Sharpe groaned.
‘Can you get up?’
Sharpe groaned again.
Shepherd kept the gun aimed at Thompson’s face as he fished his mobile out of his jacket. He tapped out Charlotte Button’s number with his thumb. The boat continued to make a sweeping turn to the right. Klaus stopped moaning. He crawled into a foetal ball and sobbed quietly. Shepherd knew that he’d done a lot of damage with his fingers and that Klaus would be losing at least one of his eyes.
The phone rang and Button answered. ‘Thank God,’ she said. ‘Are you okay?’
‘All good,’ he said. ‘One dead, two under control and one who’s going to need medical attention. We’re heading back to shore.’
‘There’s a police boat heading your way. You’re sure you’re okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. He looked over at Sharpe, who was starting to come round, moving his head and moaning. ‘Razor’s going to have a sore head for a few days.’
‘Well done, Spider. I have to confess that my heart was in my mouth for a while there.’
‘I was worried myself,’ admitted Shepherd. ‘I’m just glad he didn’t go for a head shot. And tell Amar I owe him a drink. His vest was a lifesaver.’
He ended the call and went over to Sharpe, keeping his gun trained on Thompson. Sharpe struggled to sit up. He put his hand against his temple and it came away bloody. He groaned loudly and looked up at Shepherd. ‘Who am I?’ he said.
‘Are you serious?’ said Shepherd.
Sharpe grinned. ‘Had you going,’ he said, getting unsteadily to his feet. He looked down at Kettering. Blood was pooling around him on the polished wooden decking. ‘Was it him that hit me?’
Shepherd gestured at Thompson. ‘It was him.’
Klaus sobbed and his whole body shuddered.
‘What’s his problem?’ asked Sharpe. ‘Did you shoot him?’
‘Clawed his eyes out,’ said Shepherd. ‘He started it.’
Sharpe walked slowly to the galley, picked up a tea towel and pressed it against his wound. He looked out of a window and pointed. ‘There’s a launch heading this way with four guys in it. I hope they’re on our side.’
‘They are,’ said Shepherd. ‘Are you okay to cover Thompson while I go up to the bridge?’
‘Now you trust me with a gun?’
Shepherd chuckled and handed the Glock to Sharpe. He picked up the gun that Klaus had been using. It was a 9mm Beretta and he checked that it was loaded and that the safety was off. ‘I figure you’d have trouble with the stairs,’ he said. ‘If he gets off his knees, shoot him.’
‘Will do,’ said Sharpe.
Shepherd went up the stairs to the bridge. He was fairly sure that Thompson hadn’t been lying about the captain being unarmed but he felt more comfortable with the Beretta in his hand. He needn’t have worried. The captain had both hands on the wheel and they were heading straight for the marina. In the distance Shepherd saw a small launch. There were four men in casual clothes standing at the prow and as the wind whipped at their jackets he caught glimpses of guns in shoulder holsters.
‘I had no idea what was going on,’ said the captain. ‘You’ve got to believe me.’
‘Tell that to the cops,’ said Shepherd. ‘I need you to cut the power.’ He pointed at the launch. ‘Those guys are going to board us.’
The captain did as he was told and the boat slowed.
‘I didn’t do anything. I just drive the boat.’
‘What did they tell you was going to happen to me and my friend?’
The captain swallowed but didn’t reply.
‘You knew they were going to kill us, right?’
‘I’m just the captain.’
‘And you knew there was a body down there?’
The captain nodded.
‘Well, that’s the body of a cop, mate. So maybe you should just keep quiet until you’ve got a lawyer.’
Chaudhry was walking down the Strand to King’s College when he first suspected that he was being followed. It wasn’t any of the signs that he’d been taught to watch out for, it was much more subtle than that. It was a feeling, a sense that he was being looked at that actually made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. It happened first as he walked out of Charing Cross tube station and the feeling was so strong that he turned and looked behind him, but he didn’t see anyone who was obviously tailing him.
Chaudhry usually cycled to college but it had been raining when he left the flat so he’d taken an umbrella and made the journey by tube instead. The rain had died down by the time he arrived at Charing Cross and it was barely spotting so he’d left his umbrella in his backpack and made do with pulling up the hood of his duffel coat.
He shivered again as he passed McDonald’s, then he remembered what he’d been taught about doubling back so he did a quick U-turn and headed back to the entrance. As he reached McDonald’s door he made eye contact with an Asian man in his twenties wearing a dark-blue Puffa jacket and brown cargo pants. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth opened a fraction but then he clamped it shut, looked away and thrust his hands into his pockets.
Chaudhry forced himself to show no reaction. He went inside, joined the queue and bought himself an Egg McMuffin and a coffee and sat down at a table by the window. He pushed down the hood of his duffel coat and pulled his tablet computer out of his backpack. As he took a sip of coffee and switched on the tablet the man in the blue Puffa jacket walked back on the other side of the road, talking into his mobile phone.
Chaudhry’s stomach was churning and he didn’t feel like eating but he forced himself to take a bite of his McMuffin, then chewed slowly as he pretended to read. The man in the blue Puffa jacket didn’t return. When he’d finished the coffee and the McMuffin he cleared his tray and headed out of the door. He stood on the pavement and looked around casually as he pulled up his hood again. The street was busy but there was no sign of the Asian man. He was starting to wonder if he’d imagined it. The hairs were no longer standing up on the back of his neck. Perhaps the guy had just been startled by eye contact with a stranger; maybe Chaudhry was being oversensitive.
He started walking towards the college, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. Part of him wanted to do another double-back but he knew that would be too obvious. He checked reflections in the shop windows but the angles were wrong and he couldn’t get a clear view directly behind him.
It wasn’t until he’d reached the entrance to King’s that he had the opportunity to glance to his right, but he could do it casually for only a second or two and there were simply too many people to register them all.
He walked inside, showing his student ID, and then took out his mobile phone. Standing with his back to the wall he pretended to make a call. Through the window he watched businessmen and shoppers walk to and fro, all of them moving purposefully, getting from A to B as quickly as possible. Jobs to get to, shopping to be done, appointments to be kept. Then he saw him. His hands still in his Puffa jacket, walking slowly and looking around as if trying to work out what went on inside the building. Chaudhry turned away and went up to the canteen, his heart pounding, the silent phone pressed tightly against his ear.
Shepherd had just returned from a run on the Heath when his John Whitehill BlackBerry rang. It was Chaudhry. ‘Yes, Raj, what’s up?’ he said, tossing his weighted rucksack on to a kitchen chair.
‘I think I’m being followed,’ said Chaudhry.
Shepherd was about to open the fridge door and grab himself a bottle of chilled water but he stopped, his hand outstretched. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he said.
Chaudhry explained what had happened in the Strand and at the college. ‘What should I do?’ he asked.
‘First, you need to take it easy,’ said Shepherd. He could hear the stress in the man’s voice, the clipped words and the ragged breathing. ‘You’re safe where you are, so even if there is a tail nothing can happen while you’re at King’s. What about Harvey?’
‘I don’t know. He’d already gone when I left the flat.’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ said Shepherd. ‘Have you got lectures all day?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘So what time would you normally leave?’
