Stephen Leather - False Friends

‘I’m happy enough,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s a bigger canvas and a lot less PC.’ He grinned. ‘And not much in the way of paperwork.’

‘Yeah, that’s more than fifty per cent of the job these days,’ agreed Hargrove. ‘Ticking boxes and meeting targets. But I have more freedom than most.’

‘Still undercover operations, right?’

‘I head up the Covert Operations Group,’ said Hargrove. ‘COG. We form part of the Covert Policing Command which is the old Criminal Intelligence Branch. Basically my task is to control all undercover operations throughout the Met. Any of the boroughs can call on us, though all requests are dealt with through SCD. Recently they’ve been subcontracting us out to other Forces and between you and me I think the long-term aim is to make the COG a national unit but controlled by the Met. Basically to do the job that SOCA was supposed to do.’

‘SOCA was a total waste of time,’ said Shepherd. ‘I should never have joined.’

‘To be honest, you weren’t given much of a choice,’ said Hargrove, adjusting his immaculate cuffs. ‘Still, what’s done is done. I hear you’re doing great things at Five. And Charlotte seems well pleased with you.’

Shepherd shrugged. ‘They keep me busy,’ he said.

‘And they let you out of the country.’

Shepherd steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied Hargrove. He knew the policeman well, trusted him without question, but working for MI5 brought with it a whole new degree of security. He didn’t know what Hargrove’s clearance was and until he did there was no way he could talk about any MI5 operations, past or present. ‘I’ve been getting around,’ he said.

‘How’s your boy? He must be — what, thirteen now?’

‘He’s fine. He wanted to go to boarding school so it’s all worked out well.’ He sat back in his chair.

‘You still living in Ealing?’

Shepherd shook his head. ‘We moved to Hereford a few years ago.’

‘To be near the Regiment?’

Shepherd laughed. ‘No, that’s where Liam’s grandparents live. It made more sense to be closer to them.’

‘So you commute, back and forth?’

‘Depends on the job. Most of the work involves deep undercover roles and they usually come with accommodation. Now that Liam’s boarding it’s less of an issue.’

‘Well, you’ll be glad to hear that the operation I need help with is a bit closer to home. Birmingham, in fact. That’s only fifty miles or so from Hereford.’

‘The job I’m on is in London. Did Charlie explain that if I need to get back at short notice I’ll have to drop everything?’

‘She made that clear. I don’t see that as a problem, if all goes to plan you’ll only have to put in a couple of appearances. A cameo, you might say.’

‘The problem I have is that I never know when it might kick off. It’s very much a long-term thing but when it does start to go it’ll probably do so very quickly.’

‘We can work around that,’ said Hargrove. ‘What is it, terrorism?’

Shepherd nodded. ‘Couple of guys in a London mosque were recruited into an al-Qaeda cell. I was drafted in early on because they are total virgins. They’ve been groomed and trained and done the Pakistan training camp bit but since then they’ve been put into cold storage. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if they’ve been rumbled. But until we know either way we’re just watching and waiting.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Truth be told, I’ve been on more exciting jobs so I’m more than happy to work with you. What’s the story?’

‘Simple enough,’ said Hargrove. ‘You’ve heard of the English Defence League, right? There’re a couple of guys in an EDL offshoot in Birmingham looking to buy guns. We’ve got an inside track and need someone to play the part of the arms dealer. It’s a role you’ve played before with some success.’

‘I remember,’ said Shepherd.

‘We don’t need much in the way of a legend,’ said Hargrove. ‘You’ll be brought in as a London arms dealer through the contact we already have in place. I thought we might pull in your teammate Jimmy Sharpe.’

‘Razor? He’s working for you?’

‘Joined my team three months ago,’ said Hargrove. ‘Since he left SOCA he’s been rattling around the Met and no one really knew what to do with him. They offered him a retirement package but he turned that down and then they sent him to me.’

‘He’s a good operator,’ said Shepherd.

‘One of the best. It’s just that he’s old school and the world has changed.’ He drained his glass.

‘You’re prospering,’ said Shepherd.

‘I’m management so it’s easier for me. I follow the rules, see which way the political wind is blowing and go with it, and I make sure that all my boxes are ticked. If I don’t screw up I could go up another rung before retirement, maybe two. That’ll do me, Spider. I already have my cottage in Norfolk and my flat near Lords and a Cordon Bleu cook to wait on me hand and foot, so all’s right with the world.’

‘It’ll be good to work with Razor again.’

‘Well, he’s the perfect fit for this job. The guy we have in place is young but experienced. He’s involved in the long-term penetration of right-wing groups. To be honest, he’s been undercover too long and wants out so he can probably appear in court to give evidence, which gives us a huge advantage.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Shepherd.

‘I’ll put you together with Razor and we’ll see what we can put together by way of samples. Then the inside man can fix up a meeting with the buyers and we’ll take it from there.’ Hargrove grinned. ‘It’s good to be working with you again, Spider. The old team back in harness.’

Shepherd grinned back. ‘I was just thinking exactly the same thing,’ he said. He held up his empty glass. ‘One for the road?’

Hargrove looked at his watch. ‘Would love to but I have to get back. The wife is doing something special with duck tonight.’ He stood and picked up his coat. ‘I’ll be heading up to Birmingham in a couple of days and it’d be handy if you could come with me. Bit of a briefing with the locals and it’ll give you a chance to have a sit-down with Razor.’

A young man in a leather jacket smiled at Hargrove and raised his martini glass.

Hargrove smiled and nodded, then he patted Shepherd on the shoulder. ‘Next time I’ll let you suggest the venue.’

‘I still don’t see why Mohammed can’t come to the mountain,’ said Sharpe as he walked out of Starbucks and onto Hampstead High Street. It was Friday morning and the sky overhead was threatening rain.

‘Now what are you moaning about?’ said Shepherd.

They were both carrying coffees. Hargrove had sent Shepherd a text saying that he was on his way and Shepherd was holding two coffees, a regular for himself and a latte for the chief superintendent.

‘Why are we having to schlep up to Birmingham?’ said Sharpe. ‘There’re three of us; why can’t the undercover guy come down to London?’

‘To be honest, I don’t want to be going into New Scotland Yard unless I have to,’ said Shepherd. ‘And Hargrove said that the West Midland cops don’t want any of their intel leaving their office.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Sharpe. He sipped his coffee and looked at his wristwatch, a cheap Casio. ‘What are they saying? They don’t trust the Met?’

‘It’s that whole right-wing thing,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s not unknown for cops to be supportive of organisations like the BNP and EDL. From what Hargrove was saying, it looks as if they’re not even putting their intel on to the computer.’

‘So have they checked us out, do you think? To make sure we haven’t got any right-wing sympathies.’