hint had been clear enough: he was getting ready to move against Roper. He got on with mopping the floor, keeping to the far side of the landing, away from Carpenter, not wanting to crowd him.
He waited until the prisoners returned from the workshops before he went down to the ones and stood in line for the phones. Lee was standing near the hotplate with half a dozen other prisoners, holding a plastic tray. He grinned and flashed him a thumbs-up.
Shepherd looked up through the suicide mesh. Carpenter had gone back to his cell. If he knew where Roper was being kept, he had to have a source high up in the Church or in Sam Hargrove's unit. And if the source could locate Roper, he might also identify Shepherd. Shepherd could feel the muscles tightening at the back of his neck. If Carpenter discovered he was a cop, he could have him killed inside the prison just as easily as out. Shepherd forced himself to relax. There was no point in worrying about what might be. There'd been nothing in the conversation to suggest that Carpenter suspected anything.
A hand gripped Shepherd's shoulder and he whirled round.
'Hey, I'm cool,' said a man, his hands up. 'I was just asking if you want to use the phone.'
Shepherd apologised. He'd been so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed one of the phones was unoccupied. He tapped out his pin number, then Uncle Richard's. It was answered on the third ring. 'What do you need?' said a male voice. Shepherd couldn't tell if it was the man he'd spoken to last time he'd called.
Two West Indians were waiting to use the phone, close enough to overhear everything he said. 'Hiya, Richard, it's Bob,' he said cheerily.
Use of the names meant the man at the other end of the phone realised that the conversation was non- secure.
'What do you need?' said the voice.
'How's Sam doing?' said Shepherd.
'Do you want me to get a message to him?'
Shepherd laughed for the benefit of the West Indians. 'Yeah, that's right. It's been ages since I talked to him.'
'Are you requesting a meeting?'
'No, visiting hours are a pain in the arse here. It takes for ever to put a visiting order through.'
'Is this a matter of urgency?'
'Absolutely. Has he seen Sandy?'
'Sandy Roper?'
'I know, they're perfect for each other, aren't they? It's about time they went on holiday, isn't it?'
'Has Roper's location been compromised?'
'Tell Sam I said they should go away. The sooner the better. The rest will do them good.'
'I'll pass that on immediately,' said the voice. 'Do you need anything else?'
'I'm fine. Bored out of my skull.'
'You're in no immediate danger?'
'Shit, no. Everything's fine. I'm just looking forward to getting out. Look, I'd better go, there are people waiting to use the phone.'
'Good luck,' said the man.
Kim Fletcher pulled on a pair of night-vision goggles and pressed the on switch. They buzzed, then flickered into life. 'They work?' asked Lewis from the back seat.
'Of course they do,' sneered Fletcher. 'They cost a grand.' He took off the goggles and handed them to Lewis. Lewis was nineteen and had already killed five men, four for money. Sitting next to him was Jewel, who had just turned sixteen. Lewis had taken on Jewel as his assistant and was teaching him the tricks of the trade. He was learning fast.
Jewel screwed a bulbous silencer into the barrel of his pistol, a Swiss-made SIG-Sauer P-220, not that he cared about the make of the weapon: to him, a gun was a gun. As long as it fired bullets, that was all that mattered. Fletcher took a second pair of goggles from the BMW's glove compartment and handed them to him.
Lewis checked the goggles, nodded, then took them off. He checked the safety on his gun. It was also a SIG-Sauer but, unlike Jewel's 9mm, it was the more modern P-232, chambered for 7.65mm Browning cartridges. Like Jewel, Lewis didn't care what the gun was. They'd bought the weapons from an underworld arms dealer in Harlesden, a Yardie who had been prepared to sell them on a return-if-not-fired basis, but Fletcher had told Lewis he was to buy them outright. Fletcher was paying him twenty thousand pounds for the job. It was up to him how much he gave Jewel.
'Okay?' Fletcher asked Lewis.
Lewis nodded. He had been paid half the money in advance and would get the rest when Roper was dead. He took a deep breath. The adrenaline always kicked in when he had a loaded gun in his hands. Not fear, not even excitement, just a gearing-up of all his senses for what lay ahead. The taking of a human life.
'Call me when it's done,' said Fletcher.
Lewis jerked his chin at Jewel and the pair climbed out of the BMW.
They had left their Suzuki jeep in a supermarket car park, behind the BMW. They climbed in and drove for half an hour to the house where Roper was being held.
They parked outside the school that bordered the housing estate and clambered over its railings. They slipped on the night-vision goggles, switched them on, checked their guns and ran across the playing-field. They vaulted the garden wall and stood staring at the rear of the house. They waited for a full ten minutes until they were satisfied that no one was watching from any of the windows, then crept towards the kitchen door, their guns at the ready.
Lewis attached a small suction cup to the glass panel in the kitchen window and used a glass cutter to scratch out a hole big enough for his hand to go through. He tapped the glass and it cracked cleanly. He pulled it out and placed it on the ground, then reached through and unlocked the door.
They moved through the kitchen. There was a stack of dirty plates in the sink, and half-drunk mugs of coffee on the worktop. They stood for a while in the doorway, listening, then moved slowly up the stairs, keeping close to the wall to keep the noise to a minimum.
The bathroom was at the back of the house, the door closed. Lewis put his hand on the handle and nodded at Jewel. Jewel held his gun with both hands and Lewis opened the door. During the day there had been a man in the bathroom keeping watch on the garden, but now he'd gone. Lewis frowned, then pointed towards the master bedroom. That was where Roper and his wife were sleeping. They moved down the hallway towards the bedroom. They passed the children's room and ignored it. Fletcher had been insistent that they were not to be hurt. The same went for the wife. Roper was the target.
They reached the master bedroom. Lewis took the handle. Jewel nodded, and he opened the door. Jewel took three quick steps into the middle of the room and aimed his gun at the bed. It was empty. Lewis moved to the wardrobe and opened it. No clothes. Nothing.
'Fuck,' he said.
'What's going on?' asked Jewel. He still had his gun aimed at the bed, his finger on the trigger.
'The birds have fucking flown,' said Lewis.
'We're getting paid, though, yeah?' said Jewel.
'Fucking right we're getting paid,' said Lewis.
'Why don't you just arrest them?' asked Roper. He was watching a CCTV monitor that showed a night-vision view of the bedroom window of the safe-house. He could see two men standing in the middle of the room, holding guns.
'It'd tip Carpenter off that we know what he's up to,' said Hargrove.
'The fact the house is empty will tell them that,' said Roper.
'Not necessarily,' said Hargrove. 'They might just think we've moved you.'
'Bit of a coincidence. They must have staked the place out, and then, just as they move in, the place is abandoned.'
'Give me a break, Sandy,' said Hargrove. 'We got you and your family out, didn't we? If we pull those two in Carpenter's going to suspect we've got someone on the inside. At least this way there's some confusion. There they go.'
On the monitor, the two men moved out of the bedroom. Hargrove flicked a remote-control button and
