Spider Shepherd 10 - True Colours (36 page)

‘I’ve got meetings back to back,’ she said. ‘It’ll be really hard to get away today.’

‘It’s important, but I’ll call you back in about an hour,’ said Shepherd. He arrived at the gates to Grechko’s house, wound down his window and waved at the CCTV camera. The gate rattled open and he drove through, waving at Yakov Gunter in the guardhouse. Gunter waved back and went back to reading his newspaper. Gunter was one of the recent additions to the security team, one of the bodybuilder types who spent most of their time in the gym. His thick neck and overdeveloped biceps suggested that he was also abusing steroids, but Shepherd figured that was none of his business. He drove through the garage doors and down to the parking area in the basement. He left his X5 next to Podolski’s motorcycle. She had left her black crash helmet sitting on one of the mirrors.

He used his thumb and four-digit code to get into the security centre, where Thomas Lisko was sipping coffee and watching the CCTV screens. Popov was already in the briefing room with Podolski, Dudko and Volkov. Podolski offered Shepherd coffee and he thanked her and took his place at the table. One of the chefs had already dropped off a plate of croissants and rolls and a platter of assorted meats and cheeses. Shepherd took an almond croissant and had just taken a bite when Tarasov walked in and sat down.

Popov handed around printed sheets and began the briefing. Grechko wasn’t planning to leave the house but there were three visitors expected, one of his accountants, a Savile Row tailor and a watch dealer. Popov grinned at Shepherd. ‘Before all this he’d have been going to see them but he’s summoned them here. I think he’s quite warming to the idea.’

‘It certainly makes security a lot easier,’ said Shepherd. Podolski put a mug of coffee down in front of him and he smiled his thanks. ‘The visitors, they’re all long-standing contacts?’

Popov nodded. ‘Mr Munroe has been Mr Grechko’s tailor since before I joined his security team. Mr Adams is a senior partner of the accountancy firm that handles Mr Grechko’s UK companies. And Mr Edwards has been to the house several times before. He is a well known watch dealer.’

‘Sounds good,’ said Shepherd. He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got some things to do so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be on my mobile if you need me.’ He went back out to the car, called Button to let her know that he was on his way, then slipped his Bluetooth earpiece into his pocket and switched off his transceiver. He waved at Gunter as he drove out through the gates, then called up Shortt on his hands-free. ‘Jimbo, can we have a meet at your place this afternoon?’ he asked as he drove towards central London.

‘No problem, she’s at golf until five,’ said Shortt. ‘Shall I get snacks?’

Shepherd laughed. ‘Don’t go to any trouble,’ he said.

He called McIntyre and told him that Charlotte Button had given him the green light.

‘That’s great news, I’ll tell them where to stick their job,’ said McIntyre.

‘I’ll fix you up with a room at the house. Have you got a suit?’

‘Are you being sarcastic?’

‘I was just asking, Jock. We have to wear a suit and tie. Black if you’ve got it.’

‘I’ll dig out my funeral suit. What other gear do I need?’

‘A few changes of clothes. We can buy whatever else you need. Just pack a bag and I’ll pick you up at Paddington station in a couple of hours.’

‘I’m on my way,’ said McIntyre.

Shepherd’s final call was to Harper and he arranged to collect him from Bayswater later that morning.

The traffic was heavy and it took him almost an hour to get to Thames House. It was only after Shepherd had signed in that he remembered that he was still carrying his Glock. He smiled apologetically at the woman who had checked his credentials. ‘I’m sorry, I have a weapon,’ he said.

‘That’s all right,’ she said briskly. ‘You can leave it in our secure room. I’ll get Brian to take you through.’

A young man in a grey suit took Shepherd into a room with metal lockers covered by two CCTV cameras. Shepherd took off his jacket, then slipped off his shoulder holster and put it in a locker with the two extra ammunition clips. He was surprised to see a key in the lock; he’d been expecting something more high-tech. He took the key, slipped it into his trouser pocket and put his jacket on, all the time under the watchful eye of Brian and whoever was monitoring the CCTV.

He took the lift up to Button’s office. Her secretary explained that she was busy and kept him waiting for a full thirty minutes before the door opened and two earnest young men in shirtsleeves walked out carrying armfuls of files. She smiled when she saw him and apologised for keeping him waiting. Her secretary put down a cup of tea for her and asked Shepherd if he wanted anything. He declined and sat down while Button went back behind her desk.

‘I had something of an epiphany last night,’ he said.

