Yokely grinned wolfishly. ‘It isn’t called torture, these days. It’s coercive interrogation. And don’t go all holier-than-thou on me because it was you guys who invented rendition, way back in 1684.’
‘I assume there’s nothing I can say to stop you telling me the story?’ said Shepherd.
Yokely’s grin widened. ‘Torture was outlawed in England in 1640, but it stayed legal in bonnie Scotland until the Act of Union in 1707. Now, in 1684 you guys had a suspect and a less than co-operative witness to the attempted assassination of Charles II. They were shipped north of the border and, as a direct result of information obtained under torture, the suspect was tried, convicted and executed. Rendition worked for you then and it works for us now.’ He ordered the whiskey for Shepherd, then motioned to a sofa in a quiet corner. They walked across to it and sat down. Yokely swirled the ice in his glass. ‘I’m guessing this isn’t social,’ he said.
Shepherd was sure Yokely knew why he’d asked for the meeting, so the American must be relishing the opportunity to make him sing for his supper. ‘Geordie Mitchell,’ he said. Yokely pulled a face.
The barman brought the whiskey and Shepherd waited until he had gone back to the bar before he went on. ‘He’s just been taken hostage in Iraq.’
‘Ah,’ said Yokely. ‘He’s one of yours, is he? According to the TV, he’s a civilian contractor.’
‘He left the Sass a few years back.’
‘And I guess he’s not shouting about his special-forces background, under the circumstances. The government seems to be keeping that information under its hat, too.’
‘They’re not doing much.’
‘Not much they can do,’ said the American. ‘You see what they did to that journalist? Just a kid. Father had money, would’ve paid anything to get the boy back, but they weren’t interested. It’s not about money.’
‘What is it about?’ asked Shepherd.
‘They want us all dead,’ said Yokely, flatly. ‘They want us all dead or they want us on our hands and knees praying to Allah five times a day. To them that seems a reasonable request. Hell, they figure they’re saving our souls.’
‘You believe that?’
Yokely took two gulps of his drink. ‘I’m not sure what I believe any more, other than that we’re right and they’re wrong. A world run by Islamic fundamentalists is not a world I’d want any part of. If the roles were reversed and it was the mad mullahs in charge, I’d probably be setting off bombs myself. I’d kill to protect my way of life, no question.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Hell, I already have done. You too.’
The American was watching Shepherd over the top of his glass. Shepherd didn’t react to the barb. Yes, Shepherd had killed, but not to protect an ideology. He’d killed when he was in the SAS, as a soldier on military operations. He’d killed as a policeman, to save others. But that was his job: it was what he was paid to do. It had nothing to do with ideologies. Shepherd had only met Yokely once, but he knew the American regarded the war against terrorism as a holy crusade, which he was prepared to win at any price.
‘So, what do you want from me, Spider? The US government isn’t going to go in to bat for a Brit. Not that it would do any good if they did. Your best bet would be to find him an Irish grandmother.’
‘He isn’t Irish,’ said Shepherd. ‘If anyone’s going to help Geordie, it’ll be us.’
‘Us?’
‘His friends,’ said Shepherd, quietly.
Yokely’s eyes narrowed. ‘A dangerous road to go down.’
‘That’s for us to worry about,’ said Shepherd. ‘We need intel, and we can’t get it here.’
‘But I’m the oracle so you’ve come to me?’
‘We just need information.’
‘What sort of information?’
Shepherd drained his glass. ‘Another?’ he asked.
‘You trying to keep me in suspense?’ said the American. He lifted his glass. ‘Vodka and tonic with all the trimmings. I keep asking for lime but they give me lemon.’
Shepherd went to the bar for fresh drinks. When he returned he sat down and gave Yokely his glass. ‘What do you know about the Holy Martyrs of Islam?’ he asked.
‘As little as you do, I’d guess,’ said Yokely. ‘The names these people use mean nothing.’
‘When the Lake boy was taken, your people must have looked into it.’
‘Johnny Lake was a journalist who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus the stories he was filing weren’t going down well in the Oval Office.’
‘So the government didn’t care?’
‘They cared, of course they did. The boy’s father was a heavy hitter, with friends on Capitol Hill, but there’s a limit to the resources they can put into one missing kid. Don’t get me wrong. They looked. And they looked hard. But, so far as I know, no one had ever heard of the Holy Martyrs of Islam.’
‘We need to know where Geordie is and who’s got him. We’re analysing the video, and we’ll be talking to his employer so we can gather basic intel on what’s happening on the ground. But we need higher-level intel. Electronic traffic and satellite imagery.’
‘Sounds like you’re planning a war,’ said the American.
‘We’re just mapping out our options,’ said Shepherd.
‘You find him, then what?’
‘We’ll cross chickens and count bridges when the time comes,’ he said. ‘Can you help?’
‘Sure,’ said Yokely. ‘I’ve got a direct line to the NSA. But why do you need me? You can get the electronic traffic through GCHQ. They’re part of Echelon so they have access to all telecommunications and the Internet.’
‘It’ll take too long to go through official channels,’ said Shepherd. ‘Paperwork in triplicate, and they’d want to know why we’re involved.’
‘But presumably your government’s on the case. They must be looking for your man.’
‘You’d think so, but he’s not military, remember?’
‘What about your old regiment?’
‘They can’t help officially,’ said Shepherd. ‘Unofficially they’ll do what has to be done. But first we need to know where he is.’
‘Any idea what’s being done officially?’
‘Downing Street will probably appeal to the kidnappers, but reject any demands they make. The US military will be looking for him, but again Geordie’s just a contractor, out there for the money.’
‘Guarding a pipeline, they said on CNN.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Wrong place, wrong time.’
‘Yeah. There’s no suggestion that it was personal. At this stage we’re not sure how well planned the kidnapping was but we’re hoping there was phone chatter. What about satellite imagery?’
‘I’ll see what the NSA has. We might get lucky.’
‘And we could do with any intel your contacts have on the Holy Martyrs of Islam. All we’ve got so far is what’s been in the media, which is pretty much zero. Plus we need any info on other militant groups known to be operating in the area where Geordie was taken. According to the TV, he was taken in a place called Dora.’
‘I know it,’ said Yokely. ‘It’s a Sunni stronghold on the southern tip of Baghdad. Dangerous place.’ He sipped his drink. ‘You’ve seen The Godfather? The first one? Was Marlon Brando great in that movie or what?’
‘Yeah. I saw it. And I get it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I know how the world works, Richard. You do this for me and at some point you’ll be asking me for a favour.’
‘And when that time comes?’
‘I repay my debts. In full.’
A triumphant smile spread across Yokely’s face. ‘It’s always a pleasure dealing with a professional.’
Shepherd raised his glass in salute. He felt as if he’d just done a deal with the devil. He knew that Yokely would call in the marker, sooner rather than later, and that he would have no choice other than to do whatever the American wanted. Shepherd wasn’t happy to be in Yokely’s debt, but the only thing that mattered was rescuing Geordie and the American was the one man who might be able to help.
‘You know, I’ve got a lot of respect for you, Spider,’ said Yokely. ‘I admire the way you handled yourself down
