Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller (42 page)

The detective sergeant frowned. ‘If you know this …’ He nodded at Sharpe. ‘And the NCA knows what’s going on, why haven’t they been shut down?’

‘Merseyside police have gone in a couple of times but both times the depot was clean. No drugs, no cash, no weapons. We think the gang has a man inside the drugs squad.’

‘A corrupt cop?’ said Drinkwater.

‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ said Shepherd.

‘Well, we have to do something about that, right?’

‘The problem with that is that a corrupt cop means Criminal Complaints. And if they’re informed then they’ll take over the investigation. With phone taps and bank records being checked, it could take years before they put a case together. And you’ll get none of the credit. Worse than that, you bringing down another officer probably won’t help your career prospects.’

Drinkwater nodded slowly. ‘So what’s your plan?’

‘The way I see it there are two ways forward. We can bust the Liverpool operation but if we do that we’re going to need to bring in the NCA. We can’t use the Liverpool cops because they’re obviously leaking like a sieve. Or we can just bust the Yilmaz brothers when they get back to Leeds with a delivery. That way it can all be handled by the West Yorkshire cops. No need to involve Liverpool at all. It’ll be a smaller bust but still a few kilos, plus you’d get a decent proceeds of crime investigation going.’

‘That’s why you’re here?’ said Drinkwater, looking at Sharpe.

‘I can get the NCA moving, no problem,’ said Sharpe. ‘They’ll arrange surveillance at the ports, they’ll put the gang under the microscope, and they’ll go in without the Liverpool cops knowing what’s happening.’

‘And that would be an NCA case, not a West Yorkshire case?’

‘I’d make sure you got full credit,’ said Sharpe.

‘But it would be an NCA case?’ repeated the detective sergeant.

‘It would have to be,’ said Shepherd. ‘The geographic reach, for a start. Also, budget-wise. It’d be expensive. But it would be a great bust. This gang is bringing in hundreds of kilos at a time. Bringing them down would be a real victory. They’d be behind bars for decades and we’d be taking millions of pounds worth of drugs off the streets.’

Drinkwater rubbed his chin. ‘Maybe we’re better going for the brothers when they bring back a delivery,’ he said. ‘We’d have more control, less chance of anything going wrong.’

It sounded to Shepherd as if the detective sergeant was trying to talk himself into it, so he said nothing. Frankly he didn’t care which option the detective went for, all he was interested in was getting Liam off the hook.

‘Plus we’d be striking when the iron is hot,’ Drinkwater went on. ‘They go to Liverpool every two weeks, you say?’

‘Regular as clockwork,’ said Shepherd. ‘Every second Thursday.’

‘And when are they next due for a run?’

‘Next week,’ said Sharpe.

‘Let’s go for that, then. How do we proceed?’

‘You’re sure about this?’ said Sharpe. ‘You want to go for the small fry?’

‘Not that small,’ said Drinkwater. ‘By keeping it in-house, we can make sure that nothing goes wrong. And we’ve got a major drugs problem in Leeds at the moment, so this will show that we’re doing something about it. So what do we do?’

‘It’s simple enough,’ said Shepherd. ‘Jimmy and I can give you the intel and you just put a tail on the brothers next Thursday. If they visit the depot you’ll know they have the drugs. You follow them back to the minicab office and Robert’s your mother’s brother, as they say.’

Drinkwater frowned, not getting the joke.

‘Bob’s your uncle,’ said Sharpe, filling in the blanks.

‘And how do I say we got the intel?’ asked Drinkwater.

‘Anonymous tip’s the best way,’ said Shepherd. ‘Just say you caught the call, you used your initiative, blah blah blah.’

Drinkwater nodded thoughtfully. ‘So no NCA involvement?’

‘If that’s the way you want to go, sure. We’ll give you the intel and leave it at that. I just want to be sure that you won’t be taking the case against my son any further.’

‘If your intel is good then I’ll happily drop the case against him.’

‘No caution, nothing on his record?’

‘It’ll be as if it never happened,’ said Drinkwater.

Shepherd held out his hand. Drinkwater frowned, but then offered his hand and the two men shook on it.

‘Thank you,’ said Shepherd.

‘Just make sure he doesn’t get into trouble again.’

‘Oh believe me, I’ve already read him the riot act and I’m watching him like a hawk.’

