Soft Target ss-2

by Stephen Leather

‘Angie Kerr’s dead.’

  ‘What?’ It was the last thing Shepherd had expected to hear.

  ‘She killed herself.’

  ‘She was in custody. How the hell could that have happened?’

  ‘Sleeping tablets. The custody officer thought she was asleep. They didn’t try waking her until eleven and by then she was cold.’

  Shepherd indicated and pulled over to the side of the road. ‘Spider, are you there?’

  ‘How the hell did she get sleeping tablets? Wasn’t she searched when she was taken in?’

  ‘They patted her down but I’m not sure how thoroughly. It’s not as if they expected a weapon. But she had two visitors yesterday so we think it was one of them.’

  ‘Her husband?’

  ‘Her husband’s lawyer and her own lawyer.’

  ‘For God’s sake, this is getting worse by the minute. Why the hell did her husband’s lawyer come in?’

  ‘We didn’t know the man was his lawyer. She made a call, said she wanted legal advice before she agreed to any deal with the CPS. A couple of hours later a lawyer called Gary Payne turned up and spent ten minutes with her. An hour later she spent five minutes with her own lawyer, then asked to go back to her cell.’

  ‘So Payne told her what Kerr planned to do to her and gave her the tablets?’

  ‘That’s the way I read it, but it’s one thing knowing and another proving it.’

  Shepherd closed his eyes. He’d liked Angie Kerr and, directly or indirectly, he’d been responsible for her death. Hargrove wouldn’t see it that way, of course, but Shepherd had made the decision to extend the Hendrickson investigation, Shepherd had set her up, and Shepherd had been in the car when she was arrested. If she’d never met him, she’d still be alive.

  ‘There’s more,’ said Hargrove. ‘Hendrickson’s disappeared.’

  ‘He’s what?’

  ‘He hasn’t been in the office since Friday.’

  ‘For God’s sake, this is Wednesday. Wasn’t he being watched?’

  Hargrove didn’t reply, which meant no.

  ‘So the Kerr case has turned to shit, and Hendrickson’s done a runner?’ said Shepherd.

  ‘With the wife dead we’ve got nothing on the husband,’ said Hargrove.

  ‘So I’ve wasted the last two weeks,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘If we get Hendrickson, he’ll go down. Look, I know we should have had the lid on him, but the local cops have budgetary considerations. They took the decision to leave him be until we were ready to move in.’

  ‘This is a bloody nightmare,’ said Shepherd. ‘What’s the point of me working my balls off if it all turns to shit down the line? Angie Kerr should have been watched – she was supposed to have been an asset. Jesus H. Christ, we were promising her witness protection and we let her husband kill her.’

  ‘She killed herself,’ said Hargrove.

  ‘That’s semantics, and you know it,’ said Shepherd, bitterly.

  ‘There’ll be an inquiry, of course, but life goes on.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Shepherd. ‘Life goes on.’

  ‘Anything turns up on Hendrickson, I’ll let you know,’ said Hargrove.

  Shepherd ended the call. He sat in silence, staring through the windscreen with unseeing eyes. He thought about the first time he’d met her. The way she’d sat in the car, smoking and flirting with him. The fear in her eyes when the armed police had charged out of the van. And now she was dead. Not only that, she’d killed herself because of the position he’d put her in. It had been Hargrove’s plan, but Shepherd had forced her into a corner with only one way out. Except that Angie had found another option. He swore under his breath. Her husband had killed her, as surely as if he’d put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

  Shepherd was drinking a polystyrene cup of strong tea when the call came in over the main set. An IC One male with a handgun in Maida Vale. He tossed the cup out of the window as Sutherland started the car. Rose entered the address, a council estate off the Harrow Road, into the computer while Shepherd checked it in the street directory.

  ‘Indian country,’ said Rose. ‘The locals aren’t averse to taking pot-shots out of spite.’

  The three men listened as a female officer relayed the details of the incident over the radio. ‘Neighbour saw a man with a gun enter number twenty-eight. He forced his way in. Occupant is a Sharon Jones, estranged from her husband Barry. He has convictions for assault and there’s a restraining order against him.’ Rose scribbled on his clipboard.

