Hot Blood (35 page)

‘Well, “I’m sorry” doesn’t cut it,’ said Button. ‘Leaving aside the stupidity and illegality of what you did, have you any idea of the position you’ve put me in? All the established law-enforcement organisations are hell-bent on proving that SOCA is unnecessary because they want to show how indispensable they are. You’ve just handed my head to them on a plate. I’ve hired a maverick who cuts deals with terrorists. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I see about transferring you to another unit?’

Shepherd could see that Button wasn’t bluffing. She looked at him levelly as she waited for him to speak. She wasn’t playing at giving him the silent treatment: she was giving him the chance to make a choice. He could tell her the truth, or he could lie to her. Shepherd had no doubt that he could look her in the eye and lie. It was what he did for a living. He pretended to be someone he wasn’t, he lied and cheated to get close to people he would ultimately betray, and generally he did it with a clear conscience. Lying was a means to an end, a way of putting bad men behind bars, of achieving justice when conventional policing methods had failed. Lying wasn’t exactly second nature to Shepherd, but he could do it well. Shepherd didn’t believe that Button knew the reason for his trip to Dubai. If she did, she’d have confronted him with it. She was giving him the chance to come clean about what he was doing and why. He could tell her the truth and take the consequences, or he could lie. Either way, his relationship with Charlotte Button would never be the same again.

Button sat quietly, waiting for him to speak. Shepherd had no way of knowing if she had any idea of the struggle he was going through. He wondered if he could trust her. She was a former spook, and she had already made clear that her ultimate aim was to go back to MI5. Shepherd trusted the Major because they’d served together in the SAS. He had trusted Sam Hargrove because Hargrove was a career cop who’d proved his loyalty on numerous occasions. Shepherd wanted to trust Button, but they had virtually no history together. He’d worked for her for less than six months.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he told her the real reason he was in Dubai, he risked blowing the operation. Geordie would die in the basement, his throat ripped open as demented insurgents swore loyalty to their God. Shepherd couldn’t allow that to happen. But if he lied to Button, she would find out. And then his career would be over. More than that, if she turned him in there was a good chance he’d end up in prison for what he’d done already. He’d kidnapped, threatened, abused and come close to torturing two men. Basharat and Fariq. Two innocent men. He looked deep into her eyes and wondered if he could trust her. If he dared to trust her.

Major Allan Gannon looked up at the arrivals display and frowned. The Emirates flight had landed thirty minutes earlier and Shepherd had no reason to be travelling with luggage.

‘Sometimes there’s a stack of VIPs going through,’ said Muller. ‘Anyone related to the royal family gets special treatment, and most businessmen with any clout can get met airside.’

‘I hope that’s all it is,’ said Gannon. With Halim meeting Shepherd off the plane immigration would be a formality, but Shepherd was still bringing in electronic equipment that might attract attention if it was noticed by Customs.

Passengers continued to walk into the arrivals area. There were haughty Saudis in gleaming white
dishdasha
s, and red and white checked
ghutra
s, followed by their womenfolk, draped from head to foot in black; Western businessmen with wheeled luggage, gold frequent-flyer tags and laptop computer cases; dark-skinned labourers in cheap clothes with plastic suitcases held together by string and insulation tape; British tourists already complaining about the heat.

‘There he is,’ said Muller, but Gannon had already spotted Shepherd walking out of the immigration area, Halim at his side. He waved to him, and Shepherd strode towards them carrying a black holdall, Halim hurrying to keep up. Gannon realised that a woman in her late thirties with dark chestnut hair and brown eyes was walking a few feet behind him, matching his brisk pace. Her brow was furrowed and her lips formed a thin, tight line. She had no luggage, just a small leather bag on a strap over one shoulder. In her left hand she carried a fawn raincoat. She was looking in their direction and it was only when she locked eyes with Gannon that he realised who she was. He cursed under his breath.

‘Who is she?’ asked Muller.

‘A ball-breaker,’ said Gannon. ‘That sound you just heard was the shit hitting the fan.’

‘I’m only a stupid American. You’ll have to spell it out for me,’ said Muller.

‘Charlotte Button,’ said Gannon. ‘Spider’s boss.’

‘Ah,’ said Muller. ‘I might just leave you to it.’

