Free Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller by Stephen Leather Page B

take on a job like that,’ he said. ‘There’d be a manhunt like there’s never been before.’
    ‘It would be a retirement job,’ said Button. ‘A last hurrah.’
    ‘It’s all very short notice, though.’
    Button gave him another photograph. A man in his early thirties, square-jawed and with slabs of white teeth that suggested American dentistry. ‘Robert Tyler. Former Delta Force. Went private a few years ago, initially for a US black company but for the last two years has been totally freelance, working for guys like Smit. We think he accepted the Putin contract six months ago but he was killed last week.’
    ‘By the Russians?’
    ‘We don’t know. The cops found his body in a house in Queens. Two shots to the chest, one to the face. No forensics. It looks like a professional hit.’
    ‘Getting killed is an occupational hazard, it goes with the job. Do the Russians know that there’s a contract out on Putin?’
    ‘If they do, we didn’t tell them.’
    ‘But they could have found out on their own and taken care of it.’
    ‘True. But then wouldn’t you have expected them to have taken out Smit as well? Or cancelled Putin’s visit?’
    ‘You could always ask them,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘I assume you’re joking,’ said Button. ‘We’re not in the business of sharing intel with the Russians, and vice versa. We’re not even sure that Tyler was connected to the Putin contract. It’s purely circumstantial. But the facts are that immediately after Tyler’s death, Smit went into overdrive.’
    ‘Did this Smit mention a number?’
    Button shook her head. ‘He’s far too careful to be caught discussing money but we’re assuming millions.’
    ‘Tens of, I would have thought. And even then …’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t see contractors lining up to take the job. You’d get the Walter Mittys and the chancers, the guys trying to make a name for themselves, but the real professionals would see too much downside.’
    ‘AIVD want us to come up with someone,’ said Button quietly.
    ‘I’d already figured that out,’ said Shepherd. He smiled. ‘But come on, what would my way in be? I call up Smit and say that I’ve heard he’s looking for an assassin?’
    ‘There’s a network of middlemen like Smit right across Europe, and beyond. I think we can get you into the loop.’
    ‘Charlie, at that level it’s all word of mouth. You need to know someone who knows someone who knows someone.’
    ‘We think we have a way in. There’s a guy in custody in Ras al-Khaimah, in the Emirates, who was caught trying to kill a minor royal. The prince had fallen out with another prince and it all got nasty. The guy they caught is behind half a dozen high-profile kills over the past ten years. He’s never been identified, no one knows what he looks like. You become him.’
    ‘That’s hellish risky. I won’t know who knows him.’
    ‘No one knows him. And certainly Smit doesn’t, and that’s all that matters.’
    ‘And how do you get me next to Smit?’
    ‘A middleman in London who sometimes works for Five.’
    ‘This is getting very, very messy, Charlie.’
    ‘It’s a bit complicated, but there’s a logic to it. The killer’s known only as The Dane.’
    ‘Because he’s from Denmark or because he’s a big dog?’
    Button smiled coldly. ‘I know you’re trying to lighten the moment, but this is complicated enough as it is. No, he’s not Danish. At least he doesn’t have a Danish passport. When they caught him in Ras al-Khaimah he had Irish, Canadian and Australian passports. Their police liaised with Interpol and they ran his prints and DNA through all the EU databases but they drew a blank. The passports all had his photographs but different names so no one knows his real name or where he came from.’
    ‘What if The Dane gets out?’
    ‘He won’t,’ said Button. ‘They were going to take off his head and that still might happen. But until then he’s in a tiny concrete box being fed