[Spider Shepherd #13] - Dark Forces

by Stephen Leather

  ‘Kill them!’ shouted a skinhead.

  ‘Burn them out!’ shouted another.

  ‘Hang them!’

  ‘Throw them out!’

  ‘Send them back to the desert!’

  Page held up his hands. ‘I’m not condoning violence,’ he said. ‘We’re better than that. But these people need to be shown that they’re not welcome. They need to know that we don’t want them here. If we make life unpleasant for them, they’ll stop coming.’ He paused while his audience cheered, then raised his hand for quiet. ‘There’s a lot you can do. You can fly the English flag, the cross of St George. You can take pride in the fact that you’re English. You need to vote for politicians who see things our way.’

  ‘UKIP, UKIP!’ chanted one of the skinheads. More joined in and eventually Page had to raise both hands in the air to quieten them.

  ‘And we’re not just talking about general elections. We have to start thinking locally. It’s the local councils who decide if a pub gets turned into a mosque. It’s the local councils who can close down Muslim halal abattoirs. Control the local councils and you can start to control your community.’

  Shepherd moved towards the stage, trying to get a better look at the picture on the screen. He was certain they were among the men Yusuf had arranged passports for, but he wanted to know where the photograph had been taken. He tried to get past two heavy-set skinheads but they were so caught up in cheering that his way was blocked. By the time he’d pushed through the picture had changed to a selection of newspaper cuttings. The headlines were damning:

  ASYLUM SEEKER RAPES TODDLER

  MIGRANTS IN GANG RAPE TERROR

  ASYLUM SEEKER RAPES AND KILLS TEENAGER

  ‘This is what they do when they get here!’ shouted Page. ‘They don’t respect us, they don’t respect our culture. So why do we tolerate them here?’

  ‘Throw them out!’ shouted one of his supporters.

  ‘Burn them out!’ shouted another.

  Shepherd felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Evans. ‘You all right, Terry?’

  ‘Just trying to get a better look,’ said Shepherd.

  A pretty girl wearing a white dress with a red cross on it pushed her way towards them holding up a bucket with DONATIONS on it. Shepherd took out his wallet and dropped in a ten-pound note.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Evans.

  ‘Supporting the cause,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘You daft bastard, we’re not here to give him money,’ said Evans. ‘Come on, we’re going out back.’ He gestured towards a door at the side of the bar and headed towards it. Shepherd looked over his shoulder. Billy was behind him.

  Shepherd followed Evans into a kitchen with stainless-steel appliances, metal work surfaces and a hissing stove. Two cooks in chef’s whites were working there and didn’t look up as Evans led Shepherd past a walk-in refrigerator and pushed open a fire door that led to the alley behind the pub. There were two large rubbish skips, both piled high with filled plastic bags. A Mercedes was parked further down the alley, exhaust feathering around the boot.

  Billy pushed the door shut. Evans took out his cigarettes and lit one, then offered the packet to Billy. They walked to stand behind the skip so that the driver of the Mercedes couldn’t see them.

  ‘What’s going on, Paul?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘We’re here for a little chat with Mr Page,’ said Evans. He blew smoke up at the night sky.

  ‘Do you want to tell me why?’

  ‘Page went cap in hand to Tommy six months ago. He wanted to set up on his own but didn’t have any financial backing. That group he was in was getting too bad a press and he was only number two so he couldn’t make the changes he wanted. He asked Tommy for a loan and Tommy gave him a couple of hundred grand.’

  Shepherd raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a hell of a loan.’

  ‘Page showed Tommy the England First books. Money pours in. There’s subscriptions and donations, most of it in cash. So Tommy agreed a repayment schedule and gave him the cash. But Page hasn’t been paying and he’s stopped calling Tommy back so …’

  ‘How heavy are we going to get, Paul? I told you I wasn’t carrying.’

  Evans grinned and slapped him on the back. ‘I’m just going to have a chat, Terry. Give him a gentle reminder that debts have to be paid.’

  Evans finished his cigarette and flicked away the butt. Billy’s followed a few seconds later, hitting the ground in a scatter of sparks. Evans was just taking out the packet again when the kitchen door opened. One of Page’s bodyguards appeared, a big man in a shiny black bomber jacket and jeans. His head was shaved and he had a cross of St George tattooed under his left ear. He held the door open and Page stepped out. The man in the blazer was behind Page, carrying the metal briefcase.