‘I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that, John,’ said Gannon. ‘The fact that she’s here means that she probably knows all she needs to know. She used to work for MI5, but now she heads up SOCA’s undercover unit.’

‘Again, I’m just the stupid Yank here. You don’t mean soccer, the game, I take it?’

‘Sorry, John. The bloody initials become second nature after a while.’ He spelled out the letters. ‘Stands for the Serious Organised Crime Agency. Effectively it’s a British FBI. They target drug traffickers, international fraudsters, the big criminals that local forces can’t touch. Spider works for SOCA’s undercover unit, and Charlotte Button there is his boss.’

‘Nice legs,’ said Muller, approvingly.

‘You could try flattery, but from what I’ve heard it won’t get you anywhere,’ said Gannon.

He shook Shepherd’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder as he welcomed him back to Dubai. Shepherd had time to whisper, ‘She knows everything,’ before Button joined them. She kept her hands at her sides and made no move to greet Gannon or Muller. She ignored the American and spoke directly to Gannon. ‘We need to talk,’ she said coldly.

‘Sure,’ said Gannon. He gestured at the exit. ‘We’ve a car waiting outside. We can talk back at the hotel.’

‘We can talk here,’ she said. ‘I’m on the next flight back to London.’

Muller held out his hand. ‘Howdy,’ he said. ‘I’m John Muller.’

Button looked at him disdainfully. ‘I know who you are, Mr Muller, and I know what you’re doing here. The less you talk to me, the better. Now, would you be so good as to take Mr Shepherd back to your hotel while I talk to the Major? Thank you.’ She turned away from the American and looked at Gannon again. ‘There’s a coffee shop over there,’ she said, nodding at the far side of the arrivals area.

Muller and Shepherd headed for the exit, while Gannon walked with her to the coffee shop. She sat down at a corner table and crossed her legs. ‘I’ll have tea,’ she said. ‘Anything but Earl Grey.’

Gannon went to the counter and ordered. He carried the cups to the table and sat down opposite her, his back ramrod straight. ‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked.

‘I ate on the plane,’ she said. She picked up her spoon and stirred her tea slowly, even though she hadn’t put in any sugar. He waited for her to speak, knowing that anything he said would probably antagonise her.

‘It’s not often that words fail me,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve had eight hours on the plane to think about what I was going to say to you and, frankly, I’m still at a loss. What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘Whatever it takes,’ said Gannon. ‘One of my men is about to be executed and I’m not prepared to let that happen without a fight.’

‘But he’s not one of your men, is he?’ said Button. ‘Mitchell is a civil contractor. He hasn’t served with the Regiment for more than five years.’

‘Once Sass, always Sass,’ said Gannon.

‘Well, that’s very noble, Major, but the fact remains that Mitchell was in Iraq earning a thousand dollars a day for guarding an oil pipeline. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time for no other reason than that he was greedy. And now you’re putting your career on the line in some misguided attempt to drag his nuts out of the fire.’ She put the spoon back in the saucer. ‘Worse, you’ve co-opted one of my people into your venture. You’ve encouraged Spider to lie to me, throw away his career and risk his life. God damn you, Gannon, he’s a single parent. If anything happens to him, who’s going to look after his boy?’

‘It was his choice,’ said Gannon. ‘And the way I understand it, it was more omission than lying. He just didn’t tell you what he was doing.’

‘He spun me some line about needing time off to move house. That was a direct lie.’

‘And if he had asked your permission to come to Dubai to help rescue Mitchell, what would your reaction have been?’

‘This isn’t about who said what to whom,’ said Button. ‘You’ve no right to be out here, and neither has Spider. What happened to Geordie Mitchell is a nightmare, but that doesn’t give you the right to go charging in like International Rescue.’

‘If we don’t do something, he’ll die,’ said Gannon, flatly.

‘What about the Regiment?’ said Button.

‘If they knew where he was, they’d go in,’ said Gannon, ‘but we’ve no intel. And no prospect of getting it by conventional means.’

‘What you’re planning is madness, you know that?’

‘We’ve tried everything else.’

‘What have you tried?’

‘How much has Spider told you?’

Button flashed him a tight smile. ‘There you go again, playing games. What does it matter how much he did or didn’t tell me? I’m not some pretty little secretary you can treat on a need-to-know basis.’