  ‘Anyone confirm that it’s the husband in the house?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Negative,’ said the female officer. ‘We have no description other than IC One.’

  ‘Can you confirm that Barry Jones is IC One?’

  ‘Affirmative,’ said the female officer.

  Rose pulled a face. ‘It’s like pulling teeth sometimes,’ he said.

  ‘I hate domestics,’ muttered Sutherland. He flashed the main beams and cut in front of a double-decker bus. ‘Give me a Yardie with an Ingram any day of the week. You know where you are with a Yardie. Guy with a grudge against his wife can do anything. Shoot her, shoot himself, shoot us. It’s like trying to second-guess a rabid dog.’

  ‘Nice analogy,’ said Rose.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Sutherland. ‘Criminals with guns, you can generally figure what they’ll do. Citizens are just plain dangerous.’

  They reached the Harrow Road and Sutherland killed the blues and twos. The traffic was light and there was no point in announcing their arrival.

  They pulled up in front of the housing estate. There were no police cars, no paramedics. A middle-aged man was sitting on a small patch of grass in front of number twenty-eight. Rose frowned and asked the control room who else was attending.

  ‘A local car is en route,’ said the female officer.

  ‘Shit, we’re first on the scene,’ said Rose. ‘Come on, break out the big stuff. Mike, you stay on the main set.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Sutherland.

  The man on the grass was sitting perfectly still, his hands in his lap.

  Shepherd unlocked the Hecklers and handed one to Rose, then a magazine. ‘Don’t you think these’ll spook him?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘My experience, amateurs take one look at an MP5 and throw their hands in the air,’ said Rose.

  ‘Or panic and do something stupid,’ said Shepherd. ‘It could go either way. He’s got something in his hand and I reckon it’s a gun.’

  ‘We have to contain the situation,’ said Rose.

  ‘Let me talk to him,’ said Shepherd.

  Rose shook his head emphatically.‘No bloody way,’ he said. ‘You’re not trained in hostage negotiation.’

  ‘He doesn’t have a hostage,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Same difference,’ said Rose. ‘There are guys trained to talk to these psychos, and guys trained to shoot them. We wait for a negotiator.’

  ‘Sarge, the way I see it, one of two things is going to happen. He’s going to pull the trigger or he’s going to start waving that gun around. Either way, he’s leaving here in a body-bag.’

  Rose stared at Shepherd. ‘You done this sort of thing before?’

  ‘A couple of times,’ lied Shepherd.

  ‘If he even looks like he’s going to point his weapon at you, I’ll take him out,’ said Rose.

  ‘I’d want you to,’ said Shepherd.

  Rose nodded slowly. ‘Keep out of my line of fire.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘And if I tell you to get out of there, you do it.’

  ‘Cheers, Sarge.’

  ‘I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

  Shepherd put the MP5 into the boot of the Vauxhall and reached for his Glock.

  ‘You’re not going in without a gun,’ said Rose.

  ‘I want to show him I’m no threat.’

  ‘So leave it in your holster.’

  ‘If it’s holstered, I won’t have time to draw it anyway,’
said Shepherd.

  ‘You do understand why they call us armed police, don’t you?’

  ‘If he sees a gun, be it an MP5 or a Glock, he’ll panic.’

  ‘Take the Taser, then.’ The ARVs were equipped with Taser guns capable of firing electrode-tipped wires up to twenty-one feet and delivering a debilitating 50,000-volt electric shock that would drop a man in less than a second.

  ‘Any sort of weapon could set him off,’ said Shepherd. He made the Glock safe and put it into the ballistic bag in the boot with his CS spray and retractable baton. He took a deep breath. ‘Into the valley of death,’ he said, then winked at Rose. ‘It’ll be fine, Sarge.’ He turned and walked towards the house, his arms out at his sides, palms open to show that he wasn’t carrying.

  Jones was sitting cross-legged on the grass. As Shepherd approached, he lifted the barrel of his handgun and pressed it against his right temple. Shepherd stopped a dozen paces in front of him. ‘Barry, I’m going to need you to do something for me,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Fuck off,’ said Jones. He looked as if he hadn’t washed or shaved for several days and Shepherd could smell the man’s body odour.

