False Friends (26 page)

Kettering laughed when he saw the target. ‘I thought he was dead already.’

‘You believe that?’ asked Thompson. ‘He was dead five years ago.’

Kettering grinned at Shepherd. ‘Paul’s a big conspiracy theorist.’

‘Bloody right I am,’ said Thompson. ‘You have to be blind not to see the way the world’s going. Look, do you seriously think an old man sitting in a cave could have planned and carried out Nine-Eleven?’

‘It’s not something I’ve thought about,’ said Shepherd.

‘How can you not?’ said Thompson. ‘And how is it that, just as the Americans are pul ing out of Iraq, they suddenly find out where he is? I mean, what are the odds?’

‘Minuscule,’ said Sharpe. He flashed Shepherd a smile, clearly enjoying winding Thompson up.

‘And then there’s the whole dumping the body at sea. They go to al that trouble of finding him and then they go and drop him in the ocean first chance they get. That makes no sense at al . Unless it wasn’t him they kil ed.’

‘What, you don’t think it was him they shot?’

‘Let me ask you this,’ said Thompson. ‘You know about Bin Laden, right? He had health problems. His kidneys. In fact he was in Dubai having treatment not long before the Nine-Eleven attacks. He had to have regular dialysis.’

‘Yeah, I heard that,’ said Sharpe.

‘Now, did you see any of the photographs the Yanks released of the house where Bin Laden was staying in Pakistan? The house that he never left in how many years?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sharpe. ‘They were al over the papers.’

‘What’s your point?’ asked Shepherd, who was rapidly tiring of the discussion.

‘The point, Garry my old mate, is that in none of the pictures is there anything that looks remotely like dialysis equipment. So how does someone with kidney failure survive for years without an oil change? I had an uncle who died of kidney failure a few years back and he had to go in for dialysis three times a week, regular as clockwork.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Trust me, that wasn’t Bin Laden in that house.’

‘Are you done, mate?’ asked Kettering.

‘Check the internet,’ said Thompson. ‘Google it. It’s al part of the global conspiracy.’

‘Is that why you want the guns?’ asked Shepherd. ‘To fight back?’

‘Enough, Paul,’ said Kettering, and this time there was a hard edge to his voice. ‘Let’s get this done and we can get back in the warm.’

Thompson looked away, avoiding Kettering’s piercing stare. ‘Yeah, okay, it’s getting cold, isn’t it?’ He flicked the safety down.

Shepherd reached over and pushed the barrel down so that it was pointing at the ground. ‘Not until I say so,’ said Shepherd. He flicked the safety back into the on position. ‘Okay, now out here in the open the sound of one of these guns firing wil carry for five miles, maybe ten if the wind is blowing the right way. So I’m going to fit suppressors to cut down on the noise.’

He unzipped a black holdal and took out a foot-long bulbous black metal tube and showed it to them. ‘This screws into the barrel and it reduces the noise by about half.’ He screwed the suppressor into the barrel of the gun that Kettering was holding.

‘So it’s a silencer?’ said Kettering.

‘We cal them suppressors,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s only in the movies that they cal them silencers. No gun can truly be silenced; you’re always going to hear something.’

He took a second suppressor from the holdal and attached it to Thompson’s weapon.

‘And they don’t affect the accuracy?’ asked Kettering.

‘Not so you’d notice,’ said Shepherd. He looked at Sharpe. ‘Do you want to set up the target, yeah?’

‘Okay, just make sure no one gets trigger happy while I’m doing it. How far?’

‘A hundred metres should do it,’ said Shepherd.

Sean was looking at the suppressors and frowning. ‘Where did you get them from?’ he asked.

‘That’s for me to know, mate,’ said Shepherd.

‘That’s pretty specialised kit.’

‘And we’re pretty specialised suppliers,’ said Shepherd.

‘You get them made here? Or overseas?’

‘Sean, mate, that’s need-to-know and you don’t need to know.’

Sharpe paced out a hundred steps and then stood the target up. He looked around, picked up a few large rocks and used them to weigh down the bottom of the target. He waved at Shepherd. ‘Okay!’

‘Why don’t you put an apple on your head and we’l do that Wil iam Tel thing?’ shouted Shepherd.

‘Yeah, and why don’t I bend over and let you kiss my hairy Scottish arse?’ shouted Sharpe as he walked back. ‘And tel then to keep those things pointing at the ground until I’m out of the way.’