‘I don’t want to bore you with details you already have.’

‘No, you were planning damage limitation. Find out what I know already and do your level best not to tell me anything else. That’s not how this is going to work, Major Gannon.’ She held up her right index finger and thumb less than an inch apart. ‘I’m this close to making a phone call that will bring your world crashing down around you.’

Gannon nodded slowly but didn’t say anything. He knew she held all the cards and it was up to her how she played them. He had the feeling that anything he said then would annoy her.

‘I’ve another axe to grind with you,’ said Button.

‘I’ve no doubt,’ said Gannon, drily.

‘I gather you were responsible for introducing Spider to Richard Yokely.’

Gannon nodded.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ said Button. ‘You know what Yokely does.’

‘He’s sort of CIA,’ said the Major.

Button sneered at him with contempt. ‘You really do think I’ve got my head up my backside, don’t you? “Sort of CIA” is like saying that Stalin had a temper. You know he was with the Intelligence and Security Command?’

Gannon nodded. ‘Yes. AKA the Tactical Concept Activity.’

‘That’s right, they do love to play with words, don’t they?’

‘The guys on the Activity tried to get it renamed the Strategic Operations Brigade so that they could call themselves SOBs.’

‘I heard that,’ said Button. ‘I also heard that Yokely left the Activity to join Grey Fox. You do know what Grey Fox is, don’t you?’

The Major sighed. ‘A presidential assassination squad,’ he said quietly.

‘Finally I’m getting something approaching candour from you,’ said Button. She sat back and folded her arms. ‘Yes. Yokely worked for a black unit tasked with assassination. Now he’s moved on from Grey Fox to a place that’s so off the radar I don’t think it even has a name. Please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me that he’s “sort of CIA”. Richard Yokely is a very dangerous man.’

‘He wanted to meet Spider after what happened down the Tube when he shot the suicide-bomber.’

‘Yokely wants Spider to work for him – you know that?’

‘I guessed as much,’ said Gannon. ‘But Yokely told me he wanted an introduction, that’s all.’

‘And you were happy enough to give one, were you?’

‘I’ve known Yokely for almost ten years. And Spider’s big enough to take care of himself. I’m not in the business of nannying anyone, Charlotte.’

Button’s eyes narrowed. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting I’m nannying him because that is most definitely not what is happening here,’ she said. ‘Richard Yokely is a devious bastard. You know he took Spider to Baghdad on a rendition flight?’

‘We needed to question someone there.’

‘Yokely was perfectly capable of handling the interrogation himself. Why do you think he wanted Spider with him?’

The Major said nothing.

‘You know what I think? I think Yokely wanted Spider with him because he knew I’d find out and that when I did I’d sack Spider, so he’d be looking for a job. He set Spider up.’

‘I don’t see it that way,’ said the Major. ‘We asked Yokely for help and he came through.’

‘Yokely only helps people if there’s a payback,’ said Button. ‘I’m just looking after the best interests of one of my people. One of my team.’

‘Same here,’ said Gannon.

‘Do you have any idea how many laws you’ve broken so far?’ said Button. ‘Have you given any thought to what will happen if you’re caught?’

‘We won’t be caught,’ said Gannon. ‘But if we were, we’d take whatever they throw at us.’

‘Your career counts for nothing? Because if this ever gets out, you’re history. No more Increment, no more Regiment. You wouldn’t be able to get a job watching over a building site.’

‘My career counts for nothing if my men can’t depend on me,’ said Gannon, ‘and that’s a two-way street. If it was me in that basement wearing an orange jumpsuit, I’d expect my men to come and get me. There’s a loyalty in the Regiment that goes beyond Queen and country, Charlotte, and you wouldn’t understand it.’

‘Screw you, Gannon,’ said Button, bitterly. ‘I demonstrate my loyalty by never lying to my people and by watching their backs. That’s why I’m here, to protect Spider. To make sure you don’t burn him.’

‘I’m not going to burn him,’ said Gannon. ‘We’re here to do a job. And if it all turns to shit I’ll walk away from my career without a second thought. And if you want to pull the plug on what we’re doing, then go ahead. I’m sure you know who to call.’