  ‘Listen to me, Barry. I need you to keep that gun exactly where it is, jammed up against your head.’

  Jones frowned. ‘What?’

  Shepherd nodded at Rose.‘See that guy over there? If you start waving that gun around, he’ll shoot you.’

  ‘He’ll be saving me the trouble.’

  ‘Just so you know,’ said Shepherd. ‘As long as you keep the gun where it is, we’ll all be okay.’

  ‘Just piss off and let me get on with it,’ said Jones.

  ‘You want to tell me what’s made you so angry?’

  ‘What are you? A shrink?’

  ‘I’m the guy who’s going to have to write the report if this turns to shit,’ said Shepherd, ‘and I hate writing reports.’

  Jones stared at him.‘You’re wasting your time establishing a rapport with me. I’m not interested.’ His finger tightened on the trigger. The gun was a Chinese knock-off of a Colt .45. It was old but it was in good condition and the barrel glistened with fresh oil.

  ‘Where did you get the gun from, Barry?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘Using my first name isn’t going to win me over,’ said Jones.

  ‘Just curious,’ said Shepherd. ‘You don’t see too many of those. Practically a collector’s item.’

  ‘I brought it back from Afghanistan. Souvenir.’

  ‘You were in the army?’

  ‘Sort of. Look, piss off and let me get this done, will you?’

  Shepherd sat down slowly, taking care to make no sudden movements. ‘I need to take the weight off,’ he said. ‘Been on my feet all day.’ He stretched out his legs.‘The missus giving you grief,is she?’he asked.

  ‘Ex-missus. As of yesterday.’

  ‘And what’s this about? Winning her back?’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Tyres squealed and a second ARV came round the corner. Shepherd couldn’t see who was inside it. The Vauxhall braked and stopped behind Rose’s car.

  ‘Reinforcements,’ said Jones. ‘The more the merrier.’ He took the gun away from his head.

  ‘Keep the gun where it is, Barry,’ said Shepherd. ‘They won’t do anything while I’m here.’

  ‘You think I’m scared of a few Robocops?’

  ‘No, but if you do anything threatening, they’ll blow you away.’

  ‘So long as I’m dead I don’t see it matters who does the job,’ said Jones.

  Shepherd glanced over his shoulder. Rose was behind the Vauxhall, his MP5 targeted on Jones’s chest. The doors of the newly arrived ARV opened and two men hurried over to Rose, bent at the waist.

  ‘What were you doing in Afghanistan?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘That’s classified,’ said Jones. ‘I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.’

  Shepherd smiled. So long as the man had his sense of humour, there was less chance of him pulling the trigger.

  ‘Must have been hairy,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘It was no picnic.’ Jones took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  ‘You were in the Sass?’ Jones was almost a decade older than Shepherd so it was just about possible that they had served at the same time. Shepherd was sure he’d never met the man, though.

  Jones shrugged. ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘I’m just trying to understand why you’re doing this, that’s all.’

  ‘Post-traumatic stress syndrome, is that what you think?’ said Jones, contemptuously. ‘You really are an amateur shrink, aren’t you?’

  ‘If it’s not stress, what is it? What you’re doing isn’t rational – you’ve got to admit that, right? Sitting on the grass with a gun pointed at your head.’

  ‘Quicker than hanging or slicing my wrists.’

  ‘Unless the gun jerks and you only blow off a piece of your skull. Then you spend the rest of your life being fed through a tube.’

  ‘It won’t jerk,’ said Jones. He nodded at Rose. ‘Is he any good with that thing?’

  ‘Probably not as good as you,’ said Shepherd.

  Jones grinned ruefully. ‘Not fired a Five for years,’ he said.

  ‘Like riding a bike,’ said Shepherd. ‘Why did you leave the Regiment?’

  ‘RTUd. Just couldn’t hack it any more.’

