Stephen Leather - Hot Blood

‘Tell me, Jimbo, why are you always late?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Traffic was murder,’ said Shortt. ‘Camels, goats, all sorts of shit on the road.’

‘Any excuse,’ said Shepherd, ‘but I’m glad you made it.’

Shortt held up a pair of boots. ‘Thought you might like these,’ he said. ‘The guy who took them from you doesn’t need them any more.’ He tossed them to Shepherd.

‘How did it go?’ asked Haschka, following Shortt into the kitchen, Uzi in his right hand, barrel pointing at the floor.

‘Two dead,’ said the Major. ‘Four still alive.’

‘Are you okay?’ asked Bosch, who was in the doorway, her shotgun at her side.

‘I’ve had better days,’ said Shepherd, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Blood streaked across it and he wiped it on his jeans. ‘But, yeah, I’m okay. A few minutes later and it would have been a different story.’ He sat down and put on his boots.

‘What went wrong?’ asked Bosch.

‘Wafeeq found the transmitter,’ said Shepherd. ‘I guess he put two and two together.’

O’Brien walked into the kitchen, opened the rattling refrigerator and found a cooked leg of lamb wrapped in Cellophane. He took it out, sniffed, pulled a face and tossed it back. ‘Why don’t these people buy any decent food?’ he growled, and slammed the door.

‘What do you want, Martin?’ asked Shortt. ‘A kebab?’

‘They probably weren’t expecting guests,’ said Bosch. She went to Shepherd and put a hand on his cheek. ‘Still got your rugged good looks.’

Shepherd smiled at her. ‘You too.’

She patted his groin. ‘They didn’t hack off anything down there, did they?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Are you sure? I could check.’

‘Maybe you two should get a room.’ Haschka laughed.

‘Yeah, and maybe you should get a life,’ said Bosch.

The windows started to vibrate and seconds later they heard the rotors of an approaching helicopter.

‘Five will get you ten that’s Yokely,’ said Muller.

‘Doesn’t like bullets, I guess,’ said O’Brien.

‘He was in the Green Zone,’ said the Major.

‘Convenient,’ said O’Brien.

‘Trust me, Richard Yokely isn’t scared of a bit of rough-and-tumble,’ said the Major.

Shepherd went to the kitchen door and looked out across the backyard. A Blackhawk helicopter was hovering above the farmland close to the boundary wall. The helicopter continued to hover a few feet above the ground as Yokely clambered out, holding his M16, and jogged over to let himself in through a wooden gate. He waved at Shepherd as he hurried across the courtyard. The Blackhawk lifted into the air and flew off.

‘They’re worried about mines,’ said Yokely, as he reached them.

‘And you’re not?’ asked Shepherd.

Yokely grinned. ‘I had my palm read by a gypsy psychic a while back,’ he said. ‘She said I’d live to a ripe old age and I believe her.’ He slapped Shepherd on the back. ‘Good to see you’re okay, Spider,’ he said. ‘You had us worried for a while.’

‘What about Geordie? Do we know where he is?’ asked Shepherd.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ said Yokely. He pushed past Shepherd and went into the kitchen. Bosch and Shortt were standing by the sink. ‘Where are the Arabs?’ he asked.

The Major pointed at the door that led to the hallway.

‘The front room,’ said Jordan.

‘Anyone dead?’

‘Two,’ said the Major. ‘They were busy giving Spider a hard time and didn’t hear us coming.’

‘Excellent,’ said Yokely. ‘Be a sweetheart and get me some rope, will you, Carol?’

‘I am not your fucking sweetheart,’ said Bosch.

‘It’s an expression,’ said Yokely, unabashed.

‘Yeah, well, so is “go fuck yourself”. Get your own bloody rope,’ said Bosch.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Shortt.

‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ said Yokely. He winked at Bosch and went along the hallway to the front room, Shepherd and the Major following. The four Arabs were kneeling on the floor. Muller was covering them with his Glock and Jordan had his Uzi trained on them.

‘Let’s get started,’ said Yokely. He reached into his body armour and brought out a handful of black plastic zip-ties. He walked behind the line of kneeling men and, one by one, bound their wrists.

In the corner of the sitting room a circular wooden table was surrounded by half a dozen small wooden stools. Yokely placed one in front of each kneeling man.

Shortt returned with a coil of rope and handed it to him. Yokely went into the kitchen and came back with a knife. He cut four long pieces of rope.

‘What are you doing, Richard?’ asked the Major.

‘Information retrieval,’ said Yokely. He made a loop at the end of a piece of rope and checked the slip-knot. ‘Jimbo, tell them to stand on the stools, would you?’

Shortt glanced at the Major then barked at the men in Arabic. They looked back at him, confused and fearful.

‘Tell them that if they don’t stand on the stools, they’ll be shot,’ said Yokely. He started work on a second length of rope.

Shortt translated. O’Brien walked into the sitting room, holding his Glock. ‘What’s occurring?’ he asked.

‘Martin, help these guys on to the stools, will you?’ Yokely checked the second noose and started on the third.

‘Pleasure,’ said O’Brien. He grabbed the first by the scruff of his flannel shirt and dragged him towards them. The old man climbed up and stood there trembling.

Muller waved his gun at the other three Iraqis, who got to their feet unsteadily and climbed on to the stools.

Bosch walked in from the hallway. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.

‘Carol…’ said Jordan.

‘Don’t “Carol” me,’ said Bosch. ‘You can see what he’s doing, can’t you?’

‘Pat, will you and Joe take her outside, please?’ said Yokely, as he tested the third noose. ‘Secure the perimeter.’

‘Screw you,’ said Bosch.

Jordan put a hand on her arm but she shook it off angrily. ‘He can’t do this.’

‘I’m afraid I can,’ said Yokely. ‘I can and I will.’ He turned to Muller. ‘John, please take your people outside.’

‘I’m staying,’ said Muller.

‘I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’re civilians and I want all civilians out of here. It’s for my own peace of mind, not yours.’

‘You don’t want witnesses,’ said Bosch.

‘Carol, sweetheart, you’re beginning to piss me off,’ said Yokely. ‘If you’re not outside within the next ten seconds, I’ll make a phone call that will have you on the next plane out of this country.’

‘Let’s go, Carol,’ said Muller.

‘You can’t let him treat us like this,’ said Bosch.

Muller put his arm round her shoulders and led her back to the kitchen. Jordan followed, flicking the safety catch on his Uzi. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, guys,’ said Haschka, as he closed the door.

Yokely started work on the fourth noose. ‘If any of you guys don’t have the stomach for this, you’re welcome to go with them. Except you, Jimbo. I’ll need you to translate.’

‘I’m staying anyway,’ said Shortt.

‘Me too,’ said O’Brien.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ said the Major.

Yokely looked at Shepherd. ‘Spider?’

Shepherd knew that what was about to happen was illegal and immoral, that it went against everything he believed in. But only minutes earlier the men standing on the stools had been torturing him and planning to kill him in the most brutal way imaginable for no other reason than his nationality. What Yokely was planning to do was evil, but it was a necessary evil, because the four men were the only hope they had of finding Geordie. ‘Go ahead,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’