[Spider Shepherd #13] - Dark Forces

by Stephen Leather

‘It’s possible,’ said Shepherd. ‘If he was going to do me any harm he’d hardly do it where I live. He could just as easily invite me to somewhere isolated. Anyway, he says he wants a private chat so I’ll take him at his word. The good news is that we can get him on video.’ Amar Singh and two other MI5 technicians had wired the Battersea flat for sound and vision before Shepherd had moved in. It could be monitored live, with everything recorded.

  ‘So what time will he be there?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘We’ll be watching. Check in before to make sure there are no technical issues.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Shepherd. He ended the call.

  Shepherd arrived back in Battersea at just after two o’clock that afternoon. He had called ahead and asked Amar Singh to arrange to return the Audi but as he drove down the road to the apartment block he spotted the grey Toyota, which had been following him, parked at the side of the road. Shepherd cursed under his breath and turned his head away as he went by. Singh was standing in front of the building, his hands in the pockets of his pale blue Ted Baker suit. Shepherd made a left turn and found a parking space, then phoned Singh.

  ‘Bit of a problem, Amar,’ he said. ‘I’ve parked around the corner. The guys who were tailing the BMW are across the road from you. Walk away and I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Do you need back-up?’

  ‘Terry Taylor wouldn’t have back-up,’ said Shepherd. ‘I could do with a gun, mind.’

  ‘Can’t help you there,’ said Singh. ‘There’s an Uzi pen in the glovebox of the Audi, though.’

  ‘I’ll give that a go,’ said Shepherd. He ended the call, opened the glovebox and found the pen. It was made by the people who manufactured the renowned submachine-guns. The heavy-duty lightweight aircraft aluminium was so strong that the pen could pierce wood if wielded with enough force, and on the end there was a durable carbide glass-breaker. He slipped it into his jacket pocket, climbed out and locked the Audi. It was a chilly day but that wasn’t why the hairs were standing up on the back of his neck. Who were they? And were they tailing Dan Shepherd or Terry Taylor? He doubted they were cops because MI5 had access to all the Met’s databases and would have picked up anyone running the plates of the BMW. It was more likely to be someone checking up on him on behalf of the O’Neills, and Wedekind clearly knew where he lived. But if they were working for Wedekind, why sit outside the block on the day that Wedekind himself was going to visit?

  The bigger question was, how should he react? As Dan Shepherd, his best course of action was to note that he was being followed but not to show he knew they were there. But if Terry Taylor didn’t spot a tail, he’d look like an amateur, and that would be bad for his reputation. The even bigger question was what they thought had happened to them on the motorway. Had they realised he’d called in the cops, or did they think being pulled over was simply bad luck? There was only one way to find out and that was to confront them.

  Shepherd walked to Tesco Express where he bought a bottle of milk, bread, a jar of Gold Blend coffee, lighter fluid and a cigarette lighter. He headed back towards his apartment building, swinging the carrier bag as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  He came up behind the car, taking the pen from his pocket. The man in the passenger seat was reading a newspaper. The driver was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. They both had their seatbelts on, which would hinder any movement.

  He transferred the can of lighter fluid and the lighter into the right-hand pocket of his jacket. As he drew level with the rear of the car, he dropped the carrier bag and slammed the glass-breaker into the corner of the rear passenger window. There was a dull crack and the window exploded into a shower of cubes. Both men jumped. Shepherd shoved the pen into his pocket and pulled out the can of lighter fluid. He unscrewed the cap and squirted the contents over the men, concentrating on their faces, then tossed it into the car and pulled out the lighter. They were wiping their faces and the air was thick with fumes. The passenger grabbed for his seat belt buckle but Shepherd hit him on the back of the head.

  ‘If I flick this lighter you’ll both go up in flames, so put down your hands and sit quietly,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Get the fuck away with that!’ shouted the passenger.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ shouted the driver.

  ‘Shut up and listen!’ hissed Shepherd. ‘If you don’t want to spend the next week in a burns unit, sit the fuck still.’

  They quietened but they both stared nervously at the lighter.

  ‘Who are you working for?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘We’re just sitting here,’ said the driver. ‘We don’t work for anyone.’