Sharpe reached into his pocket and took out a thumbdrive. ‘That’s everything we have,’ he said, passing it to Drinkwater. He gave him a business card. ‘Anything else you need, my mobile number is on there.’

Drinkwater stood up. He hadn’t touched his orange juice. ‘Okay, well thanks for what you’ve done. I’ll take it from here.’

Allen nodded at Shepherd, forced a smile, then followed the detective sergeant out of the pub.

‘Well, that was interesting,’ said Sharpe.

‘In what way?’

Sharpe gestured at the door. ‘Drinkwater. Graduate entrant, fast-track, won’t drink on duty, stickler for the rules, pole up his backside, and yet given the chance between personal glory and shutting down a major drug route, what does he do?’

Shepherd knew the question was rhetorical so he didn’t answer. He shrugged and sipped his whiskey and soda.

‘I thought he would have gone for the big score,’ said Sharpe. ‘Caught me by surprise, that.’

‘There’s not many would choose the greater good over personal advancement,’ said Shepherd. ‘He sees himself on the front of the local paper taking credit for a big drugs bust. And getting a congratulatory email from the chief constable.’

‘He would have got that in spades in Liverpool.’

‘A bird in the hand, Razor,’ said Shepherd. ‘And he probably doesn’t trust us.’

‘I’m a policeman,’ said Sharpe with a grin. ‘I can be trusted.’

‘Yeah but he doesn’t know us. For all he knows we’re spinning him a line. This way he gets the local bust and the credit.’

‘And meanwhile tons of drugs keep coming into the country on those refrigerated trucks.’ Sharpe shrugged and sipped his pint. ‘Not everyone’s as altruistic as you, I suppose.’

‘What do you mean?’

Sharpe raised his glass. ‘You know what I mean. If it was you, what would you have gone for?’

‘I’m not looking for personal glory, Razor.’

‘Exactly. You’re the guy in the white hat, the good guy, the Jimmy Stewart of law enforcement. You always try to do the right thing.’

‘And that’s a problem?’

Sharpe grinned. ‘You tell me.’

S
hepherd was in the Hampstead flat when his phone rang. It was Button.

‘There’s someone you need to meet,’ she said. ‘Can you come to the Freemason’s Arms in about half an hour?’

‘No problem.’

‘It’s a date then.’

The line went dead and Shepherd frowned at his phone. She hadn’t asked him where he was, which meant that she probably knew he was in London. Did she have him under surveillance? And why hadn’t she told him who he was meeting?

He grabbed his coat and headed out. Button was already at the pub, sitting on the terrace with a big man who was wearing a black overcoat over a dark suit. Shepherd had a feeling he was Russian – a feeling that was confirmed when Button introduced him.

‘Mr Klimov works for the Russian Federal Protective Service,’ said Button. ‘Specifically for the Presidential Secret Service.’

Klimov stood up and the two men shook hands. The Russian had surprisingly soft hands for a man so large. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. There was a hint of an American accent, thought it was still easy to tell that he was Russian.

They sat down. Button hadn’t introduced Shepherd, which meant either she didn’t want the Russian to know his name or he already knew who Shepherd was.

‘We thought we’d sit outside, it’s a bit crowded in there and I for one could do with some fresh air,’ said Button. ‘I’ve been stuck in the office all week.’

There was an opened bottle of Pinot Grigio on the table and two glasses, one empty and one half full. Klimov had a brandy glass in front of him and from the look of it Button and Klimov had been at the bar for some time. They had almost certainly been together when Button had called Shepherd. He wondered what they had been talking about and why she hadn’t forewarned him that he was meeting a Russian agent. Button poured some wine into a glass for him.

‘I’ve brought Mr Klimov up to speed, and he’s happy with the way we are handling things,’ said Button.

‘That’s good to know,’ said Shepherd.

‘I’ve explained that we are close to apprehending all the people involved, and that everything will be wrapped up before President Putin arrives.’

‘That’s the plan,’ said Shepherd, nodding.

‘Now for the sensitive bit,’ said Button. ‘The attack on you in the Battersea flat was, how should we describe it …?’

‘Almost fatal?’ suggested Shepherd.

She flashed him a tight smile. ‘Unfortunate,’ she said. ‘It was a misunderstanding. If anything it demonstrated how successful we were in establishing your legend.’

‘So Katz was working for the Russians.’

