False Friends by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

around them.
    Miles to the south, moored on the Thames in the centre of the city, was the museum warship HMS Belfast . Shepherd had read somewhere that the warship’s guns were aimed so that their shel s, if fired, would fal directly on to the service centre. It was a nugget of information that his perfect memory kept locked away for ever, but for the life of him he had no idea why the centre had been targeted, and could only assume it was a comment on the drab architecture. Or maybe someone had once eaten a bad sausage rol there.
    Shepherd climbed out of the Volvo, a three-year-old model from the office pool. He locked the door and walked over to the Golf, whistling softly to himself. He had a basebal cap pul ed low over his eyes and he kept his head down. He tapped on the rear window of the car and the two men inside jumped as if they’d been stung, then they relaxed as they recognised him.
    Shepherd opened the rear door and got in. ‘Harvey, when are you going to get yourself a decent motor?’ he asked, clapping the driver on the back.
    ‘This, it’s a classic, innit?’ said Malik. It was cold in the car and both men were bundled up, Chaudhry in his duffel coat and Malik in his green parka jacket.
    Shepherd pul ed on the handle to close the door and it threatened to come away in his hand. ‘It’s a piece of shit,’ he said.
    ‘So how about your bosses pay for a new motor, then?’ said Chaudhry. ‘There was a reward for Bin Laden, wasn’t there? Twenty-five mil ion bucks. How about sending some of that our way, John?’
    John Whitehil was Shepherd’s cover name. It was the only name they would ever know him by. ‘I’l ask, but the Yanks are taking the credit,’ he said.
    ‘Yeah, but they know the information came from us, right?’ said Malik, twisting round in his seat.
    ‘What do you think, Harvey? You think we’ve been shouting your names from the rooftops?’
    ‘No, of course not,’ said Malik, his cheeks reddening. ‘But Obama knows, right?’
    ‘Of course Obama doesn’t bloody wel know,’ said Shepherd. He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to lose his temper. He forced himself to smile. ‘If the President knew then at least a dozen other people would know, and Washington leaks like a bloody sieve. Al the politicians are hand in glove with the media so it wouldn’t take long for the info to go public and then the two of you would be wel fucked. I presume you don’t want your names splashed across the New York Times .’
    ‘But someone knows, right?’ said Malik. ‘We get the credit, right?’
    ‘We know, Harvey. That’s what matters.’
    ‘And who is “we”, exactly?’ pressed Malik.
    Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly.
    ‘I’m fine,’ said Malik. ‘I just want some reassurance here that someone else isn’t taking credit for what we did. We found Bin Laden. We found the man the whole world was looking for. And we told you and then the Americans went in and kil ed him. And nowhere do I hear that it was anything other than an American operation.’
    ‘Which is what we want. That sort of disinformation keeps you safe. What do you want, Harvey? You want to go and shake hands with Obama in the White House and have him tel you how proud he is?’
    ‘What I want, John, is a piece of the twenty-five-mil ion reward that the Americans promised.’
    ‘That was up to twenty-five mil ion,’ said Shepherd. ‘If they do pay it then it’l be split among everyone involved.’
    ‘Including the Seals?’ asked Malik.
    ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
    ‘You know the Yanks paid thirty mil ion dol ars to one informant who gave up Hussein’s kids,’ said Chaudhry. ‘Uday and Qusay. Remember? The Yanks went in and blew them away too. And like I said, they handed over thirty mil ion dol ars to one man.’
    ‘How do you know that?’ asked Shepherd.
    ‘Google,’ said Raj. ‘It ain’t rocket science.’
    ‘So do we get a piece of the reward, or not?’