Shepherd sat up and ran a hand through his hair. ‘What time is it?’
‘Eight. Looks as if you’ve got two two-man teams on you – midnight and midday are the changeovers.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. There’s one outside in a grey Mercedes as we speak. His partner is off getting a coffee.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘Grab yourself some breakfast. We’ll leave it until eleven because they’ll be at the end of their shift. Leave the hotel, go left for about two hundred yards and then cross the road. Take the first right. There’s a row of shops there, keep going until you see a church. Huge place with a spire and a graveyard. Walk through the graveyard, keep going straight and there’s a rear entrance to an alley. Take a left down the alley and keep going until you hit the main road. Turn right.’
‘Bloody hell, Lex, what is this? A magical mystery tour?’
‘I need to split them up so we can take them separately,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to do anything, just follow the route exactly as I said. No looking behind you, no counter surveillance, no funny stuff. I’ll send you a message when we’re done or if there’s a change of plan. Got it?’
‘Got it,’ said Shepherd.
‘Eleven sharp,’ said Harper. ‘Be there or be square.’
Shepherd left the hotel at eleven o’clock on the dot. He’d eaten breakfast in the hotel coffee shop, helping himself from a buffet that ran for almost thirty feet with dishes laden with cold meats, sausages, cheese, boiled eggs, cereal and fruit, along with a dozen different types of bread and rolls. He had no missed calls or messages on his phone, which was a relief. He dreaded an urgent summons from Button because with the best will in the world he was at least four hours from London, door to door. There was a chill wind blowing down the road and he turned up the collar of his leather jacket and thrust his hands in his pockets.
If there were watchers in a grey Mercedes he didn’t see them or the car. He followed the route laid out by Harper, keeping his head down as if deep in thought. He walked purposefully, but not too quickly.
He looked right and left before crossing the main road, and still didn’t see anyone on his tail. But then they must have been professionals because they had tailed him all the way from London without him knowing.
He walked by the row of shops. If he’d been in counter-surveillance mode he’d have been checking for reflections and doing the occasional double back, but he just walked along with his head down. The church was a good choice. They’d almost certainly split up because two men walking through a graveyard would be too obvious. One would probably head around the perimeter, the other would follow but at a distance.
As he left the graveyard he saw a windowless van parked down the alley. He turned his back on it, wondering if it was his tail but immediately dismissing the thought because there was no way they could have predicted the route. It was more likely to be Harper’s team. He walked along the alley. A woman in a fur coat and a very small dog on a leash walked towards him. She smiled, showing unnaturally white teeth, and wished him a ‘Guten Morgen’. He reached the road, turned right, and carried on walking.
It took him an hour to follow the route that Harper had given him. During that time he didn’t see anyone following him, but then he had deliberately not been looking.
Shepherd’s mobile beeped to let him know he’d received a text message. He put down the remnant of the club sandwich he’d been eating and picked up the phone. It was Harper. SHE’S A FRIEND.
He was still frowning at the message when there was a soft knock on the door. He padded over and checked the peephole. There was a dark-haired woman in her thirties standing in the hallway, staring back at him as if she knew she was under scrutiny. He took off the security chain and opened the door.
‘Let’s go,’ she said. Shepherd recognised her from the file that Willoughby-Brown had given him. Sally Sheldrake.
‘Can I at least put some shoes on?’ he asked, glancing down at his bare feet. She nodded and he headed back into his room and sat down on the bed. ‘Do you have a name?’
‘You can call me Maggie,’ she said.
‘Well, nice to meet you, Maggie,’ said Shepherd, slipping on his shoes. ‘How long have you known Lex?’
She ignored his question and looked at her watch, a plastic Casio. ‘Clock’s ticking,’ she said.
Shepherd was having trouble placing her accent. English, for sure, but there was a faint Scottish burr in there somewhere, and maybe a bit of Irish brogue.
‘Don’t suppose you’ll tell me where we’re going?’ said Shepherd as he stood up and grabbed his jacket.
‘You’ll know soon enough,’ she said. She looked at her watch again.
Shepherd drained his coffee mug and nodded. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’
They went down in the lift in silence, and she led him across reception and outside. She had a white Mercedes saloon in the car park and they climbed in. There was a SatNav in the dashboard but she didn’t turn it on. She drove like a professional, smoothly and efficiently, rarely touching the brake pedal unless it was to stop at traffic lights.
‘I get the feeling you’re not one for small talk, Maggie,’ said Shepherd.
‘I’m just a hired hand,’ she said. ‘I don’t know you, you don’t know me, we’re both professionals doing what we’re being paid to do.’
‘So a date’s out of the question?’
Her head swivelled and her mouth dropped in surprise until she realised he was joking. She smiled despite herself as she concentrated on the road ahead. ‘You’re not my type,’ she said.
‘See, now there’s something we could talk about,’ said Shepherd, settling back in his seat. ‘What sort of guy do you go for?’
‘The strong silent type,’ she said. ‘With the emphasis on the silent.’
‘Ever been married?’ he asked.
‘You don’t give up, do you?’
Shepherd chuckled. ‘Lex said you were a friend. I’ve known Lex a long time and I respect his opinion.’
