The SUV which isn’t there, thought Shepherd, but again he didn’t say anything. Nor did he point out that in a situation like Stamford Bridge there was safety in numbers and the safest option would have been to have brought Grechko out of one of the main exits. The isolated VIP entrance was a gift to any attacker.
Shepherd looked around. A good sniper, a really good one, could make a near-guaranteed kill shot at a mile or more, but that would be exceptional. Shepherd had honed his sniping skills in the deserts of Afghanistan, which is where an Australian sniper had a GPS-confirmed shot of more than three thousand yards and where Craig Harrison, a corporal with the Blues and Royals, shot and killed two Taliban machine-gunners at a range of two thousand seven hundred yards. But such distances really were the exception, and most snipers weren’t comfortable beyond half a mile. And at anything above half a mile the wind made a big difference, and calculating the distance the round would fall became crucial. The problem was that the stadium was in a built-up area of West London and was overlooked by all manner of residential and office buildings. From where he was standing Shepherd could see at least a dozen vantage points that would be perfect for a sniper, from open windows to office block roofs to cranes high above building projects.
‘Did the police do this with you?’ Shepherd asked Popov. ‘Did they do a run-through like this?’
Popov shook his head. ‘Mr Grechko didn’t want to talk to the police,’ he said. ‘He said the British police are useless when it comes to things like this. He said the British police couldn’t find their own arses if they used both hands.’ He laughed, and then repeated what he’d said in Russian for the benefit of Tarasov and Ulyashin.
‘Yeah, he might be right,’ said Shepherd. ‘Which direction did the shot come from?’
‘Difficult to say,’ said Popov. ‘We didn’t hear the shot.’
‘It was a single shot?’
‘The only round that we know about is the one that struck Mikhail.’
‘But it’s possible that there were more?’
Popov shrugged. ‘Like I said, we didn’t hear the sound of a shot.’
Shepherd nodded. That meant that the sniper was too far away to be heard or used a suppressor. Spider wasn’t a big fan of suppressors, because while they cut down on the noise they also affected the performance of the round.
‘OK, walk me through it,’ said Shepherd.
Popov spoke to Tarasov in Russian and the big man moved down the steps, his legs swinging from side to side. As he headed for the rear door of the Bentley, Popov moved down the steps. Shepherd stood where he was and looked around. With the two bodyguards at the bottom of the steps, he was totally exposed. If the sniper was going to take the shot, the obvious time would have been when the target was on the steps, not when he was getting into the car.
Tarasov opened the rear door of the Bentley and turned to look at Shepherd. He was standing on the wrong side, Shepherd knew, he should have been standing at the rear of the car and not close to the front passenger door. Popov was standing behind Tarasov, watching Shepherd as he walked down the stairs. The fact that the two men were at the front of the car meant that Shepherd was vulnerable to an attack from the rear.
Behind him, Ulyashin cursed as his crutch skidded across the concrete. ‘And the guys in the SUV stayed where they were?’ asked Shepherd.
Popov nodded. Again Shepherd bit his tongue. Grechko had been at his most vulnerable when he moved down the steps and at that point he should have been surrounded by his team. As he moved down the steps, Ulyashin continued to have problems using the crutches and he cursed again, in Russian.
Shepherd reached the door of the Bentley and turned to look at Ulyashin, who had only just reached the bottom of the steps.
‘So when did he get hit?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Just as Mr Grechko got to the car. Where you are standing now.’
‘And Mikhail?’
‘He was moving back to the SUV.’
‘Mikhail, where did the bullet hit you?’
Ulyashin frowned. ‘The leg.’ He said something to Popov in Russian. Popov didn’t reply, he just waved away whatever Ulyashin had said.
‘The front of the leg or the back?’
‘The back,’ said Ulyashin.
‘The calf,’ said Popov. ‘The bullet went in the back and blew a chunk out of the front.’
Shepherd nodded thoughtfully. The fact that the round hadn’t taken off the man’s leg suggested that it was fired from far away, possibly a mile, so that by the time it reached its target it had lost most of its momentum. ‘Mikhail, think carefully, where exactly were you standing when the round hit?’
Ulyashin frowned. ‘Round?’ he repeated.
‘Bullet,’ said Shepherd.
‘Pulya,’ translated Popov.
‘Ah, pulya.’ Ulyashin nodded and stood with his legs apart at the rear of the Bentley, facing towards Shepherd.
‘See that?’ said Shepherd. ‘If he was standing there, he’d have been shielded by the SUV, right? So the sniper can only have been down there.’ He pointed down the road. In the distance was a crane and beyond it an apartment block and several office towers. ‘There are plenty of buildings he could have taken a shot from. Or he could have done it from a vehicle.’
Popov nodded slowly. ‘Mr Grechko was lucky.’
‘Yes, he was, wasn’t he? OK, I’ve seen enough, you guys can head back to the house.’
‘You’re not coming with us?’
‘I’ll catch a black cab,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ve got something to do but I’ll be back at the house in a few hours. Mr Grechko’s not going anywhere, is he?’
‘There’s nothing on the schedule – you know that.’
‘Exactly. If anything changes then call me ASAP, otherwise I’ll see you back at the house.’
‘Is there a problem?’
Shepherd shook his head. ‘It’s all good, Dmitry,’ he said.
Shepherd caught a black cab and had it drop him outside the Whiteley’s shopping centre in Queensway. He paid the driver, went inside and walked along to Costa Coffee, where he bought himself a cappuccino and found a quiet seat by the window before using the Samsung mobile to phone Harper. ‘Are you ready for a spot of cleaning?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Sure,’ said Harper. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You’re close to Queensway, right?’
‘Just around the corner.’
‘OK, here’s the deal. I know you hate tube stations but I need you to go to Queensway tube station. Keep your head down and your hood up and the CCTV cameras won’t get your face. Buy yourself a one-day travel card from a machine. Don’t worry, the machines don’t have CCTV. The only line that uses Queensway is the Central Line. Go straight down the escalator to the eastbound platform. Wait for the first train and look as if you’re going to get on, then take a seat on the platform. Don’t make a thing about looking around but be aware if anyone does the same.’
‘Got you,’ said Harper.
‘Then get up and make a thing about looking at the map. Put on a bit of a show as if you’ve realised that you’re on the wrong platform and walk across to the westbound. Do the same there. Make it look as if you’re getting on the next train and then change your mind and sit down.’
‘So I’ll spot if there’s a tail.’
‘Either that or they’ll get on the train so that they don’t show out. If they do board, they’ll call in a watcher at the entrance. The thing is, don’t make it too obvious. Just act a bit confused, as if you’re not sure what you’re doing. Then look at your watch as if you’re late for something, and head back up the escalator and out into the street.’