Rough Justice Part 52

'There were three different slugs in him, Spider,' said b.u.t.ton.

'It was the inspector who pushed them he had something to prove. And if I'd given him any excuse he'd have shot me too.' He glared at b.u.t.ton. 'I'm serious about this, Charlie. I want him out. And before you give me any of that c.r.a.p about you not having enough weight, if he isn't out I'll go public. I'll go to the press and, if necessary, I'll stand up in court and give evidence against him.'

'Then your career would be over,' she said quietly.

'I'm past caring,' Shepherd said. 'That's twice this year that an armed cop has almost killed me, and it's twice too many times. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d killed Mayhew when he was surrendering and he threatened to kill me. I want him out.'

'Okay,' said b.u.t.ton. 'I'll see what can be done.'

'I'm serious about this, Charlie,' said Shepherd.

'I can see that. Is that why you said you'd had enough? Because you were almost shot?'

'It's more than that,' said Shepherd. 'CO19 isn't the issue. My job is. SOCA is a waste of time. It's the truth and you know it. We're the Serious Organised Crime Agency, but how many big-time criminals have we put away? How many of the really big villains are behind bars because of SOCA?'

'There's a lot of ongoing investigations that have yet to bear fruit,' she said.

Shepherd snorted. 'With respect, that's b.o.l.l.o.c.ks,' he said. 'Over the last two years I've put forward half a dozen villains that I think we should be looking at, and each time they've been knocked back because of budgetary considerations. I ask you, Charlie, what the h.e.l.l are we doing worrying about budgetary considerations? We're supposed to be putting criminals in prison, not worrying about profit and loss accounts.'

'There's always a cost element in investigations,' said b.u.t.ton.

'Yeah, but with SOCA it feels like money's the driving force. If it's too expensive to go after a big-time villain then he gets a free pa.s.s. That's not right.'

'It's not as simple as that, Spider.'

'I'm sorry but it is,' said Shepherd. 'You and I both know who are responsible for bringing most of the cocaine into this country. But because they live in Amsterdam we don't do a thing about them. There are gangs in north London that run protection rackets earning millions a year and we don't go after them. We know the names of three gangland a.s.sa.s.sins who between them have killed what? sixteen people over the last decade. Do we try and take them down? No. Our country is full of foreign murderers and rapists and we let them live here because n.o.body can be bothered to send them home. And what am I told to do? I'm told to investigate coppers. Why? Because it's the easy option. Send good old Spider in to infiltrate a group of cops, make friends with them and then betray them. Looks good for the figures and doesn't break the bank.'

'They were vigilantes, Spider. They were breaking the law.'

'Were they, Charlie?' said Shepherd. 'Were they breaking the law or were they upholding it? What were they doing? They were driving drug-dealers out of the country, they were getting rid of paedophiles, they were castrating pimps and rapists. Isn't that what the police are supposed to be doing? Isn't that SOCA's job?'

'Castration and murder? No, that's most definitely not SOCA's remit.'

'I'm talking about justice,' said Shepherd. 'Rough justice, maybe. But real justice. That's the problem, Charlie. There's no justice in the world, these days. We put pensioners in prison for not paying their council tax and we let murderers and rapists roam the streets.'

'The system breaks down sometimes, but systems are never infallible.'

Shepherd shook his head. 'It's not that the system occasionally breaks down,' he said. 'It's just plain broken. The cops have no power, the courts are biased towards the villains rather than the victims, the prisons are so crowded that we're putting the bad guys back on the street before they've finished their sentences, and the probation service is so overworked that they can't keep track of the criminals who are released.' He sighed. 'I've just had enough. I don't want to be part of the system any more.'

b.u.t.ton tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. 'Is the failure of the criminal justice system the issue, Spider? Is that really the issue?'

Shepherd frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Is it the vigilante cops that have got you all riled up, or is it something more personal?'

'Like what?' he said.

'Oh, I don't know,' she said, her voice barely a whisper. 'Perhaps the reason you're not happy about bringing the vigilantes to justice has more to do with you crossing a line of your own than about SOCA not having the right priorities.'

'What exactly are you accusing me of, Charlie?'

She locked eyes with him. 'I don't know, Spider. What exactly have you done?' she said.

As he stared into her eyes, he realised what a skilled interrogator she was. She was smiling but her eyes were hard, and he could see that she was studying him intently, looking for the body language and reflexes that would give a clue to his innermost thoughts. He was also very well aware of the first rule of interrogation never ask a question that you don't know the answer to. He swallowed but his mouth had gone dry and he almost gagged. He saw a small gleam of triumph in b.u.t.ton's eyes. 'Why don't you tell me?' he said, wishing he felt half as confident as he sounded.

