Fair Game (26 page)

‘The world’s gone crazy,’ said Shepherd. He knew the Major was right – if Frankie had applied to the Met or MI5 or pretty much any government department, he’d probably have launched a racial discrimination lawsuit and walked away with a healthy pay-off.

‘No argument here,’ said the Major. ‘But the bottom line is that I’m running out of people I can trust. And if I were you, I’d be careful too.’ He took a long pull at his pint. ‘So I guess you’re well out of SOCA.’

‘Yeah, it was a disaster from day one,’ said Shepherd. ‘Too many chiefs and not enough Indians. I don’t know what idiot thought that you could push cops into the same organisation as taxmen, accountants and customs officers and expect them to become a crime-fighting organisation. It was supposed to be intelligence-led but most of the analysts wouldn’t know a criminal if he stuck a gun in their face and asked for their wallet.’ He sipped his drink. ‘You know, when they set it up in 2006 they drew up a list of the one hundred and thirty most-wanted criminals, the men and women they really wanted to put behind bars. Why a hundred and thirty and not a hundred or two hundred? Who the hell knows? It was probably left up to some desk jockey with a spreadsheet. Anyway, they come up with this list of one hundred and thirty villains who are supposed to be responsible for most of the organised crime in this country. Four years later do you know how many of them we’d put away? Eight. Bloody eight. And of the one hundred and thirty, it turns out that more than ten of them were dead. And half the names on the list weren’t even major criminals.’ He sighed. ‘Most of the decent cops packed it in within the first two years and went back to proper policing.’

‘Your timing was perfect,’ said the Major. ‘You’d only been gone a few months when they announced they were bringing the shutters down and folding it into the National Crime Agency.’

‘You make it sound like I was a rat deserting a sinking ship,’ said Shepherd. ‘It wasn’t like that. Charlie offered me the move to Five long before they announced that SOCA was being wound up.’

‘I just hope it’s not out of the frying pan and into the fire.’

‘Yeah, I’m starting to wonder that myself,’ Shepherd said. ‘I thought I’d be getting bigger and better jobs, but it’s not working out that way. To be honest, if it hadn’t been for Charlie Button I’d probably have applied to rejoin the cops.’

‘Ah yes, the lovely Charlotte. How is she?’

‘No problems. She’s a good boss. Gives me free rein when I need it.’

‘Yeah, but does she have your back?’

Shepherd pulled a face. ‘You heard what happened over the water?’

‘I’m in the loop for all things Irish,’ said the Major. ‘You slotted two terrorists, so well done you.’

‘I blew my cover because the right hand didn’t know what the left was doing,’ said Shepherd. ‘It should never have happened.’ He frowned. ‘Is that why you’re here? It’s nothing to do with the Somalia thing I’m working on?’

The Major shook his head. ‘I’m here because you’re in deep shit, Spider. The same sort of shit I was in.’ He paused to make sure that he had Shepherd’s undivided attention. ‘Nicholas Brett.’

‘You know Nick?’

‘I know that he’s dead,’ said the Major. ‘They fished him out of the Hudson three days ago. Shot in the face at close range.’

‘And I’m guessing it wasn’t a robbery, right?’

The Major smiled thinly. ‘I’m pretty sure that he was killed because he helped introduce you to the IRA cell at the Shamrock,’ he said. ‘Dawson, Crofts and McIntyre.’

‘How do you know about the cell?’ asked Shepherd. ‘And how come you know that Brett’s dead and Button doesn’t?’

‘Because my contacts are better than hers,’ said the Major. ‘She’s MI5 and the CIA don’t trust them, special relationship or not. But my contacts trust me, and they know I’ve a vested interest in things Irish.’ He shrugged. ‘Either that or the lovely Miss Button doesn’t want you worrying.’

‘What, you think she knows and hasn’t said anything?’

‘I’ve no idea how she operates, but I’ve always said that she’s a spook first and foremost. If she doesn’t think you need to know then I’m damn sure she’ll be giving you the mushroom treatment.’

Shepherd sat back and folded his arms. That was the last thing he wanted to hear, especially from a man he trusted as much as the Major. Working undercover was all about faith. The handler had to trust the undercover agent, but just as important the agent had to trust his handler, literally with his life. The agent was often so busy dealing with the job at hand that he wasn’t able to see the big picture, so it was up to the handler to watch out for problems on the horizon and to deal with them as necessary. The agent had to have absolute faith in his handler, and if Charlotte Button had been withholding information, for whatever reason, then it meant she no longer had his best interests at heart.

