False Friends (6 page)

‘He’l be okay. He’s used to your absences.’

‘It’s not him I’m worried about,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m the one that misses him, not the other way round.’ He drained his glass. ‘At least I don’t have to nag him to do his homework; the school’s doing a better job of that than I ever did.’

He stood up and showed Button to the door.

‘I’l get Sam to cal you, then,’ she said, heading downstairs before he had time to worry about whether to shake her hand or accept a peck on the cheek.

Shepherd watched the battered black Golf GTI pul into the car park and drive slowly around before parking in the bay furthest away from the M1

motorway. London Gateway services, between junctions two and four north of the capital, was perfect for clandestine meetings. It was a place ful of transients: everyone was a stranger and everyone was on the way to somewhere else. London Gateway was just a stopping-off point for a coffee, a toilet break or an expensive and badly cooked meal. Businessmen with mobile phones glued to their ears, chav housewives shepherding unruly broods towards the bathrooms, bald-headed white-van drivers chewing gum and knocking back cans of Red Bul , they al remained the centre of their own universes and showed little if any interest in the people around them.

Miles to the south, moored on the Thames in the centre of the city, was the museum warship HMS
Belfast
. Shepherd had read somewhere that the warship’s guns were aimed so that their shel s, if fired, would fal directly on to the service centre. It was a nugget of information that his perfect memory kept locked away for ever, but for the life of him he had no idea why the centre had been targeted, and could only assume it was a comment on the drab architecture. Or maybe someone had once eaten a bad sausage rol there.

Shepherd climbed out of the Volvo, a three-year-old model from the office pool. He locked the door and walked over to the Golf, whistling softly to himself. He had a basebal cap pul ed low over his eyes and he kept his head down. He tapped on the rear window of the car and the two men inside jumped as if they’d been stung, then they relaxed as they recognised him.

Shepherd opened the rear door and got in. ‘Harvey, when are you going to get yourself a decent motor?’ he asked, clapping the driver on the back.

‘This, it’s a classic, innit?’ said Malik. It was cold in the car and both men were bundled up, Chaudhry in his duffel coat and Malik in his green parka jacket.

Shepherd pul ed on the handle to close the door and it threatened to come away in his hand. ‘It’s a piece of shit,’ he said.

‘So how about your bosses pay for a new motor, then?’ said Chaudhry. ‘There was a reward for Bin Laden, wasn’t there? Twenty-five mil ion bucks. How about sending some of that our way, John?’

John Whitehil was Shepherd’s cover name. It was the only name they would ever know him by. ‘I’l ask, but the Yanks are taking the credit,’ he said.

‘Yeah, but they know the information came from us, right?’ said Malik, twisting round in his seat.

‘What do you think, Harvey? You think we’ve been shouting your names from the rooftops?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Malik, his cheeks reddening. ‘But Obama knows, right?’

‘Of course Obama doesn’t bloody wel know,’ said Shepherd. He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to lose his temper. He forced himself to smile. ‘If the President knew then at least a dozen other people would know, and Washington leaks like a bloody sieve. Al the politicians are hand in glove with the media so it wouldn’t take long for the info to go public and then the two of you would be wel fucked. I presume you don’t want your names splashed across the
New York Times
.’

‘But someone knows, right?’ said Malik. ‘We get the credit, right?’

‘We know, Harvey. That’s what matters.’

‘And who is “we”, exactly?’ pressed Malik.

Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’m fine,’ said Malik. ‘I just want some reassurance here that someone else isn’t taking credit for what we did. We found Bin Laden. We found the man the whole world was looking for. And we told you and then the Americans went in and kil ed him. And nowhere do I hear that it was anything other than an American operation.’

‘Which is what we want. That sort of disinformation keeps you safe. What do you want, Harvey? You want to go and shake hands with Obama in the White House and have him tel you how proud he is?’

‘What I want, John, is a piece of the twenty-five-mil ion reward that the Americans promised.’

‘That was up to twenty-five mil ion,’ said Shepherd. ‘If they do pay it then it’l be split among everyone involved.’

‘Including the Seals?’ asked Malik.

‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

‘You know the Yanks paid thirty mil ion dol ars to one informant who gave up Hussein’s kids,’ said Chaudhry. ‘Uday and Qusay. Remember? The Yanks went in and blew them away too. And like I said, they handed over thirty mil ion dol ars to one man.’