'Did you really think I wouldn't find out?' she said. 'Did you think for one minute that the disappearance of the Fox brothers wouldn't appear on my radar? Especially coming so quickly after the a.s.sa.s.sination of Allan Gannon's nephew. Did you think that you and he could zip across the Irish Sea without me knowing?' She smiled thinly. 'And that just because you leave your mobile phones behind I wouldn't be able to track you? I'm not sure what annoys me most, Spider. The fact that you went behind my back, or the fact that you misunderestimated me, as George W liked to say.'

Shepherd put his hands on the table and linked his fingers, trying to stay calm. He felt like a poker player whose opponent had just turned over two aces. If she knew that he'd helped Gannon kill the Fox brothers, then she knew everything.

'I worked for MI5, Spider,' she continued. 'I'll be back working for MI5 next month. I have access to intelligence material at a level so high that you'd need a hot-air balloon to keep up with me.'

'You've been spying on me,' he said quietly.

'I've been watching your back,' she said. 'Like I said I would.'

'Does anyone else know?'

'Give me some credit, Spider.'

He nodded. 'Sorry.'

'Sorry for what?'

He felt like a pupil being given a dressing down by a headmistress and that at any minute she was going to tell him he'd let her down, let the school down, but that more than anything he'd let himself down. 'You know, I'm not sure. If I could turn the clock back, I wouldn't. I did what I did and I have no problems with it.'

'Funnily enough, neither do I,' said b.u.t.ton.

Shepherd raised his eyebrows. 'That's not what I expected to hear,' he said.

'Why am I not surprised?' she said. 'I'm starting to wonder if you really know me, Spider.' She sipped her wine, her eyes never leaving his. 'Is there anything else you want to share with me?' she added. 'Something else you've been keeping from me?'

'Charlie, it sounds like you know pretty much everything,' he said.

'You don't know the half of it,' she said. 'Didn't you think that my curiosity would be aroused when the cops from Hereford starting asking me where you were when Imer Lekstakaj was murdered? And why did you even think that you could start asking the SOCA lab at Tamworth to start doing private DNA a.n.a.lysis without me finding out? Or waving your Terry Halligan warrant card around New Scotland Yard and accessing Europol databases without raising a red flag?' She sighed. 'I set the right man on the trail of vigilantes, didn't I? Set a thief to catch a thief.'

'Do you know what Lekstakaj did?'

'I know he was a s.h.i.t of the first order back in Albania. And I know that he killed your dog and threatened your family.'

Shepherd sat back in his chair. b.u.t.ton was right: he had underestimated her. He'd a.s.sumed that he could run rings around her but within a few minutes she had proved comprehensively how wrong he'd been. He wanted to apologise, but not for what he'd done. He wasn't sorry that he'd helped the Major kill the Fox brothers and he certainly had no regrets about the way he'd dealt with Lekstakaj, but he sincerely regretted going behind her back. She was right: he'd treated her like a fool and Charlotte b.u.t.ton was n.o.body's fool.

'Lekstakaj had a wife and child, didn't he?' asked b.u.t.ton.

'They're fine,' said Shepherd. 'The wife did a runner with the boy after the police went around. I made it clear that they weren't to be hurt.'

'That's very big of you, Spider,' she said, her voice loaded with sarcasm.

'I'm not justifying what I did. I did what I had to do to protect my family. And you, more than anyone, should understand that.' b.u.t.ton's eyes narrowed and she looked as if she was about to say something, but then she relaxed and poured more wine into her gla.s.s. She went to top up his too, but he shook his head. 'I'm driving,' he said. She shrugged and put the bottle back in the cooler. 'So, what happens now?' he asked.

'In what respect?'

Shepherd was pretty sure that she knew what he meant. She knew more than enough to finish his career and put him in the dock charged with conspiracy to murder, and more.

'I'm leaving SOCA, you know that,' said b.u.t.ton. 'What lines you did or didn't cross are no concern of mine.'

Shepherd nodded. 'Thank you.'

She shook her head fiercely. 'You don't have to thank me, Spider. I always take care of my people. I always have and I always will, even when they don't appreciate it.'

'I do appreciate it, Charlie. Really. I just...' He struggled to find the right words. 'I guess I didn't want anyone else to get dragged into what I was doing.'

'You don't have to explain anything.' She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. 'I understand why you did what you did, and maybe in your place I would have done the same. And strictly between you and me, and I'd deny that I ever said this, but so far as SOCA goes I think you're right. SOCA isn't fit for purpose, as our beloved politicians love to say. It isn't bringing in the major villains and is doing precious little to bring down the crime rate. But ours not to reason why, Spider. We don't make policy, we implement it.'

