[Spider Shepherd #13] - Dark Forces

by Stephen Leather

  ‘And you think that’s my situation?’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m reaching my breaking point?’

  ‘You sound defensive, Mr Shepherd.’

  ‘I’m just trying to get a handle on your thought process here,’ said Shepherd. ‘Physically I’m fine. I can handle any stress that the job throws at me, but you make it seem like I’m about to implode.’

  ‘I don’t mean to give that impression,’ said Davies. ‘I’m trying to get a handle on your thought processes, too, and the best way of doing that is to ask you questions. I’m sorry if it upsets you.’

  Shepherd smiled. ‘It doesn’t upset me,’ he said, but even as the words left his mouth he knew he’d sounded defensive. He put up his hands, but that was a defensive move and he lowered them. ‘Ask away,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I think we’re done,’ said Davies.

  ‘That’s it? That’s all?’

  ‘No, I mean we’re done with the verbal questions. I’d like you to work through our programs now. They’ll let us know what’s going on in there.’ He stood up, walked around the desk and showed Shepherd to the door. He took him back through Reception and along a corridor where he opened the door to a small, windowless room. There was a table with a computer on it against one wall, and a high-backed orthopedic chair. Shepherd sat down in front of the screen. The firm’s logo featured in the centre of a pale blue background.

  ‘It’s all done through the mouse,’ said Davies. ‘As soon as I’ve left the room, click on the logo. There’s no rush, no time limit. Just answer the questions and perform the tasks presented to you. Any questions?’

  ‘How long does it normally take?’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ said Davies. He left and closed the door behind him. Shepherd sighed, then stretched. He felt the tension in his neck and moved his head from side to side. He looked around the room. There was no sign of any camera and the walls were bare, but Shepherd was sure he was being watched. It wouldn’t just be the way he performed on the tests that would count, but how he approached them. He took a breath, then clicked on the logo. A note filled the screen. He would be given two choices and he was to click on the one that most applied to him. Did he understand? YES or NO? He wondered what would happen if he clicked NO but he just smiled and clicked YES. The first question was simple enough. DO YOU PREFER TO GO FOR A WALK OR READ A BOOK?

  Shepherd tilted his head to one side. He was quite happy doing either activity, and it was rarely a decision he had to make. Sometimes he’d do both, go for a walk, then read. It was a pointless question, except he doubted that Dr Miles Davies would waste his time on questions with no point. The answer would give a clue to Shepherd’s character and state of mind. Reading a book was more cerebral. Going for a walk suggested he favoured physical activity, which was probably how he felt. Was there anything wrong with that? Probably not. He clicked GO FOR A WALK.

  The second question was equally bland. DO YOU PREFER TO EAT ALONE OR GO FOR A MEAL WITH FRIENDS? Obviously the sociable alternative was the preferable answer, even though Shepherd was perfectly happy eating on his own. He rattled through fifty or so either-or questions, then stopped as he stared at the screen. DO YOU PREFER TO READ A BOOK OR GO FOR A WALK? It was the first question he’d been asked, this time in reverse. He smiled to himself. The program was obviously checking to see how consistent his answers were but, considering his photographic memory, it wouldn’t be a problem. He rushed through the questions on autopilot.

  The next part of the test was more complex. He was shown a series of photographs and asked to choose from a number of options as to what the photographs showed. The first was of a man standing in front of a crying woman. There were four choices. THE MAN HIT THE WOMAN. THE MAN IS COMFORTING THE WOMAN. THE WOMAN IS THE MAN’S WIFE. THE WOMAN IS ASKING THE MAN FOR HELP. Shepherd frowned. The test appeared to be asking for a judgement based on emotion rather than fact. He stared at the photograph, then saw that both the man and the women were wearing wedding rings. And there was no reddening of the skin or marks that suggested she had been hit. The man was reaching out to the woman in a gesture that was definitely not threatening. She wasn’t looking at him so Shepherd figured she wasn’t asking him for help. He was trying to comfort her. He clicked that option and a second photograph flashed up. There were more than two dozen in all, and Shepherd spent several minutes on each, trying to use logic rather than gut feeling to choose the best option each time.

