‘That was why you left the SAS, right?’
‘It was part of it,’ said Shepherd.
‘So what’s the problem now?’ asked Sharpe.
Shepherd sighed. ‘I need another drink,’ he said, and stood up.
Sharpe finished his lager and held out his empty glass. ‘Amen to that.’
Shepherd went over to the bar and returned with fresh drinks. He sat down and stretched out his legs. ‘The thing is, it looks like Khan is in the UK. I don’t know how he managed it but he’s here.’
‘Probably got asylum,’ said Sharpe. ‘He’s not the first and he won’t be the last. Remember we let Robert Mugabe’s chief torturer claim asylum here not so long ago?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘It’s a crazy system, there’s no doubt about that,’ he said. ‘In the old days any Afghan threatened by the Taliban could claim asylum if he got to the UK. Then after the Coalition invaded Afghanistan, the Taliban could maintain that their lives were at risk so they could claim asylum. Now that the Taliban is regaining control, we’re back to stage one. It’s crazy.’
‘If it was me, I’d put them all up against a wall and shoot them,’ said Sharpe.
‘Afghans?’
Sharpe grinned. ‘The bloody politicians who got us into this state,’ he said. ‘You explain to me why we’ve got Taliban, former or otherwise, living here?’
‘Ours not to reason why, Razor. You know that. We’re just instruments of the state.’
‘And what do you want from me?’ asked Sharpe.
‘I need you to have a root around the PNC for Ahmad Khan,’ said Shepherd. ‘And run the name by the intelligence guys.’
‘I’d have thought your mob would have had more intel on him,’ said Sharpe. ‘You’ve got access to the PNC, right?’
‘Sure. But every time Five accesses it the request is flagged and I don’t want a trail.’
‘But you’re happy for my name to be flagged?’
‘No, I know you’re smart enough to get in and out without anyone knowing you were there.’
‘You know that’s a sackable offence now?’ said Sharpe. ‘The days of pulling up reg numbers for mates are long gone.’
‘Yeah, and I know how you always play by the rules, Razor,’ said Shepherd, his voice loaded with sarcasm.
‘So this isn’t official?’
‘If it was official, Razor, why would I be plying you with drink and asking for a favour?’
Sharpe nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’ll sniff around. But that won’t be any help if he’s here illegally. In fact, if he’s got into the country under a false name and is living below the radar …’ He shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
‘If it was easy, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?’
Sharpe grinned. ‘Don’t try manipulating me, Spider. I’ve known you too long.’
‘I’m serious, this is a tough one. But I need to find him.’
‘Because?’
‘Because?’
‘He’s the guy that shot you, right? I’m assuming you don’t want to shake him by the hand and tell him that bygones are bygones.’
‘Best you don’t know.’
‘Best I do, actually,’ said Sharpe. ‘If something happens to this Khan character I don’t want my name in the frame.’
‘That’s why it needs to be done on the QT,’ said Shepherd.
Sharpe held Shepherd’s look and Shepherd could see the concern in his friend’s eyes. ‘Revenge can get nasty, Spider,’ he said quietly.
‘He shot me. He killed my captain, shot him in the head and he died in my arms. And he shot three Paras in the back.’
‘It was war, right?’
‘Even in a war situation you don’t shoot people in the back. There are rules. Some of them are in the Geneva Convention and some of them aren’t written down, but there are rules.’ He took another sip of his drink. ‘He shot them in the back, Razor. Two of them while they were sitting in a Land Rover, the other one when he was running away. And now he’s in the UK. That can’t be right.’
Sharpe nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, the days of the Queensberry Rules are long gone,’ he said. ‘OK, I won’t ask you what you’re going to do because it’s best I don’t know. Just be careful, yeah?’
‘Always,’ said Shepherd.
Sharpe reached over and clinked his pint glass against Shepherd’s whiskey and soda. Then he raised his glass in the air. ‘To crime!’ he said.
Shepherd laughed and repeated the toast and then the two men drank.
‘There’s something else,’ said Shepherd as he put down his glass.
‘There usually is,’ growled Sharpe.
‘I need you to check up on the guy who gave me the info on Khan. A former Para by the name of Alex Harper. Everyone calls him Lex. He was a Para with me in Afghanistan. He was my spotter for a while.’
‘Spotter?’
‘I did a bit of sniping and you always need a spotter, someone who watches your back, helps ID targets, checks the wind and stuff. Sniping’s a two-man game and Lex was my number two. Bloody good, he was. Pulled my nuts out of the fire a few times.’
‘I’m sensing a but, here.’
Shepherd laughed. ‘Yeah, a lot’s changed in ten years, that’s for sure,’ he said. ‘He’s left the army and lives out in Thailand now.’
‘Ah, the Land of Smiles,’ said Sharpe.
‘Yeah, well, turns out it’s a small world. He knows the Moore brothers and he’s in the same line of work.’
‘Armed robbery?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘Yeah, he left the army and did a few banks. I think in his mind he was a sort of Robin Hood, told me that it was a way of getting back at the banks because of what they did to the country.’
‘That’s logical for you.’
‘In a crazy way he made sense,’ said Shepherd. ‘The banks screwed the economy, the MoD has to get rid of men to save money, Lex loses his job, so Lex hits back at the banks.’ He shrugged. ‘Sort of made sense at the time.’
‘He hurt anyone?’
‘Doesn’t seem to have done,’ said Shepherd. ‘You know that the key to successful blagging is shock and awe. It’s a bit like being an armed cop – if you get to the stage where you actually have to pull the trigger, you’ve pretty much failed.’ He swirled his whiskey and soda around his glass. ‘Anyway, he’s moved on now. Drugs. The big league.’
Sharpe grimaced. ‘That’s not good,’ he said.
‘You’re telling me.’
‘You need to watch yourself, Spider. Seriously.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘I mean it. If you get caught in bed with a drugs dealer your feet won’t touch the ground.’
Shepherd put up his hand dismissively. ‘I’m not stupid, Razor.’
‘Never said you were, but you sometimes have a blind spot where friends are concerned. You can cut people too much slack, you know? I get that he was a Para, I get that he saved your bacon in Afghanistan.’ He realised what he had said and laughed. ‘Ha ha, bacon in a Muslim country. Not much chance of that.’
‘Very funny, Razor. Hilarious. I sense another racism and diversity course on the horizon.’
‘OK, dietary humour aside, people change. And if you get caught passing confidential information to a drugs dealer, you’re screwed and you’re screwed big-time.’
‘I hear you. I’ll be careful. And whatever happens, you know your name won’t be mentioned.’
‘Just be careful,’ said Sharpe. ‘So what do you need?’
‘Lex is clever, he knows how to keep off the grid. There’s nothing on him on the Five databases, I’ve already checked, but I don’t want to go on to the PNC, so can you do that for me? Then maybe reach out to Intel and to Drugs? See what, if anything, is known. He was in Spain for a while, but now he’s based in Thailand. He’s super-careful about CCTV and communications, so he might have been lucky.’
‘I’ll check,’ said Sharpe.