  Evans stepped out from behind the skips. ‘Hello, Simon.’

  A look of surprise flashed across Page’s face, but he smiled and held out his hand. ‘Paul, I thought I saw you in the crowd. How’s it going?’

  The second bodyguard came out and closed the door. Evans shook hands with Page. The bodyguards stiffened as Shepherd and Billy came into view.

  ‘Friends of yours, Paul?’ asked Page.

  Evans ignored the question. ‘Tommy sends his regards,’ he said.

  ‘Is there a problem, Mr Page?’ asked the bald bodyguard.

  ‘Everything’s fine, Andy.’

  The second bodyguard walked over to stand beside Andy. He folded his arms and gave Evans the bouncer’s stare. The man with the case looked confused, as if he had no idea what was going on.

  ‘Well, you say that, Simon, but if Tommy doesn’t get what he’s owed, that’s a problem, isn’t it?’ said Evans.

  ‘He’ll get his money, Paul. You know I’m good for it. And so does Tommy.’

  ‘Tommy’s worried that you’ve missed the last three payments. And you don’t return his calls. That’s disrespectful, Simon.’

  Page’s smile was forced now. ‘I’ve been busy, that’s all. I’m speaking two or three times a night.’

  ‘We’re all busy, Simon. But we pay our bills.’

  Page put his hands up as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. ‘Paul, the money’s coming. It’s a cash-flow thing, that’s all. We’re bringing in money every night.’

  ‘Yeah, about that. You were collecting cash in there.’

  ‘For running costs. Expenses.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, paying your debts is an expense. Hand it over.’

  Page opened his mouth as if he was going to argue but then he turned to the man in the blazer. ‘Ollie, give Mr Evans the cash.’

  Ollie knelt down on one knee and opened the case. As he took out a brown envelope Shepherd saw the laptop computer he’d been using for the presentation. The man stood up and gave the envelope to Evans.

  Evans took it, opened it with his thumb and nodded as he saw the notes inside. ‘No coins?’

  Ollie looked at Page and Page nodded. Ollie dipped into the briefcase again and pulled out a carrier bag with a few dozen pound coins in it. He gave it to Evans, who handed it to Billy. ‘I reckon that’s a couple of hundred quid at most,’ said Evans. He looked up at the sky. ‘So that means you still owe … How much would you say? Two hundred grand, plus interest?’

  ‘I’ll pay Tommy back, don’t worry about that.’

  ‘You think I’m worried?’ said Evans. ‘I’m not worried, mate. You’re the one who should be worried.’

  The bodyguard called Andy stepped in front of Page and stabbed a finger at Evans. ‘You need to go,’ he said. ‘Mr Page has to be somewhere.’

  ‘It’s all right, Andy,’ said Page, reaching for his elbow. Andy shook him off, stepped forward and pushed Evans in the chest with both hands. Evans took a step back and launched a kick between Andy’s legs. Andy moved to the side and the kick glanced off his left leg. He threw a punch at Evans but Evans blocked it and threw a punch of his own that hit the bodyguard square in the jaw. The other bodyguard launc
hed himself at Billy, but Billy swung the bag of coins and hit him in the face. The bag broke and pound coins tinkled on the ground.

  Shepherd heard a car door slam and turned towards the Mercedes. The driver had climbed out and was jogging towards them. He was a big man, well over six feet and built like a weight-lifter.

  Evans had punched Andy again, two blows to the stomach, and Billy had the other bodyguard in a vicious headlock and was punching him repeatedly in the face. Page was standing with his mouth wide open while Ollie was hiding behind him, clutching the briefcase to his chest.

  Shepherd stepped to the side and went up on the balls of his feet as the driver charged towards him. The man’s neck was almost as thick as his head and his chest was like a barrel. Shepherd figured the guy would absorb pretty much anything he threw at him. The driver saw Shepherd was blocking his way and started to roar. Shepherd waited until he was almost on top of them, then brought his foot crashing into the man’s knee, which snapped like a twig. He followed through with the blow so that the man fell to the ground. He rolled onto his back, then tried to get to his feet. Shepherd kicked him in the side and he fell again with a grunt.

