Dark Forces (26 page)

Shepherd took off his rucksack and pulled out two more bottles of water. He unscrewed the top from one and handed it to Liam, who drank gratefully as Shepherd sat down next to him. He patted his son’s knee. ‘You did well. Really well.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘I mean it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We did it in three hours and ten minutes. That’s faster than my first time.’

‘And I beat you. Let’s not forget that.’

‘I let you win.’

‘You did not.’

Shepherd laughed. ‘No, I didn’t. You beat me fair and square. Seriously, well done.’

‘I’ve got to make a confession,’ said Liam. He swallowed another mouthful of water. ‘This isn’t my first time.’

‘What?’ Shepherd’s jaw dropped.

‘I’ve done the Fan Dance a couple of times. During the last school holidays. I got Grandad to drive me over.’

‘And you never told me?’

‘I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. If I’d failed, I’d probably have knocked the army idea on the head, but my first run was okay.’

‘Wait a minute. Your grandad drove you here and never mentioned it to me?’

‘I asked him not to.’

‘So you told him about wanting to join the army before you told me?’

‘To be fair, Dad, you haven’t been around much this last year.’ He opened his backpack and took out an energy bar.

Shepherd nodded. ‘I guess so.’

‘I told Grandad I wanted to train and he said he’d help.’ Liam offered the energy bar to Shepherd but Shepherd shook his head. Liam ripped open the wrapper and took a bite.

‘And what about you joining the army? What did he have to say about that?’

‘He said it wouldn’t have been his choice of a career, but that you had had a life most people could only dream about.’

Shepherd’s eyebrows shot up. ‘He said that?’

‘I don’t think you know how much he admires you, Dad. And Gran. They both think the world of you.’

Shepherd’s cheeks reddened and he covered his embarrassment by drinking some water. He hadn’t spent much time with his in-laws over the past few years – usually it was a matter of saying hello and goodbye when he dropped off Liam. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he often felt uncomfortable around them. He had married their daughter and she had died, killed in a senseless traffic accident when Liam was just seven. They had always been a rock when it came to Liam and he couldn’t have managed without them when his son was a youngster. But Shepherd always felt guilty in their company, as if he was in some way to blame for Sue’s death.

‘I always thought they resented my job,’ said Shepherd.

‘They understand how important your work is. Sure, they don’t like it keeping you away from home but Grandad said you only get one life and you have to do what makes you happy. He worked in a bank and he was happy with that, but he said he always wished he’d worked on a cruise ship.’

‘A cruise ship? A life on the ocean waves?’

Liam laughed. ‘I know. He wanted to be a cruise-ship captain. But his dad said the bank was a safe place to be and he took his advice.’

‘I never knew that.’

‘You should sit down and talk to him some time, Dad.’

‘I will. Think you can manage to get to the car or do I have to carry you?’

Liam got to his feet and groaned as he bent to pick up his backpack.

‘You’ll feel it more tomorrow,’ said Shepherd.

‘But I passed, right?’

Shepherd held up his hand. Liam grabbed it and helped him to his feet. ‘It’s what you want to do?’

Liam nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘No question? No doubt?’

‘I’ve thought about it long and hard, Dad. Went through all my options with the careers teacher at school.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘She. Mrs Peters. Like you, she said go to university first but she couldn’t argue with the economics of the degree. These days, it doesn’t make sense, unless you want a career that needs specialist knowledge. I can be a soldier now. I’d be good at it, too.’ He grinned. ‘It’s in my genes, remember.’

‘Your mum wouldn’t have allowed it, you know that. She hated me being in the SAS.’

‘She was married to you. I’m not married so I don’t have a wife who’s worried about me. If I ever do find a woman I want to marry, I’ll think about leaving. Look, Dad, I’m not saying I want to be a soldier for the rest of my life. But right now I do. I might stay in for five years, ten, maybe longer, but what I learn while I’m a soldier will be way more helpful than anything I’d learn at university. And I’ll be earning from day one.’

Shepherd stared at him for several seconds. ‘When did you get so grown-up?’ he said eventually.

‘While you were off doing whatever it is you do,’ said Liam. ‘I am grown-up, Dad. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.’

