Fair Game (28 page)

‘You don’t think it’s more than a coincidence that he was murdered after my cover was blown?’

Button shrugged. ‘He was an ATF undercover agent working on several cases, he was up against a lot of dangerous people. If I had any reason to believe that it was connected to you, of course I’d have told you.’

‘But you didn’t want to worry me, is that it? You didn’t want me taking my eye off the ball?’

Button leaned forward across the desk. ‘Spider, I always have your best interests at heart. You should know that. Yes, I was told that Nicholas Brett had been killed and the New York cops are investigating it, but as things stand it could just as easily have been a mugging. His wallet and watch were taken. Did you know that?’

Shepherd shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘So I didn’t want you to worry over nothing. And that still stands. As soon anything changes, I’ll tell you.’

Shepherd stared at her, trying to get a read on her. Her eyes were wide, suggesting honesty, there was no tightening of the jaw or pulse at her temple indicating unusual stress levels, no licking of the lips to suggest nervousness, no awkward swallowing to suggest a dry mouth; her hands were relaxed on the desk with no instinctive upward motion to touch her nose or cover her mouth. All the indications were that she was telling the truth, but then Charlotte Button knew as much as he did about body language, maybe more, and she would be able to fake it if she had to. ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said. ‘Who told you that Brett was dead?’

He forced himself to appear relaxed and kept smiling amiably. He could see that she was studying him as carefully as he was watching her. He opened his hands, showing his palms, trying to make it a casual gesture. Palm-showing suggested honesty and openness, but done too aggressively it was a sign of deceit. He was about to lie to her and there weren’t many people harder to lie to than Charlotte Button. ‘Old friend of mine in the DEA,’ he said. ‘I’d asked him for background on Brett when I first went over.’

‘I didn’t know you had friends in the DEA.’

‘A friend,’ said Shepherd, maintaining eye contact and keeping his breathing steady. ‘Brett was an unknown so I asked my guy and he said he didn’t know him. When Brett turned up dead he gave me a call.’

Button nodded slowly as she studied Shepherd’s face. ‘OK,’ she said finally, sitting back in her chair and linking her fingers. ‘This isn’t a problem, is it?’

Shepherd shrugged. ‘Of course not.’

‘You’re sure? I get the feeling that you think I should have told you straight away. But believe me, Spider, it was just one of a thousand pieces of intel that pass across my desk every day. I’m far more concerned about what’s coming out of Northern Ireland than the States. If there are going to be any repercussions about what happened in Belfast, they’re more likely to come from there than from across the pond.’

‘And Belfast is quiet?’

‘Lots of chatter, and obviously Matt Tanner’s name keeps coming up, but so far nothing to even suggest that they know who Tanner really was.’

Shepherd flashed her a confident smile. ‘Let’s hope it stays that way, then.’

Katie had lost all track of time and she no longer knew how many days she’d been held captive. They were kept together, which was something, and the rapes had stopped. They were being held in a village, and when they’d dragged her into the concrete-walled hut from the truck she’d seen women in headscarves watching, so maybe the pirates didn’t want them to know about the sexual assaults.

There was no furniture in the hut and they all sat on the bare mud floor with their backs against the wall. There was a zinc bucket in one corner with a piece of sacking. That was where they went to the toilet. The bucket was emptied once a day, if they were lucky.

Katie was sitting between Eric and Joy. Andrew and Hoop sat together on the opposite side of the hut. Joy and Andrew had barely spoken since they had been taken off the boat. Katie didn’t know if it was because Joy blamed her husband for not protecting her or if it was because Andrew was ashamed of what had happened. Either way they behaved as if they were strangers and not husband and wife.

They all smelled bad. Worse than bad. They hadn’t showered or had a proper wash since they’d been taken off the yacht and they hadn’t been given any toilet paper. And they had to eat with their hands because their meals came without any cutlery.

They were fed three times a day, always rice and a piece of fish, and occasionally a bowl of watery soup. The dishes never seemed to be washed and the water they were given to drink came in a plastic bucket and there were always insects floating in it. Katie’s stomach had been playing up for the past three days and she was having to use the bucket every hour or so, much to her embarrassment.

Katie put her head in her hands. She was beyond crying. She had no more tears left inside her. She wished that she was dead, and if there had been any way of killing herself she would almost certainly have done it there and then.