'We were doing a better job when we were a police unit,' said Shepherd. 'At least then we were called in when local forces had a problem they wanted solving. We went after real villains.'

'Is that what you want to do? Go back to being a cop?'

'Maybe,' he said. 'Or go back to the Regiment. I could be an instructor.'

b.u.t.ton smiled. 'I never had you down as a teacher. What is it they say? If you can't do, teach. You're a doer, Spider, not a teacher.'

'It's just a thought. There aren't too many career options for an SAS trooper turned undercover cop.'

b.u.t.ton studied him closely. 'You could come to Five with me,' she said quietly.

'Are you serious?' he said. 'Do you see me as a spook?'

'I see you as a talented undercover operative who could be used in a mult.i.tude of situations,' she said. 'And you've got other talents that I'm sure Five could make use of.'

'Such as?'

She smiled slyly. 'You know, those hidden talents that, if you use them off your own bat, could get you into all sorts of trouble, but if you used them for Queen and country could win you a medal or two.'

'Do spooks get medals?'

'Absolutely they do. And knighthoods.' She leaned forward again. 'Think about it. It's an option.' She smiled. 'And, you never know, it might be fun.'

Major Gannon tapped out the alarm code and left his house as the console beeped. He double-locked the front door and whistled softly to himself as he walked towards his silver Jaguar. He hadn't got back until late the previous night and hadn't wanted to disturb the neighbours in his mews by opening the garage door and reversing in so he had left the car parked outside his kitchen window. As always, he did a quick walk-around to convince himself that his car hadn't been tampered with, then opened the boot and put away the small metal suitcase that contained his satellite phone.

He had a busy day ahead of him. He was due at New Scotland Yard to give a briefing to senior officers in the Met on the new weapons he'd been testing at Hereford. Then he had to attend a Foreign Office discussion group who had to prepare a policy paper for the Foreign Secretary on the seizure of a British ship off the coast of Somalia by pirates who were demanding a ransom of half a million pounds. So far as the Major was concerned, the best way of dealing with the growing problem of ships being seized was to send in the Increment with guns blazing, but official policy over the past few years had been to negotiate and pay. The government had long ago backtracked on its promise never to negotiate with terrorists, and the Somalian pirates knew that, providing they didn't hurt their hostages and kept their demands to a reasonable level, there was every chance they would continue to be paid. The Major hoped to sway the group towards his point of view, that enough was enough and that if they took out one of the pirate gangs they would probably leave British ships alone in future. It wouldn't stop them, but it would keep them off British vessels.

After the Foreign Office meeting he had to drive to Hereford to prepare for a tour of visiting dignitaries from the Gulf, a trio of Arab princes who were keen to see what the SAS could do and had specifically asked for a look at the hi-tech Killing House where the troopers sharpened their hostage-rescue skills with live ammunition.

He slammed the boot shut, walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. The car was only two months old and still had its new-car smell. The Major had always been a fan of Jaguars, and the silver X-Type was his sixth. He put in the ignition key. As he started to turn it he noticed a greasy smear close to the insignia on the bonnet, a smear he'd never noticed before.

The explosion shattered all the windows in the street. The alarm in the Major's house was one of a dozen that went off, but his was the only one linked to the local police station. By the time a patrol car arrived the Fire Brigade were already on the scene, dousing the burning car with their hoses as a thick plume of black smoke curled into the sky, and two paramedics were tending a pensioner who had been injured by flying shards of steel.

Just thirty minutes after the explosion, a phone call was made to the news desk of the Belfast Telegraph Belfast Telegraph. A recognised codeword was given and the caller identified himself as a member of the Real IRA. He said that the organisation was claiming responsibility for the justified execution of an enemy of the Irish people who had been responsible for dozens of deaths in the province, including those of the freedom fighters Padraig and Sean Fox. More a.s.sa.s.sinations were to follow until the deaths of the Fox brothers had been avenged. 'Tiocfaidh ar la,' said the caller, before hanging up. 'Our day will come.'

About the Author.

Stephen Leather was a journalist for more than ten years on newspapers such as The Times The Times, the Daily Mail Daily Mail and the and the South China Morning Post South China Morning Post in Hong Kong. Before that, he was employed as a biochemist for ICI, shovelled limestone in a quarry, worked as a baker, a petrol pump attendant, a barman, and worked for the Inland Revenue. in Hong Kong. Before that, he was employed as a biochemist for ICI, shovelled limestone in a quarry, worked as a baker, a petrol pump attendant, a barman, and worked for the Inland Revenue.

He began writing full-time in 1992. His bestsellers have been translated into more than ten languages. He has also written for television shows such as London's Burning, The Knock London's Burning, The Knock and the BBC's and the BBC's Murder in Mind Murder in Mind series. series.

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