The shore was getting closer, which seemed to spur Meyer on. He was gasping for breath now and his hands were slapping into the waves instead of cutting cleanly through them. Shepherd gained on him, ready to intervene if Meyer ran into problems, but after a couple of dozen strokes the water was shallow enough for them to stand. Meyer turned and grinned, though he was breathing heavily. Shepherd pretended to be more tired than he was. ‘I’m out of condition,’ he panted.

  ‘You did great,’ said Meyer. Meyer slapped him on the back and they walked the rest of the way to the beach, then on to where Shepherd had left his shirt.

  ‘You know, you can tell me the truth,’ said Meyer, shading his eyes from the fierce sun.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About everything,’ said Meyer. ‘We could be a big help to each other. You know, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.’

  ‘You’ve lost me, Marcus.’

  Meyer chuckled. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

  ‘No, of course not. Why do you say that?’

  ‘Okay, let me run this by you. I don’t think for one minute that Jeff Taylor was shot in Afghanistan. But I do think Rich Campbell might have stopped a bullet.’

  Shepherd stopped, feigning surprise. ‘How the fuck …?’ He left the sentence unfinished.

  Meyer stopped too. ‘Oh, come on, Rich. I didn’t get where I am today without knowing a thing or two. I run checks. I checked you out.’

  ‘Who else knows?’

  Meyer patted his face. ‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘I just did. Let’s leave it at that.’

  Shepherd shook his head. ‘Fuck, if it was that easy for you to find out, anyone can.’

  ‘Give me some respect,’ said Meyer. ‘Not everyone has the contacts I have.’

  ‘How much do you know?’

  ‘Pretty well everything. I know you changed your name because there’s a price on your head. But your Jeff Taylor identity is solid. Unless you check your fingerprints. Once they’re on file, they’re there for ever.’

  ‘That’s what you did? You checked my prints? For fuck’s sake.’

  ‘Relax, Rich. Actually, fuck it, I’m calling you Jeff. You’re Jeff to me. But it’s Rich I’d like to do business with.’

  He started walking across the sand again and Shepherd hurried after him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You must have guessed by now that I’m not exactly a legitimate businessman. I’ve got a few irons in the fire, and I could do with a former squaddie turned bank robber turned sailor. I’ve got a job for you, if you’re interested. It’ll make full use of your talents.’

  ‘Exactly what talents do you have in mind, Marcus?’

  ‘Sailing. Plus you obviously don’t care about breaking the odd law.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘Are you okay with that?’

  ‘What sort of drugs?’

  ‘Drugs are drugs,’ laughed Meyer.

  ‘No, they’re not,’ said Shepherd. ‘Not when it comes to sentencing.’

  ‘Fair comment,’ said Meyer. ‘It’s cocaine. Colombian cocaine. The best. But it’s hidden so well that your chances of being discovered are practically zero.’

  Shepherd pulled a face. He didn’t want to appear over-eager. The harder Meyer had to try, the more he’d trust Shepherd. ‘Practically zero means there’s still a chance of getting caught. And cocaine means serious prison time.’

  ‘Not the way I do it,’ said Meyer. ‘Let me at least show you what I have in mind.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘The Caribbean. St Lucia.’

  ‘And how do we get there?’

  ‘I’m going in a few days. I’ll meet you there. I’ll show you my set-up and you can decide if you want to go for it or not.’

  ‘And how much do I get?’

  ‘How much do you want?’

  Shepherd frowned. ‘How much of the drug are we talking about?’

  ‘Does that matter? You’ll never see the gear – it’s built into the boat. Could be a kilo, could be a ton.’

  ‘A ton of cocaine?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. The less you know, the less you have to deny.’

  ‘Marcus, a ton of cocaine has a street value of millions.’

  ‘Sure. But street value and true value are two different things. But, yeah, we’re talking big money.’

  ‘So I’d get – what? A million?’

  Meyer laughed and patted him on the back. ‘Let’s talk about it in St Lucia,’ he said. ‘But, trust me, I’ll make it worth your while.’