The Major leaned forward. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Spider, I’m not saying she’s playing fast and loose with your safety. She might not know, she might have her eye on another ball now.’

Shepherd shook his head. ‘She should be monitoring the Irish situation. I killed two of their people and if they get the chance they’ll hit back at me. It’s not good enough to say that she’s busy with other things. She knows how dangerous those people are.’ He sighed. ‘This job is hard enough without worrying about whether or not your boss has your back.’

‘Well, you’ve got your friends behind you, no matter what,’ said the Major, raising his glass.

Shepherd picked up his glass and clinked it against the Major’s. ‘So what happened to Brett? Was he tortured?’

‘Doesn’t look like it,’ said the Major. ‘But that probably means that he told them everything he knows. When an IRA enforcer and interrogation team turn up on your doorstep it’s your call as to how much punishment you want to take. All you can do is postpone the inevitable.’

‘Unless the secret’s worth taking to the grave,’ said Shepherd.

‘Agreed,’ said the Major. ‘But I’m guessing it was just a job for him and that protecting you would be pretty low on his list of priorities.’

‘So they got what they wanted and then they killed him?’

‘That’s how I read it, yes. How much did he know about you?’

‘Next to nothing,’ said Shepherd. ‘He thought I was a Yank, name of Matt Tanner. I can do a passable accent and they gave me a watertight legend. I was born in Belfast, moved to the States when I was a kid, served seven years in the military, served in Iraq, two tours. All of it will stand up to any checking.’

‘So the Americans were in on your investigation?’

‘The ATF were liaising with MI5. But Brett wouldn’t have known that.’

‘You can’t be sure of that, can you?’

‘After what happened, I’m not sure of anything any more. But Brett wouldn’t have any personal details that would give me away.’

‘OK, but look at it from their point of view. The ATF introduces you to fund-raisers in the States and you use that to infiltrate a Real IRA cell in Belfast. You shoot two of their people to protect an undercover cop. They’ve got to put it down as either a PSNI or a UK operation, right?’

‘You’re not exactly cheering me up here, boss.’

‘I’m just being realistic,’ said the Major. ‘Your cover might well have been watertight and Brett might not have known anything, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t know where to look for you.’

Shepherd drained his glass then went to the bar and made fresh drinks. He carried them back to the table. ‘So who do you think killed him?’ he asked as he sat down.

The Major reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a surveillance photograph, of a red-haired woman getting into a New York taxicab. ‘Lisa O’Hara,’ he said. ‘Real IRA but with family links to Continuity. She left New York the day before Brett’s body was pulled out of the river. Flew to Dublin but is probably back in the North by now.’

‘She’s known?’

‘By those in the know, yeah, but it’s not public knowledge. She’s an enforcer, interrogator, and isn’t averse to the occasional wet job.’

‘Unusual in a woman,’ said Shepherd, looking at the picture. ‘I’ve known women bombmakers and the IRA uses them as decoys and the like, but she’s the first female enforcer I’m aware of.’

‘It’s in her blood,’ said the Major, taking back the photograph. ‘Her dad was with McGuinness back in the day, shot by the SAS during an attack on a police station in Londonderry two years before the ceasefire. Her uncle had a big bust-up with the Provos and moved to Continuity, taking a big stock of Gaddafi’s Semtex with him.’

‘What’s her uncle’s name?’

‘Robbie Fox.’

‘Robbie Fox? Please don’t tell me that he’s related to the Fox brothers.’

The Major exhaled through pursed lips. ‘Guilty as charged. He was their father.’

Shepherd groaned. ‘Hell’s bells, boss. Do you think she knows what happened?’ Padraig and Sean Fox were dead, killed by the Major after they’d mown down a group of off-duty soldiers in a Chinese restaurant. One of the murdered soldiers had been the Major’s nephew and his retaliation had been swift and final. Only Shepherd and the Major knew what had happened and where the bodies were buried.

‘I think it’s worse than that, Spider. I think she might have been the one behind the bomb in my Jag.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Problem is, I’ve no way of proving it. The technical boys went through the wreckage with the proverbial fine-tooth comb but didn’t find anything in the way of a signature. And there’s no passport control between London and Dublin so we don’t even know if she was in the country at the time.’