The door scraped open and Roobie walked in. He was wearing a camouflage T-shirt and baggy shorts and had a machete tucked into a thick leather belt.

‘The owner won’t pay,’ said Roobie. Everyone looked at him fearfully.

‘What do you mean, he won’t pay?’ said Hoop.

‘He says the boat isn’t his. He says the boat is his when it gets to Australia.’

Hoop cursed.

‘Is that right?’ asked Roobie.

‘Maybe,’ said Hoop, getting to his feet.

Roobie stepped forward and slapped Hoop across the face, hard enough to split his lip. ‘Maybe!’ he shouted. ‘You say maybe to me!’ He brought his knee up into Hoop’s groin and he pitched forward, clutching his private parts, then fell to the ground.

Hoop lay on the floor, curled up into the foetal position and whimpering. Roobie turned to glare at the rest of his prisoners. Joy and Katie huddled together and Eric was trembling. Andrew clenched his fists but knew that if Roobie attacked him there’d be nothing he could do. Even if he were to try to defend himself Roobie’s men would come piling into the hut.

‘Someone must pay for you!’ Roobie shouted, spittle spraying from his lips. ‘If no one pays, you die.’ He pulled the machete from his belt. ‘You understand me?’ he screamed. He lunged for Joy and grabbed her hair. She wailed in pain as he pulled her across the mud floor and thrust the blade against her neck. ‘No money, you all die!’ Tears were streaming down Joy’s face. Andrew roared and ran towards Roobie, his hands curved into claws, but Roobie lashed out with the machete and cut him across the chest. He released Joy and lashed out again at Andrew, hacking at his arm. Andrew fell back, bleeding from his wounds.

Roobie raised the machete, ready to bring it crashing down on Andrew’s head, but then he held himself back. His chest rose and fell as he stared down at Andrew, but then he relaxed and stepped back. Two of his men came through the door, Kalashnikovs at the ready. Roobie snapped at them in Somali and they went out.

‘This is what you do,’ said Roobie, tapping the machete against his leg. ‘You will give me the telephone numbers of your families. We will call them and if they pay, you live. If they not pay, you die.’

Shepherd used his Oliver Blackburn mobile that Button had given him to call the number of the shipping line’s representative in Malaysia. He had only been given the man’s first name – Jamal.

Jamal answered on the third ring and Shepherd introduced himself as Oliver Blackburn. ‘I’m supposed to be joining the
Athena
when it gets to Port Klang.’

‘Yes, Mr Blackburn, we are expecting you,’ said Jamal in clipped BBC English.

‘So how does it work, Jamal? When is the
Athena
due in?’

‘The vessel has already left China and we have an estimated arrival date three days hence,’ said Jamal. ‘I will know more in another twenty-four hours.’

‘When would be the best time for me to get there?’

‘The day after tomorrow would be fine.’

‘Is there a hotel I can use while I’m waiting?’

‘There is the Crystal Crown Hotel in Port Klang,’ said Jamal. ‘If you like I can make a reservation for you. Where are you flying from?’

‘London, Heathrow,’ said Shepherd.

‘You can take an airport taxi to the hotel,’ said Jamal. ‘A word of advice, buy your ticket before leaving the terminal. The airport taxis don’t take cash. Call me when you’ve arrived and I will hopefully have a boarding time for you.’

Shepherd thanked him and ended the call, impressed by Jamal’s efficiency. Then he took out the business card that Captain Giles had given him when he’d left his office and called his mobile number.

Shepherd walked into the Waterstones branch in Trafalgar Square and spent ten minutes browsing in the science fiction section and another five minutes in the children’s section before he was satisfied that no one was following him, then he went upstairs to the Costa Coffee outlet on the first floor and ordered himself a large cappuccino. He looked at his watch as he sat down in an easy chair facing the stairs. It was just after 4.30 and he was fifteen minutes early. He took out his mobile and phoned Liam. ‘Have you done your homework?’ he asked.

‘Dad, I’ve only just walked in through the door. I need some down time.’

‘Hard day?’

‘It’s school, Dad. It’s never easy.’

‘So get Katra to make you a sandwich and get stuck in to it.’

‘I want to check my Facebook page first.’

‘OK, but then homework, right?’

Liam sighed. ‘OK, Dad.’

‘Everything all right at home?’

