‘I’m driving, but yes, go ahead,’ said Shepherd. ‘Charlie told me back in May that you might be calling.’
‘The operation I’m working on has taken longer than I expected,’ said Hargrove. ‘It’s just about coming together now. Are you in London? Be handy to have a chat.’
‘I’m here most of the time at the moment, so whenever works for you is fine,’ said Shepherd.
‘Sooner rather than later,’ said Hargrove. ‘I don’t suppose I could persuade you to swing by Broadway?’
Broadway was where New Scotland Yard was based, just down the road from St James’s Park tube station.
‘I’d rather not,’ said Shepherd. ‘The job I’m on is local and I’m keeping a low profile.’
‘Where’s your base?’
‘Hampstead.’
‘Anywhere near the King William? A colleague told me that’s a good place for a meet.’
‘No problem. It’s just round the corner from my flat.’
‘We can catch up over a drink,’ said Hargrove. ‘How’s an hour from now for you?’
‘Traffic’s not great,’ said Shepherd, ‘but yeah, I should be able to make it.’
Shepherd ended the call. The traffic wasn’t as bad as he’d thought and he had more than enough time to find a resident’s parking space close to his flat and to grab a Jameson’s and soda and a corner table before Hargrove arrived.
Hargrove seemed a bit heavier since Shepherd had last seen him and his overcoat was a little tighter round his midriff. As he walked into the pub he undid the buttons of his coat and revealed a dark-blue pinstriped suit, a crisp white shirt and a tie with light and dark blue stripes. He looked around, saw Shepherd at the table and waved. He ran a hand through his greying hair as he walked over, and when they shook hands his cuff edged out of his jacket sleeve revealing a gold cufflink in the shape of a cricket bat.
‘You’re looking well,’ said Hargrove.
‘You too,’ said Shepherd. He grinned over at his former boss. ‘You know this is the oldest gay bar in London?’
‘I didn’t know that,’ said Hargrove, looking around. There were no women in the pub, although that wasn’t especially unusual for London. But the clientele was mainly under thirty, well groomed and with a fashion sense that was definitely a cut above that found in the average London hostelry. Hargrove chuckled. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘It’s not called the Willie for nothing,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s been an openly gay venue since the 1930s, back in the day when they sent you down for being gay. But they’re not prejudiced, they’ll serve anyone. So what can I get you?’
Hargrove rubbed his stomach. ‘I’ve had to give up the beer,’ he said. ‘Cutting back on the calories. Gin and slimline tonic will be fine. Ice and a slice.’
He took off his coat, draped it over the back of a chair and sat down. He was adjusting the creases of his trousers when Shepherd returned with his drink.
‘Still running?’ asked Hargrove.
‘I’m on the Heath every day, pretty much.’
‘You still doing that thing with a rucksack full of bricks?’
‘Builds stamina,’ said Shepherd. He clinked his glass against Hargrove’s. ‘Anyway, good to see you.’
‘And you,’ said Hargrove. The two men drank. Hargrove smacked his lips and put down his glass. He patted his stomach again. ‘I’m going to have to start doing something.’
‘Running is good,’ said Shepherd. ‘With or without the bricks.’
‘It’s the wife that’s the problem,’ said Hargrove, stretching out his legs. ‘She’s been watching all those cooking shows. Loves Gordon Ramsay. Anyway, she started cooking herself and went on a few courses and I have to say she’s brilliant. She was always a good cook but this last year she’s moved up to a whole new level. Can’t remember the last time I ate out. It’s like having my own Michelin-starred restaurant. But I hate to think what my cholesterol levels are like.’ He sipped his gin and tonic. ‘So how are things with the fragrant Charlotte Button?’
‘We have our ups and downs, but generally it’s good,’ said Shepherd. ‘The last year I’ve been hand-holding a couple of guys who are undercover. They’re amateurs so I have to watch them every step of the way.’
‘That’ll be a change for you, seeing life from the other side.’
‘Tell me about it. I hadn’t realised just how much ego-stroking had to be done.’
‘You never needed much,’ said Hargrove. ‘I nearly gave you a call when I heard you were leaving SOCA but then you decided to go with her to Five and I figured it would be disrespectful to poke my nose in.’
‘I’m happy enough,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s a bigger canvas and a lot less PC.’ He grinned. ‘And not much in the way of paperwork.’
‘Yeah, that’s more than fifty per cent of the job these days,’ agreed Hargrove. ‘Ticking boxes and meeting targets. But I have more freedom than most.’
‘Still undercover operations, right?’
‘I head up the Covert Operations Group,’ said Hargrove. ‘COG. We form part of the Covert Policing Command which is the old Criminal Intelligence Branch. Basically my task is to control all undercover operations throughout the Met. Any of the boroughs can call on us, though all requests are dealt with through SCD. Recently they’ve been subcontracting us out to other Forces and between you and me I think the long-term aim is to make the COG a national unit but controlled by the Met. Basically to do the job that SOCA was supposed to do.’
‘SOCA was a total waste of time,’ said Shepherd. ‘I should never have joined.’
‘To be honest, you weren’t given much of a choice,’ said Hargrove, adjusting his immaculate cuffs. ‘Still, what’s done is done. I hear you’re doing great things at Five. And Charlotte seems well pleased with you.’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘They keep me busy,’ he said.
‘And they let you out of the country.’
Shepherd steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied Hargrove. He knew the policeman well, trusted him without question, but working for MI5 brought with it a whole new degree of security. He didn’t know what Hargrove’s clearance was and until he did there was no way he could talk about any MI5 operations, past or present. ‘I’ve been getting around,’ he said.
‘How’s your boy? He must be — what, thirteen now?’
‘He’s fine. He wanted to go to boarding school so it’s all worked out well.’ He sat back in his chair.
‘You still living in Ealing?’
Shepherd shook his head. ‘We moved to Hereford a few years ago.’
‘To be near the Regiment?’
Shepherd laughed. ‘No, that’s where Liam’s grandparents live. It made more sense to be closer to them.’
‘So you commute, back and forth?’
‘Depends on the job. Most of the work involves deep undercover roles and they usually come with accommodation. Now that Liam’s boarding it’s less of an issue.’
‘Well, you’ll be glad to hear that the operation I need help with is a bit closer to home. Birmingham, in fact. That’s only fifty miles or so from Hereford.’
‘The job I’m on is in London. Did Charlie explain that if I need to get back at short notice I’ll have to drop everything?’
‘She made that clear. I don’t see that as a problem, if all goes to plan you’ll only have to put in a couple of appearances. A cameo, you might say.’
‘The problem I have is that I never know when it might kick off. It’s very much a long-term thing but when it does start to go it’ll probably do so very quickly.’
‘We can work around that,’ said Hargrove. ‘What is it, terrorism?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘Couple of guys in a London mosque were recruited into an al-Qaeda cell. I was drafted in early on because they are total virgins. They’ve been groomed and trained and done the Pakistan training camp bit but since then they’ve been put into cold storage. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if they’ve been rumbled. But until we know either way we’re just watching and waiting.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Truth be told, I’ve been on more exciting jobs so I’m more than happy to work with you. What’s the story?’
‘Simple enough,’ said Hargrove. ‘You’ve heard of the English Defence League, right? There’re a couple of guys in an EDL offshoot in Birmingham looking to buy guns. We’ve got an inside track and need someone to play the part of the arms dealer. It’s a role you’ve played before with some success.’