Stephen Leather - False Friends

‘It’s quiet,’ said Button. ‘But it’s been quiet for weeks. That can mean that nothing’s happening or it can mean they’ve battened down the hatches in preparation for a big one.’

A blonde woman in a grey suit raised her hand. ‘Helly telly coming online,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Zoe,’ said Button. One of the top screens went live, giving them an overhead view from the Met’s helicopter. ‘Ask them to give the target plenty of room,’ she said.

Zoe nodded and began talking into her Bluetooth headset.

‘There’s a police commander on the way but this is our operation,’ Button said to Shepherd.

‘What do we do about Raj and Harvey?’

‘In what way?’

‘Hell’s bells, Charlie, two of our men are in the middle of this. If the cops start shooting what’s to say they won’t be killed?’

‘I can’t lie to you, Spider. The primary aim is to safeguard the public. We’ll do what we can to protect our assets but that has to be a secondary consideration.’

Shepherd lowered his voice and leaned towards her. ‘Charlie, these guys trust us. You can’t hang them out to dry.’

‘That’s not what’s happening here,’ she said. ‘At the moment we don’t know where they’re going or what they’ll be doing. This is a surveillance operation. If we move to another level then hopefully we’ll have eyes on them and be able to identify and protect our assets. One step at a time, okay?’

‘Will you stop referring to Raj and Harvey as assets?’ hissed Shepherd. ‘They’re people. Human beings. They’re not inanimate objects.’

‘They’re assets. That’s the technical term,’ said Button quickly. Her eyes narrowed. ‘I understand your depth of feeling,’ she said. ‘But keep in mind the big picture here. These people have been planning a major terrorist incident for several years so it’s going to be big. Just how big we’ve yet to find out. Preventing that incident has to be our priority.’

Shepherd opened his mouth to argue, but then abruptly changed his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. There would be no point in saving Raj and Harvey if dozens or hundreds of innocent civilians were killed. It was a simple matter of numbers. He nodded slowly. ‘I hear you,’ he said. ‘But I want to be here when the order is given.’

‘You will be,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you going anywhere until this is over.’

‘We have two IC4 males on the street,’ said a balding middle-aged man in shirtsleeves.

Everyone looked at one of the centre screens. Chaudhry and Malik were walking down the road towards an Indian restaurant.

‘Here we go,’ said Button. ‘Just so we’re clear, Chaudhry is wearing the duffel coat, Harvey is wearing the green parka.’

Both men had their hoods up so their faces were hidden.

Malik was rocking from side to side, transferring his weight from one leg to the other, like a junkie desperate for his next fix. They were standing in Stoke Newington Church Street, in front of the Indian restaurant. Malik had his hands in the pockets of his parka and had his head down, staring at the pavement as he rocked.

‘Harvey, mate, you have to chill,’ whispered Chaudhry.

‘Chill? We could die today, Raj. That’s what could happen. I’ve never trusted Khalid. He’s a cold-blooded bastard. Even when he smiles he doesn’t smile with his eyes — have you noticed that?’

‘No arguments here,’ said Chaudhry. ‘But getting all worked up isn’t going to help anyone. John is on the case; he’ll protect us.’

‘You don’t know that,’ said Malik. ‘You don’t know what he’ll do.’

‘I trust him,’ said Chaudhry. ‘And you do too. We wouldn’t have gone this far if it hadn’t been for him. John’s real, you know he is.’

‘I guess,’ said Malik.

‘He’s probably watching us now,’ said Chaudhry.

Malik looked up and started scanning the rooftops of the buildings on the other side of the road. ‘Do you think?’

‘I’m sure of it,’ said Chaudhry. ‘He’ll have people close by.’

‘Yeah, well, I hope they’ve got guns because if anything goes wrong I want them to put a bullet in Khalid’s head.’

Chaudhry laughed, but he stopped when he saw the white van heading down the road towards them. The driver and the passenger in the front seat were both Asian. ‘This could be them,’ he said. There were no side windows to the van, just the name of a plumbing firm.

Malik looked at the van. ‘Where’s Khalid?’

‘He said there’d be two men in the van. He didn’t say he’d be there.’

‘Why not?’ said Malik. ‘Why isn’t he here?’

‘I didn’t ask and I doubt that he would have told me anyway.’

Malik stared at the van as it got closer. ‘It’s happening, isn’t it? This is really happening.’ He looked back at Chaudhry. ‘I can’t do this, Raj. I’m not up for it.’

‘You’ll be fine, brother. I’ll be with you every step of the way.’ He stepped forward and hugged Malik. ‘Trust me. Just trust me.’

Malik nodded hesitantly. ‘Okay, I’ll try,’ he said.

Chaudhry released his grip on Malik and looked into his eyes. ‘We’re going to be heroes,’ he said. ‘Remember that.’

Malik forced a smile just as the van pulled up at the kerb. ‘I just don’t want to be joining the seventy-two coal-eyed virgins,’ he said. ‘Not today, anyway.’

Chaudhry punched him gently on the shoulder.

‘No virgin’s going to give it up for you, brother; you’re as ugly as sin.’

The van stopped next to them and the passenger window slowly wound down.

‘Salaam, brothers,’ said the man in the front passenger seat. He was wearing a white woollen skullcap and had a straggly beard. The beard worried Chaudhry because Khalid had always insisted that he and Malik were clean-shaven. It was important to blend in, he said, so no beards and no Muslim clothing.

‘Who are you, brother?’ asked Chaudhry. ‘I don’t know you.’

‘I’m Harith. We are here to take you where you need to go.’

‘But I don’t know you, brother. You could be anyone.’

The driver nodded at Malik. ‘You know me, brother.’

Malik leaned forward and put his hand on the door. ‘Afzal, brother, what are you doing here?’ he asked the driver.

‘I’m here on behalf of Khalid,’ said Afzal. ‘You’re to get into the back of the van.’

Malik looked at Chaudhry. ‘Afzal plays in my five-a-side league,’ he said.

‘Where’s Khalid?’ asked Chaudhry.

‘He’s in the control room,’ said Afzal. ‘You’re to get in the back.’ He looked at the cheap digital watch on his wrist. ‘We’ve got a schedule.’

‘What fucking control room, brother?’ Chaudhry asked Afzal. ‘Nobody said anything about a control room. What’s going on?’

‘There’re a lot of people involved,’ said Afzal. ‘He’s running things so he’s somewhere where he can’t be found, organising. Now get in the back, brother. We’re on a tight schedule.’

Chaudhry and Malik walked round to the rear of the vehicle. Chaudhry pulled open the door. There were racks filled with tools and plumbing supplies on either side and plastic crates full of equipment in the middle. They both got inside. Malik sat on the floor while Chaudhry pulled the door closed. He checked that the door was secure and then sat down on one of the crates.

‘Are we good, brothers?’ asked Harith. ‘Are we ready to serve Allah?’

Malik nodded. ‘All good, brother,’ said Chaudhry. He pulled down the hood of his duffel coat.

‘No mobile phones, right?’ said Harith.

‘No, we left them in the flat,’ said Chaudhry. ‘What’s happening? What are we doing?’