Spider Shepherd 10 - True Colours (32 page)

‘Excellent,’ said Grechko. He took a small remote control unit from his pocket and pushed a button. Within seconds the double doors to the room were opened by a butler in a crisp black suit. ‘Tea, for two,’ he said. ‘And those little sandwich things.’

The butler, a grey-haired man in his fifties, nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Anything but Earl Grey,’ said Button.

‘Earl Grey?’ repeated the Russian, frowning.

‘I’ve never liked Earl Grey tea,’ said Button with an apologetic smile.

Grechko pointed at the butler. ‘No Earl Grey tea,’ he said.

‘Absolutely, sir,’ murmured the butler, and quietly closed the doors.

‘He worked for Prince Charles for many years,’ said Grechko. ‘He served the Queen many times. Do you know how much the Royal Family pays its butlers?’

Button shook her head. ‘I don’t. Sorry.’

‘Well, I do. A pittance. They treat their staff like serfs. I pay him five times what they paid him. Five times.’

‘I’m sure he appreciates working for you,’ she said.

The Russian’s eyes narrowed as if he was trying to tell whether she was being serious or sarcastic, but then he smiled and chuckled. ‘He does,’ he said. He waved a shovel-like hand at Shepherd, who was still standing by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘And you, Tony, sit, please.’

‘I’m on duty, sir, and I’m supposed to be on my feet at all times,’ said Shepherd.

‘Sit!’ said Grechko. ‘I’m sure that I’m safe in my own home.’

Shepherd nodded and sat down on the sofa next to Button. The Russian steepled his fingers under his chin and stared intently at Button, his brow furrowed. ‘So you have come here to tell me that the attack on me was not political, that someone other than the dogs in the Kremlin is after my blood?’

Button bent forward, maintaining eye contact. ‘The attack on you in London recently was clearly professional. But the assassin missed.’

‘Luckily for me,’ said Grechko with a tight smile.

‘Indeed. And like you we put that down to good fortune. It was a difficult shot, even for a skilled marksman. But we hadn’t realised that Oleg Zakharov was the target for another assassination attempt, earlier this year.’

‘Ah yes, poor Oleg. He was a good friend.’

‘A good friend who died recently, in Monte Carlo.’

‘A cocaine overdose.’ Grechko mimed sniffing the drug. ‘He also had a liking for drugs, I warned him many times to be careful.’ He frowned. ‘You think that it wasn’t an accident?’

‘Cocaine overdoses are somewhat unusual,’ said Button. ‘And if as you said he was a frequent user, the police might not look too closely at the death.’

‘Then if it was murder, it was those bastards in the Kremlin,’ spat Grechko. ‘They are filled with jealousy and hatred for what we have achieved.’ He threw up his massive hands. ‘If it was murder, then the death of Oleg proves that we are all targets.’

‘Targets, yes, I understand that, but not necessarily targets of the Russian state,’ said Button. ‘Mr Grechko, why didn’t you mention to me that someone had tried to kill Mr Zakharov?’

‘It was months ago. And it was in Prague.’

‘It was in Prague, yes. A sniper. He missed and a bodyguard was shot in the leg.’

‘Yes, Oleg told me he was lucky.’

‘I wish that you had told us this earlier.’

‘Why do you think it is important?’

‘Because it suggests that a killer was also targeting Mr Zakharov.’

‘So? Doesn’t that make it even more likely that what is happening is political?’

‘We’re not sure, but the fact that there were two failed assassination attempts is of some concern.’

‘Concern?’ repeated Grechko. ‘You are concerned that he missed?’

‘I am concerned that having missed Mr Zakharov, the same sniper also misses you.’

‘You are assuming that it was the same sniper, of course,’ said the Russian.

‘I have checked and the ballistic evidence shows that the same weapon was used,’ said Button. ‘It’s very unlikely that two snipers would use the same weapon. What I am having trouble understanding is why a sniper who failed once is then given a second chance. If I was hiring an assassin and he failed, I doubt that I would give him a second contract.’ She saw the look of surprise on Grechko’s face and added quickly that she was talking hypothetically. Grechko folded his arms and lowered his chin as if deep in thought.

‘Mr Grechko, since we last spoke I have widened my enquiries. You knew Sasha Czernik, is that correct?’