  Life in the SAS was tough, and while some troopers served virtually their whole career in the Regiment, others burned out after just a few years. Shepherd had always felt he could have done a full twenty years, but that was before Sue had become pregnant with Liam. Children changed everything.

  ‘Couldn’t hack the regular army either, not after being in the Sass. Went back to Civvy Street and it was pretty much downhill from then on.’

  Shepherd’s earpiece crackled. ‘We’ve got you covered, Stu. Any sign that he’s getting aggressive and you hit the ground.’ Rose’s voice was close to a whisper so there was no chance of Jones overhearing.

  Shepherd nodded towards the house. ‘Sharon’s an army wife?’

  ‘Met her after I left. She got pregnant first time we slept together and that was it. Game over.’

  ‘Boy or girl?’

  ‘Girl. You got kids?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Keep it that way,’ said Jones. ‘They bring you nothing but grief and misery, wives and kids.’

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘You don’t know what I mean.’

  ‘I know most people say that kids are what life is about.’

  ‘Yeah? And what if your wife uses your kid as a weapon to beat you over the head with? What if she poisons the kid against you so that she won’t even talk to you on the phone because she’s been told that you’re the meanest bastard on God’s earth?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Shepherd, but regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Jones. ‘You’re trying to connect so that you can talk me out of doing what I’m going to do.’

  ‘That’s my job,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s what I’m paid to do.’

  ‘Yeah, well, enjoy it while you can because when they’ve no more use for you you’ll be out on the streets.’ Jones took another deep breath. ‘You should leave now before you get blood on that nice clean Robocop uniform.’

  ‘At least tell me why you’re so keen to end it all. I thought the Sass never gave up. Fought to the last man. Never give up, never leave a man behind.’

  Jones narrowed his eyes as he looked at Shepherd. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What did you do before you were a cop?’

  ‘Always been a cop.’

  ‘Never been in the army?’

  ‘Never wanted to sleep in a barracks,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘You look the type, that’s all.’

  ‘What type?’

  ‘The type who passes s
election, gets badged.’

  ‘Is it as tough as they say it is?’

  ‘Tougher than you can ever imagine. The Regiment has never lowered its standards. Your lot, they let anyone in now, right? Height restrictions went, then they lowered fitness levels. Now, providing you’ve got a pulse, you can be a cop. But the Sass, if you’re not the best, don’t even think about it.’

  ‘And how do you get from there to here?’ asked Shepherd.

  An ambulance turned into the street. No siren, no flashing lights. Softly, softly.

  ‘You mean how did my life turn to shit? Reality, mate. A wife who thought she was marrying a hero, a daughter who thinks I hate her, a world that doesn’t give a shit about who I was or what I did. You’ll find out the same, once you leave the police. You are what you do, and when you stop doing it, your life stops too.’ He gestured at the house. A curtain flickered at an upstairs window. ‘Think she even cares what happens to me? She’s got a restraining order against me. I’m not supposed to come within half a mile of her.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because she lied, told the judge I beat the crap out of her. I never did. On my daughter’s life I never lifted a finger to her. I’ve never hit a woman. Never have and never will. Now she’s got herself another man and I’m still paying her half of everything I earn. Which is half of fuck-all.’ Jones took a deep breath. ‘This is a waste of time,’ he said. ‘Mine and yours.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘You talk me out of doing this now, I go to jail for a few months and I’ll still end up topping myself. Might as well let me get it over with.’

  ‘What is it you want, Barry?’

  ‘I want you to tell my daughter I loved her,’ said Jones. ‘Can you do that for me?’

  ‘Barry—’

  The gun went off and the top of Jones’s head exploded. Blood splattered across Shepherd’s cheek but most of the brain and skull fragments sprayed over the grass. Jones’s shoulders hit the ground with a dull thud. For a second or two Shepherd thought Rose had fired but his ears were ringing and he realised Jones had pulled the trigger.

  ‘Stu, are you okay?’ Rose’s voice crackled in Shepherd’s ear.

  Shepherd nodded but didn’t say anything. The gun lay on the ground, the barrel pointing towards him. Jones’s eyes were wide open. His left leg twitched once, then was still. There was a faint gurgling sound in his chest, which stopped.