‘That cannot ever be officially admitted,’ said Klimov. ‘But I do offer you my apologies. Without any admission of guilt.’

Shepherd shrugged. ‘Well, I apologise for killing your agent,’ he said.

‘She wasn’t our agent,’ said the Russian coldly.

‘Semantics,’ said Shepherd. He sipped his wine and stared at the Russian over the top of his glass.

‘As I said, it was a misunderstanding and one that will not be repeated. Mr Klimov is now fully in the loop and will stay there until the current operation is concluded.’

The Russian nodded in agreement.

‘Anyway, what happened can actually be used to our advantage,’ said Button. ‘Maya Katz killed the first assassin who took the Putin contract. Then she attacked you. That would be a good reason for you to make contact with Smit and to insist on a meeting.’

‘But that was a week ago. Won’t he ask why I waited so long?’

‘Lie. Tell him it just happened. Tell him you’re in the firing line, which means someone must have talked. You know you didn’t talk so it has to be him. You’re angry, you want an explanation, and if you don’t get one you’re pulling out and keeping the deposit. You say you don’t trust him so you want to meet on neutral territory, somewhere away from his house. He won’t like an outdoor meeting but you stick to your guns.’

‘And I ask for more money?’

‘More money and an assurance that Smit’s organisation didn’t betray you.’

Realisation dawned. ‘And we bug the conversation?’

‘We’ll fix you up with state-of-the-art equipment.’

‘Smit will have jammers, guaranteed. He’s not an amateur.’

‘We’ll use solid state recording, we’ll video him from afar with parabolic mics. And we’ll have a team on the ground. Our people and Mr Klimov’s.’

‘A joint UK–Russian operation?’

‘We need to have the Federal Protective Service on board,’ said Button. ‘We’re in this mess because we didn’t keep our lines of communication open.’

‘We will not be in the way,’ the Russian said to Shepherd and flashed him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but resembled a shark about to attack.

‘You have every right to demand a face-to-face meeting after what’s happened,’ said Button. ‘And any professional would be looking to increase his fee. Smit will understand. And the time pressure means that he will have no choice other than to agree.’

The Russian was nodding. ‘You must insist on a higher price. He will have to confirm that with the man paying the money. We will record that call and then we will have a case against them both.’

Shepherd nodded at the Russian, then turned to look at Button. ‘Parabolic mics, you said. That means outside?’

‘Again, you can play on your paranoia. You can say you don’t trust him any more so you don’t want to go to his house. It has to be outside. Somewhere public, somewhere with lots of escape routes, but somewhere where there aren’t too many people. You can let him choose but really it isn’t much of a choice. You tell us as soon as he suggests the place and we’ll get it staked out. You tell him you’re thinking of pulling out and he’ll try to talk you out of it. His attempts to persuade you to continue should convict him. You can press him for details of the assassination, you can tell him you need to know exactly what the plan is before deciding if you will go ahead.’

Shepherd nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. There was a logic to what Button was saying, and if he handled the meeting just right, Smit would talk himself straight into a prison cell. He would also implicate the father who was paying for the contract. ‘Sounds good,’ he said.

‘You need to talk to Smit as soon as possible,’ said Button. ‘I’ll start work on the surveillance team.’

‘As will I,’ said the Russian, flashing Shepherd another shark-like smile.

A
fter the Russian had gone, Button ordered another bottle of wine.

‘How much does Klimov know about the attempt on my life?’ asked Shepherd.

‘He thought you were an assassin planning to kill Putin, so in a way you were fair game.’

‘Assassination is okay now, is that what you’re saying?’

‘I’m just looking at it from his point of view.’

‘So it was him who gave the order?’

She shook her head. ‘He’s a cog in the machine – a fairly important cog but still a cog. I don’t think he even knew about it until I raised it. He spoke to Moscow and then confirmed it.’ She smiled. ‘Not in so many words, of course. They’ll never admit to ordering a killing on UK soil. And I doubt that Klimov would have personally hired the assassins.’

‘No, but somebody did.’

‘And it won’t happen again, not now that the FPS is involved. Klimov will report back that he met you and that he has been fully briefed. There won’t be any more attempts on your life. Not from the Russians, anyway.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ he said. ‘But I’m not convinced.’

H
arper and Maggie May picked up O’Brien and Walsh from their hotel at five o’clock in the morning. Walsh was carrying a black nylon holdall. The two men climbed into the back of the SUV.