‘How do you know that?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Google,’ said Raj. ‘It ain’t rocket science.’

‘So do we get a piece of the reward, or not?’ asked Malik.

‘I’l put out some feelers, Harvey.’

‘Yeah, wel , make sure you do. I just worry that what me and Raj did is going to get lost in al that Yank back-slapping.’

‘What you did won’t be forgotten, you have my word.’

‘That and a quid’l get me on a bus,’ said Malik, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

‘You’re not saying you’re doing it for the money, are you?’

‘Fuck you, John!’ spat Malik. ‘Fuck you and fuck MI5. We put our lives on the line, Raj and me. We spent three months in Pakistan and if we’d put a foot wrong they’d have kil ed us without blinking an eye. But we went into the lion’s den and we walked out and now it’s like we don’t fucking exist.’

He grunted and pounded his fists against the dashboard.

‘Bloody hel , Harvey. Steady, mate, or you’l set off the airbag,’ said Shepherd.

Malik grunted again but then began to chuckle. He shook his head as he laughed.

‘You okay, brother?’ asked Chaudhry anxiously.

Malik nodded. ‘Aye, brother, I’m fine.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘I’m fine. It’s been a bit stressful, you know?’

Shepherd patted him on the shoulder. ‘Mate, more than anyone I know what you guys went through and as far as I’m concerned the sun shines out of your arses.’

Chaudhry gestured at the service centre. ‘Can we go and get something to eat? I’m starving.’

‘Not with me,’ said Shepherd. ‘Can’t take the risk.’

‘No one knows us this far out of London,’ said Malik.

‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Shepherd. ‘We need to keep our heads down for the next few days. Everyone’s going to be ultra-sensitive so I don’t want anyone spotting us together in a coffee shop or on the Heath.’

‘So we have to drive out here whenever we want to meet?’ asked Malik.

‘Here or somewhere just as safe,’ said Shepherd. ‘Just for the next week or so until it dies down. Look, it’s Sod’s Law: the time you think you’re safest is the time when you bump into someone who recognises you. So we’l stay right where we are and you can go and have a coffee when I’ve gone.’

‘Why don’t you get us a safe house?’ asked Malik. ‘You people always use safe houses, don’t you?’

‘Horses for courses,’ said Shepherd. ‘But if you were seen going into a strange address then you’d be screwed. This way is best. Not much can go wrong in a service station car park.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Touch wood.’

‘You know what? I’d real y like to see inside the MI5 building,’ said Chaudhry. ‘What’s it cal ed again? The one by the Thames?’

‘That’s MI6’s HQ,’ said Shepherd. ‘Vauxhal Bridge. MI5 is at Thames House, in Mil bank. It’s not as impressive. Why would you want to look round it?’

Chaudhry shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just be interested to see what the place is like, that’s al .’

‘It’s easily arranged,’ said Shepherd. ‘But best to wait until this is over.’

‘And what happens then?’ asked Malik. ‘When we’re done with this?’

‘What do you mean?’

Malik looked at Chaudhry, then back at Shepherd. ‘What happens to us? We get the reward, right? Do we get new identities? Witness protection?’

‘Have you two been discussing this?’ asked Shepherd.

‘We were wondering what you’d got planned,’ said Chaudhry.

‘What do you want to happen, Raj?’

‘Other than the reward, you mean?’ Chaudhry smiled. ‘I’m joking. I just want this to be over, John. I want be a doctor; I want to help people.’

‘You should think about joining MI5,’ said Shepherd. ‘Or the police. Once this is over you could write your own ticket.’

‘Be a professional liar? Because that’s what I’ve been doing for the last twelve months. I’m sick of it. Sick of the lies, sick of playing a part. I want my life back.’ He grinned. ‘And the reward, of course.’

‘You’l get your life back, I can promise you that,’ said Shepherd. ‘But that’s why we have to keep you both deep undercover at the moment. Once the operation’s over we pul you out, you move on and do whatever you want to do. But no one must ever know.’

‘That’s for sure,’ said Malik. ‘If anyone at the mosque knew about us they’d hack off our heads with a blunt knife.’

‘That’s not going to happen, Harvey,’ said Shepherd. ‘And most of the guys at your mosque would be as appal ed as anyone about what’s being planned.’

‘Yeah, but they’d see us as traitors for spying on our own.’