Grechko frowned. ‘Yes, he was a good friend. His heart attack came as a great shock.’

‘Did you know that a month before his heart attack, his security team found a bomb underneath his car?’

‘Sasha had a lot of business rivals,’ said Grechko. ‘He was a Ukrainian, you know? And he refused to leave, said it was his homeland and that was where he wanted to be buried.’ Grechko flashed her a tight smile. ‘He didn’t realise it would happen so quickly, of course. He was only forty-five.’ He shrugged. ‘I told him Kiev was a dangerous place, he should move to London or Paris. New York, even. He had enough money, he could buy citizenship anywhere. I told him he should speak to Murdoch, make an offer for some of his papers. Even in the age of the internet, the men who own the papers make the rules. Isn’t that so?’

Button ignored the question. ‘The point I’m making is that someone tried to kill Mr Czernik. Is it possible that it was the same person who has tried to kill you and who took the life of Mr Zakharov? Can you think of anyone who might have a personal grudge against the three of you? Someone with a military background?’

Grechko shook his head. ‘I don’t think you fully appreciate the position that men like us are in,’ he growled. ‘They want our companies or they want us dead. Or both.’ He looked up, his eyes blazing. ‘This is because we won’t give them what they want.’

‘And what do they want, Mr Grechko?’

‘They are like pigs at a trough,’ said the Russian. ‘All of them. Worse even than the grasping pigs in this country. They see what we have and they want it. In the past we’ve bought them mansions in London, we’ve put millions in Swiss bank accounts for them, we’ve bought businesses for them in Europe and America. Between us, we’ve given those robbers billions of dollars, Miss Button. And still they want more.’

‘And have you been directly threatened by politicians? Have they specifically said they will have you killed if you don’t give them what they want?’

‘They don’t have to say that, we all know how Russia is ruled,’ said Grechko. ‘But now I am protected. And soon I will be a British citizen. Then I will be out of their reach and so will the companies I own.’

The butler returned with a tray laden with a solid silver tea service and two plates of delicately cut sandwiches. The butler poured tea under the Russian’s watchful eye, handed out cups and offered sandwiches before quietly slipping out through the double doors and pulling them closed behind him.

‘Miss Button, I can assure you that if you are looking for the men who want my death, you need look no farther than the Kremlin.’ He looked at his watch pointedly. ‘Now if you will forgive me, I have a lot of work to do.’

‘I quite understand,’ said Button. She got to her feet and offered her hand but Grechko strode past her and out of the room. She looked at Shepherd and raised one eyebrow. ‘Nice,’ she said.

‘He can be a charmer,’ said Shepherd.

He walked with her out of the piano room and along to the front door. ‘I really must get one of those remote control things,’ said Button. ‘You press a button and a butler magically appears.’

‘Not just the butler,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s programmed for all his staff. I think he’d have the bodyguards wearing them if he could but Popov spun him a line about them interfering with our transceivers.’

‘How are you getting on with Popov?’

‘He’s fine,’ said Shepherd. ‘He’s a pro. And I think he realises that I’m on board to help and not to screw him over.’ He opened the front door for her.

‘Security here does seem on the ball,’ said Button. ‘But I don’t see the killer giving up. It’s like the IRA said after they almost killed Margaret Thatcher in Brighton. They only need to be lucky once. We have to be lucky all the time.’

‘Is that true?’ he asked as they reached the car. ‘About Grechko? Is he getting citizenship?’

‘He’s already entitled, the amount of money that he’s invested in this country,’ said Button. ‘Under existing rules an investment of just a million pounds will get you British citizenship and Grechko has invested hundreds of millions here.’

‘And I suppose the fact that he’s pally with the PM won’t hurt.’

‘I can assume that’ll get him fast-tracked,’ said Button. ‘But this isn’t about his connections, it’s purely financial. Let’s face it, Spider, the trouble this country is in economically, we need all the investors like Grechko that we can get.’

‘Even though we know next to nothing about him?’

‘He’ll have to show that he doesn’t have a criminal record,’ said Button.

Shepherd laughed. ‘Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be a problem,’ he said. ‘I wonder how much a clean bill of health will cost?’

Button unlocked the car door and then turned to face him. ‘Is there a problem?’