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘This Sasha Czernik. You think he was murdered after the bungled car bombing?’

‘I’m trying to get the body exhumed but it’s an uphill struggle. The Russian authorities aren’t being cooperative.’

‘But you think he was murdered, right?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘So we have a killer who killed two oligarchs and is after a third.’

‘Assuming that Czernik was murdered, yes.’

Shepherd rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Look, it doesn’t seem likely that the Kremlin is going to use a sniper that can’t hit his target. Suppose it’s personal. Maybe the killer wants to get close when he kills. He wants the victim to know who his killer is.’

‘But that doesn’t gel with a sniper, does it?’

‘Here’s the thing,’ said Shepherd. ‘Maybe the sniper isn’t missing. Maybe he’s aiming at the bodyguards.’

‘A killer with a grudge against bodyguards of the world’s richest men?’

He grinned at her sarcasm. ‘Suppose that, as you say, the killer has a personal reason for killing these oligarchs. For some reason he wants them dead. But he wants them to know who has killed them and why. He wants them to see his face. He never intends to kill them with the rifle, or a bomb, because then they wouldn’t know why they were dying. The first attempt is set up to deliberately fail so that he can get his man on the team and use him to get the intel he needs to get in close.’

Button tilted her head to one side and nodded thoughtfully.

‘Hurting a bodyguard, or almost blowing up a car, shows up shortcomings in security. So what does your regular neighbourhood oligarch do when he thinks his security has failed? He brings in more bodyguards.’

‘So our assassin shoots a bodyguard and then joins the security team? Becomes the inside man?’

‘Easy enough to check,’ said Shepherd. ‘Get a list of the bodyguards who were on the team at the time of the sniping, and then compare it with the bodyguards in place at the time of the assassination.’

‘And if you’re right, we’ll find a common denominator who joined Zakharov’s and Czernik’s security,’ said Button. She nodded again. ‘It’s worth a try. I’ll get right on it. And you need to take a closer look at the new arrivals on Grechko’s team. Find out what changes he made to his security team between the sniper attack and you going on board.’

‘You think the killer might already be there, in the house?’

‘That’s exactly what I think, Spider. So you be careful.’

Shepherd collected his Glock from the secure room then drove to Queensway. Harper was waiting outside a Chinese restaurant with a line of smoked ducks in the window, his hands deep in the pockets of his parka and his head down. He jogged over to the SUV and climbed in. ‘So we’re doing it?’ asked Harper, as they drove towards Paddington station.

‘Yeah,’ said Shepherd. ‘But we have to talk it through first.’

McIntyre was waiting outside the station and he was carrying a black holdall. He tossed his bag on to the back seat and got in after it. He was wearing a black suit and a blue and black striped tie.

Shepherd didn’t need the satnav, the route to Shortt’s house was imprinted on his memory. The Jaguar was still in the driveway so he parked in the street and the three men walked to the house. Shortt had the front door open for them before they were halfway down the driveway and he hugged Harper and McIntyre and slapped Shepherd on the back before taking them inside.

Shortt made mugs of coffee and put them on the kitchen table, where there was already a bottle of Jamesons. Despite Shepherd’s protests that he was driving, Shortt poured a slug of whiskey into each of the mugs. ‘To the good old days,’ he said, and they all raised their mugs and drank.

‘Come on, sit down,’ said Shortt. He opened the fridge and took out a plate of sandwiches. He put them down next to the whiskey. ‘The little woman made us some scoff,’ he said, taking his seat.

‘Remember the coffee in Afghanistan?’ said Harper, spooning two sugars into his mug. ‘Tasted like mud.’

‘That was because of all the sand in it,’ said Shortt. ‘But it was crap coffee, that’s true.’

‘The major always used to have his own private stash,’ said Shepherd. ‘Bought it at Fortnum and Mason.’ He saw the look of disbelief on Harper’s face and grinned. ‘I’m serious. He brought it over in cans. Special biscuits, too. Dark chocolate Hobnobs.’

‘Now I know you’re taking the piss,’ said Shortt. ‘The chocolate would melt.’

‘Swear to God,’ said Shepherd, sitting down on the sofa next to Harper. Shortt had commandeered the armchair and Jock McIntyre had turned around one of the wooden dining chairs and was resting his arms on its back. He poured another slug of whiskey into his mug. ‘So, let’s get right down to it. It’s definitely Ahmad Khan and he’s alive and well and living in Hammersmith.’

