Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller (28 page)

‘I’ll still be the one who betrayed her,’ said Shepherd.

‘You’re going to have to stop beating yourself up about this,’ said Sharpe. ‘If she’s done what they’re saying she’s done, she’s only getting what’s coming to her. You’re just the messenger.’

‘I doubt she’ll see it that way,’ said Shepherd. He downed his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar. ‘I think I’m going to get drunk, Razor, and I’d appreciate your company.’

‘I’m here for the duration,’ said Sharpe. ‘So long as you’re paying.’

H
arper booked the suite next to his for Hansfree and Zelda to use as a base. They went to work on his laptop, researching in the BRIXMIS files for any weapon ranges that the Bundeswehr might be using to test fire rockets like Katyushas. Within a few hours they had come up with the answer.

‘Just as we thought,’ said Zelda, ‘the Bundeswehr have a large stockpile of Katyushas, and according to the BRIXMIS files the only range in the whole of Germany where they can be safely fired is the one on the Letzlinger Heide, north of Magdeburg. Luckily the BRIXMIS files contain details of the location of an observation post – an old hide overlooking the firing range that the BRIXMIS agents used to observe Soviet weapons’ tests and Warsaw Pact manoeuvres during the Cold War.’

Hansfree nodded. ‘All we have to do is establish when the Bundeswehr are next going to be carrying out a test firing of a Katyusha and then get O’Brien and Walsh in position to watch it.’

‘How do we do that?’ asked Harper.

Hansfree grinned. ‘My five-year-old niece could penetrate the Bundeswehr’s regular signals traffic and there’s no reason why they would go to top secret encrypted mode when talking about routine firing tests and exercises. They might even circulate a schedule – “green armies” often do that so that interested parties from other branches of the armed forces can send observers.’

‘Brilliant,’ Harper said. ‘See what you can find out, together with anything else you can discover about the range and the surrounding area, and meanwhile, I’ll send the two Billys and Maggie May to do some ground reconnaissance.’

Harper phoned Maggie May and gave her directions to the firing range, then went down to the bar for a couple of beers while he waited for Hansfree and Zelda to work their magic. In less than an hour his mobile phone rang.

‘Good news,’ said Zelda. ‘There’s a test firing in two days. Saturday.’

‘And that’s definite?’

‘Hansfree managed to get sight of an email from the commander of the Bundeswehr Artillerietruppe – that’s the unit which is actually carrying out the test firing,’ she said. ‘And the confirmation of that is that the range officer has helpfully posted a list of scheduled firings with their dates on the range’s website. I guess so that the locals aren’t taken unawares.’

Harper grinned. ‘Excellent.’ He phoned O’Brien at his hotel and told him to prepare for a demonstration on Saturday. ‘And don’t forget to get the money in place,’ he said. ‘This has been dragging on long enough.’

W
illoughby-Brown had at least done the decent thing and booked Shepherd a business class flight to Berlin Tegel airport. He was through immigration in a matter of minutes and as he only had a carry-on bag, he was driving into Berlin less than an hour after the plane had landed. Shepherd had booked a room at the Berlin Marriott, a ten-minute walk from the Brandenburg Gate. He checked in and phoned Harper’s number.

‘Lex, how the hell are you? It’s Spider.’

‘How did you get this number, mate?’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll explain when I see you. I need to see you, right away.’

‘I’m not in the UK.’

‘Yeah, I know that. I’m in Berlin.’

There was a short pause and Shepherd knew that Harper was wondering what the hell was going on. ‘That’s a coincidence,’ said Harper eventually, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

‘Obviously not,’ said Shepherd. ‘Look, I’m staying at the Marriott. Can you pop around? Beers are on me.’

‘I’ll call you back,’ said Harper, and the line went dead.

Shepherd couldn’t blame Harper for being suspicious. He just hoped he’d call back sooner rather than later. He tossed his phone on to the bed and picked up the room service menu. As Willoughby-Brown was paying, he figured he owed himself a decent steak and the most expensive wine on the menu.

H
arper stared at his phone, deep creases across his forehead.

‘Problem?’ asked Zelda, looking up from the computer.

