False Friends

draw attention to his manifesto. The only thing that made them targets was that they were at a left-wing camp. So, if anything, his target was political rather than racial.’

‘With any luck they’ll head for Westminster and get all Guy Fawkes on the Houses of Parliament,’ said the Major.

‘Chance’d be a fine thing,’ said Shepherd. ‘But that’s not how it works with terrorists, is it? They always choose the weakest targets. And the guys we’re dealing with are from the Midlands; there’s no evidence they’ll be heading down to London.’

‘So what’s Charlie’s plan? Nip them in the bud or let them run?’

‘She’s not letting me in on the bigger picture,’ said Shepherd. ‘She pinched the case from the Brummie cops, that much I do know.’

‘You think she’s after the glory?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Shepherd. ‘But at the moment she’s got me in the middle playing both ends. I’m reporting to Sam Hargrove, who reports to the top brass in Birmingham, then I get debriefed by Charlie. The shit’s going to hit the fan if Charlie moves in over the heads of the cops.’

‘Hopefully none of the shit’s going to head your way.’

Shepherd shrugged. ‘I’m hoping that Sam will take the flak,’ he said.

‘He’s the guy you worked for when you were a cop, right?’

‘Yeah, he’s a straight shooter. One of the best. So I don’t see that he’ll hang me out to dry. But the Brummie cops are going to be spitting feathers when they find out that all the work they’ve done has been pinched by Five.’

‘It’s a mucky business at best, isn’t it?’ said the Major. ‘It’s so much more black and white in the military. Both sides wear uniforms and carry weapons and the best side wins.’

‘And the losers end up dead,’ said Shepherd. ‘Unlike the world of terrorism, where the losers end up as MPs.’

The Major laughed. ‘Yeah, funny how the world changes,’ he said. ‘There’s a whole generation already who’ve no real idea what a threat the IRA were. You ask most teenagers about the Brighton bombing and they wouldn’t have a clue what you were talking about. But say what you want about the IRA, at least you knew what they wanted: the Brits out and a united Ireland. You might not agree with their methods, but you could understand what they wanted and why they did what they did.’

‘They murdered plenty of civilians,’ said Shepherd sourly.

The Major held up his hands. ‘Hey, you won’t ever hear me defending the IRA,’ he said. ‘They killed enough of my friends over the years. What I’m saying is that at least you knew what was driving them. But this new lot of terrorists? Who the hell knows what their motivation is?’

‘A life in paradise with seventy-two coal-eyed virgins if they kill the infidel,’ said Shepherd.

‘Yeah, but they can’t really believe that, can they?’ said the Major. ‘Even if you believe in God you can’t possibly believe that God, any god, would want to see innocents maimed and killed. Those guys who crashed the planes into the Twin Towers — what did they hope to achieve? And the British Muslims who blew up the tube. Does anyone know what they wanted?’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘The world’s going crazy, Spider. And an old fart like me just can’t make any sense of it any more.’

Spider laughed. ‘You’ve a fair few years left in you yet, boss,’ he said. ‘The mistake you’re making is assuming that they think the way that we do. They don’t. They’re brainwashed, most of them. They’re led into it, trained for it, then, if need be, they’re pushed.’

‘But what are they trying to achieve? Death to all Christians? Because that’s not going to happen. The Islamification of Europe? That’s not going to happen either. And it’s not about Iraq or Afghanistan because that happened long after the attack on the Twin Towers. And most of the troops have already been pulled out. There doesn’t seem to be any objective; and if there’s no objective, if it’s just a religious war, then it’s never going to end, is it?’

‘It’s all becoming a bit Alice in Wonderland,’ said Shepherd. ‘I can’t believe that the London bombers really believed that their actions would change anything. Or that they were going straight to heaven. There’s something else at work. Something self-destructive. Self-hatred, maybe, which spills over to hatred of the world. If you really want to worry about something, Major, think about what’ll happen if they ever get a nuclear weapon. You know that the IRA would never have even contemplated using a nuclear bomb, but these morons will. That’s what I find so scary.’ He laughed harshly. ‘I’ve got my psychological evaluation coming up so I’ll see if the MI5 shrink has any ideas on what it all means.’ He patted the crate. ‘I’ll get the guns back to you tonight.’

‘Good man,’ said the Major. ‘Just be careful, okay?’

‘With the guns?’

The Major shook his head. ‘With the morons you’ll be giving the guns to,’ he said. ‘Guns and civilians are always bad news.’

Shepherd drove from the barracks to Hereford station and waited in the car for twenty minutes until the train from London pulled in. He waited until he saw Jimmy Sharpe emerge from the building before getting out.

Sharpe was dressed casually in a dark-green waterproof Barbour jacket and dark-brown corduroy trousers. He was holding a Marks amp; Spencer carrier bag. ‘Thought I’d bring some sandwiches,’ he said, holding up the bag.

‘I can see you dressed for the country,’ said Shepherd. ‘What’s with the Barbour?’

‘Forecast said it might rain. And I thought this was how you country folk dressed for hunting, shooting and fishing, and we’re going shooting, right?’ Shepherd climbed into the Range Rover and started the engine. Sharpe got into the passenger seat. ‘Gear’s good?’ he asked as he tossed his carrier bag of sandwiches on to the back seat.

‘Just what we needed,’ said Shepherd.

‘Good to have mates in low places,’ said Sharpe, settling into his seat. He looked at his watch. ‘We got time for a pint, do you think?’

‘I’m driving is what I think, Razor.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not.’

‘We can stop for a coffee on the way.’

‘In a pub?’

Shepherd smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re incorrigible,’ he said.

Sharpe grinned with no trace of embarrassment. ‘It fits in with my legend. I’m an incorrigible arms dealer who takes a drink now and again.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Do you think Hargrove will reimburse me for a first-class ticket?’

‘From where?’

‘I was in London. The train was packed and the chavs in standard class were doing my head in. So I sat in first class. But when I showed the conductor guy my warrant card he said he didn’t give a toss who I worked for and made me pay the difference.’

‘Ah yes, there isn’t the respect there used to be,’ said Shepherd, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

‘What do you guys show? You know, when you want to identify yourself?’

Shepherd laughed. ‘The whole point of being in MI5 is that we don’t identify ourselves.’

‘I thought it was MI6 that was the Secret Intelligence Service?’

‘Yeah, well, Five is secretive too. It’s pretty much like Fight Club. The first rule is that we don’t talk about it. And we certainly don’t flash our ID cards to get free rides on public transport.’

‘So how can you prove you’re a spook?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Say you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t and you get pulled by the cops. What do you use as a get- out-of-jail-free card?’

Shepherd chuckled. ‘First of all, I wouldn’t get myself into a situation where the cops would be involved. But if something went wrong, and by some chance it did happen, then I’d stick to whatever cover story I had.’

‘And if they didn’t believe you and you were arrested? They’d fingerprint and DNA you.’

‘Both of which would come back as unknown. But say they did keep me banged up, I’d be allowed my phone call and I’d call it in.’