  The next section was a series of TRUE/FALSE questions, most of which seemed to be asking for an emotional response. He answered them quickly and honestly.

  The final section was based on the Rorschach inkblot test where a series of what appeared to be computer-generated inkblots flashed up on the screen along with six choices as to what Shepherd thought the design might represent. His hand tensed on the mouse, as he wondered what the purpose was. The Rorschach test was rarely used in the UK, though American psychologists tended to rely on it. The problem was that it wasn’t an either-or test: there was no correct answer. What the test did was to get an indication of how the person thought, and when the psychologist showed the cards physically, he or she had the chance to ask follow-up questions. Getting Shepherd to choose the best answer from six made no sense.

  Shepherd had seen the Rorschach inkblots before and he knew what the most common answers were. There were ten official ones, five of black ink, two of black and red ink, and three were multi-coloured. Shepherd frowned as he studied the first shape. It looked like two hawks, standing back to back, but hawks wasn’t a choice. Birds was. As was a bat. Two women talking. A kite. Trees. Children talking.

  Birds would have been his first choice. But maybe he was supposed to personalise it and see people. Women or children? And the more he looked at it, the more it did look like a bat with outstretched wings. He was about to click BAT, then hesitated. Was he choosing too quickly? Or too slowly? And was he supposed to be taking the same time over each figure or were some supposed to be more difficult to identify? He chose the bat. The second shape looked like a horse’s head and that was one of the choices so he clicked on it straight away. There were another dozen shapes and he stopped overthinking, clicking through them instinctively. As he clicked on the last one, the screen went blank. For a moment he thought something had gone wrong. Then a note flashed up: THANK YOU FOR COMPLETING THE TEST. SOMEONE WILL BE ALONG TO COLLECT YOU SHORTLY. HAVE A NICE DAY.

  Shepherd wondered if ‘Have a nice day’ suggested that the program was American. He sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs. Then he rubbed the back of his neck but stopped when he remembered that was a sign of tension. He looked at his watch and regretted it: that would show impatience. He smiled to himself and folded his arms, but that was defensive so he put them on the chair but that felt too stiff. He crossed his legs, which felt a bit more comfortable.

  A minute passed and he realised that the delay was part of the test. They were seeing how he would react to being left on his own. He resisted the urge to grin. He was more than capable of playing the waiting game. Another minute passed. Then another. Shepherd was certain he was being tested. How should he react? He wanted to get up and pace around, but that would send out the wrong message. Or he could simply get up and walk out. Unless they had locked the door. Had they? And if they had, how was he supposed to react? It was probably best not to know if the door was locked because he wasn’t sure how they would expect him to behave. Kicking it down might suggest he was aggressive. He had been told to wait until someone came to collect him, so it might be a test of his ability to obey instructions. But his job entailed using his initiative, and following instructions blindly could end badly. He stopped himself frowning. If they were watching they’d be studying his every reaction to see how he was feeling. He looked at his watch. Five minutes. Fine, he thought. He took out his mobile phone and swung his feet onto the desk. He tapped out Liam’s number. For once his son answered immediately.

  ‘Just calling to see how you are,’ said Shephe
rd.

  ‘All good.’

  ‘What about the army papers?’

  ‘It’s in hand. I’ve spoken to the careers teacher and she’s helping me.’

  ‘Was she happy?’

  ‘Once I’d made up my mind she was really supportive. She said the school always tries to get its pupils to go on to further education but that in my case she thought I’d made the right decision.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Yeah, it turns out she was an army brat. Her dad was in the Royal Engineers for most of the time she was a kid. We had a long chat about absent fathers.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Liam,’ said Shepherd. ‘I wasn’t much of a dad, was I?’ Immediately the words left his mouth he regretted it as he remembered he was probably being recorded.

  ‘You were okay. When you were around, anyway.’

  ‘I get why you think it’s an interesting career. Just be aware of the havoc it can cause to your nearest and dearest.’