‘Jeez, I shoot him in the leg once and trust just goes out of the window,’ said Shepherd.

‘Are you serious?’ asked Thompson.

‘Of course he isn’t,’ said Kettering.

‘He has a point, though,’ said Shepherd. ‘Keep the safeties on, fingers out of the trigger guards and barrels down at the ground. We did have a prick down in London who let rip with a Mac-10 by mistake a few months back. Geordie guy. Could hardly understand a word he said but he looked like he knew about guns so we gave him a bit of leeway. Next thing we know he pul s the trigger on ful automatic and twenty rounds go everywhere.’

He nodded at Sharpe. ‘Almost blew his nuts off.’

‘What about the Mac-10?’ asked Kettering as he looked at the AK-47.

‘Pray and spray,’ said Shepherd. ‘Very short barrel so the accuracy is shit. Gang bangers like them because they see them in the movies and because they’re easy to hide. They use them a lot in drive-bys – they shove them through an open window and pul the trigger until the magazine’s empty. But nine times out of ten you won’t hit the target.’ He pointed at the AK-47. ‘That’s a lot more accurate because you can put it to your shoulder and use the sights. If you need something a bit more compact you can get a folding stock. Of course, if you want Mac-10s I can get you Mac-10s. The customer’s always right.’ He looked at Sean. ‘What do you think?’

Sean nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, wouldn’t touch a Mac-10 with a barge pole. The Yugo’s way better.’

Kettering laughed. ‘That’s good to hear,’ he said. He turned to face the target. ‘So, safety off, right?’

‘You got it,’ said Shepherd.

Kettering flicked the safety off, put the stock against his shoulder and looked through the sights.

‘It’s set for single fire,’ said Shepherd. ‘Don’t want you to blow the target apart the first go.’

Kettering aimed and pul ed the trigger. There was a bang, muffled but loud, but the target seemed to be unscathed.

‘You went high,’ said Shepherd. ‘Grip tighter with your left hand.’

Kettering did as he was told and fired again. This time a smal hole appeared dead centre of the chest.

‘Nice,’ said Shepherd.

‘Kil ed him stone dead,’ said Thompson.

‘Not bad,’ agreed Sean, standing with his hands on his hips.

Kettering fired off the rest of the clip and most of them hit the target. The grouping wasn’t impressive but Shepherd knew that the size of the AK-47’s bul et meant that any shot to the chest at that range was pretty much guaranteed to be fatal.

When he’d finished, Shepherd checked that the weapon was safe before al owing Thompson to fire at the target. Thompson was far less proficient with the weapon and his first six shots al went wide.

‘The bloody sights are off,’ said Thompson.

‘Try sighting with your other eye,’ said Shepherd. ‘General y one eye’s better than the other. And just because you’re right-handed doesn’t mean you’l aim better with your right eye.’

Thompson changed eyes and his next shot hit the target right between the eyes. Thompson whooped like an excited kid. ‘Now we’re talking,’ he said, and he fired off another half-dozen shots; al but one went high.

‘Squeeze the trigger, don’t pul it,’ said Shepherd. ‘And you’re anticipating the recoil.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Thompson, looking through the sights.

‘You know it’s going to kick so you pul against it but that just makes it worse. You need to be stable with a firm grip, and squeeze slowly.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ve got it,’ said Thompson and he fired off the rest of the clip. He got another shot into the head of the target, one to the chest and two to the groin. Shepherd realised it would take hours on the range to get the man anywhere near proficient with the weapon.

‘How about letting Sean have a go?’ asked Kettering.

‘No problem,’ said Shepherd. He slotted in a fresh magazine and handed the weapon to Sean.

Sean brought the weapon up smoothly, sighted on the target and in the space of three seconds put six shots into the heart. He nodded appreciatively at Shepherd. ‘Nice,’ he said. He sighted again, took a couple of seconds to steady himself and put another six shots into the head of the target.

‘Fucking show-off,’ said Roger. ‘Sign of a misspent youth, that is.’

‘Do you want a go?’ asked Sean.

‘I can’t shoot for shit,’ said Roger. ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter.’

They al laughed as Sean emptied the magazine into the target.

When he’d finished Shepherd took the weapon from him, pul ed out the magazine, checked that the breech was clear and handed it to Sharpe, who put it back in the Range Rover.

‘See, if you were firing Mac-10s you wouldn’t get a single shot in the target from this range,’ Shepherd said to Kettering. ‘And they have a tendency to jam. It’s horses for courses. But, like I said, the customer is always right.’