  Shepherd flicked the lighter and both men yelped. ‘Okay, okay!’ shouted the passenger. ‘Howard sent us to keep an eye on you.’

  ‘Howard who?’

  ‘Howard Wedekind.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Two days ago,’ said the passenger. ‘Now put that lighter away.’

  ‘Why did he want you to follow me?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Fuck that! He must have told you something!’ Shepherd flicked the lighter again.

  ‘I swear!’ said the passenger. ‘He just said he wanted to know where you lived, where you went, who you met.’

  ‘What are you? Private detectives?’

  The passenger shook his head. ‘We do due diligence checks, that’s all, mainly on companies but individuals as well. Please, just take the lighter away.’

  ‘Listen to me and listen to me good,’ said Shepherd. ‘If I see you anywhere near me again, I’ll do more than splash you with lighter fluid. Do you understand?’

  Both men nodded.

  ‘Now get the hell away from me. And don’t come back.’

  He straightened, the lighter still in his hand. The driver started the engine and the car sped off. Shepherd put the lighter back into his pocket and picked up his carrier bag. He went into the building and made himself a cup of coffee. He had drunk half of it when his phone rang. It was Howard Wedekind. ‘We should talk, obviously,’ said Wedekind.

  ‘The sooner the better,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘I’ll cancel my meeting and come around now, if that’s okay with you.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting,’ said Shepherd.

  Ash drove all the way from the Peak District to Sheffield in silence. The first time he spoke was when they were turning into the supermarket car park. The florist’s van was parked in the same bay it had occupied that morning. ‘What do I tell the brothers?’ he asked. ‘They’ll want to know where Sunny is.’

  ‘Tell them nothing.’

  ‘They’ll want to know. They’ll wonder why he didn’t come back with us.’

  Al-Hussain shrugged. ‘Tell them he was needed on another operation. People move around. He moved. It’s not a big thing.’

  Ash parked next to the white van. He popped the boot and climbed out. Al-Hussain watched in the wing mirror as Ash took out the rifle case and passed it to Jay, who disappeared inside the van and slammed the rear door as Ash got back into the car.

  ‘Did they ask?’

  Ash started the engine. ‘No.’

  ‘So all is well,’ said al-Hussain. ‘Inshallah.’

  Ash didn’t speak again until they were passing the Madina Masjid. Men were queuing to go inside, wearing traditional clothing and skull caps. ‘Do you know when it will happen?’ he asked.

  ‘Soon,’ said al-Hussain.

  ‘Do you know where?’

  ‘It is better that I don’t,’ he said. ‘The fewer people who know, the fewer people can betray us.’

  ‘Does that mean we aren’t trusted?’

  ‘It’s not about trust. Say the intelligence agencies were looking at you. They will read your emails, listen to your calls, monitor your text messages. They will bug your car and your home. If you say or write anything they will know. But if you know nothing, they will discover nothing. If we were caught today and interro
gated, tortured, even, there is nothing of any use that we can tell them.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ said Ash.

  ‘Of course,’ said al-Hussain. He folded his arms and looked out of the side window.

  ‘I’m not like Sunny,’ said Ash, quietly.

  Al-Hussain said nothing.

  ‘I get that he talked too much,’ said Ash. ‘And I told him he should stay off social media. He wouldn’t listen.’

  Still al-Hussain was silent.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not going to kill me?’ Ash asked, his voice trembling.

  Al-Hussain turned to him slowly. His eyes were as dull and lifeless as those of a dead fish. ‘Why do you say that, brother?’

  ‘You killed Sunny. I saw you do it. That makes me a witness.’

  ‘Are you going to tell anyone what you saw?’

  ‘No. Never. Of course not.’

  Al-Hussain shrugged. ‘So you have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I am loyal, brother. I will happily die for Islam. And I will do nothing to jeopardise our mission.’

  ‘I know that, brother. You are thinking too much.’

  ‘I’ve never seen a dead body before. Not close up. Not for real.’

  ‘Not when you were training in Pakistan?’

  ‘We trained with weapons. We studied. We didn’t actually kill anyone. I mean, I’ve seen videos and shit but never in the flesh.’

