Harper took out the AK-47 and nodded admiringly at it. ‘Now this brings back memories,’ he said.
‘Have you got ammo?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Not for the AKs or the Enfield. But I’ve kept a few rounds for the pistols. Used to take them to a quarry in Wales to fire off a few now and again. And I keep them clean and oiled.’
Shepherd put the rifle back in its hiding place and picked up one of the pistols. It looked clean and serviceable. He checked the action and nodded approvingly. ‘Looks fine, Jimbo. But what about the ammo?’
‘It’s old, no argument there. Can’t guarantee it hasn’t gone off.’ He laughed. ‘No pun intended.’
‘I can get ammo, no problem,’ said Harper. ‘For the AKs, too, if you want?’
‘Just the pistols,’ said Shepherd. He gave the gun back to Shortt. ‘You might think of giving them a really good clean just in case there’s DNA anywhere.’
‘I’ve cleaned them already,’ said Shortt.
‘The DNA tests they have these days are really sensitive,’ said Shepherd. ‘They can get a full profile from the merest smear of sweat. In the grip or inside the chamber. Just a touch. Before we use them you need to put on gloves and wipe every surface, inside and out. Did you ever strip them down?’
‘Sure, a couple of times.’
‘Then your DNA will be all over the mechanism. A lot of gangbangers forget that. They wipe down the grips and the barrel but forget that their DNA’s all over the inside of the gun. And on the clip, too. You’d be amazed at the number of guys in prison who wiped down the gun but left their prints on the clip. And on the ammo.’
‘Understood,’ said Shortt. He put the gun back in its hiding place and replaced the wooden panel. ‘To be honest, I’ve been thinking of getting rid of them for a while now. Guns and kids aren’t a good mix.’ He nodded at Shepherd and Harper and they pushed the chest of drawers back in front of the panel.
‘Who else knows about them?’ asked Shepherd.
‘As of today, just us,’ said Shortt. ‘The missus doesn’t even know they’re there. I just wanted a few souvenirs, you know? Didn’t you bring something for a rainy day?’
Shepherd shook his head. ‘Sue wouldn’t have stood for it,’ he said. ‘But to be honest, I was never a great one for souvenirs.’
‘Probably because of your trick memory,’ said Shortt. ‘You remember everything. But for me, holding one of those guns brings it all back.’
The three men went downstairs to the kitchen. Shortt took a bottle of Bell’s whisky from a cupboard and showed it to Shepherd. ‘Just a small one,’ said Shepherd. ‘With soda. I’m driving.’
‘I’ll take ice with mine,’ said Harper.
Shortt made a whisky and soda for Shepherd in a tall glass, and poured himself and Harper equal measures of whisky before dropping in a couple of ice cubes. They clinked glasses and drank.
‘You’re sure about this?’ said Shortt, sitting down at the table.
Shepherd joined him. ‘About Khan? Sure.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘He’s convinced,’ said Harper, swirling his ice cubes around with his finger.
‘It needs to be done,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s the right thing to do. But it’s …’ He struggled to find the right words.
‘The wrong thing to do?’ Shortt finished for him.
Shepherd nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s not the doing of it, it’s making sure that there are no repercussions. This won’t be the first time I’ve done something like this, so it’s not about having a conscience or anything. It’s about doing it right.’
‘We’ve all got a lot to lose, Spider. The last thing I want to do at my age is to go to prison. And the job you’ve got.’ He shrugged. ‘If they get you, they’ll throw away the key.’
‘I know.’
‘So that’s why I’m asking if you’re sure.’
‘We’re sure,’ said Harper. He drained his glass. ‘We’re damn sure.’
Shepherd stared at his glass. ‘This isn’t what about he did to me,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not even about the fact he killed Captain Todd. That was combat. OK, the captain and I weren’t a threat to him, but we were the enemy and we could have shot back. It’s what he did to those three Paras that I can’t forgive. They were shot in the back, Jimbo. He pretended to be on our side, he said he’d bring in the rest of his men, and he waited until they were out in the desert and he shot them in the back.’ He shook his head and drained his glass, then slammed it down on the table. ‘That was nothing to do with war,’ he said. ‘That was terrorism. If a man picks up a gun and fights another man, that’s combat and may the best man win. But lying and cheating and shooting soldiers in the back, that’s something else.’
Shortt poured more whisky into Shepherd’s glass and added soda water. ‘We’ll get the bastard, don’t worry about that.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But we have to make sure there’s no comeback.’
‘There won’t be,’ said Shortt. He grinned and clinked his glass against Shepherd’s. ‘What can go wrong?’ he said. ‘We’re professionals.’
Shepherd was back at Grechko’s mansion by two o’clock in the afternoon. He hadn’t eaten all day but Sheena the chef was in the kitchen and she happily made him one of her amazing club sandwiches, accompanied by a plateful of double-fried chips that were so good he had to force himself to refuse a second helping. He was finishing his coffee when he heard Dudko in his earpiece. Dudko had been manning the main gate all day.
‘There’s a Charlotte Button here, says she’s got an appointment to see Mr Grechko. But she’s not in the book.’
‘That’s my fault, but she is expected,’ said Shepherd. ‘Check her ID and send her in. Vlad, where is Mr Grechko?’
Vlad Molchanov was in the control centre. ‘Library,’ said Molchanov.
Shepherd thanked Sheena and hurried out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the library. He knocked on the door.
‘What?’ snarled Grechko.
Shepherd pushed open the door. Grechko was sprawled on a sofa with the day’s newspapers laid out over a coffee table. One of his secretaries was sitting at a side table with her pen poised over her notebook. ‘Charlotte Button’s here, sir,’ said Shepherd. ‘She wanted a word with you, remember?’
Grechko growled and looked at his wristwatch, a diamond-encrusted Rolex. ‘What does she want?’
‘She said she wanted to tell you herself, sir. Too important to talk about on the phone.’ Shepherd knew exactly what she wanted but Button had made it clear that she wanted to be the one to have the conversation with Grechko.
Grechko chuckled. ‘That’s right, you can’t trust the phones here. MI5 spend more time eavesdropping on your citizens than the KGB ever did on ours.’ He tossed a copy of the Financial Times on to the table in front of him. ‘OK, show her into the piano room, I’ll meet you there.’
Shepherd closed the door quietly and walked across the hallway, his shoes squeaking on the Italian marble. He opened the front door just as a black Series 7 BMW purred down the driveway. It parked and Button climbed out. ‘I thought you’d have a driver,’ said Shepherd.
‘Those days are long gone,’ said Button. She nodded at the house. ‘How is he today?’
‘Same as always, alternating between that creepy smile and snarling like a bear with a sore head. I think he might be bipolar.’
‘A bipolar bear, now that would be something,’ said Button. She looked up at the house. ‘Now this certainly is something,’ she said.
‘It’s like a bloody hotel,’ said Shepherd. ‘And there’s more of it underground than there is above. All the parking is down there and there’s room for fifty cars on two levels. There’s a gym for the staff and an even bigger one for Grechko and his family, a huge sauna, an indoor pool, a gun range, a cinema, a games room with pretty much every video arcade game ever made, and that’s only the bits I’ve seen. I got the tour but I wasn’t taken everywhere.’