'Spider, I'm as unhappy about this as you are.'
'Plans aren't supposed to be changed, not without a full briefing. Have you any idea how dangerous this is for me? There are six hundred men in here, any one of whom might know who I am. I need a legend that'll stand up to scrutiny. You can't just expect me to wing it.'
'We've run a check. No one here has crossed paths with you. No one will know you are Dan Shepherd. Your Bob Macdonald cover isn't in jeopardy. You continue with that.'
'The legend was set up so I could infiltrate a gang of armed robbers,' said Shepherd. 'We knew exactly who I was going to be pitching to. Now I'm on the remand wing and there are new arrivals every day.'
'We're watching your back, Spider. You have my word.'
Shepherd took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He had worked in Hargrove's undercover unit for the best part of five years and in all that time he had never seen the superintendent deliberately put one of his operatives in harm's way. Except, of course, that every time an undercover policeman went on duty, his life was on the line.
'I've already spoken to Sue and put her in the picture,' said Hargrove. He held up a hand before Shepherd could speak. 'She's fine - but understandably she's as thrilled about this as you are.'
Shepherd's face tightened. He would have preferred to explain the situation to his wife himself, but the fact that he was behind bars made that next to impossible.
'I'll see what I can do to arrange a visit,' said the superintendent.
'I'm staying here, then?' asked Shepherd.
'I'm hoping to convince you to,' said Hargrove, 'but it's your call.'
That was par for the course, as Shepherd knew. An undercover cop was never forced to undertake an operation. It was always his choice. It had to be because of the nature of the work.
Hargrove opened his briefcase and took out a manila file. He opened it, extracted a glossy ten-by-eight colour photograph and slid it across the table. 'Gerald Carpenter,' he said, 'presently on remand here at Shelton.'
Shepherd didn't recognise the man but that was hardly surprising. There were three floors on his spur, plus two more spurs each with three floors. Out of almost a hundred and fifty men in the remand block, Shepherd doubted that he'd come across more than twenty. Then he remembered the incident at the hotplate. Gerry's sausages.
'He's on the threes,' said Shepherd. 'Gets special treatment.'
'Yeah, well, even in here money talks,' said Hargrove. 'Carpenter has been charged with bringing just over eight hundred kilos of heroin into the country. He's facing up to twenty years. The Drugs Squad have been after him for donkeys.'
Shepherd raised his eyebrows. Eight hundred kilos was worth close to eighty million pounds on the street. Even at wholesale prices, Carpenter wouldn't have got much change from twenty million. The man in the photograph was in his mid-forties, a decade or so older than Shepherd. He had deep frown lines etched into his forehead and pale blue eyes that squinted suspiciously at the camera. He had thin, almost bloodless lips and bullet-grey hair, parted on the left. Shepherd handed it back. He had photographic recall for faces and a brief glance was all he needed to commit it to memory.
'Carpenter is a millionaire many times over and is very well connected on the outside,' said Hargrove, as he put the photograph back into the file. 'He's pulling all the strings he can to make sure the case doesn't come to court. The yacht that was used to bring in the drugs went up in flames two weeks ago, although it was under the supposedly watchful eye of HM Customs. A CPS solicitor was mugged at Waterloo last week. Two assailants, both white. They ignored the woman's Breitling watch and a wallet full of credit cards, just ran off with her briefcase. Which happened to be filled with papers relating to Carpenter's case.'
Hargrove put the file back into his briefcase. 'Three days ago an undercover drugs officer, who was pivotal to the case, was murdered. Shot twice in the head by two men on a motorcycle.'
Shepherd pursed his lips. There was no need for the superintendent to spell it out. It had been a professional hit - and killing a cop wasn't undertaken lightly. Only a man like Carpenter could afford to have it done.
'Jonathon Elliott. I believe you knew him.'
Shepherd's eyes widened. It had been a good five years since he'd crossed paths with Elliott, but he'd known him as a probationary officer when he was pounding the beat in south London, a lifetime ago. He was a Spurs fan, a fitness fanatic and a first-rate undercover officer. 'Yeah, I knew him.'
'Elliott was one of two undercover operatives preparing to give evidence against Carpenter. The other works for Customs and we've got him under wraps.'
'I'm sure that's a great comfort to him,' said Shepherd. 'Why were the agents giving evidence anyway?' Usually undercover agents were protected at all costs. They gathered evidence and helped prepare cases but, as a rule, they didn't appear in court. Once they did, their cover was blown for all time.
'It was the only way to get Carpenter. Until this case he's been untouchable. Like you, he has a photographic memory. Nothing is written down - names, addresses, phone numbers, bank details, all in his head. And, like most of the untouchables, he keeps well away from the drugs. Never goes near the money either. His method of bringing the gear into the country was pretty much infallible.' Hargrove leaned forward. 'He dealt mainly in cocaine and heroin, bought from a Colombian cartel. They fly their drugs out into the Atlantic and drop them into the sea where they're picked up by a tanker that spends most of its life in international waters. Buyers sail out to it. Carpenter had a dozen yachts picking up gear and sailing back to the Scottish coast. It was damn near perfect.'
'Couldn't have been that perfect or he wouldn't be in here.'
'Customs spent almost two million quid,' said Hargrove, 'and they've got him on conspiracy, but for that to stick they'll need agents giving evidence.'
'And the guys are okay with that?'
'Elliott was. And so is the Cussie. Elliott's wife had been wanting him to get out of undercover work for some time and he'd said that the Carpenter job was going to be his last. And the Cussie isn't far off retirement. We'd arranged for them to give evidence via video links with their identities concealed. Best we could do.'
'Best wasn't good enough, was it?' said Shepherd, bitterly. 'Not for Jonathon.'
'There's a bad apple,' said Hargrove. 'Has to be. Elliott is one of the squad's most experienced officers.' The superintendent grimaced. 'Was,' he said. 'We're looking for leaks within the Met, Customs and the CPS.'
'I'm not going to be much good to you in here,' said Shepherd. 'You need me on the outside.'
'Not so,' said the superintendent. 'You're exactly where you're most needed. Close to Carpenter.'
'He can't be doing anything here,' said Shepherd. 'This is a Category A prison. Even on the remand wing they're watched every minute.'
'Carpenter has never trusted anyone,' said Hargrove, 'and he'd never cede control of his organisation - he's too much of a control freak for that. No, he's still running things from behind bars. The question is, how? We know he's not passing anything out on the phone. All conversations are listened to.'
'What about his legal team?' said Shepherd.
'That's a possibility,' said the superintendent. 'We're also watching his family visits. But there's a more likely proposition.'
'A corrupt prison officer?'
'It wouldn't be the first time,' said Hargrove. 'A man with as much money as Carpenter wouldn't have any trouble buying help on the inside.'
'And that's why I'm in here? To sniff out the inside man?'
'Assuming you're up for it, yes.'
Shepherd sighed. 'What did Sue say?'
Hargrove shifted in his seat. 'She used a few choice phrases.'
Shepherd could imagine the sort of language his wife would have employed on being told that he was remaining undercover for the foreseeable future. She'd been nagging him to spend more time with their son. 'I'm going to have to see her,' said Shepherd. 'Liam, too. They've been through enough over the past few years.'
'That's not going to be easy,' warned Hargrove. 'Bob Macdonald doesn't have a wife or child, not with the legend the way it is.'
'I'm sure you'll think of something,' said Shepherd. 'There's room for flexibility. Have them separated. She's got the kid. Planning a divorce. It's not rocket science.' Although Shepherd was a detective constable and Hargrove a superintendent, they'd worked together long enough not to worry about speaking bluntly. 'This isn't going to be an