  Al-Hussain nodded. ‘Killing a man is a big thing,’ he said. ‘Especially a Muslim. But sometimes it has to be done. For the greater good.’

  ‘Can I ask you a question, brother?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What does it feel like? To take a life?’

  ‘It depends,’ said al-Hussain. ‘I took no pleasure in killing your friend. He was a Muslim, he was a jihadist. But he was a fool, and a dangerous one. Killing him was a necessity so I feel no guilt but I am sad for having taken the life of a Muslim. Before, in Syria, I was killing our enemies and I took pride in that. But not pleasure. I do not kill because I enjoy it, brother. I kill because we are fighting a war against the crusaders who want all Muslims dead. I am fighting to protect our people and killing is part of that.’

  ‘Do you feel guilty about taking lives?’

  ‘Why should I? The Koran is clear that all Muslims must fight those who fight against us. The West is our enemy. They are killing our people around the world. In Afghanistan, in Iraq, in Syria. And when Muslims are not being killed, they are being oppressed. It is our duty to fight back. So, no, I feel no guilt. And neither should you, brother.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you having second thoughts? About what we have to do?’

  ‘No, definitely not,’ said Ash, hurriedly. ‘We have to kill the infidels, we have to show them we are strong.’

  ‘Good man,’ said al-Hussain, patting Ash’s leg again. ‘You are a good Muslim. Allah will reward you.’

  They arrived at the house. Ash drove up to the garage, climbed out and opened the door, then got back into the car and drove slowly inside. Al-Hussain got out and shut the door, then the two men went through to the kitchen. ‘Are you hungry, brother?’ asked Ash. ‘I can cook.’

  ‘That would be good, brother, thank you,’ said al-Hussain. ‘I shall bathe first.’ He went upstairs and retrieved his mobile phone from under the mattress. He tapped out the number he had committed to memory. A man answered and they spoke in Arabic. ‘The weapon is ready,’ said al-Hussain. ‘And so am I.’

  ‘You took care of Sunny?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Were there any problems?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘You will be collected soon, brother. Alhamdulillah w AShokrulillah.’ Praise and thanks to Allah.

  ‘Alhamdulillah w AShokrulillah,’ repeated al-Hussain. He ended the call, removed the sim card from the phone and went along to the bathroom where he broke it in half and flushed it down the toilet.

  The intercom buzzed and Shepherd checked the CCTV monitor. It was Wedekind. He pressed the button to admit him. Two minutes later the bell rang and he went to the front door. Wedekind was wearing a tweed jacket and grey trousers and carrying a scuffed leather briefcase. He looked apprehensive and started speaking the moment Shepherd opened the door. ‘Obviously I need to apologise,’ said Wedekind. ‘And I do, unequivocally.’

  ‘Come on in, Howard,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘You’re angry, I understand that. But you have to understand that I needed to carry out due diligence.’

  Shepherd opened the door wider but Wedekind stayed where he was.

  ‘You understand that, Terry? It was nothing personal.’

  ‘Howard, stop babbling and come inside before my neighbours start to wonder what’s going on.’ He gestured with his thumb for Wedekind to come inside. When Wedekind hesitated, Shepherd grinned. ‘Howard, if I was planning to hurt you, I’d hardly do it in my own flat.’

  Wedekind forced a smile and walked into the hallway. Shepherd closed the door, then led him into the sitting room. ‘Drink?’ he asked.

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Wedekind, sitting down on one of the sofas. ‘Look, obviously I need to explain what’s been going on.’

  Shepherd sat in an armchair. There were three hidden cameras in the room, two of which covered the sofa, and half a dozen concealed microphones that ensured anything said in the room was relayed back to Thames House. ‘I’m listening.’

  Wedekind raised his hands. ‘I was carrying out due diligence, nothing more. We’re doing business with you so we need to know if there are any problems.’

  ‘You had two men sitting in a car outside my apartment,’ said Shepherd. ‘That’s not due diligence. What were you hoping to achieve?’

  ‘We just wanted to be sure that you were …’ He failed to finish the sentence.