‘Not for much longer,’ said Harper.

‘The question is, what do we do now?’ said Shepherd.

‘We kill the fucker,’ said Harper. He mimed a gun with his right hand and faked two shots at the window. ‘Bang, bang. Double tap.’

‘That’s the first thing we need to agree on,’ said Shepherd.

‘Fuck me, if we’re not of one mind on that then we might as well all go home,’ said Harper, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

‘Lex, relax,’ said Shepherd. ‘This is a big thing and we all have to be absolutely sure of where we stand and where we’re heading. If anyone is having second thoughts then now’s the time to say so and to walk away with no hard feelings. Because from this point on it’s going to be that much harder to walk away.’

Harper look at Shortt and then at McIntyre. ‘Anyone want out?’

The two men shook their heads.

‘Fuck, no,’ said McIntyre.

‘Just so we’re clear,’ said Shepherd speaking slowly and precisely. ‘Everything we’ve done up to this point is borderline legal. Certainly we wouldn’t get sent down for anything that’s happened this far.’

‘Except for the guns, and the ammo,’ said Harper.

‘And breaking into Khan’s house,’ said Shortt.

‘And various abuses of the Data Protection Act,’ said McIntyre. He put up his hands. ‘Just saying.’

‘You didn’t actually break into the house, Jimbo,’ said Shepherd. ‘You stood on the doorstep and asked a few questions.’ He grinned. ‘But I take your point, maybe borderline legal is stretching it. But the point I’m making is that anyone who wants to can still walk away. But from now on it’s conspiracy to commit murder.’

‘It’d better be more than a conspiracy,’ said Harper. ‘Come on, Spider, get on with it. Let’s hear the plan.’

‘Guys, let’s just take a minute here. We’ve all taken lives before, but this is different. This isn’t combat, this isn’t kill or be killed. We need to be quite clear about what we’re talking about. Murder. Cold-blooded murder.’

‘Yeah, well, revenge is a dish best served cold,’ said Harper. ‘Isn’t that what they say?’

‘That’s what they say all right,’ said Shepherd. ‘But that doesn’t make it right. Killing someone in the heat of battle, in a firefight or hand to hand, that’s all well and good. Hell, that’s what we were trained to do. But waiting more than ten years to kill a man when he’s not expecting it, that’s something else. It’s a big thing and it’s going to stay with us for ever.’

He looked expectantly at Shortt. Shortt shrugged. ‘Bastard deserves to die,’ he said. ‘He killed the captain. He could just as easily have killed me.’ Shortt nodded at Harper. ‘He killed three of Lex’s mates. Shot them in the back. For that alone he deserves to die.’

McIntyre nodded in agreement. ‘He should have died back in Afghanistan for what he did. He damn well sure shouldn’t be living in our country as if it never happened.’ He put his hand up. ‘If we’re voting, my vote’s for doing what we have to do.’

Shepherd smiled thinly and nodded. ‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to sound like a wimp but I had to know that we’re all of the same mind.’ He took a sip of coffee and put the mug down. ‘So the question now is who does what.’

‘I’m pulling the trigger,’ said Harper. ‘I’ve got dibs on that.’

Shepherd ignored him. ‘We’ve got four shorts,’ he said. ‘Jimbo has two Makarovs and we’ve got two modern Smith & Wessons as back-up. The Makarovs are from Iraq so if they do get traced it’ll muddy the waters. What we need to do now is to decide when and where.’ He could see that Harper was about to speak so he silenced him with a cold look. ‘I know, the sooner the better. No question of that. But we can’t just walk up to him in the street and put a bullet in his head. This isn’t Afghanistan, this is London, and within minutes of a gunshot we’ll have ARVs all over us.’

‘ARVs?’ said McIntyre.

‘Armed Response Vehicles,’ said Shepherd. ‘The capital’s full of them. And even if we do slot him in the street, afterwards there’ll be a full investigation, which means analysis of all CCTV in the area, speaking to witnesses, the works. Killing someone is easy, it’s getting away with it that’s difficult.’

He picked up his coffee again and sipped it, making sure that he had their undivided attention.

‘I’m going to suggest that we don’t shoot him in the street, or in his house, or anywhere where there are potential witnesses. We pick him up at his place of work.’ He looked at Harper. ‘Where he leaves his car while he’s working, right?’

Harper nodded. ‘It’s not overlooked. Providing he’s the only one in the car park, no one will see anything. Guaranteed.’