More Short Fuses (Four Free Short Stories)

  * * *

  Two days later, Billy Armstrong pulled up around the corner from Jock McIntyre’s house in a rented Audi. Shepherd was in the passenger seat. ‘Keep the engine running,’ said Shepherd. He climbed out of the car and headed down the alley that ran behind the terrace, counting off the wooden gates until he reached McIntyre’s house. Police tape had been stripped across the gate and a notice had been pinned up with a phone number to call for anyone who needed access. The lock was flimsy and Shepherd’s shoulder was more than enough to force the gate open. The yard was about twelve feet by twelve, paved and home to three filled black plastic rubbish bags and a rusting bike with two flat tyres. There was more police tape across the door. The door had been broken open by the armed cops when they had stormed the house, and whoever had been sent around to patch up the damage had only done a half-hearted repair job. Two kicks and the door caved in. The newspaper was still up on the windows but there was enough light to see by. He headed into the hallway, walked up the stairs and pushed open the bathroom door. The ceiling was black with mould and the window was cracked. The toilet basin was stained brown and the seat was missing. Shepherd knelt down, pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and undid the four screws that held the plastic panel in place below the bath. He pulled it away to reveal Jock McIntyre, lying on his back on the bare floorboards. ‘Fucking hell, I thought you were never coming back,’ said McIntyre. On the floor next to him was the police radio.

  ‘We said two days,’ said Shepherd, helping him out from his hiding place. There were two plastic bottles full of pale yellow liquid up against the wall. When they had put him under the bath the bottles had been full of water. He’d drunk the water over the past two days and urinated into the empty bottles. An old SAS trick.

  McIntyre stretched and massaged the back of his neck. ‘They bought it?’

  ‘Yeah, they figured you made it out. They’re watching all the ports and airports. Billy’s outside. He’ll drive you to the coast. He’s got a pal with a boat who’ll take you down to Morocco and get you fixed up with papers. You’re going to have to stay in Africa, though. You understand? No waltzing back into the UK. They’ll be looking for you here for a long time.’

  ‘I won’t be coming back,’ said McIntyre. ‘There’s nothing here for me any more.’

  ‘Let’s be clear about this, Jock,’ said Shepherd. ‘We’ll get you out of the country, and Billy here has fixed you up with a gig in Nigeria. Third World problems and everyone’s armed and dangerous, just like the old days. But if you screw it up and start drinking again, I’ll shoot you myself. Clear?’

  ‘I owe you, Spider,’ said Jock.

  ‘Yes, you bloody well do,’ said Shepherd. ‘And don’t you forget it.’

  Spider Shepherd is the hero of 11 of Stephen Leather’s best-selling novels. You can find out more at www.spidershepherd.com The first book in the series is Hard Landing, which is now available at a special low price on all platforms. There are also several Spider Shepherd SAS short stories available on all eReaders. The first – Natural Selection – is FREE.

  THE CONSTITUENCY MEETING