Shepherd grimaced. ‘I don’t like the man. I don’t like the way he carries himself, I don’t like the way he treats people. He’s an arrogant bully, Charlie, and I don’t think he got to where he is without riding roughshod over a lot of people. Maybe worse.’

‘Russia’s a tough place,’ said Button. ‘You don’t get to the top there by being a shrinking violet.’

‘I’ve got a bad feeling about him, that’s all. We were in Cyprus and he was up to something, flying back and forth with suitcases filled with I don’t know what.’

‘Contraband?’

‘I don’t know. Popov said it was cash. But who knows? You know, I can see that we need to protect him from assassination while he’s on British soil, but I’d be a lot happier if he just went back to Russia. And I don’t understand why we’re offering guys like him the keys to our country. You know this road, half the houses are owned by Russians and most of the rest by Arabs. And at any one time most of the owners aren’t even here.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know why we don’t just put a huge for sale sign up over our country and have done with it.’

Button looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s just a bit depressing seeing someone who has so much when you know that most of the population is struggling to just get by. I’ve got to go, Grechko is at the Mayfair Bar tonight so there’s a lot to do.’

‘How much time off are you getting?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because you look tired, Spider. Your eyes are so dark you look like a panda. Are you getting much sleep?’

Shepherd laughed despite himself. ‘I don’t need mothering, Charlie.’

‘No, but you do need time off. There’s no point in you being with Grechko twenty-four-seven if you’re making yourself ill. I understand how stressful this is.’

‘So what are you suggesting? I take a break?’

‘Let me see if I can get someone to share the workload,’ she said. ‘Babysitting Grechko is probably a two-man job until we get the guy that’s after him.’

‘I might know someone,’ said Shepherd.

‘I’m listening.’

‘Former Regiment guy. Jock McIntyre. He’s left the SAS and is working security now but it wouldn’t take much to get him to join me. I could probably get Grechko to pay his wages, too. But he’d need to know that he was on board with your approval because he only trusts his own people.’

‘Why did this McIntyre leave?’

‘He’s put in close to twenty years. Honourable discharge and all that. Bloody good operator, I was with him in Afghanistan.’

‘And he’s up to speed on personal protection?’

‘Like I said, he’s working security at the moment. I can vouch for him.’ Shepherd knew that he wasn’t actually lying to Button, but he was definitely stretching the truth. But she was right, he did need back-up, and it would be useful having McIntyre close by rather than having him running back and forth from Reading.

‘Let me run a background check on him and I’ll let you know. Have you got his date of birth?’

‘I’ll text you later today,’ said Shepherd.

Button nodded and climbed into the car. ‘You take care, Spider,’ she said. ‘And try at least to get a few early nights.’

She closed the door and started the engine. Shepherd waved at the guard in the guardhouse and as the car purred down the driveway the massive black gates swung open.

As Shepherd walked back to the house, he phoned Jock McIntyre. ‘Jock, fancy a bit of real work?’

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Helping me babysit that Russian I told you about. I can probably get you a couple of hundred quid a day. It means you can stay in London while we handle the other thing.’

‘I’m your man,’ said McIntyre. ‘Anything to get me out of this bloody office block. It’s doing my head in.’

‘OK, first things first. I need your date of birth and your National Insurance number, they’ll want to run a check on you. You haven’t been in trouble, have you?’

McIntyre chuckled. ‘I’ve been as good as gold, mate.’

‘Terrific. Text me those numbers and make sure you’ve got a half-decent suit. I’ll call you when it’s sorted. You can live in, the security guys have their own quarters.’

‘This is getting better by the minute,’ said McIntyre.

Shepherd ended the call and weighed the phone in his hand as he headed around to the rear of the house. He hoped that he hadn’t made a mistake in trusting McIntyre. But at least Shepherd would be able to keep an eye on him while he was based at Grechko’s mansion. And he would be close at hand when the time came to move against Ahmad Khan.

Two days after Shepherd had given the iPad and tracking device to Shortt, he got a late night phone call from Harper. ‘All done,’ said Harper, ‘Are you up for a meet?’

‘Tonight?’ Shepherd looked at his watch. It was just after ten and he’d only just arrived back at his flat.

‘Strike while the iron’s hot,’ said Harper.

‘Can’t we at least meet in a pub?’ said Shepherd. ‘This park thing is getting on my nerves.’