Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller by Stephen Leather Page B
Authors: Stephen Leather
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sergeant smiled. ‘Well, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we.’ He nodded at the constable. ‘Right, let’s process Mr Brannan as quickly as possible, shall we? I’m sure the anti-terrorism boys will be wanting a word with him soon enough.’
S hepherd spent just thirty minutes in the cell. They had taken a DNA swab from the inside of his cheeks, scrapings from under his fingernails, swabbed the palms and backs of his hands, removed his clothing and given him a white paper suit and paper shoe covers for his feet. They had made him place his hands on the LiveScan fingerprint recognition screen and taken his prints and photographed him from the front and sides including a full body photograph. They didn’t give him a coffee or a sandwich but every five minutes or so an eye would appear at the peephole to check on him.
Eventually the door opened and the custody sergeant waved for him to stand up. ‘You’re free to go,’ he said. He avoided eye contact with Shepherd as he motioned for him to leave.
Shepherd stepped out of the cell where a uniformed chief superintendent was standing next to a man and a woman. She was blonde and pretty. She wore a black suit with a white blouse and had a large Prada black leather bag over her shoulder. Shepherd doubted she could have been older than twenty-five, but she carried herself with more confidence than the chief superintendent who was probably twice her age. Her companion was in his early thirties, his hair slightly too long to be fashionable, in a dark brown leather jacket and carrying a black leather holdall. The audience that had been gathered in the custody suite before – including the uniformed inspector – had gone, as had the armed cops.
‘We’re sorry this has taken so long,’ said the girl, offering a well-manicured hand with scarlet nails. ‘Katy.’
Shepherd doubted that Katy was her real name, but he shook hands.
‘This is Bernard.’
Bernard nodded and shook hands with Shepherd.
‘Ms Button sends her apologies,’ said Katy. ‘As I’m sure you can understand she’s a bit busy at the moment.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Shepherd.
Bernard handed him the holdall. ‘Your clothes are already being processed so it’ll take us time to get them back. In the meantime there’s a change of clothes in there and we’ve got a car outside to run you home.’
Shepherd unzipped the bag and looked inside. Black jeans, a blue polo shirt, socks and underwear, and a pair of Nikes. He looked at the training shoes and smiled when he saw that they were his size. There were times when MI5 could be so bloody efficient, and other times when they couldn’t organise the proverbial piss-up in a brewery.
‘There’s a room over there where you can change,’ said the chief superintendent. ‘We’ll have your belongings in a minute or two.’ He looked uncomfortable, as if he wished he were anywhere else but in the custody suite at that moment.
‘Thanks,’ said Shepherd.
The chief superintendent extended his hand. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to shake your hand. What you did out there, you saved a lot of lives. I’m sorry for the way you were treated.’
Shepherd shook his hand firmly. ‘No problem, your men were just doing their jobs.’
‘I appreciate your understanding,’ said the officer. He turned to address the custody sergeant. ‘This lady and gentleman are to have full access to anything they want, including the CCTV footage. Whatever they want, they get. Understood?’
The custody sergeant nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
Bernard went behind the counter and started tapping on the custody sergeant’s keyboard. Katy took Shepherd over to the room where he could change into his clothes. ‘We’ll be here for a while removing all trace of you from the system,’ she said. ‘Your car is in the car park, the driver knows where to go. Ms Button said she’d call you later this evening.’
Shepherd smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’
T he MI5 car
S hepherd spent just thirty minutes in the cell. They had taken a DNA swab from the inside of his cheeks, scrapings from under his fingernails, swabbed the palms and backs of his hands, removed his clothing and given him a white paper suit and paper shoe covers for his feet. They had made him place his hands on the LiveScan fingerprint recognition screen and taken his prints and photographed him from the front and sides including a full body photograph. They didn’t give him a coffee or a sandwich but every five minutes or so an eye would appear at the peephole to check on him.
Eventually the door opened and the custody sergeant waved for him to stand up. ‘You’re free to go,’ he said. He avoided eye contact with Shepherd as he motioned for him to leave.
Shepherd stepped out of the cell where a uniformed chief superintendent was standing next to a man and a woman. She was blonde and pretty. She wore a black suit with a white blouse and had a large Prada black leather bag over her shoulder. Shepherd doubted she could have been older than twenty-five, but she carried herself with more confidence than the chief superintendent who was probably twice her age. Her companion was in his early thirties, his hair slightly too long to be fashionable, in a dark brown leather jacket and carrying a black leather holdall. The audience that had been gathered in the custody suite before – including the uniformed inspector – had gone, as had the armed cops.
‘We’re sorry this has taken so long,’ said the girl, offering a well-manicured hand with scarlet nails. ‘Katy.’
Shepherd doubted that Katy was her real name, but he shook hands.
‘This is Bernard.’
Bernard nodded and shook hands with Shepherd.
‘Ms Button sends her apologies,’ said Katy. ‘As I’m sure you can understand she’s a bit busy at the moment.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Shepherd.
Bernard handed him the holdall. ‘Your clothes are already being processed so it’ll take us time to get them back. In the meantime there’s a change of clothes in there and we’ve got a car outside to run you home.’
Shepherd unzipped the bag and looked inside. Black jeans, a blue polo shirt, socks and underwear, and a pair of Nikes. He looked at the training shoes and smiled when he saw that they were his size. There were times when MI5 could be so bloody efficient, and other times when they couldn’t organise the proverbial piss-up in a brewery.
‘There’s a room over there where you can change,’ said the chief superintendent. ‘We’ll have your belongings in a minute or two.’ He looked uncomfortable, as if he wished he were anywhere else but in the custody suite at that moment.
‘Thanks,’ said Shepherd.
The chief superintendent extended his hand. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to shake your hand. What you did out there, you saved a lot of lives. I’m sorry for the way you were treated.’
Shepherd shook his hand firmly. ‘No problem, your men were just doing their jobs.’
‘I appreciate your understanding,’ said the officer. He turned to address the custody sergeant. ‘This lady and gentleman are to have full access to anything they want, including the CCTV footage. Whatever they want, they get. Understood?’
The custody sergeant nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
Bernard went behind the counter and started tapping on the custody sergeant’s keyboard. Katy took Shepherd over to the room where he could change into his clothes. ‘We’ll be here for a while removing all trace of you from the system,’ she said. ‘Your car is in the car park, the driver knows where to go. Ms Button said she’d call you later this evening.’
Shepherd smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’
T he MI5 car
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