‘That’s good to know,’ she said. ‘What about you? Married?’
‘I was.’
‘You left her?’
‘She died,’ said Shepherd. ‘Road traffic accident.’
She looked across at him, clearly wondering if he was serious. She could see from the look on his face that he was. ‘Sorry to hear that.’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Kids?’
‘A boy.’
‘Single parent? We’ve got something in common.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Mine’s six.’
Shepherd smiled. ‘Ah, six is a good age. They still love you at six, and they think you’re the smartest human being in the world. Enjoy it while you can, because by the time they hit sixteen you’ll be the idiot who nags them to make their bed. What happened to the father?’
‘Still with his family. His real family. I was just a …’ She shrugged. ‘To be honest I don’t know what I was. Right up until I fell pregnant he was going to leave his wife and be with me. Soon as he saw those double blue lines he told me that he owed it to his wife and kids to be with them.’
‘Bastard,’ said Shepherd.
‘Yeah. Bastard. But what can you do? I’ve got a beautiful little boy who I love with all my heart, so as far as I’m concerned I came out ahead.’ She looked across at him, eyes narrowing. ‘I hope you’re not playing me,’ she said.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Shepherd. ‘I just like to know who I’m working with.’
‘We’re not working together,’ said Maggie. ‘We’re just helping you out, that’s what I’ve been told.’
‘That’s pretty much it,’ said Shepherd. ‘How much did Lex tell you?’
‘That you’re being followed and we want to know by who and why.’
‘And what did he tell you about me?’
‘That you’re a friend in need.�
��
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it,’ she repeated. ‘That’s all we need to know.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence and eventually reached a brick-built factory on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by a wire fence. Shepherd’s German was just about good enough for him to tell from the posted signs that the factory and land were for sale. By the look of the weather-beaten signs it had been up for sale for a while.
‘There’s a key in the glovebox,’ Maggie said. ‘Can you deal with the gate?’
Shepherd opened the glovebox and took out a key attached to a metal globe, the paintwork scratched so badly that rusting metal was showing through. He climbed out of the car and jogged over to the two twelve-feet-high gates that were fastened with a length of chain and a large padlock. He undid the padlock and pulled out the chain before pushing the gates open. He stood to the side and waited until Maggie was through before relocking the gates and getting back into the Mercedes.
Maggie drove around to the rear of the factory where there was a small car park, the tarmac pitted and erupting like infected skin. There was a windowless Renault van parked next to a delivery bay, along with a Range Rover, another Mercedes, an Audi and a high-powered BMW motorcycle. As Maggie and Shepherd got out of their Mercedes, a door opened on to the delivery bay and Lex Harper walked out. He was wearing blue overalls and black gloves. He waved when he saw Shepherd, then hurried down a concrete ramp and hugged him. ‘Long time, no see, mate,’ he said.
‘Yeah, it’s been a while,’ said Shepherd. ‘You’re still in the Land of Smiles, right?’
‘Most of the time,’ said Harper. He nodded at Maggie. ‘Do you want to keep an eye on the main gate, just in case?’
‘We weren’t followed,’ she said.
‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ said Harper. ‘But better safe than sorry.’
Harper waited until Maggie was out of earshot before turning to Shepherd. ‘They’re Russians,’ he said.
‘Foreign Intelligence Service?’
The Foreign Intelligence Service – the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki – was Russia’s overseas intelligence agency, the equivalent of Britain’s MI6. It dealt with mainly civilian matters while the Glavnoye Razvedyvatel’noye Upravleniye concerned itself with military cases. Both agencies were staffed with former KGB agents.
‘Apparently not,’ said Harper. ‘They’re with the Presidential Security Service. The guys who guard Putin. That’s all they’ll tell me so far. They won’t tell me why they’re on your case. I don’t think they’re lying.’
Shepherd sighed. ‘I think I know.’ His mind was racing though he forced himself to at least appear calm. He had wondered if Willoughby-Brown had organised the surveillance to check that Shepherd was following instructions, but Russian spooks was far more worrying.
‘I don’t suppose you want to tell me why they think you might be a threat to Putin?’ asked Harper.
‘Is that what they said?’
‘No, I’m just guessing. These guys only have one function and that’s to protect the Russian president. They wouldn’t have been following you for fun. So what’s it about? A Five case?’
‘Officially I can’t tell you anything, Lex, you know that. But yes. Like I said, I know what it’s about.’
‘What do you want me to do with them?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t be coy, Spider. Do you want me to take care of it?’
Shepherd realised what Harper meant and he reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Hell, no. Just let them go. They didn’t get a look at you or your team?’
Harper shook his head. ‘We’re clean. The snag is if we let them go they’re going to be wondering who roughed them up.’
‘They might think you’re German security services?’
Harper laughed. ‘Yeah, or maybe they’d think we’re working for the Tooth Fairy. They were following you and they get picked up and questioned. How are they not going to think you’re behind it?’
Shepherd shook his head. ‘How about this? Rough them up a bit more, ask them questions that lead them in a different direction?’
‘A plot to kill Merkel, you mean?’
‘Something like that.’