Harper forced a smile. ‘Just that an old friend has arrived in town unexpectedly,’ he said. He scratched his chin. ‘Very unexpectedly, as it happens.’

He phoned Maggie May. ‘I need to see you and the two Billys in reception, as soon as possible.’

‘We’re on our way,’ she said.

Harper ended the call and smiled at Zelda. ‘I’ve got to go out for a while,’ he said.

‘Anything I can help you with?’ she asked, sensing his unease.

‘I think it’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll soon know, one way or the other.’

H
arper called back just as it was starting to get dark outside.

‘I thought you’d forgotten about me,’ said Shepherd.

‘Yeah, well, I’m in the middle of something,’ said Harper. ‘This isn’t the best time.’

‘It’s important, Lex. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.’

‘I get that. Right, so here’s how it’s going to go down. Do you know Tempelhofer Park?’

‘The former airport? Sure. It’s not far from my hotel.’

‘That’s the plan,’ said Harper. ‘I want you to turn left out of the hotel, then left and left again so that you go right around the block. Look like maybe you’re confused. Then head north to the park. Not far from the terminal building you’ll see a place on the airstrip where skateboarders hang out, doing their jumps and stuff. Hang around there.’

‘Why the cloak and dagger?’

‘Just humour me, mate. You’ll see me soon enough.’

The line went dead. Shepherd walked to the park, rehearsing what he was going to say to Harper. It was going to be a tough sell. Harper was very much his own man and a free agent, not the type who could be easily pressured. Shepherd was sure that was why Willoughby-Brown had chosen him to do the dirty work; at least Shepherd was a friendly face.

Tempelhofer had been a functioning airport until 2008. After it was closed the government couldn’t think of another use for it and eventually declared it a park for use by all. The main terminal building – constructed by the Nazis – had once been one of the twentieth largest buildings in the world. Shepherd pulled on his coat and went downstairs. He walked across the park to the skateboarding area and spent almost half an hour watching a group of grungy teenagers practising their art before taking out his phone and calling Harper. The call went straight through to voicemail. He waited another fifteen minutes and then walked back to his hotel.

S
hepherd had been back in his hotel room for almost an hour before his mobile rang. It was Harper. He took the call. ‘What’s up, Lex? What was that little excursion about?’

‘Do you know you’re being followed?’

‘Don’t fuck with me, Lex, I’m not in the mood.’

‘I’m serious. Two guys. Pros. I mean, real pros. Both white, in their forties, look like they’ve been around the block.’

‘Heavies?’

‘Well they’re not choirboys, but they’re bloody good.’

‘If they’re that good, how come you spotted them?’

Harper laughed. ‘Because I’m better. Seriously, these guys are good. They never looked at you, not once. They’re obviously communicating but it’s not verbal, must be some sort of clicker system. So they’re not with you? They’re that relaxed I wondered if they had your back.’

‘Nothing to do with me,’ said Shepherd, his mind racing. How the hell had he not spotted a tail? Counter surveillance was second nature to him, and had been ever since he had started working undercover.

‘The big question of course is are they following you, or whoever you’re pretending to be?’ said Harper.

Shepherd had already realised that. Were his followers after him because he was Dan Shepherd, or were they tailing The Dane? And if it was him rather than his legend, who had sent them? Was Willoughby-Brown checking up on him, confirming that he did actually contact Harper.

‘What do you want to do?’ asked Harper.

‘I dunno. Let me think.’

‘Yeah, well think all you want, mate. But there’s no way I can meet you with them around.’

‘I’ll shake them off.’

‘I don’t think it’ll be as simple as that, mate. Like I said, they’re good.’

‘Definitely only the two of them?’

‘Two that I’ve seen. But good point, maybe there are more and they’re even better. What’s the story, Spider?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Yeah, well I’m in the middle of something pretty fucking delicate here and I don’t want you fucking it up for me.’

‘I get that, Lex.’ He cursed under his breath. Was it Smit? Was Smit having him followed?

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Harper.

‘I’m listening.’

‘I’ll have them picked up and worked over. Find out who they are and we’ll take it from there.’

‘Are you up for that?’