  Shepherd nodded thoughtfully. ‘Okay. That sounds fair.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Meyer. ‘You make your own way there and I’ll book you a room in the Capella Marigot Bay. You’ll like it. The service is second to none.’

  ‘What about you? Where will you stay?’

  ‘I’ll have a boat.’

  ‘You always stay on boats?’

  ‘More often than not. Boats are way more secure, so long as you have them swept and you know everyone on board. On that subject, there’s something I have to tell you.’

  Shepherd wondered if Meyer was about to talk about his sexuality, so he prepared himself to show the requisite amount of surprise.

  Meyer leaned closer to him, as if he feared being overheard ‘Watch yourself with Lucy.’

  Shepherd raised his eyebrows, wondering what Meyer meant. Did he know what had happened in his hotel room? ‘In what way?’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady and relaxed.

  ‘For a start, her name’s not Lucy Kemp. It’s Lisa Wilson.’

  Shepherd’s heart raced but he forced himself to stay calm, even though he knew what was coming next. He stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. ‘You’re winding me up.’

  Meyer stood in front of him. ‘She’s a fucking cop. I kid you not.’

  ‘No fucking way.’

  Meyer nodded. ‘NCA. National Crime Agency. I found out about two weeks ago,’

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ said Shepherd. ‘Does she know who I am?’

  Meyer patted his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, she thinks you’re Jeff Taylor. I’ve kept the Rich Campbell thing to myself.’

  ‘If she finds out who I am, I’m fucked.’

  ‘She won’t find out, stop worrying. I had you checked out by a guy in the Liverpool cops who works for me. She doesn’t know.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. She’s a cop? An undercover cop? Why the fuck is she still around? You need to get rid of her.’

  Meyer grinned. ‘Come on, you know what the Mafia say, don’t you? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She’s a conduit to the cops, so I know exactly what she can and can’t tell them. I know what information she has access to and what she hasn’t. If I get rid of her, they might replace her, and next time I might not spot the grass. So I keep her on a short lead and all’s well with the world.’

  ‘Except she’s a fucking cop!’

  Meyer grinned. ‘Well, yes. But better the devil you know, right?’

  Shepherd shook his head. ‘You’re playing with fire. And I’m the one that could get burned.’

  ‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ said Meyer. ‘I know exactly what she sees and hears. I’m careful what I tell her. A couple of times I’ve used her to funnel stuff back to the NCA that’ll cause problems to my competitors. It’s all good.’

  ‘How is it all good? She knows I’m with you. What’s to say she hasn’t told her bosses?’

  ‘Told them what? That a jobbing sailor called Jeff Taylor saved her and me from a couple of muggers and has been hanging out with us?’

  ‘And talking about smuggling drugs?’

  ‘In general terms. And it’ll only be her word against ours. You’ve seen the clothes she wears, there’s no room for a recording device. Not in those swimsuits.’

  ‘Conspiracy to import drugs? And what if we do start moving gear? If she finds out and we get caught … Fuck me, mate, they’ll throw away the key.’

  ‘She doesn’t know anything. Trust me.’

  ‘I do trust you. I wouldn’t be considering going into business with you if I didn’t. But I can’t afford to be hanging around with an undercover cop.’

  ‘It won’t be for long,’ said Meyer.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Meyer pulled a face. ‘Look, I’m not that happy about what’s happened. When I found out, my first thought was to tie a concrete block around her legs and throw her overboard. It wouldn’t be the first time, either. But who’s she got watching her, especially in Europe? If I try anything there could be a SWAT team up my arse in next to no time.’

  ‘So just tell her to fuck off.’

  ‘And, like I said, if I do that I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. Look, between you and me, I’m going to be taking care of it. Sooner rather than later. But I’ll do it so there’s no possibility of any comeback. Until then, just be careful what you say when she’s around.’

  ‘When you say take care of it, what do you mean?’ asked Shepherd.

  Meyer tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Need to know,’ he said.