‘I couldn’t be more proud of you.’ Shepherd held out his hand.

Liam grabbed it. He had a firm grip, Shepherd realised. A man’s grip. The two men shook, then Liam hugged his father. ‘Thanks, Dad. For everything.’

Mohammed al-Hussain carried the case up the hill. Ash followed him. He had a pair of binoculars in a leather case hanging over one shoulder. They had left the car in a sheltered field a hundred yards from the road. The sun had just come up, there had been no other vehicles around, and the nearest house was miles away.

Sunny had headed off in the opposite direction with the bag of fruit.

They were in a valley, and much of it was still in shadow. Al-Hussain stopped and turned to check on Sunny’s progress. He was just over five hundred metres away, heading for a stone wall that wound its way across the hillside on the far side of the valley. Al-Hussain had explained to him several times what he had to do because there was no mobile-phone coverage in the valley and he’d be too far away to hear either Ash or him shouting.

He headed up the slope again, treading carefully. It wasn’t especially steep but there was dew on the grass, making it slippery. When they reached an area that was pretty much flat, al-Hussain stopped and looked around. ‘This will do,’ he said. He put the case on the grass, then took a blanket from his backpack and spread it over the ground.

Ash took out his binoculars and trained them on Sunny. He was a hundred metres from the wall and appeared to be finding it hard going.

Al-Hussain knelt down and opened the case. He flipped the folding stock open and locked it into place, then attached the sight and screwed the suppressor into the barrel. He rested the rifle on the case and slotted five rounds into one of the stubby magazines. He put it on the ground and loaded another.

‘He’s at the wall,’ said Ash.

It was about eight hundred metres from them, the perfect distance. Al-Hussain attached the bipod to the front of the rifle, and eased in one of the magazines.

As al-Hussain lay down and prepared himself, Ash watched through his binoculars. Sunny used both hands to place a large green watermelon on the wall. It was about twice the size of a man’s head. He bent down and picked up a honeydew melon. It was slightly smaller than the watermelon, the size of a child’s head. He placed it three feet away from the watermelon. Further along, he positioned a grapefruit, then an orange.

‘Not going for a grape, then?’ asked Ash, lowering the binoculars.

‘I have shot a man in the eye from this range,’ said al-Hussain. It wasn’t a boast, it was the truth.

‘Where was that?’ asked Ash.

Al-Hussain realised he had said too much so he ignored the question and concentrated on adjusting his sights.

In the distance, Sunny walked away from the fruit. He took a dozen paces then turned and waved at them to show he was ready. ‘You can start when you want, brother,’ said Ash. He focused his binoculars on the largest fruit. ‘Watermelon first, right?’ he said.

‘Of course.’ Al-Hussain sighted on the watermelon, took a breath, released half of it, then slowly squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked, the suppressor reducing the sound to a dull pop, and a second later he saw a divot appear in the grass behind the watermelon.

‘High and to the left,’ said Ash, but al-Hussain was already adjusting his sights.

He took aim, regulated his breathing and fired again. That bullet missed, too, but he didn’t see where it had gone.

‘Still high and to the right,’ said Ash.

He fired again. Another miss.

‘Not as high but still to the left,’ said Ash.

Al-Hussain adjusted his sights, steadied his breathing, and pulled the trigger a fourth time. A chunk of watermelon tore off the left side and fell to the ground.

‘You hit it!’ shouted Ash. ‘Man, that was awesome. You hit it.’

‘Yes, but I was aiming dead centre,’ said al-Hussain. He made a small adjustment to the sight and fired again. This time the watermelon burst apart and splattered over the grass. In the distance, Sunny pumped the air and whooped.

Al-Hussain pulled out the magazine, slotted in the second, then took aim at the honeydew melon. He took a breath, released half of it and squeezed the trigger. As soon as the bullet left the barrel he knew that the shot was good and a second later the yellow melon exploded.

Two seconds later he hit the grapefruit, dead centre.

‘Brother, you are amazing,’ said Ash.

Al-Hussain said nothing. He moved the barrel to the right until Sunny’s face was in view. He centred the crosshairs on Sunny’s chest. He pulled the trigger and felt no more emotion than when he had been aiming at the fruit. The rifle kicked. A second later Sunny’s chest imploded and blood splattered across the wall behind him as he slumped to the ground.

