His eyes narrowed as he looked at Button. ‘What about us, Charlie?’
‘Us?’
‘Us Brits. Do we have an assassination policy?’
‘The UK’s policy is that we don’t carry out assassinations,’ said Button.
‘I know that’s the official policy, but is there a section somewhere within MI5 or MI6 that kills people, in the way that the Yanks do it?’
‘If there is, I’m not aware of it,’ said Button levelly.
‘That’s a politician’s answer,’ said Shepherd.
‘No, it’s a truthful answer. But you have to bear in mind that if there was such a section and I was aware of it, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.’
Shepherd grinned. ‘Yeah, I’d realised that.’
‘Let me ask you a question, Spider.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Suppose there was a section that did carry out judicial killings. Would you be prepared to work for it?’
‘Are we talking hypothetically, Charlie?’
She studied him with unblinking eyes. ‘Of course.’
Shepherd looked back at her, trying to work out whether she was making him a serious offer or whether the conversation was, as she said, hypothetical. ‘It would depend,’ he said eventually.
‘On what?’
‘On the nature of the targets,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure that if there was such a section its operatives would be given the freedom to pick and choose their assignments,’ she said.
‘That’s the problem,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ve killed, of course I have. That goes with the turf when you’re in the SAS, but that was mainly in war zones and it was kill or be killed. Assassination is a whole different thing. It takes a particular kind of mindset to kill a human being who isn’t a clear threat.’
Button sipped her tea. ‘You were a sniper, weren’t you?’
‘That was one of my areas of expertise,’ he said. ‘And I had my fair share of kills in Afghanistan. But again that was a war zone. Could I shoot targets solely because some politician had decided that they deserve to die? I’m not sure that I could.’
‘Because?’
‘Because I don’t trust politicians, of any persuasion. I don’t trust their judgement and I don’t trust their motivation. If an officer identified a target, I’d take that target out without questioning the order. But if a politician told me to assassinate someone, I’d want to know why and if there wasn’t a bloody good reason then I’d tell them to go stuff themselves.’
‘I can understand that,’ she said. ‘But as I said, you wouldn’t get the choice.’
‘We are still talking hypothetically?’ said Shepherd.
Button laughed. ‘Of course. So this sniper, the man who tried to kill Grechko. What sort of person would he be?’
‘Like you said, a professional. Almost certainly former military. Of course, if it was a government-sanctioned operation he might still be in the army. So he’d either be doing it because it was his job, or because he was being paid a lot of money.’
‘Could you kill for money?’
Shepherd frowned. ‘Of course not.’
‘Because?’
‘Because I’ve got a conscience. Because I’ve got a moral compass. Taking a life is no small thing, Charlie. And no matter what the circumstances, it stays with you for ever.’
Button nodded slowly. ‘So we’re looking for a what? A sociopath? Someone with no feelings, no emotions?’
‘Or someone who’s used to obeying orders. I thought the Met was looking for the sniper?’
‘They are. But we’ve got better lines of communication with the FSB so we’ll make use of them. We’ve put in a request for information of snipers, military and freelance.’
The Moscow-based Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation was Russia’s main domestic security agency, the equivalent of MI5 and the successor to the KGB. Like MI5, it was responsible for counter-intelligence, internal and border security, counter-terrorism, and surveillance. ‘Are they likely to help if it is the Russian government who’s behind it?’ asked Shepherd.
She smiled. ‘Good point,’ she said. ‘In a way it’s a test. We’ll see just how cooperative they are. Or aren’t.’
Shepherd sipped his coffee. ‘If it is the Russian government that tried to kill Grechko, why would they use a sniper? It’s very in your face.’ He grinned. ‘No pun intended. I mean, don’t they usually use more subterfuge? Remember the Bulgarians with that poisoned umbrella thing? And they got that Alexander Litvinenko guy by putting Polonium-210 in his food.’
‘Litvinenko was working for MI5 at the time,’ said Button. ‘He’d been given political asylum and he was active in Russian politics, helping dissident factions. I don’t think there’s any doubt that it was a political assassination.’
‘So why not try something like that with Grechko? Why use a sniper?’
‘Because Grechko has always been well protected,’ said Button. ‘Strangers don’t get near him, his food is tasted, his rooms and vehicles are constantly checked. With a man like Grechko, it would have to be done at a distance. You’re going to have to bear that in mind when you’re with him. The sniper tried once and he’s still out there. He could well try again.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘At his house in The Bishops Avenue. Near Hampstead. He’s staying there until we get his security arrangements sorted out. But I warn you, he’s intent on doing a fair bit of travelling over the next few months. I’m hoping that you’ll be able to dissuade him from that, at least until we’ve identified and apprehended the sniper.’ She pushed a manila envelope across the table to him. ‘That’s the details of your legend. Also the keys to the flat you used in Hampstead, when you were using the John Whitehill legend last year. The flat is pretty much as it was, though it’s been used a couple of times since you were there. It’s already been dressed but it’s doubtful that you’ll be taking anyone back there.’ She pointed at the envelope. ‘There’s a passport, driving licence and warrant card in the name of Tony Ryan, plus credit cards and an organ donor card, which is a nice touch. Plus keys to the flat. And a SIM card on a Met account, so put that in any phone you want.’
‘What about a vehicle?’ asked Shepherd, slipping the envelope into his pocket.
‘Talk to the car pool. Something in character but bearing in mind the case I’d feel happier if you were in something with ballistic protection.’
‘You think I might be a target?’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ said Button. ‘And I want you in a vest at all times. Since the sniper, all Grechko’s bodyguards have been wearing vests and I want you in one, too.’ Shepherd sipped his coffee and grimaced. ‘Is the coffee not great or is it the job you’re not happy with?’ asked Button.
Shepherd put down his mug. ‘The coffee’s fine.’
‘But you’re not happy about the job?’
‘If you think this is the best use of my talents then who am I to argue,’ he said.
‘But?’ said Button. ‘I’m sensing a definite but here.’
‘He’s a Russian, Charlie. If he was a Russian journalist or a political exile then maybe I’d have some sympathy or empathy or whatever, but he’s a bloody oligarch and you don’t get to make a billion dollars from scratch without treading on a few toes.’
‘He deserves to be shot, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Of course not,’ said Shepherd, brusquely. ‘But this isn’t his country for a start. He chose to be here. If he’s worried about his safety here then he’s perfectly capable of going somewhere else.’
‘Which would be an admission that we can’t protect him.’
‘But why are we protecting him, that’s the question, isn’t it? Because he’s a friend of the PM’s. How much do you think he’s given them in political donations?’