Stephen Leather: False Friends

A doctor had already checked out Malik and insisted that he be taken down on a stretcher. Malik’s foot was badly disfigured and two of his fingers had been broken. It looked as if his kneecap had been shattered too. When the paramedics carried him out he was still in shock but he managed a weak smile when Shepherd patted him on the shoulder.

Shepherd nodded at the woman, who was lying face down on the carpet with her wrists bound. ‘And what about her?’

Button grimaced. ‘She’s more of a problem. We can’t let her near a lawyer, or anyone else who might spread the word.’

The four men took the bodies out of the flat and along to the lift.

‘What if anyone sees them?’ asked Shepherd.

‘We’ve got a HAZMAT van downstairs and an ambulance, and if anyone asks it’s a virulent TB case. But no one will ask. We’ve got four of our people down there in police uniforms. Everything’s under control.’

The doctor reappeared in the doorway. He was a fifty-something grey-haired man in a rumpled blue suit. He was carrying a medical bag. The paramedics followed him. One was holding a collapsible stretcher.

‘How is he?’ asked Button.

‘His vitals are fine, but he’s going to be in shock for a while. I’ve given him antibiotics and something for the pain but what he really needs is rest. A lot of rest.’

Button pointed at the woman on the floor. ‘Can you put her out for the next hour?’

‘No problem,’ said the doctor. He knelt down beside the bound woman and opened his bag. He rummaged around and took out a hypodermic, then injected the contents into her left buttock.

Shepherd looked at his watch. It was almost midday. ‘What do we do, Charlie?’

‘Chaudhry can go on his own. Once we know what the target is, we move in.’

‘What if they want to know where Harvey is?’

‘He’s out with a girl and he’s uncontactable. I don’t see that as a problem, do you?’

Shepherd shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess they’ll realise it was short notice. But what about Raj? What do we tell him?’

‘Nothing,’ said Button. ‘He mustn’t know what’s happened to Harvey.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he’ll want to be with his friend. Or it’ll put the wind up him. Either way it’s best that he doesn’t know.’

‘Charlie, we owe him the truth.’

Button’s eyes flashed. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘We owe him our protection. This is the end phase and he has to go into it with a clear head.’

‘So we lie to him?’

‘If that’s what it takes, yes.’ She put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. ‘It’s for his own safety. You can see that, can’t you?’

‘Sure, of course. But I don’t like the idea of lying to him, not after everything he’s done for us.’

‘In a few hours this will all be over, Spider. And when it is you can tell him everything. But, until then, Harvey stays under wraps and Raj isn’t to know.’

‘She’s under,’ said the doctor, picking up his case. ‘Make sure her airway stays clear.’

‘Take her down, then,’ Button said to the paramedics.

‘What’s going to happen to her?’ asked Shepherd.

‘We’ll take her to Thames House for questioning,’ said Button. ‘A lot depends on who she is and who else wants her.’

‘The Americans?’

‘We’ll see,’ said Button. ‘The important thing right now is that she’s isolated.’

The two paramedics rolled her on to the stretcher, lifted her up and carried her out.

‘I’ll see you back at the ranch,’ the doctor said to Button and she smiled.

‘Thanks again, Will. You’re a godsend.’

‘So where do you want me?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Thames House, same as last time,’ said Button. ‘But first you’re going to have to check on Raj.’

‘And what do I tell him about Harvey?’

‘Tell him that as soon as we know where Harvey is, he’ll know.’

Shepherd sighed. ‘I really hate having to lie to him.’

‘It comes with the job, Spider.’

‘Have you ever lied to me, Charlie?’

She shook her head. ‘No. But then I’ve never had to.’

Abney Park Cemetery was more than just a piece of ground where corpses were buried, though there were some very famous people rotting in the ground, including William and Catherine Booth, the founders of the Salvation Army. It was a local nature reserve and park as well, a place where lovers walked arm in arm and spinsters exercised their dogs. It was also a pretty good place for a clandestine meeting with its twisted pathways, tangled vegetation and ivy-covered monuments and gravestones. Shepherd had made a point of never meeting Chaudhry and Malik on their home turf but today was different. There were only hours to go and Chaudhry needed hand-holding like he’d never needed it before.

The park was a short walk from the flat and Chaudhry reached it first. He waited just inside the gate, his duffel coat buttoned up to the neck and the hood up. Shepherd arrived in his Volvo and managed to find a parking space close to the entrance. As he walked in he saw Chaudhry but ignored him and walked towards the centre of the graveyard down a tree-lined path. Left and right were gravestones so old that time had obliterated most of the carved lettering, though various shapes were still discernible: urns draped in flowers, crosses, angels, wreaths. As the path turned to the right and they were no longer visible from the entrance, Shepherd slowed and Chaudhry fell into step next to him.

‘I thought you said we should never meet in Stokie,’ said Chaudhry.

‘Yeah, well, the best laid plans of mice and men and all that,’ said Shepherd. ‘As a rule the handler should stay well away from the agent’s turf, but the rule book’s been torn up today.’

‘Harvey’s phone is still off. What do I do?’

‘You go ahead without him.’

‘Did you get the text message from his phone?’

It was a good question, Shepherd knew. A good question and an obvious one and if he answered truthfully it would be followed by a host of other good and obvious questions. Did Shepherd go to the address? Did he go inside? Was Harvey there? Was the girl? At some point he was going to have to start lying and the big question was: when?

‘Yeah, it was a flat in Finsbury Park.’

‘And?’

Not a question, just an invitation to supply more information. Shepherd sighed and then cursed under his breath.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Chaudhry.

They walked past a stone angel, its hands clasped in prayer. It wasn’t lying that Shepherd found difficult. He was a good liar, and he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to look Chaudhry in the eye and tell him that he had been round to the flat and it had been empty. There had been no sign of Malik and no sign of the girl. The police were looking for them now and as soon as Shepherd knew where Malik was, Chaudhry would know too. It was a simple lie, easy to tell and easy to back up.

‘I went to the flat,’ said Shepherd. ‘He was there.’

‘What?’

‘The girl he’d gone to see was with two other guys and they were torturing him.’

Chaudhry stopped and turned to face Shepherd. He put his hands on Shepherd’s shoulders and moved his face so that it was just inches from Shepherd’s. ‘Are you serious?’ he hissed.

Shepherd nodded. ‘Yes. He’s in hospital. He’s in a bad way but he’ll be okay.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me right away? Which hospital?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. But he’s going to be fine.’

Chaudhry let go of Shepherd’s shoulders, walked away and then stopped. He whirled round and pointed a finger at Shepherd’s face. ‘You’re playing me. Handling me — that’s what you called it.’