Spider Shepherd: SAS: #2 by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

providing Mr Parker can make the necessary arrangements.’
    ‘I’m sure there will be no difficulties with that, sir,’ Parker said. ‘I will personally deal with any problems relating to Rusty’s immediate discharge from the British Army.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Forgive me, but there still remains one other pressing problem to address: the fate of your cousin.’  
    ‘He cannot be executed,’ the sheikh said. ‘He deserves it, of course, and I know that he would have killed me without a second thought if it had suited his purpose. But to take my revenge by executing him would cause discontent among some sections of my people. In any case, I’m not sure it would be wise to encourage the belief in my subjects that members of the ruling house can be executed just like other men.’ He gave a brief smile. ‘Who knows where the axe might fall next? However, he cannot be allowed to remain in my country as a focus for discontent and sedition.’
    After a further discussion, Parker finally agreed that he would arrange for the sheikh’s cousin, like his father before him, to go into an involuntary exile, albeit a gilded one, in a Park Lane hotel in London.  ‘Then it is all agreed,’ the sheikh said. ‘And perhaps this time I can rely on the British authorities to take rather better care of him.’ 
    Parker inclined his head in acknowledgement of the implied rebuke.
    ‘You know what, Jonathan?’ Shepherd said as they walked back down the marble stairs. ‘I’ve only just realised that the root cause of the problem all along was the inability of the UK security services to keep tabs on a known serious potential threat. Not very reassuring is it? And you know what else? We’ve just saved your arse for the second time in six months. You owe us, big time. Make sure you don’t forget it.’
    ‘I won’t,’ said Parker. He took out a pack of small cigars and lit one. He offered the pack to Shepherd but Shepherd shook his head. ‘Mind you, you have to understand that “alla sharifnee” is an Arab thing.’
    ‘You mean there’s no honour in MI6?’
    ‘We do our best,’ said Parker. ‘But needs must, right? Still, you and the guys did a great job. When you get this soldiering thing out of your system, you should think about working for the security services.’
    ‘That’ll never happen,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘Never say never,’ said Parker. He waved a languid hand and walked away.
    Geordie, Jock and Jimbo came up behind Shepherd. ‘Penny for them?’ asked Geordie.
    ‘Dark thoughts,’ laughed Shepherd. ‘Let’s go get a beer.’
     

THE ROPE
     
     
    CYPRUS.
    November 1998.
     
    Dan “Spider” Shepherd was sipping his first coffee of the day as the sweat from his morning run slowly dried on his skin. He’d take a shower in a moment, but for now he was content just to relax and take in the scene around him. To the far north, the listening station’s gleaming white radomes looked like giant mushrooms growing out of the pine forest cloaking the flanks of the mountains. The summit of Mount Olympus had been dusted with the first snow of the winter during the night, but at Akrotiri, 6,000 feet below, it was already hot enough for heat waves to be rising from the shimmering white salt flats towards the north of the Sovereign Base Area. He looked over at Jock McIntyre. ‘What is it they say about Cyprus?’ he said. ‘Ski before lunch, and you can be sunbathing and swimming in the sea couple of hours later.’
    ‘Know what else they say about Cyprus?’ growled Jock in his grating Glaswegian accent. ‘It’s even less exciting than kissing your grandma.’ Craggy-faced and beginning to grey at the temples, Jock was several years older than his patrol mates. He’d grown up in the Maryhill district of Glasgow and delighted in conforming to every stereotype of the down-market Scot, right down to Irn-Bru and deep-fried Mars Bars. He gave a theatrical sigh. ‘God, I’m bored. Just look at it.’