Harper shrugged. ‘That might work. We’ve only been speaking to them in German.’
‘Didn’t realise you spoke German.’
‘I don’t, but I know a man who does. Yeah, we could set something up. A phone conversation they’re not supposed to hear. Get creative.’ He gestured at the door. ‘Anyway, it’s time that the dog saw the rabbits. Put this on.’ He handed Shepherd some overalls and a black wool ski mask. Shepherd slipped them on. There were small holes for his eyes and mouth in the mask, but other than that his entire head was covered. Harper pulled on a similar mask and then took him up the ramp to the metal door and beckoned for Shepherd to follow him inside. The door led to a short corridor painted a pale green with bare wires hanging from the ceiling where once there had been lights.
There were doorways leading left and right into offices that had long since been stripped and abandoned. The corridor opened into the main factory area. Like the offices, the workspace had been stripped of anything of any value, there was just a bare concrete floor, brick walls, and girders overhead. Light came in through large Plexiglas skylights in the roof. The floor was dotted with droppings from the pigeons that were nesting up in the girders and there was a strong smell of cat piss that had Shepherd wrinkling his nose.
There were two men tied to chairs that had been placed back to back and about ten feet apart. They were both big men but neither appeared well muscled. They looked like bodybuilders who had gone to seed, flabby arms and guts that spilled out over their thighs. They were naked. Their legs had been bound to the chairs with grey duct tape and their hands with plastic ties behind their backs; there were cloth gags in their mouths. One of them had tattoos all over his back and shoulders, mainly religious in nature. There was a large crucifix between his shoulder blades and a Virgin Mary on one shoulder. Both men were bruised and bloodied but when they turned to look at Shepherd they glared at him with undisguised hostility. Shepherd was grateful for the overalls and ski mask but as he stood watching the two captives he consciously changed his posture, dropping one shoulder and turning his feet inwards. A good watcher could recognise a target as much from body shape and movement as the face.
There were three other men in identical overalls and ski masks standing around. Harper nodded at one of the men who then stepped forward and pulled the gag from the mouth of the tattooed captive. The man barked questions in German that sounded fluent to Shepherd. The captive replied in German, but with a heavy Russian accent. Shepherd’s German was basic at best but he heard the words Sicherheit – security, Präsident – president and Russisch – Russian.
The questioning went on for a few minutes, interspersed with slaps and punches.
Several times he heard the name Olsen. Shepherd’s cover name. They were on the trail of the man they thought was after Putin – unless they knew that he was an undercover MI5 officer passing himself off as an assassin. There were questions that he would have liked to ask, but he couldn’t do that without going through Harper and he didn’t want to do that.
Eventually Harper said, ‘Das ist genug.’ That’s enough. The man replaced the gag as Harper indicated for Shepherd to follow him outside. Harper took him down the corridor and pushed open the metal door as he took off his mask. ‘What do you think?’
Shepherd removed his own mask and shoved it into the pocket of his overalls. ‘I’ve never seen them before. But they look the part.’
‘That’s what I thought. Did you follow what they were saying?’
‘Some of it,’ said Shepherd. ‘Basically they were just following orders. They’d been told to follow me and report back to Moscow.’
‘That’s right. They don’t know why, the orders came from their direct boss and he wasn’t that forthcom
ing. They just had your name and a photograph and had followed you from London.’
‘London, not Amsterdam? You’re sure about that?’
‘They were on your flight.’
‘Shit. Do you know how long they’ve been following me?’
‘They said three days.’
‘Okay, that’s not so bad. But it’s still not good.’
‘They think your name is Frederik Olsen and that you’re Danish.’
Shepherd grinned. ‘Easy mistake to make.’
Harper chuckled. ‘I’m guessing that’s your cover, right? Don’t suppose you want to tell me what Frederik Olsen is doing that’s got the Russians all hot and bothered?’
‘They’re just on surveillance, is that right?’ said Shepherd, ignoring the question.
‘Yeah, but they were told to be on you like flies on shit. That’s why we were able to pick them up so easily.’ He shoved his ski mask in the pocket of his overalls. ‘Now you and I need to talk.’
‘Not here,’ said Shepherd. ‘Can we go somewhere quiet?’
‘I’ll run you back to your hotel, how about that?’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘The drinks are on you.’
‘Seems only fair.’
They stripped off their overalls and dropped them over a rail by the loading bay before heading for the cars. They climbed into the Audi and drove to the gates. Maggie already had them open. Harper wound down the window.
‘I’ll take Spider back to his hotel, make sure Hansfree doesn’t lose it. You know how he hates Russians.’
‘I’ll keep a leash on him,’ laughed Maggie.
Harper drove on and she pulled the gates closed behind them.
‘She’s fit,’ said Shepherd as they drove away from the factory.
‘I could put a good word in for you if you wanted,’ said Harper. ‘You’ve a lot in common.’
‘Yeah, she said. We’re both single parents.’
Harper looked across at him. ‘She told you that?’
‘Sure. You sound surprised.’
‘Maggie isn’t a great sharer. You must have made a good impression.’ He turned the Audi onto the main road back to Berlin.
Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller Page 23