  Surveillance was all well and good but there were times when all the watching in the world wouldn’t do you any good and the only thing to do was to launch a full frontal assault. Standing knew that Ali Hussain was one of the owners of a minicab firm in Kilburn, and one of the leaders of the child-grooming ring. And, from the text messages between him and Faisal, it was clear he’d supplied the heroin that had killed Lexi. But Standing had no idea what Hussain looked like, other than that he was a middle-aged Asian, a description that probably fitted a quarter of the residents of Kilburn. He’d tried looking for Ali Hussain on Facebook but there were hundreds to choose from. Checking the electoral roll was equally unproductive: there were just two many men with that name.

  The cab office was easy enough to find. It was above a hairdresser’s, with its own entrance on the street, an open door with a flashing light above it and a sign that said ‘MINICABS’. Surveillance was easy enough: there was a bus stop opposite and Standing spent an hour there, watching the comings and goings. He had bought a well-worn dark green parka with a fur-lined hood and had an Iceland carrier bag with a few provisions in it.

  At any one time there were up to half a dozen minicabs parked near the office, mainly in a nearby side-street. Asian men were constantly coming and going, and any one of them could have been Hussain. Customers also came and went, walking up the wooden stairs to make a booking, then reappearing, sometimes accompanied by a driver, others meeting him on the pavement. The firm was clearly busy and employed a lot of drivers, virtually all of them bearded Asians. Standing realised pretty quickly that no matter how long he sat and watched, he’d never be able to spot Ali Hussain.

  The foot traffic fell off about midday, presumably as some of the drivers went for lunch, and Standing decided to make his move. He pulled his hood up, crossed the road and headed up the stairs. The last three drivers he’d seen go up had all come down, and he hadn’t seen any customers go in. At the top he found another door with a metal-barred window at head height and a sign above that repeated the message downstairs – ‘MINICABS’. A CCTV camera pointed at the door and Standing kept his head down.

  There was an intercom set into the wall and he pressed the green button at the bottom. Almost immediately the lock buzzed and he pushed the door open. There were two desks to his left, and on the wall behind them a large whiteboard with names and car registration numbers, presumably the drivers who were working. Two Asian men sat behind the desks, one wearing a headset, both looking at computer screens. The guy with the headset was chattering away in Urdu. Standing couldn’t speak the language but he recognised it when he heard it.

  To the right, a cheap plastic sofa had once been white or cream but had turned a grubby grey over the years. In front of it was a pine coffee-table with a dozen or so empty fast-food containers on it. An Asian man in his fifties was sitting on the sofa, shovelling curry into his mouth,

  The man who wasn’t talking looked at Standing. His beard was greying and his skin was wrinkled, like old leather. He was wearing a white topi skullcap. ‘You want a cab?’ he asked.

  ‘I want to talk to Ali Hussain,’ said Standing. There was a door at the far end of the room. It opened, and he saw it led into a toilet. A bearded Asian wearing baggy salwar kameez came out and sat on the sofa. The man with the headset was still talking but the other three were all gazing at Standing.

  ‘What about?’ said the man with the skullcap.

  ‘I owe him some money,’ said Standing.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Fifty quid.’

  ‘You can leave it here,’ said the man. ‘I’ll make sure he gets it.’

  ‘I want to give it to him personally,’ said Standing. ‘What time does he come in?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Difficult to say.’

  ‘But he’s an owner, right?’

  ‘The man shrugged again but didn’t say anything.

  ‘So what do you think? When will Ali be here?’

  The man waved his hands. ‘You should just go. You are wasting your time here.’

  Standing continued to smile at the man, but turned slightly so he wouldn’t see him slip his hand into his pocket. He had pre-set Faisal’s phone so that all he had to do was touch the screen to call Ali Hussain’s number. ‘I guess I’ll come back later,’ he said.

  ‘Up to you,’ said the man. He looked at the two men sitting on the sofa and spoke to them in Urdu. They got up and faced Standing. The younger man was holding a plastic fork and Standing smiled, wondering if he was planning to stab him with it.