‘Anything for a mate, you know that. And I’d like to reassure myself it’s nothing to do with me.’

‘I’m sure it isn’t.’

‘Yeah, well I’d prefer that from the horse’s mouth. You know, this would be a lot easier if you just told me why you wanted to meet.’

‘That’s got to be face to face. Has to be.’

‘You’ve been in the secret squirrel business for too long,’ said Harper. ‘Okay, I’ll set something up and get back to you.’

‘When?’ asked Shepherd, but the line had already gone dead. He sighed and tossed his phone on to the bed. The last thing he needed just now was a tail. But who the hell was it? And what did they want? Strictly speaking he should call Jeremy Willoughby-Brown but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, especially when the watchers could well be reporting back to him. He smiled to himself as he stared through the window out over the city. It was a funny old world where he trusted a criminal and supposed assassin more than an MI6 officer, but that’s the way it was.

S
hepherd woke to the sound of his mobile ringing. It was Harper. ‘Wakey, wakey, rise and shine,’ he said.

Shepherd sat up and ran a hand through his hair. ‘What time is it?’

‘Eight. Looks as if you’ve got two two-man teams on you – midnight and midday are the changeovers.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. There’s one outside in a grey Mercedes as we speak. His partner is off getting a coffee.’

‘What’s the plan?’

‘Grab yourself some breakfast. We’ll leave it until eleven because they’ll be at the end of their shift. Leave the hotel, go left for about two hundred yards and then cross the road. Take the first right. There’s a row of shops there, keep going until you see a church. Huge place with a spire and a graveyard. Walk through the graveyard, keep going straight and there’s a rear entrance to an alley. Take a left down the alley and keep going until you hit the main road. Turn right.’

‘Bloody hell, Lex, what is this? A magical mystery tour?’

‘I need to split them up so we can take them separately,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to do anything, just follow the route exactly as I said. No looking behind you, no counter surveillance, no funny stuff. I’ll send you a message when we’re done or if there’s a change of plan. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ said Shepherd.

‘Eleven sharp,’ said Harper. ‘Be there or be square.’

S
hepherd left the hotel at eleven o’clock on the dot. He’d eaten breakfast in the hotel coffee shop, helping himself from a buffet that ran for almost thirty feet with dishes laden with cold meats, sausages, cheese, boiled eggs, cereal and fruit, along with a dozen different types of bread and rolls. He had no missed calls or messages on his phone, which was a relief. He dreaded an urgent summons from Button because with the best will in the world he was at least four hours from London, door to door. There was a chill wind blowing down the road and he turned up the collar of his leather jacket and thrust his hands in his pockets.

If there were watchers in a grey Mercedes he didn’t see them or the car. He followed the route laid out by Harper, keeping his head down as if deep in thought. He walked purposefully, but not too quickly.

He looked right and left before crossing the main road, and still didn’t see anyone on his tail. But then they must have been professionals because they had tailed him all the way from London without him knowing.

He walked by the row of shops. If he’d been in counter-surveillance mode he’d have been checking for reflections and doing the occasional double back, but he just walked along with his head down. The church was a good choice. They’d almost certainly split up because two men walking through a graveyard would be too obvious. One would probably head around the perimeter, the other would follow but at a distance.

As he left the graveyard he saw a windowless van parked down the alley. He turned his back on it, wondering if it was his tail but immediately dismissing the thought because there was no way they could have predicted the route. It was more likely to be Harper’s team. He walked along the alley. A woman in a fur coat and a very small dog on a leash walked towards him. She smiled, showing unnaturally white teeth, and wished him a ‘
Guten Morgen
’. He reached the road, turned right, and carried on walking.

It took him an hour to follow the route that Harper had given him. During that time he didn’t see anyone following him, but then he had deliberately not been looking.

S
hepherd’s mobile beeped to let him know he’d received a text message. He put down the remnant of the club sandwich he’d been eating and picked up the phone. It was Harper.
SHE’S A FRIEND
.

He was still frowning at the message when there was a soft knock on the door. He padded over and checked the peephole. There was a dark-haired woman in her thirties standing in the hallway, staring back at him as if she knew she was under scrutiny. He took off the security chain and opened the door.