Slowly, Ash took the binoculars away from his face and stared at al-Hussain in horror. ‘What the fuck did you do, man?’

‘I had no choice,’ said al-Hussain, cradling the rifle. ‘He talked too much. He had become a liability.’

‘You killed him.’

‘He killed himself by his behaviour.’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘I can and I did.’

‘You just decided to kill him? Just like that?’

‘My mission is what is important. Nothing can be allowed to jeopardise it. He talked too much. And what he was saying about social media. Does he not know that everything is scrutinised, these days? Everything. You saw him take a photograph of the gun. Do you not see how irresponsible that was? How dangerous?’

‘We told him not to do it.’

‘He should have known. He was a liability, and you know that, don’t you?’

Ash said nothing.

‘You know I am right,’ said al-Hussain.

‘Tell me, brother, how do I know you won’t shoot me as well?’

‘Do you talk too much?’ asked al-Hussain.

‘Fuck, no,’ said Ash. ‘I keep my mouth shut and I don’t use social media. I’m not into Twitter or Facebook or any of that crap.’

‘Then you’re not a liability.’ He folded the stock of the rifle and slid it into the backpack. ‘Come on,’ he said, heading down the hill.

Ash hesitated, then followed him. It took just over half an hour to reach the wall and Ash was out of breath. Al-Hussain was made of sterner stuff and hadn’t even broken a sweat. He bent down and pulled a black rubbish bag from his backpack and handed it to Ash. He pointed at the mess on the wall. ‘Clear it up as best you can,’ he said.

As Ash picked up the shattered bits of fruit, al-Hussain took a kitchen knife and knelt down next to Sunny’s body. He rolled it over. There was no exit wound. He let the body roll back, then stuck the knife into the chest wound.

‘Bruv, what the fuck are you doing?’ asked Ash. ‘He’s dead. Leave him be.’

Al-Hussain continued to slice into the wound. ‘I need the bullet,’ he said. ‘We can bury the body but we need to take the bullet with us.’

‘Brother, you are one cold motherfucker,’ said Ash. Al-Hussain looked over his shoulder and Ash took a step backwards. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘Whatever you want is fine by me.’ He bent down and grabbed a piece of watermelon. Juice smeared across his hand, like watered-down blood, and he shuddered.

Shepherd had breakfast with Liam before heading back to London. Katra made them Liam’s favourite cheesy scrambled eggs and toast, then disappeared upstairs.

‘Dad, what’s going to happen to Katra?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She was crying in her room yesterday. She was saying we wouldn’t need her any more. You won’t sack her, will you?’

‘Of course not. You’ll still come back from time to time. And this is my home. Even if we moved we’d still need a housekeeper. I can see that maybe we won’t need the house in Hereford but if we got a place in London, say, she could move with us.’

‘Grandad and Gran won’t be happy if we do that.’

Shepherd laughed. ‘They’d miss you, sure. Me maybe not so much. But it’s not too far from London. We can always get up to see them. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up in the SAS and we can keep the house.’

‘I don’t know that I want to be in Special Forces, Dad. But, yeah, we’ll see. Maybe you should have a word with her.’

They finished their breakfast and Shepherd went upstairs. He knocked on the door to Katra’s room but she didn’t reply. He knocked again but there was still no answer. ‘Katra, it’s Dan. Can I talk to you?’

A few seconds later the door opened. Shepherd stepped inside but Katra was back on her bed, curled up. He sat down next to her. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, her voice shaking.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re worried about your job? Is that it?’

She rolled over and looked at him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet with tears. ‘My job?’

‘About Liam leaving and you having no one to look after.’

‘I don’t care about my job,’ she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It’s you and Liam I care about. But you’re hardly ever here and Liam’s going and …’ She sniffed. ‘You’re my family and I’m losing you. I don’t know what to do.’

‘You’re not losing us,’ said Shepherd, but even as he spoke he realised she was right.

‘If Liam’s in the army you won’t need the house. You won’t need me.’

‘Liam will still come home. So will I. We’ll still need looking after.’

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘I’m being stupid.’

Shepherd put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head softly. ‘You’re not.’