  ‘What, Howard? What were you scared of?’

  ‘Not scared, Terry. Curious. You say you want to work for the brothers, and that’s great, but you can’t expect us to take everything you say on trust. What do we know about you? I mean, really know about you?’

  Shepherd didn’t say anything. It was better to let the man talk because Wedekind was nervous and nervous people tended to say too much.

  ‘You could have all sorts of problems, and if you join the brothers, those problems might come with you. You can understand they wouldn’t want that, can’t you?’

  Shepherd shrugged.

  ‘I know Paul vouched for you and that’s great, but he doesn’t know everything there is to know, does he?’

  ‘Like what, Howard?’

  ‘Drugs, for instance. Do you have a drugs problem? Do you owe a dealer who might be after you? Do you sell drugs? And if you do, are the cops on your case?’

  ‘You think I sell drugs?’

  ‘We don’t know, do we? That’s why we carry out due diligence. That’s all it is, Terry. We run checks on anyone we deal with.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Shepherd. ‘You checked with the cops? That’s what you’re saying, right? You did a PNC check on me?’

  ‘We had you checked out, yes.’

  ‘You had a tame cop run my name through the Police National Computer?’ Shepherd sat back and folded his arms. ‘Why the fuck would you do that?’

  ‘I told you. Due diligence. You don’t need to worry. It was one of the guys we use all the time. He doesn’t know he’s checking, just tells us what’s there, that’s all.’

  ‘All you had to do was ask me, you know that.’

  ‘It doesn’t work that way, Terry.’

  ‘You don’t think that having two goons sitting outside my apartment might cause me problems?’

  ‘They’re not goons, Terry. They’re investigators. And you terrified them.’

  ‘Serves them right. They were lucky I didn’t set fire to them. And, trust me, if I ever see them again I will.’ He glared at Wedekind, though it was disconcerting staring at the man because his wonky left eye was looking off to the side.

  ‘Message receiv
ed and understood, Terry.’

  ‘I’m serious, Howard. I don’t appreciate being spied on.’

  Wedekind’s smile vanished. ‘Understood.’

  ‘Tell me, was this your idea or Tommy or Marty’s?’

  ‘Due diligence is down to me.’

  ‘Now, hang on a minute, do the brothers know you were having me followed?’

  ‘They trust me to do my job,’ said Wedekind.

  ‘Don’t fucking play with words, Howard. Just answer the question.’

  Wedekind took a deep breath. ‘Tommy and Marty deal with people they don’t know through me. I insulate them from any problems. Only when I can vouch for you one hundred per cent will they even think about dealing directly with you. That’s why due diligence is necessary. The brothers aren’t aware of the specifics, but they know I’ll be checking you out.’

  Shepherd frowned. ‘How long had your guys been tailing me?’

  ‘A couple of days.’

  ‘They followed me to Reading, right?’

  Wedekind folded his arms. ‘Yes.’

  ‘That explains why my guy didn’t turn up,’ Shepherd snarled. ‘He must have seen them. Just them, or were they mob-handed?’

  ‘Just them. They followed you to the service station but they got nabbed for speeding on the way back to London.’

  ‘Have you any idea what the fuck you’ve done?’ spat Shepherd. ‘I was there to meet a guy who owes me thirty grand for a job I did. He was supposed to pay me. I waited but he didn’t turn up and his phone’s off now. He must have seen your guys and thought it was a set-up.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Terry.’

  ‘Sorry doesn’t cut it!’ he snapped. ‘If I lose that money, it’s down to you.’

  ‘Calm down, Terry, please.’

  Shepherd stood up abruptly and Wedekind flinched. ‘I’m not going to fucking calm down!’ he shouted. ‘You might have cost me thirty grand, and I’m not having that!’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Wedekind. ‘I’ll put it right.’

  ‘Damn right you will!’ Shepherd bunched his right hand into a fist. ‘I should beat the crap out of you now, I really should.’

  He took a step towards Wedekind and the man flinched again. ‘Terry, please.’

  Shepherd relaxed and took a deep breath. ‘I’m serious, Howard. If my guy’s done a runner and I don’t get my money, it’s down to you.’