‘Sure. When are you coming back?’

‘I’ll try to get back tonight but then I’m flying out to Malaysia.’

‘On a job?’

‘Of course on a job. Do you think I’d go on holiday without you?’

‘How long this time, Dad?’ Liam’s voice had gone cold and flat and Shepherd winced.

‘I’m not sure. A week or so. Maybe a bit longer.’

Liam sighed again. ‘It’s like you’re never here these days,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry. It’s been a busy few months.’

‘Years, Dad. It’s been a busy few years.’

Shepherd saw Captain Giles walking towards him and he waved him over. ‘Liam, I’ve got to go.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ said Liam, and the line went dead. Shepherd cursed under his breath and put his phone away, then stood up to shake hands with Giles.

‘Good choice,’ said Giles, looking around. ‘I much prefer Costa to Starbucks though either of them is ten times better than the dishwater we get at the MoD.’

‘I’m sorry about the short notice,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m heading out of London and I wanted to pick your brains before I go.’

‘Pick away.’

‘What can I get you?’

‘A mocha would be great,’ said Giles. He patted his stomach. ‘Low-fat milk and no whipped cream.’

Shepherd chuckled. ‘Watching your weight?’

‘I’m either at sea or sitting at a desk,’ he said. ‘And the hours I work I don’t get much gym time.’

He sat down while Shepherd went to get his coffee.

‘I know the type of ship that’s going to be attacked and I wanted to know what I should expect,’ said Shepherd after Giles had taken his first sip of mocha and wiped the foam from his upper lip. ‘How the pirates would board and so on.’

‘You know they’re going to target a particular ship?’

‘Yeah, we’ve got pretty good intel.’

‘So what are you going to do? Put an SBS team on board and catch them, is that it?’

Shepherd looked pained. ‘I can’t say, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, if that’s what you’re planning it’ll be a first,’ said Giles. ‘But it’s about time somebody did something.’

‘So we think they’re after a container ship, just under three hundred and fifty metres long.’

Giles nodded and took another sip of his coffee. ‘That’s big,’ he said. ‘Eleven thousand TEUs, I’d say.’

‘More initials,’ said Shepherd. ‘You nautical types do like them, don’t you?’

Giles grinned. ‘Twenty-foot equivalent units. A standard container is twenty foot long. But a lot of them are double that length, forty feet. So to calculate the storage space we convert it to single units, or TEUs. So the ship that you’re talking about would be able to carry eleven thousand single containers or five and a half thousand doubles, or a combination of the two.’

‘You know the sort of ship I’m talking about, then? I’m told it has a cruising speed of twenty-four knots.’

Giles nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s a standard type, one of the biggest in service. The only bigger container ship would be thirteen thousand TEUs, though there are plenty of larger oil tankers. Probably built in Korea.’ He frowned. ‘You’re sure about the intel on this?’

‘I’m told it’s gold,’ said Shepherd. ‘Why?’

‘Because that’s a bloody big ship and the pirates tend to go for easier pickings.’

‘I’d have thought that the bigger the ships, the bigger the profits?’

‘That’s not really the case, because the ransoms are a small fraction of the value of the ship and the cargo,’ said Giles. ‘Ransoms run from a million to five million, but doubling the value of the ship doesn’t necessarily double the ransom.’ He leaned forward. ‘The thing is, the deck is some fifteen metres above sea level, so that is a major hurdle for the pirates. If they’re in skiffs or inflatables, they can’t be handling ladders that long.’

‘Grappling irons and ropes?’

‘In rough seas? Could you climb a fifteen-metre rope up the side of a moving ship?’

Shepherd grinned because he had done exactly that as part of his SAS training, but Giles was right, the pirates were enthusiastic amateurs and not highly trained soldiers. ‘I hear you,’ he said.

‘To stand any chance of getting on board they’d have to be at the stern. The displacement at the bow and sides is way too much to allow any sort of boarding.’

‘Now you’ve lost me,’ said Shepherd.

‘OK, look, this is one huge ship. I’m guessing it would be displacing maybe a hundred and seventy thousand tonnes. That means as it moves through the sea, it pushes that amount of water away, and most of that water is pushed to the side. Any small vessel would be swamped. So the pirates couldn’t pull up next to the ship if it was moving and toss up a grappling hook. They’d be capsized before they even got within throwing distance.’