grille.
Shortt pressed the button and was buzzed in. He headed up a narrow flight of stairs. A striking brunette had the door at the top open for him. 'Jimbo, I didn't know you were in London,' she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
'Flying visit, Sarah,' he said. 'Is he in?'
'Ready and waiting for you,' she said.
Alex Knight was sitting behind a pile of electronic equipment and a stack of manuals. The walls of his office were lined with metal shelving stacked with boxes and more manuals. There was a single chair on Shortt's side of the desk but it was piled high with unopened Federal Express packets.
'Can I interest you in a sat-phone scrambler, Jimbo?' asked Knight. 'State-of-the-art from Taiwan. I can do you a deal.'
'Not this time, Alex.'
Knight came round from behind his desk and several inches of bony wrist protruded from his dark blue blazer when he stuck out his hand to shake Shortt's. He was tall and gangly, with square-framed black spectacles perched high on his nose.
'So, what can I do you for?' he asked.
'Scanner that'll key me in to police frequencies,' said Shortt.
'Ask me something difficult,' said Knight. 'You can buy them at Argos.'
Shortt chuckled. The sort of equipment Knight sold was most definitely not available on the high street. 'This'll do the trick,' he said, pulling a box off a shelf and examining the label. It was a model he hadn't seen before. 'And I need a mobile-phone jammer. A biggie.'
'Illegal in this country, of course,' said Knight.
'Of course,' said Shortt.
'How big?'
'How big have you got?'
'I've got hand-helds that can block all signals up to a hundred feet,' said Knight.
'Bigger,' said Shortt.
'There's a model just in from Hong Kong that can shut down all signals in a building, pretty much.'
'Bigger,' said Shortt, grinning.
'Jimbo, why don't you just tell me what it is you want shutting down?'
Shortt's grin widened. 'You don't want to know, Alex, but let's say it's the size of a football stadium.'
Knight went back behind his desk and tapped away on his computer. He frowned, and tapped again.
Shortt continued to walk along the shelves, picking up the occasional box and examining its contents. Some of the equipment Knight had was so cutting-edge that even Shortt wasn't sure what it was supposed to do.
'What frequencies?' Knight asked.
'UK only,' said Shortt.
'Sale or lease?'
'I was hoping you'd lend me one, Alex.' Knight raised an eyebrow, and Shortt laughed. 'I'll need it for a couple of days.'
'I can let you have one for a week at five grand, but I'm going to need a deposit. This is expensive kit. When do you need it by?'
'Yesterday,' said Shortt.
Shepherd was in the corner of the exercise yard doing vigorous press-ups when his name was called. It was Hamilton. He got to his feet and went over to him, brushing his hands on his jeans. 'Legal visit,' said Hamilton.
Shepherd followed him off the spur and along the secure corridor to the visitors' centre. Hamilton said nothing during the long walk and Shepherd didn't want to start a conversation. He hadn't requested a visit from Hargrove. If the superintendent had discovered what had happened to Liam, it was all over. Shepherd forced himself to relax as he was shown into the glass-sided room.
Hargrove shook his hand. 'How's it going, Spider?'
Shepherd sat down. 'Slowly.'
'Hadn't heard from you for a while so I thought I'd drop by and see how you were.' Hargrove took his seat. His briefcase was on the floor.
'Soon as there's something to report, I'll be on the phone.'
'Are you okay?'
'I'm fine.'
'You look a little tense, that's all.'
'I'm in prison, for fuck's sake,' Shepherd snapped. He saw the look of concern on Hargrove's face and held up his hands. 'Sorry,' he said. 'It's just that being Bob Macdonald twenty-four seven isn't easy.'
'Anything I can do?'
Shepherd shook his head.
'Anything taped we can use?'
'I'm only wearing the recorder when there are officers around. That way he can't start searching me if he gets suspicious. Problem is, with the officers around he's not going to say much. I want to get him talking in his cell but I'm not in there often.'
'We need something, Spider. You know how important this is.'
'I can't push it any more than I'm doing or he'll back off.'
'And he hasn't said anything we can use?'
'He's not stupid,' said Shepherd. 'He's in here because he was set up by pros, and he's keen not to make the mistake again.'
'You don't think he suspects anything?'
'I'm being careful.'
'Carpenter's got a remand hearing in a couple of days. Might give you something to talk about.'
'I'll give it a go. He's not going to get bail, is he?'
Hargrove grinned. 'Not a snowball's chance in hell. He might have torn holes in our case but the judge is aware of what's going on and he's a safe pair of hands.'
'I'm doing my best,' said Shepherd.
'I know you are, Spider. Do you want me to go and see your boy?'
'Best stay away until it's all over.'
'You sure?'
'I'm sure.'
Hargrove stood up and adjusted his cuffs, picked up his briefcase, then held out his hand. Shepherd stood up and shook it. He hated lying to Hargrove, but he had no choice. There was nothing the superintendent could do to get Liam back. It was all down to Major Gannon and his team.
Jimbo Shortt brought the van to a halt about a hundred yards from the prison wall. Armstrong and Mitchell were in the back. O'Brien twisted round in the front passenger seat. 'Okay, let's get to it,' he said. 'From the moment we go in, we'll have eight minutes, maximum. If we're unlucky and someone calls it in, that's how long it'll take SO19 to get here.'
'Assuming there isn't an armed-response car driving by,' said Mitchell.
'Let's look on the bright side, shall we?' said O'Brien. 'This time of night, that's not likely.'
Armstrong slotted a magazine into his AKM and adjusted his black ski mask. Armstrong, Mitchell and O'Brien were wearing black fireproof overalls, ski masks and sneakers. They had black leather belts on their waists with spare ammunition, a handgun each and a radio transmitter nestling in the small of their backs. There was no need for the ballistic jackets or helmets - there wasn't a single gun inside the prison. The only risk of firepower was from the Metropolitan Police's SO19 armed-response teams. Shortt was the only member of the team wearing civilian clothes. He had on a leather jacket over blue overalls and a New York Yankees baseball cap.
'And again, if we do come up against armed cops, defensive fire only,' said O'Brien. 'Understood?'
Armstrong and Mitchell nodded.
'Fire over their heads and get the hell out,' said O'Brien. 'The cops aren't used to taking automatic fire. Okay, let's get to it.' He pulled on his mask, climbed out of the van and jogged round to the rear, his Polish short assault