  Billy had turned the second bodyguard’s face to mush and when he released his grip on the man’s neck he dropped like a stone. Billy rushed over to help Evans and began punching Andy in the back, over the kidneys.

  ‘Paul, come on, there’s no need for this!’ shouted Page, as Andy fell to the ground and the two men started kicking him.

  Evans stopped, mid-kick. ‘This is down to you!’ he shouted. ‘Pay your debts, mate!’

  ‘I will! I promise!’ said Page. ‘Just leave him be, okay.’

  Evans was panting with the exertion. He grabbed Billy and pulled him away from the man on the ground.

  ‘Tommy wants his money,’ said Evans, pointing a finger at Page’s face.

  ‘I’ll get it, I swear,’ said Page.

  ‘Two days,’ said Evans. ‘You get up to date with your payments within forty-eight hours or we’ll be back and next time it’ll be you we kick the shit out of, understand?’

  Page nodded fearfully.

  ‘Well, fuck off,’ said Evans. ‘And take your little girl with you – he’s pissed himself.’

  Ollie was trembling, still hiding behind Page.

  ‘How am I going to get home?’ asked Page. ‘Look what you’ve done to my driver!’ He pointed to the man at Shepherd’s feet.

  ‘You can Uber it,’ said Evans.

  ‘Yeah, that’ll work – I get a man called Mohammed to drive me home.’

  ‘Don’t get fucking shirty with me, Simon. If you’d paid what you owe you wouldn’t be in this position.’

  ‘I can drive,’ said Ollie, his voice shaking.

  ‘Get the keys,’ said Page, indicating the prostrate driver, who was moaning quietly.

  Ollie knelt down and went through the man’s pockets with no luck.

  ‘The keys are probably in the car,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s still running.’

  Ollie stood up and headed for it with Page. They got in and drove off.

  Evans grinned and lit a cigarette, then offered one to Billy. ‘I suppose that could have gone better,’ he said. His grin widened. ‘But it feels good, doing a bit of the old rough-and-tumble, doesn’t it?’

  Billy laughed, and Shepherd followed suit.

  ‘Drinks at the Mayfair?’ said Evans.

  ‘Why not?’ said Shepherd. He really wanted to get away and phone Willoughby-Brown but leaving early wasn’t an option. He and Billy followed Evans out of the alley and back to the Range Rover. They drove north of the river and parked around the corner from the Mayfair.

  The bar was busy but there was plenty of room in the VIP area where Marty was holding court over bottles of Cristal. He waved Evans over as soon as he saw him. They had a quick conversation, then Marty patted him on the back.

  Shepherd ordered a gin and tonic from a waitress and asked Billy what he wanted. ‘Guinness.’ The waitress smiled and went off to get their drinks. A hand fell on his shoulder – Marty’s. ‘Paul says you gave a guy twice your size a good kicking.’

  Shepherd grinned. ‘Yeah, well, you know what they say, the bigger they are …’

  ‘He was an animal,’ said Evans.

  ‘You and Billy didn’t do so bad,’ said Shepherd. ‘And from the look on Page’s face, I reckon he’ll fall over himself to pay you. He damn near shat himself.’

  Marty chuckled. ‘Nice one, Terry.’

  ‘Cheers, Marty.’ Shepherd glanced around. ‘Where’s Tommy?’

  ‘Fucked off back to Dubai.’

  ‘I don’t get it. What’s the attraction?’

  ‘Have you been?’ asked Marty.

  ‘A couple of times. Bloody hot and nothing but sand.’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ Marty agreed, ‘but Tommy fucking loves it out there. He’s got a huge villa with a pool, booze, hookers on tap, and he likes the food. Some of the best restaurants in the world, out in the Emirates.’

  ‘Plus you can’t be extradited from Dubai,’ said Evans.

  Marty smiled. ‘Providing you don’t break any local laws, they don’t extradite. Ever.’

  ‘Tommy’s worried about something?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘He’s just careful. Plus he’s put a few noses out of joint here over the years and it’s easier to protect yourself there. He goes back and forward but Dubai is his home now pretty much.’

  ‘And his missus is OK with it?’

  ‘He looks after her. They’ve been married for twenty years and we O’Neills are good Catholic boys at heart …’ He patted Shepherd on the back. ‘So, you’re coming to the fight?’