  ‘Dad, I already told you I’m not planning to get married, not for a while anyway.’

  The door opened and Shepherd swung his feet off the table. It was the brunette, She smiled brightly and held the door open for him. ‘Got to go, Liam. I’ll try to call you tonight.’

  ‘Love you, Dad.’

  ‘Love you, too,’ said Shepherd. He put the phone away and saw that the brunette’s smile had widened. ‘My son,’ he explained.

  She led him down the corridor. Shepherd assumed that he was going back to talk to Dr Davies, so he was surprised to find himself back in Reception.

  ‘I thought I’d be seeing the doctor,’ he said.

  ‘Dr Davies will be sending his report in later,’ she said.

  ‘And I don’t get a goodbye handshake?’

  She held out an elegantly manicured hand. ‘Goodbye,’ she said.

  Shepherd shook her hand. It was as cold as ice.

  Mohammed al-Hussain was sitting on his bed reading his copy of the Koran when there was a soft knock on his door. He got up and opened it. It was Ash. ‘There’s someone here to see you,’ he said. ‘Downstairs.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘You let a stranger into the house?’

  ‘He’s a Muslim, brother.’

  ‘You think there are no Muslims in the police?’

  ‘He knew you were here, brother. If you want I can tell him you’ve gone out.’

  ‘It’s too late for that,’ said al-Hussain. He put his hand on Ash’s shoulder. ‘We have to be careful, brother. We have to be watchful. Nothing must get in the way of what we have planned.’

  ‘I understand, brother.’

  Al-Hussain went downstairs. The visitor was a bearded Asian man in his fifties with a bushy beard and straggly eyebrows. He was wearing a long coat over baggy trousers and Timberland boots. He was gazing out of the window and turned when he heard al-Hussain in the hallway.

  ‘Assalamu alaykum,’ said the man.

  ‘Wa alaykum alsalam wa rahmatu Allahi wa barakaatuhu,’ replied al-Hussain.

  The man stepped forward and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘You are well, brother?’

  Al-Hussain nodded. ‘I am.’

  The man waved at the sofa. ‘Please, sit.’

  Al-Hussain did so, and the man sat next to him. ‘Azmar al-Lihaib sends his regards,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said al-Hussain.

  ‘My name is Mahmod Abbas and I am here to facilitate the next stage of this operation,’ said the man. ‘I am told your weapon is suitable.’

  ‘Very suitable.’

  ‘And I understand you have calibrated the sights.’

  ‘It is ready.’

  ‘We will be moving you to London tomorrow. A new team will support you.’

  ‘When will I be told what I am to do?’ asked al-Hussain.

  ‘Just before it happens,’ said Abbas.

  ‘It is disconcerting not to know.’

  Abbas smiled. ‘Of course. But for reasons of security, the fewer people who know what is planned, the better. But you can be sure that we will be using your skills to their full advantage.’ He leaned towards al-Hussain and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘We understand why you had to kill Sunny. Under the circumstances it was the right thing to do.’ He looked left and right as if he feared being overheard, then leaned even closer. ‘The three men who are looking after you here. Do you think they will be a problem?’

  ‘The one called Ash. He saw me kill Sunny.’

  Abbas nodded and smiled. ‘Ash is highly regarded. That is why he was chosen to be one of your minders.’

  ‘I sense he has doubts,’ said al-Hussain. ‘If he were ever to be put under pressure … But I will be leaving soon so perhaps his weakness will not be an issue. Inshallah.’

  ‘Do you think he should be dealt with?’

  Al-Hussain looked pained. ‘It might be best.’

  ‘And the other two?’

  Al-Hussain gave the slightest of shrugs. ‘If Sunny and Ash disappear, they might become suspicious.’

  ‘So all three, then?’

  ‘It might be best,’ repeated al-Hussain.

  ‘Innaa lillahi wa inna ilayhi raaji’oon,’ said Abbas. To Allah we belong and to Him is our return.

  ‘La hawla wala quwwata illa billah,’ said al-Hussain. There is no strength or power except Allah.