  ‘I’ll be off,’ he said. ‘If Ali does come in, tell him Peter was looking for him.’

  ‘Peter,’ repeated the man. His phone began to vibrate on his desk and he looked down at it. He frowned when he saw who was calling.

  Standing pressed the screen to end the call and almost immediately the phone stopped vibrating. He headed for the door, keeping his head down to avoid the CCTV camera.

  Shepherd waited until he was back in his hotel room before phoning Willoughby-Brown. ‘We’ve got a problem, Jeremy.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ said Willoughby-Brown.

  ‘Meyer knows who Lisa is. He knows her name and he knows she’s an undercover cop.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ said Willoughby-Brown.

  ‘No, it makes perfect sense,’ said Shepherd. ‘Somehow he found out who she is and that’s why her intel has dried up.’

  ‘And you know this how?’

  ‘Because he just bloody well told me. Said I shouldn’t say too much while she’s around because she’s an undercover cop working for the NCA.’

  ‘Then why is she still there?’

  ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’

  ‘Bastard,’ said Willoughby-Brown, under his breath.

  ‘He’s planning on killing her,’ said Shepherd. ‘We need to pull her out.’

  ‘We can’t do that. She doesn’t work for us.’

  ‘Then tell Sam Hargrove. Tell him that Meyer is on to her and that he has to bring her back.’

  ‘What exactly did Meyer say?’

  ‘First he said he wants to see me in St Lucia. Says he wants us to work together.’

  ‘So he’s bitten? That’s great news. Well done, you.’

  ‘Yes, but in the same breath he said he knew Lisa works for the NCA and that I should be careful what I say around her. Then he said he was going to take care of it.’

  ‘Which could mean anything. It doesn’t mean he plans to kill her. Let’s be honest, he knows she’s a cop and he knows the trouble he’ll be in if he kills a police officer.’

  ‘When you first put me on this case you said that Meyer had killed a DEA informant.’

  ‘I said the informant had disappeared and that it was possible Meyer had killed him, yes.’

  ‘So she’s in danger. Look, we know now that Lisa hasn’t gone over to the dark side. She’s not sleeping with Meyer and she’s not helping him. She’s doing her job to the best of her ability but because Meyer has rumbled her she’s not getting any worthwhile intel. It’s time to pull her out.’

  ‘No can do, Daniel,’ said Willoughby-Brown. ‘How’s it going to look? Meyer tells you she’s a cop and hours later she heads for the hills. He’s going to realise PDQ that you tipped her off.’

  Shepherd cursed under his breath, knowing that Willoughby-Brown had a point. If they pulled Lisa out he’d have to leave too, which meant the whole operation would amount to nothing.

  ‘I’m assuming from your lack of a snappy comeback that you’ve realised I’m right,’ said Willoughby-Brown.

  ‘We need to watch her.’

  ‘Well, you can’t. You’re off to St Lucia.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, Jeremy. But somebody needs to watch her, especially when I’m away. What about Docherty? He’s got a room overlooking the marina. He can keep an eye on her.’

  ‘I’m getting the bills, Daniel. He’s got a three-bedroom suite.’

  ‘It’s perfect for watching Meyer’s boat.’

  ‘If Meyer does kill Lisa, he’s hardly going to do it on the deck, is he?’

  ‘She needs back-up,’ said Shepherd. ‘Or she needs to be told what’s going on. Her cover has been blown but she doesn’t know.’

  ‘I hear what you’re saying. But I doubt he’s going to do anything over the next couple of days, by which time you’ll be in St Lucia and, assuming he has the drugs there, he can be arrested.’

  ‘He never goes near the drugs, you said.’

  ‘If the drugs are in the boat, and he’s there, asking you to sail it to Europe, that’s all we need. Look, I can see you’re worried and I understand your reservations, so I’ll talk to Docherty. I’ll make sure he has her back while she’s in Spain. You’re already booked on the flight to St Lucia?’

  ‘It’s sorted,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ll be there tomorrow.’

  ‘What about Meyer? When’s he going?’

  ‘He wasn’t specific.’

 

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