‘Become a copper, you mean? It’s almost impossible for someone like me to join the cops at the moment. They’re only recruiting minorities. And they insist you spend years working as a special constable first.’ He shook his head. ‘And everyone says it’s a lousy job, these days. Form filling and meeting targets.’ He grinned. ‘Plus they’re not big on choppers.’

  ‘The army isn’t all excitement either,’ said Shepherd. ‘There’s a lot of hanging around, waiting for officers to make up their minds.’

  ‘Not so much if I’m a pilot.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that,’ said Shepherd. ‘Pilots follow orders, too.’

  ‘I know,’ said Liam. He kicked the ball back to his father. Shepherd was a fraction slow and the ball went past him. He hurried after it. ‘The thing is, the skills I learn will stand me in good stead my whole life. Helicopter pilots can work anywhere. Oil rigs, sightseeing, commercial flights. All over the world. Same for the support crew. A good helicopter mechanic can work all over the world. And if I do go the mechanic route, I’d get to service the Land Rovers and all the big trucks. I only have to sign up for four years. If I like it I’ll stay in. If I don’t, I won’t.’

  ‘But how much do you know about what a soldier does?’ Shepherd kicked the ball back to Liam but timed it badly and it shot off to the side. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  Liam retrieved it, tapped it from foot to foot, then sent it back to Shepherd.

  ‘The primary function of a soldier is to kill the enemy,’ said Shepherd. ‘That’s what it comes down to. You with a weapon facing another man with a weapon. And one of you dies.’

  ‘The days of the trenches are gone, Dad.’

  ‘You could be a mechanic out in the desert, but if a hundred IS fighters come at you with AK-47s, you’d have to drop your spanner and pick up a gun. If you’re a pilot and you’re flying in a hot area, a missile could bring you down. It’s not just travel and adventure, it’s danger and fear, injury and death. You could be minding your own business walking down a deserted road one minute and get your leg blown off the next. You could be on patrol with your mates and a sniper a mile away puts a bullet in your head. In an instant your whole life is over.’ He kicked the ball back to Liam. Liam trapped it easily.

  ‘I hear you,’ said Liam. ‘But the death rate in Afghanistan works out at about thirteen in a thousand. That’
s just over one per cent.’

  ‘Which is great if you’re not in that one per cent. But think how I’d feel if you came home in a body-bag.’

  Liam smiled. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  Liam picked up the ball and threw it at his father, hard. Shepherd caught it – it stung his hands. ‘How do you think I feel when you’re away? Never knowing where you are or what you’re doing or what danger you’re in. I know you’re a cop and not a soldier any more, but you run risks, don’t you? All the time.’

  Shepherd had never told Liam that he no longer worked for the police. Even family and friends weren’t supposed to know that he was an MI5 officer, so when he had moved to the security service he hadn’t told anyone. But whether he worked for the Met, the National Crime Agency or MI5, Liam’s point still held good. Undercover work was always dangerous and he realised that Liam was right. ‘True.’

  ‘How do you think I feel at school when a teacher calls me over? You know my first thought? That I’m going to be called into the head’s office and told that something’s happened to you. That I’m an orphan. Did you ever think of that?’

  ‘Actually, yes. I did.’

  ‘But despite that you continue to put your life on the line.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So it’s the same. You’ll have to deal with it.’

  ‘This isn’t payback, is it?’

  Liam laughed. ‘You’re amazing. You think I’d join the army to get back at you?’ He shook his head scornfully. ‘This isn’t about you, Dad. It’s my life. My career.’

  Shepherd tossed the ball back. ‘Stupid thing to say,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I want to do this, Dad. I’ve talked it through with the school and with the army, and I can enlist now if I want.’

  ‘You’d need parental permission.’

  ‘That’s hypothetical,’ said Liam. ‘I’m going to finish school, obviously. So I’ll be eighteen by the time I sign up. But suppose I’d decided I wanted to join now? Would you have let me?’

  ‘I’d try to talk you out of it,’ he said. ‘Not having a degree is one thing, but not finishing your A levels would be crazy.’