Stephen Leather - True Colours

Shepherd nodded. ‘I believe you,’ he said.

Harper turned around in a slow circle, staring up at the night sky. ‘I came that close to killing you,’ he said. He looked at Shepherd. ‘If you hadn’t turned up when you did …’ He shivered.

‘We all came that close,’ said Shepherd. He knelt down by the side of Khan and used his Swiss Army knife to cut the duct tape from his hands and feet. ‘Joshua kept his word and got you and your daughter out of Afghanistan?’

Khan forced a smile. ‘He said we could go to the US, or the UK, or Australia. He could get me citizenship of all three. I chose London because I have friends here. Good friends. They helped me find a place to live, and a job. And my daughter has a place at a good college.’

‘And Joshua paid you?’

Khan sat up and massaged his wrists. ‘He gave me money. Not a fortune, but enough.’

Shepherd stood up and offered Khan his hand. Khan grabbed it and Shepherd hauled him to his feet. He looked at Khan, overwhelmed by feelings of guilt over the way that he had treated him. Khan had saved his life, and Shepherd and his friends had almost killed him, shot him in the head and buried him in the woods. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, knowing as the words left his mouth that they weren’t enough and never would be. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to make this right, I swear.’

Khan smiled tightly, and massaged his wrists again. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You thought I had killed your friends. If I was in your position, I would probably have done the same.’

‘Maybe,’ said Shepherd. ‘And maybe not. But that doesn’t make what we did any less wrong.’

Harper, McIntyre and Shortt nodded in agreement. One by one they stepped forward, apologised and shook Khan’s hand. Shepherd stood and watched, knowing that it was going to take more than words and a handshake to put right the wrong that they had done. And it was clear from the looks on the faces of the three men that they knew it, too.

Lex Harper pushed open the door to the bar and looked around. His usual table over by the kitchen was free, and there were only three other tables occupied. Two regulars were drinking Chang beer and watching football on one of the big-screen TVs, there was a large, balding man in a vest, shorts and flip-flops sitting next to a bargirl half his age and a third of his body mass, and a European woman with short chestnut hair and a string of pearls around her neck who was toying with a cup of tea and an iPad.

Harper liked the circular table because it gave him a clear view of the front door, he could sit with his back to the wall, and it was only a few steps to the kitchen, from where he could get to the alley behind the building. He picked up a copy of the Daily Mail and took it over to his table. The paper was sent via satellite each morning and printed in Thailand, making it as up to date as the latest edition back in the UK. As he sat down, one of his favourite waitresses walked over. Her name was Nok, which meant Bird, and there was something very bird-like about the way she stood by his side, pencil poised over her notepad, even though he ordered the same thing every day. ‘Full English breakfast,’ he said. ‘Coffee. And French fries on the side.’

Nok bobbed her head and scurried away. Harper opened his paper and then realised that the European woman was looking at him. She was pretty and well groomed and he found it difficult to place her age; she could have been anywhere between thirty and forty-five. She wasn’t dressed like the normal Pattaya tourist, she was wearing a suit that looked as if it might be Chanel, and on her left wrist was a slim Cartier gold watch, clearly the real thing and not a Chinese knock-off. She smiled as he looked up. ‘Hot outside, isn’t it?’ she said.

The question would have identified her as English even if her accent hadn’t given her away. ‘There’s only two seasons here,’ said Harper. ‘Hot and very hot. Are you here on holiday?’

The woman shook her head. ‘No,’ she said.

‘Business?’

The woman smiled. ‘Actually, I’m here to see you, Lex.’

She smiled but her cold brown eyes looked right through him. Harper swallowed and realised that his mouth had gone suddenly dry. ‘Do you know me?’ he asked.

‘I know of you,’ she said. ‘But of course that’s not the same thing. We have a mutual friend. Dan Shepherd.’

‘You know Spider?’

‘Oh yes, I know Spider.’

Harper stared at her for several seconds. Then he nodded. ‘You’re with Five.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘There are no flies on you, are there, Lex?’

Harper looked over at the door, wondering whether the Thai police were about to rush in. The woman smiled. ‘I’m not here to arrest you, Lex. I have absolutely zero jurisdiction here. And if I did want you arrested, I’m sure your police friends would tip you off long before we got to the stage of taking you into custody. I’m sure you already have a fall-back position. Cambodia perhaps? Or Brazil.’

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘My name is Charlotte Button. My friends call me Charlie. I don’t think we’re ever going to be friends, Lex, but you can call me Charlie.’

‘He did mention your name, now I come to think about it.’

‘Really?’

‘He mentioned your name, that’s all. He takes his job seriously.’

Button smiled. ‘That’s good to hear. Does Spider know what you get up to?’

‘Some of it.’

‘The armed robbery, obviously?’

Harper nodded.

‘The drugs?’

‘Import-export, I prefer to call it. Yes.’

‘And the killings?’

Harper stiffened. The door to the bar crashed open but it was only the ice-man, carrying a sack of melting ice on his shoulder. He grunted as he walked through to the kitchen, water plopping on to the floor behind him.

‘I’m guessing not,’ said Button. ‘There are three we know about, Lex. Two in Spain. One in Liverpool. Competitors. Import-export can be a cut-throat business, apparently.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried. Knowing about and proving in a court of law are two different things.’

‘What the hell do you want?’ asked Harper.

‘You asked if I was with Five. But the lines are all getting very blurred these days. Five. Six. The Home Office. Border Force. National Crime Agency. There’s a lot of toing and froing. And a lot of cracks to fall through. I think you might be interested in one of the cracks.’

Harper frowned. ‘Do you always talk in riddles?’

Button smiled. ‘You would have killed Ahmad Khan, wouldn’t you?’

Harper’s coffee arrived and he waited until Nok had walked back to the bar before speaking. ‘You knew about that?’

Button shrugged. ‘What I know or don’t know isn’t the issue. But you would have happily shot him and buried him in the New Forest, correct?’

‘I thought he deserved it,’ said Harper. ‘Turned out I was wrong. Does Spider know that you know?’

Button ignored the question. ‘And your competitors, they deserved it?’

‘What do you want from me?’ asked Harper. ‘Why are you here?’

Button sipped her tea, then carefully put her cup back on its saucer. ‘Sometimes, Lex, when I’m working in the cracks, I need something taken care of. Or someone. And I rather think you might be able to help me with that.’

Harper leaned towards her and lowered his voice. ‘You want someone killed, is that it?’

Button chuckled softly. ‘Not right now, no. But in the future …’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

‘You’re offering me a job?’

‘With a salary and benefits?’ She shook her head. ‘No. But the occasional contract.’ She smiled. ‘Such a strange word, that. Contract. So businesslike and yet at the same time, so Sopranos .’