  The ringing of his mobile phone woke Shepherd from a dreamless sleep. He sat up. It was his work phone and the caller’s number was withheld. He put it to his ear. ‘This is Angela,’ said a woman, in clipped no-nonsense tones. ‘Please confirm.’

  It was the MI5 control centre. Angela wasn’t her real name. It was Monday so it could be any name, so long as it began with the letter A. Tomorrow would be B, Wednesday C and so on.

  ‘Bravo Echo Sierra,’ said Shepherd. The three-letter designation changed every month.

  ‘Is it safe to talk?’

  ‘I certainly hope so.’

  ‘We’ve had a call from Turkey, a Craig Parker. He’s on our list and we have confirmed his identity. He’s asking to speak with John Whitehill.’

  ‘I’ll call him,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Do you have a pen?’

  Shepherd smiled to himself. ‘Yes,’ he said. It was easier to lie than to explain about his memory.

  The woman read out Parker’s phone number and Shepherd repeated it back to her without hesitation. She thanked him and ended the call.

  Shepherd had half a dozen mobile phones on his sideboard. He picked up a throwaway model he hadn’t used before and tapped out the number. It rang through to voicemail but Shepherd didn’t leave a message. He called again and this time Parker answered.

  ‘Craig, it’s John. You were trying to get hold of me.’

  ‘Have you heard what’s happened to Yusuf?’

  ‘Yusuf? No. Nothing. Why?’

  ‘He’s dead. Islamic State killed him, there’s a video and everything. They hacked off his fucking head.’

  Shepherd put a hand up to his face and closed his eyes.

  ‘They butchered his family, too. His wife and kids. They raped his wife and his daughters. One of them was eight, John. She was fucking eight years old. And they killed his son. Killed them all.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Shepherd, knowing how lame the words sounded.

  ‘They accused him of being a traitor, said this was a warning to anyone who thought about betraying Islamic State.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘They knew Yusuf had been helping you.’

  ‘Me personally?’

  ‘No. But they know he was talking to the security services. They said that Yusuf had been passing intelligence to the British. How could they know that, John?’

  ‘Maybe he talked out of school.’

  ‘He was careful. He was bloody careful.’

  ‘I’m sure he had enemies out there. Competitors who’d do him harm. How did they get to his family?’

>   ‘Stormed his villa and killed his guards. Then killed the family. And they buggered his son. What sort of animals do that?’

  ‘That’s what we’re up against,’ said Shepherd. ‘That’s why we have to win.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, I’m at the airport. I’m leaving right now.’

  ‘They know about you?’

  ‘How could they not? Yusuf and I used to hang out all the time at the camp.’

  ‘But you haven’t been directly threatened?’

  ‘They’re not stupid. They’re not going to broadcast their intentions, are they? But I’m not giving them the chance to put me in an orange jumpsuit and hack my head off.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t cut it. I’m now totally fucked in the region. Anywhere Islamic State operates I’ll be at risk. How the fuck did this happen?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘This could be the end of my job, you know that?’ said Parker. ‘My bosses are going to want to know why I’m bailing out.’

  ‘Tell them Yusuf was a friend. They’ll understand. He was getting you pharmaceuticals, right? Islamic State have killed him and that puts you at risk. They can take you out of the field.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ snapped Parker. ‘I want to be in the field. I want to be where I’m doing the most good, not hiding behind a desk. But if I go anywhere in the region I’ll be a marked man. Fuck it, this is so fucking unfair.’

  ‘It’s not the end of the world. Look, you’re already drawing a Five salary. It would be easy enough to work for them full time. Or for Six.’

  ‘Be a spook full time?’

  ‘Why not? You’ve been on the payroll for years. We need people like you, Craig. You know what’s happening on the ground.’

  Shepherd heard an announcement in the background. ‘They’re calling my flight,’ said Parker. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Ring me when you get to London,’ said Shepherd. ‘We can talk it through.’

  ‘I’m not going to London,’ said Parker. ‘I’ll be in the Philippines working on the typhoon-relief project. I’ll be there for a while.’