you.’
Liam nodded, and Shepherd knew he’d done the right thing. Perhaps some lies were acceptable.
‘It’s just that if we had somewhere new to live, maybe we wouldn’t miss her so much. I think that one of the reasons we think about her all the time is that we’re still living in her house.’ He sat up and rubbed his legs.
‘So if we move, we’ll forget her?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s not about forgetting her. We won’t ever forget her. But the house keeps reminding us that she’s not here.’
‘But I like that,’ said Liam. ‘Sometimes when I come in from school, it’s like she’s waiting for me in the kitchen.’
‘But doesn’t it make you feel bad when she’s not?’
‘I guess.’
‘So if we were in a new house, maybe you wouldn’t.’
Liam wiped his nose with his sleeve. ‘Okay.’
Shepherd left Edgware Road Tube station and wandered round Marks amp; Spencer for five minutes to check that he wasn’t being followed, then crossed the road and went into the Hilton Hotel. He was dressed as Tony Corke – cheap jeans, a roll-neck pullover, work boots and a new pea coat to replace the one he’d lost on the trawler.
He took the lift to the seventh floor and went to Hargrove’s suite. A dozen men and two women were with the superintendent, all in casual clothing. Jimmy Sharpe and Paul Joyce were among them, and an Asian guy in his late twenties, who grinned. ‘If I’d known it was you, Spider, I would’ve used something more heavy duty.’ Amar Singh worked for the National Criminal Intelligence Service but was often utilised by Hargrove’s undercover unit as he had access to state-of-the-art surveillance and tracking equipment.
‘Good to see you again, Amar,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t drop anything.’
‘Right,’ said the superintendent, raising his voice. ‘Spider will be taking a rucksack with the three cans to Speaker’s Corner. Amar, please.’
Amar picked up a blue canvas rucksack and heaved it on to a coffee table. He took out three large cooking-oil cans and held up one in both hands. ‘This is the one with the transmitter, but hopefully you won’t see the difference. We’ve built the power pack and electronics into the base and incorporated the aerial into the ridge round the bottom. Even when they cut open the can to get at the cash, they shouldn’t find our gear.’ He put the cans back into the rucksack.
‘There’s an outside chance that they’ll pat Spider down so he won’t be wearing any recording devices or transmitters,’ the superintendent continued. ‘We won’t be using long-range eavesdropping either, but we will be taking photographs. This afternoon’s meeting is solely to make contact with the targets. Spider will hand over the money, and we’ll follow it. Our primary objective is to identify the men taking possession of it, but we will also be using the handover as an opportunity for a longer-term penetration of the gang. Spider’s going to have to play that by ear. If he decides to go voluntarily with them, he’ll pinch the bridge of his nose with his right hand. If we get that signal we follow – but at a distance. Everyone clear on that?’
They nodded.
‘We doubt they’ll bring firearms to such a public place, but he’s wearing a Kevlar vest in case they do.’
Shepherd pulled up his pullover to reveal it.
‘We’re not sure how many will turn up, or how they’ll react,’ said Hargrove. ‘Spider’s to hand over the cans in exchange for thirty thousand pounds. It’s just possible that they’ll pull guns or knives and snatch the cans but, again, in view of the location it’s unlikely. However, they might try to take Spider against his will. There’s no way we can allow that to happen. We don’t know who they are or what they’re capable of, so if at any time Spider wants out, the signal will be for him to rub the back of his neck with his left hand.’
Shepherd demonstrated.
‘If he can’t make the signal for some reason, he’ll yell for help,’ said Hargrove. ‘Inspector Steve Priestley will head up an armed unit dressed as park-keepers. They’ll only move in if Spider’s attacked or if the targets try to abduct him.’
Priestley raised a hand so that everyone could see who he was.
‘We already have three long-range camera units in place covering Speaker’s Corner and the main park exits,’ continued the superintendent.