Shepherd didn’t like the way the conversation was going. It was vital that the two men concentrated on what they were doing and not on what the possible repercussions were. The more they considered the downside, the more likely it was that they would become nervous and make mistakes.

‘Guys, you’re doing a great job and we’re on the home stretch. What you’re doing is going to save a lot of people.’

‘But no one can ever know, right?’ said Malik.

‘The people who matter wil know,’ said Shepherd. ‘And afterwards, doors are going to be opened for you. Like I said, you’l be able to write your own ticket. If you want a job within the security services I doubt that’d be a problem. They’d bite your hand off.’

‘I don’t wanna be no spy,’ said Malik.

‘Brother, you’ve already crossed that bridge,’ said Chaudhry. He laughed and squeezed his shoulder. ‘That’s what we’ve been doing for the last year. But go on, tel John what it is you want out of life.’

Malik shook his hand away. ‘Stop taking the piss.’

‘Harvey wants his own restaurant.’

‘Seriously?’ said Shepherd.

Malik nodded enthusiastical y. ‘Japanese. I love sushi, the whole raw-fish thing. I was tel ing Raj that if we get the reward for Bin Laden I’m going to open one up. Fly in the best chefs from Japan, real y go upmarket. You like sushi, John?’

‘It’s okay. I prefer my food cooked, though. I like that thing the Japanese do, cooking the stuff in front of you with the flashing knives. Food and theatre combined.’

‘Teppanyaki,’ said Malik. ‘Yeah, I thought I’d do that too, concentrating on seafood. Lobster, prawns.’

‘You’ve given a lot of thought to it,’ said Shepherd.

‘My plan was to get my master’s then try to get a job with one of the big restaurant groups, but now I’m thinking about my own restaurant. That would be something, right?’

‘It’d be great,’ agreed Shepherd. A white Transit van pul ed up close by and parked with its engine running. Shepherd sat back and looked over at the driver. He was shaven-headed with a mobile phone pressed to his ear and as Shepherd watched he pul ed out a copy of the
Sun
and spread it across the steering wheel. Shepherd relaxed. ‘So what was the buzz after everyone heard what had happened in Pakistan?’ he asked.

‘In the mosque?’ said Chaudhry. ‘Mostly they thought it was a lie. They don’t believe anything the Americans say these days. I kept hearing that it was al bul shit and that Bin Laden’s been dead for years.’

‘What?’

‘I shit you not. The Americans have been caught out lying too many times. And, to be honest, until I met the man I thought he was a myth too. I figured that he’d died in the caves in Afghanistan years ago. But it’s not like I can tel the brothers in the mosque that, is it? So they reckon that the Americans had been using Bin Laden as an excuse to invade Muslim countries and now that they’re pul ing out of Iraq and Afghanistan they don’t need the myth any more. So they tel the world that he’s dead and that they buried the body at sea.’

‘It’s a nice story,’ said Shepherd. ‘Most conspiracy theories are.’

‘The same brothers don’t believe that Bin Laden was behind Nine-Eleven either,’ said Malik. ‘They say it was al an American–Zionist plot.’

‘There’re plenty of Americans who believe that too,’ said Shepherd. ‘But why would the Americans kil their own people?’

‘For oil,’ said Malik. ‘You think they care about their own people? How many of their soldiers have died in Iraq? Five thousand or so, right? Plus how many Iraqis? A mil ion? You think with numbers like that they’d worry about how many were in the Twin Towers? And you know that at first Bin Laden denied having anything to do with Nine-Eleven, right?’

‘There was a lot of confusion in the early days,’ said Shepherd. ‘But I don’t think there’s much doubt now. You should have asked the man himself when you had the chance.’

Malik snorted. ‘We weren’t al owed to ask anything,’ he said. ‘They were very clear on that before they took us in to see him. No questions, no speaking unless he spoke to us, minimum eye contact, never contradict him.’

‘He knows that, Harvey,’ said Chaudhry. ‘He debriefed us, remember?’ He turned round to look at Shepherd. ‘There are those who don’t believe that Bin Laden died in that raid, but there are others who see it as yet another American attack on Islam. And the Pakistani brothers are the most fired up because of the way they flew in without tel ing anybody. Some of them are talking about it as if it was an invasion.’

‘Which it bloody wel was,’ said Malik.

‘But you can see why it had to be done that way,’ said Chaudhry, turning back in his seat. ‘If they’d told the Pakistanis then someone would have tipped off Bin Laden.’