‘And I’m telling you it does, it’s just that you don’t know about it,’ said Harper. ‘But we’re getting away from the point. Assuming you don’t have a mysterious Q to give us some state-of-the-art assassin’s stuff, we’re going to need guns, right?’
‘I know a few Regiment guys who have a little something tucked away for a rainy day,’ said McIntyre.
‘Yeah, well, more fool them,’ said Shepherd. ‘The days of being able to keep a few souvenirs in the attic are well gone. Several guys have been sent down for keeping guns they shouldn’t have.’ He looked across at Harper. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I know people who can get us guns here. Shorts and longs. Pretty much whatever we want.’
‘Untraceable?’
‘Sure. They’ll want cash, obviously.’
‘Let me think about it,’ said Shepherd. He started the engine and edged the car into the traffic.
‘I wish we could just go and slot the bastard now,’ said McIntyre. He punched the back of Shepherd’s seat. ‘That raghead bastard has it coming.’
‘One step at a time, Jock,’ said Shepherd. ‘Like I said, we need to get a bit more intel.’
‘Intel?’ repeated Harper. ‘What bloody intel do we need? We know it’s him and we know where he lives.’
‘Yeah, but we can hardly gun him down in the street, can we?’ said Shepherd. ‘We need to know where he goes, what he does. Who he lives with. Where he works.’
‘You think he works?’ said Harper. ‘I don’t think you’ll find many jobs for Taliban warlords down at the Jobcentre.’
‘He’s not on benefits, I know that much,’ said Shepherd. ‘So he must be getting money from somewhere. He must be paying for that house himself. Plus he’s got a car. A white CRV. If he wasn’t working, he wouldn’t need a car.’
‘Speak of the devil,’ said McIntyre. He pointed at a white CRV parked across the road from where they were. ‘Is that it?’
Shepherd looked over at the SUV. The registration number matched the number that Sharpe had given him. ‘That’s it,’ he said. He indicated right and headed east, towards Paddington station.
‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Harper.
‘Like I keep saying, we gather intel.’
‘And we’ll need guns,’ said Harper.
‘Intel first,’ said Shepherd.
‘Then guns,’ said Harper, rubbing his hands together. ‘Then we slot the bastard.’
Shepherd dropped McIntyre at Paddington station from where he could catch a train to Reading. ‘He’s changed,’ said Harper as they watched McIntyre walk into the station. His shoulders sagged and he had his head down as he trudged along with the evening commuters
‘We’ve all changed, Lex. It’s called getting older.’
‘He’s lost his edge, and you know it,’ said Harper. ‘He’s put on a couple of stone and you can smell the drink on him.’
‘He’s stopped drinking,’ said Shepherd.
‘You believe that?’
‘That’s what he says. Do you want me to drop you at Bayswater?’
‘Aye, might as well.’ Harper lit another cigarette.
‘You never smoked in Afghanistan, did you?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Nah. The guys I was doing the blagging with were all smokers so I thought if I can’t beat them, join them.’ He blew smoke through the open window. ‘You think you can rely on Jock?’
‘Jock’s sound,’ said Shepherd.
‘What about getting Jimbo? Jimbo Shortt?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘Yeah, I was thinking that myself.’
‘And Geordie. Geordie’ll want to be on board for this. The two of them saved your life, remember.’ He chuckled. ‘Yeah, of course you remember. You remember everything.’
‘Geordie’s dead, mate. Died in Iraq a few years back. Sniper.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah. You can say that again.’
‘It’s funny how quickly you lose touch with people. In the army you’re as tight as tight can be, you know? Then you hand in your papers and that’s it, you never see your muckers again.’ He blew more smoke through the window. ‘You keep in touch with your SAS mates?’
‘Some,’ said Shepherd. ‘But you’re right, once you leave you’re not part of it any more. The guys who are still in don’t treat you the same, and the ones that leave tend not to look back.’ He looked across at Harper. ‘Look, I don’t mean to get all emotional, but I’m sorry we lost touch.’
‘It doesn’t matter, mate. We’re good.’
‘No, I mean it, Lex. We were tight in Afghanistan, we got each other out of no end of scrapes. I should have made more of an effort to stay in touch.’
‘I’m a big boy, Spider. And it’s not as if I called you, is it?’
‘I wished you had, Lex. I wished you’d called me when you were having problems. I could have pulled some strings.’
‘And saved me from a life of crime, is that what you mean?’ He grinned. ‘I chose this life of crime, and I’ve no regrets. None at all.’
Shepherd stared at Harper, trying to work out whether the man was telling the truth.
‘I’m not lying, Spider. I got the life I wanted. Sun, sea, sand, all the birds I want, good muckers around me, and enough excitement if and when I need it.’
‘So long as you don’t get caught.’
‘Sure. And how safe is your job? Who’s to say you won’t get a knife in the back or a bullet in the face this time next week? Nothing lasts for ever, Spider. And really, I’m happy with the life I’ve got. You staying in touch wouldn’t have changed that.’ He laughed. ‘I might even have tempted you over to the dark side. You’d make a bloody good villain.’
Shepherd smiled and nodded. ‘You’re not the first person to have said that.’
‘I’m serious,’ said Harper. ‘You were a cop and now you’re a … what, a spy?’
‘I’m not a spy, Lex. I’m an MI5 officer. But the work I do is pretty much policing.’
‘And you’re on the side of the good guys, I get it. But what does MI5 really do? Protect the country’s citizens, or its ruling class?’
Shepherd grinned. ‘Bloody hell, when did you go all political?’
‘I can see what’s going on in the world, mate,’ said Harper, earnestly. ‘I can see how the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer, how multinational companies pay almost no tax and bankers can screw up our economy and still get seven-figure bonuses. And the cops and MI5 are helping to keep that system in place.’
‘There’s a bit more to it than that, Lex.’
‘Really? So what case are you working on now?’
Shepherd sighed. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said. That was true. All of Shepherd’s work was covered by the Official Secrets Act and it was an offence to discuss his work with outsiders. But it was also true that protecting Peter Grechko was less about making the UK a safer place than it was about doing a favour for the prime minister’s office.
‘You mean you could tell me but then you’d have to kill me?’ said Harper, and he laughed.
‘I keep telling you, I’m not James Bond,’ said Shepherd.
Harper took a long pull on his cigarette before blowing smoke out of the window. ‘Let me tell you how I see the world, Spider,’ he said. ‘The bankers have damn near destroyed the West. They’ve plunged millions into poverty and saddled us with debts that our grandchildren will be paying off.’
‘Not you, though,’ interrupted Shepherd. ‘I’m sure you’re not paying taxes on your ill-gotten gains.’
Harper ignored Shepherd and stared out of the window as he continued to speak. ‘They stole billions, mate. Billions. So how can anyone complain if I and a few mates go into one of their branches and take some of that for ourselves? It’s not as if anyone gets hurt. And the money we take is insured. All we’re doing, on a very small scale, is redressing the balance. What’s wrong with that?’