A large whiteboard had been propped against one wall with a map of the park and the surrounding roads, Park Lane, Knightsbridge, Bayswater Road, drawn on it. Hargrove tapped the area where ‘Speaker’s Corner’ had been written in capital letters. ‘The targets originally suggested Paddington station, but didn’t protest when Hyde Park was suggested, which we think means they’re local. They could, of course, have a car ready or be planning to use Marble Arch Tube station, so we’re not making any assumptions. We have three vehicles ready to go, all with tracking equipment, whose range is up to a mile in the city, three or four miles outside. Our one worry is the Tube, so Blue Team will stay by the station entrance with day tickets for the whole network.’ A man and a woman, who looked like a married couple, nodded.
‘Green Team here.’ Hargrove tapped the exit closest to Speaker’s Corner. ‘Red Team here. Yellow Team here.’ More nodding. ‘As you probably know, a network of underground tunnels connects the various roads around Marble Arch so bear in mind that we could lose the signal from time to time. But no rushing in to get close. We’ll have all the options covered if and when that happens. Just be on your toes, and if I ask you to move, do it quickly. So, once more with the signals, Spider. Everything’s okay and you’re happy to go with them.’
Spider rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.
‘There’s trouble and you want out.’
Shepherd rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand.
‘Got that?’ asked Hargrove. Everyone nodded again. Hargrove glanced at his watch. ‘It’s ten past twelve,’ he said. ‘Spider’s on show at three, so you’ve got plenty of time to get bedded in. And remember, on your toes. We only get one crack at this.’
Jimmy Sharpe flashed Shepherd a thumbs-up as the surveillance teams filed out of the room.
‘I didn’t realise there’d be armed cops,’ said Shepherd. ‘I just hope no one knows me.’ Shepherd had infiltrated an SO19 unit the previous year after rogue armed cops had ripped off a group of North London drug- dealers at gunpoint. It had been the first time he’d investigated cops and he hadn’t enjoyed it.
‘We’re using local guys,’ said Hargrove, ‘and I cross-checked all the names with your SO19 operation. There’s no possibility of any overlap. Now, how about a room-service coffee? We’ve plenty of time before you head off.’
On a Sunday morning Speaker’s Corner was packed with orators standing on soapboxes or folding ladders, shouting their views on the world to anyone who cared to listen. Others wandered around grim-faced with sandwich boards, letting the written word do the shouting for them. But at three o’clock in the afternoon all the bastions of free speech had gone back to their hostels or lonely bedsits, leaving the park to tourists and joggers who preferred to do their running in the open air rather than sweating away on a treadmill watching Sky News.
Shepherd had the rucksack on just one shoulder. It wasn’t as heavy as the brick-filled one he used to build up stamina on his regular fitness runs but the cans dug into his back. It was a cool day, with a soft wind blowing from the north, and leaden clouds threatened rain. He was chewing gum. It was Corke’s habit, not his.
His eyes scanned the tourists wandering round the park – couples walking hand in hand, Japanese tourists clicking away with digital cameras, parents with nagging children queuing for ice-cream, an old tramp in a stained raincoat with a greyhound on a leash. He didn’t see anyone who’d been at the hotel suite and didn’t expect to. If he could spot them, the men he was going to meet might see them, too. Shepherd was sure that Ben wouldn’t come alone. He’d have back-up – at least one heavy, probably more.
He saw an unoccupied bench and sat down, stretching out his legs and placing the rucksack next to him. It was exactly three o’clock, but that didn’t mean Ben would be on time. If he knew what he was doing, he or someone else would be watching from a distance, until he was sure that Shepherd was alone. But Shepherd had to play the role: Tony Corke would get the jitters if everything didn’t go exactly as he’d planned, so he looked at his watch again, then scanned the park. He saw two park-keepers walking along a path, deep in conversation. Shepherd couldn’t tell if they were the real thing or armed police.
He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and a tingle down his spine. He glanced about, trying to work out what had triggered the alarm signals, and saw a man to his left, walking along with his head down and his hands deep in his coat pockets. A squat, almost square Asian, with a fast-receding hairline and slightly bowed legs.