‘But she’s related to Padraig and Sean? She’d have been close to them?’

‘Not closely related . . . what would they be, first cousins, second cousins? They lived in different counties but you know what Irish families are like, they’d have been at the same wedding or funeral at some point.’

Shepherd ran a hand through his hair. ‘This is getting serious, boss,’ he said. ‘Is it possible she knows I helped you take care of the Foxes?’

‘I don’t see how,’ he said. ‘My name would obviously be in the frame because of what they did to Tommy, but they wouldn’t know about you. We covered our tracks well, Spider.’

‘Clearly not well enough,’ said Shepherd.

‘They might have guessed it was me, and not cared about proof. The fact that I headed up the Increment would be good enough reason for them to target me.’

‘The Real IRA released a statement claiming responsibility for your death,’ said Shepherd. ‘And they specifically mentioned the Fox brothers.’

‘That doesn’t mean they know about your involvement. But whether or not they do know isn’t really the issue. Either way she’s going to be looking for you.’

Shepherd put his head in his hands. ‘This is a bloody nightmare,’ he said. ‘My job’s hard enough without me having to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.’

‘It might not be as bad as that,’ said the Major. ‘They’ll be looking in the North, and their first port of call will be the PSNI.’

‘They don’t know who I am and there’ll be nothing on the police computer,’ said Shepherd.

‘So it might end there,’ said the Major.

‘They found you,’ said Shepherd.

‘But I was high profile,’ said the Major. ‘You’ve been undercover for years, first for the cops, then for SOCA, now for Five. You’ve had professionals covering your tracks every step of the way. And I can make sure that O’Hara and anyone she’s connected to are red-flagged.’

‘You know it’s not as easy as that, boss,’ said Shepherd. ‘The England–Ireland border is a border in name only most of the time. We’ve both crossed the water incognito loads of times.’ He shrugged. ‘Anyway, there’s no point in crossing bridges or counting chickens.’

‘
Que sera, sera
,’ said the Major, raising his glass in a silent toast.

‘Yeah, well, at least I know what’s coming.’

‘What might be coming,’ corrected the Major.

Shepherd nodded and clinked glasses with the Major. ‘Thanks for the heads-up, anyway.’

‘That’s what friends are for.’

‘And I’m glad you’re back in the land of the living.’

The Major grinned. ‘You and me both,’ he said. ‘So what’s the lovely Charlie got you working on these days?’

Shepherd drove from the barracks to Liam’s school just in time to see him arrive at the gates with two of his friends. Liam waved goodbye to them and climbed into the passenger seat. Shepherd’s mobile rang just as he was parking in front of the house. It was Charlotte Button and Shepherd felt a sudden surge of adrenalin. Did she know that he’d just met the Major? He forced himself to relax. Button was good but there was no way that she could know what he was doing in Hereford.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ he asked as Liam disappeared inside the house.

‘Are you busy?’

‘School run,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

‘We’re ready to move,’ said Button. ‘Can you come to London tomorrow? Same place as before?’

‘No problem,’ said Shepherd, locking the car and walking towards the house.

‘How did it go with the navy?’ asked Button.

‘Yeah, he’s a good guy, that captain. He showed me a dozen or so photographs of pirates working for Crazy Boy.’

‘I’ve just heard back from our people in Mogadishu, and Crazy Boy’s uncle has collected the money.’

‘You’ve got people in Mogadishu?’

Button laughed. ‘We’ve got people everywhere, Spider. That’s what we do.’

‘How do you go about getting a spy in Somalia? I’m assuming you don’t advertise in the
Guardian
.’

‘We screen the refugees that arrive here and some of them are prepared to go back for us. Plus we recruit people
in situ
.’

‘For money?’

‘More often than not, yes. So I’ll see you tomorrow. As close to noon as you can make it, OK?’

‘I’ll be there,’ said Shepherd.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

‘Sure, why?’

‘You sound a bit tense, that’s all.’

Shepherd screwed up his face. Button was good, all right. He took a deep breath. ‘One of the mums cut me up outside the school,’ he said. ‘Pulled right in front of me.’

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘School runs can be brutal. That’s one of the great things about boarding school, of course. No more acting as a free taxi service.’