  ‘Sure. Paul’s got ringside seats.’

  ‘From the sound of it, maybe we should be putting you in the ring with Kuznetsov.’

  ‘Only if I can kick him in the balls,’ said Shepherd. ‘What about Tommy? Is he coming?’

  ‘You couldn’t keep him away,’ said Marty. He put his head close to Shepherd’s ear and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Howard says you’ve got some laundry that wants doing?’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘Told me the guy I use is ripping me off.’

  ‘How much do you want to put in?’

  ‘Long term about half a mill. Short term, I’ve got a hundred in cash I need to get legit.’

  Marty nodded. ‘Okay, well, Tommy and I are cool with you using our guy. I’ll get Howard to link you up. He’s an Indian but he’s good and he’s never let us down.’

  ‘Brilliant, Marty, thanks. I owe you.’

  ‘Forget about it. You’re one of the family now.’

  The waitress returned with drinks for Shepherd and Billy. Marty clapped Shepherd on the back. ‘You’re a good guy, Terry. One of the best.’

  Shepherd raised his glass. ‘So are you, mate,’ he said. ‘I’m glad to be on your team.’

  ‘Fucking right,’ said Marty. ‘Best team in London.’

  Shepherd had the black cab drop him half a mile from the Mayfair. Evans and the O’Neills had called it a night shortly before two o’clock and were heading home. Shepherd had flagged down a cab but didn’t want to have a conversation with the driver listening in so he gave the man a fiver, got out and called Willoughby-Brown as he walked down the street. His boss sounded half asleep when he answered so Shepherd spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Have you heard of Simon Page? Used to be with England First?’

  ‘Sure. Right-wing anti-immigration anti-Muslim activist. He was a bit of a firebrand in his youth and he’s on our watch list but he’s reasonably well-behaved, these days. What time is it?’

  ‘Just after two. Earlier this evening I saw him speak in South London. He had a slide presentation and one of the photographs had two of Yusuf’s guys on it.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ asked Willoughby-Brown. He laughed but immediately corrected himself. ‘Sorry, I keep forgetting your trick memory. Of course you’re sure. Where were they?’

  ‘That’
s the problem, I don’t know. They were in front of a mosque but I don’t know where it was. The pictures were on a laptop and the laptop’s in his car. A Mercedes.’ Shepherd gave him the number. ‘Not sure if the car is his or not. There was a driver. Page’s assistant, a guy called Ollie, was carrying the laptop in a metal case the last time I saw it. He got in the car with Page.’

  ‘Brand of laptop?’

  ‘A Sony, I think. Grey.’

  ‘How long ago did you see it?’

  ‘A few hours. I couldn’t get away any sooner.’

  ‘Any idea where the car was headed?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘No problem, I’m sure we’ve got an address on file. Okay, I’m on it.’ There was no trace of tiredness in his voice now: he was firing on all cylinders.

  ‘And the brothers have given me the go-ahead to meet their main money man. Wedekind’s going to arrange it. I’ve said a hundred grand and they’re okay.’

  ‘At least that’s less than half a million,’ said Willoughby-Brown. ‘But you’d better not lose it. Now what about Tommy?’

  ‘Back to Dubai. But I’m sure he’ll be back for the big fight.’

  ‘We might want to think about getting you wired up.’

  ‘No point. They always have anti-surveillance stuff around.’

  ‘So get Tommy around to your flat.’

  ‘For drinks and nibbles?’ He laughed harshly. ‘I’m not his best mate. I’ve only met him a few times. Marty’s a better bet.’

  ‘We want them both, Daniel. This is a two-headed monster. There’s no point in just lopping off one of the heads.’

  He ended the call. Shepherd put the phone away and went looking for another black cab.

  ‘I’m going to have mine rare,’ said Liam. ‘Just take the horns and hoofs off and slap it on the plate.’ He was the second man in the patrol, a few yards behind the Vallon man, named after the metal detector he was holding. They were only a few hundred yards from base, heading home after six hours on patrol. Liam was wearing full body armour, a tan-coloured Mark 7 combat helmet and carrying an SA80 assault rifle.

  Shepherd knew that the Vallon picked up only three-quarters of the IEDs the jihadists planted – some contained hardly any metal and so escaped detection. Relying on it could be a fatal mistake. Vigilance was essential, even on the way home.