‘These suppressor things, how much are they?’ asked Kettering.

‘Negotiable,’ said Shepherd. ‘There isn’t much cal for them, frankly.’

‘What if we wanted one for each gun?’

‘You want forty suppressors?’ asked Sharpe.

‘If the price is right, yeah,’ said Kettering.

Shepherd rubbed his chin. ‘That might take time,’ he said. ‘There’s not a huge cal for them so they’re made to order. Usual y a hundred.’

‘A hundred quid?’ said Kettering.

‘There’s no production line and it’s not as if they can be subcontracted out to China or India,’ said Shepherd. ‘But if you order forty we can maybe do the lot for two grand. I’l have to check.’

‘Two grand is more like it,’ said Kettering. He looked at Sean. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s specialist kit, no question about that,’ he said. ‘And it does the business. Cuts the noise right down.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking, why do you need suppressors for al of them?’ said Shepherd. He held out his hands and Kettering passed him the weapon.

Kettering shrugged as Shepherd pul ed the magazine out and made the gun safe. ‘Just thought they’d be a good idea. Easier to . . .’ He shrugged again.

‘We just want them,’ said Thompson. ‘Not a problem, is it?’

Shepherd grinned and put the gun into the crate. ‘Nothing’s a problem so long as you’ve got the readies.’

‘Can you deliver the suppressors when you deliver the guns?’

Shepherd looked across at Sharpe. ‘What do you think?’

Sharpe wrinkled his nose. ‘We might have to kick them up the arse, but yeah, we should be able to manage that.’

Shepherd turned back to Kettering. ‘Seems like we’ve got a deal, right?’

‘We’re getting there,’ said Kettering. He looked around as if he was scared of being overheard, even though they were in the middle of nowhere.

‘What about the other things? The grenades?’

‘Thought you’d never ask,’ said Shepherd. He nodded at Sharpe. ‘Grab the target and shove it in the car, yeah?’

‘What did your last slave die of?’ joked Sharpe, as he headed towards the target.

‘Wel , it wasn’t overwork, I can tel you that,’ said Shepherd. He winked at Kettering. ‘You just can’t get the staff these days.’ He took a grenade out of the ammunition box and showed it to Kettering. Kettering reached for it but Shepherd held up a warning hand. ‘No touching, mate,’ he said.

‘It’s not a toy.’

‘I want to see it work,’ said Kettering.

Shepherd laughed. ‘They don’t work,’ he said. ‘You pul the pin, you throw them and they go bang.’

‘Then I want to see this one go bang,’ said Kettering.

‘Why?’

‘Because I want to know that I’m buying the real thing.’

‘Oh, it’s real,’ said Shepherd. ‘You pul the pin and release the lever and you’ve got a maximum of four seconds, which means you real y want to be throwing it on a count of three.’

‘So let’s do it,’ said Kettering.

‘First of al , these make one hel of a bang,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’l be heard for miles. And second of al , it leaves shrapnel al over the place. It’s not like picking up a few shel cases.’

‘What, you think someone might start looking around for evidence?’

‘There’l be a hole about six feet wide and bits of metal for up to a hundred feet or so. I’m not saying you can’t watch it go bang; what I’m saying is that as soon as it has, we’re going to be wanting to get the hel out of Dodge.’

‘Not a problem,’ said Kettering. ‘I think we’re pretty much done.’

‘Plus, you’l need to pay me two hundred quid.’

‘Two hundred?’

Shepherd held up the grenade. ‘These don’t grow on trees. You break it, you pay for it. And once you pul the pin it’l be wel and truly broken.’

‘You can add it to the bil , can’t you?’

‘Sure I can. But I real y don’t see the point. You can’t check them al , can you?’

‘The one wil do,’ said Kettering. He held out his hand.

‘You sure you want to do it?’ said Shepherd. ‘The world looks an awful lot different when you’re holding one of these things with the pin out.’

‘I’m a big boy,’ said Kettering. ‘What do I do?’

‘The first thing you do is get the fuck away from us,’ said Sharpe, returning with the target under his arm. He threw it into the back of the Range Rover.

‘He’s not lying,’ said Shepherd. ‘Head away from us, wel away from the cars. See over there where the ground slopes? Do it there. Pul the pin, then throw it as far as you can. Then you’ve got two choices. There isn’t much cover out here so you can either run like fuck or hit the ground.’