Dark Forces Read Online Free PDF

head.’
    Al-Hussain grimaced at his mistake, but said nothing.
    Al Am placed the wristwatch inside the bag, then slung it over his shoulder. ‘It is time to go.’
    ‘Thank you for getting me this far.’
    ‘It has been an honour and a privilege,’ said Al Am, bowing his head.
    Mohammed al-Hussain was put into the back of a rusting black pick-up truck. The two IS fighters who had driven him from Palmyra sat in the front and he was joined by another man, in his late twenties with skin burned almost black by the sun, who cradled an AK-47 with a folding metal stock in his lap. He turned to al-Hussain and smiled, revealing several missing teeth.
    ‘ Assalamu alaykum ,’ said the man. ‘ Kayfa anta? ’ How are you?
    ‘ Bi-khair alhamdulillah .’ Fine, praise be to Allah.
    ‘There’s water under the seat if you’re thirsty.’
    Al-Hussain nodded. ‘I’m grateful, thank you.’
    Shepherd had the black cab drop him outside Selfridges. He went inside and spent fifteen minutes wandering around, reassuring himself that he wasn’t being followed. He headed outside and grabbed the third cab that drove by with its light on and said, ‘Paddington station,’ in a loud voice as he climbed in. As soon as the vehicle pulled away from the kerb he asked the driver to drop him at the Mayfair Hotel.
    Howard Wedekind was sitting at a corner table with a vodka and tonic in front of him. He looked like a typical accountant, balding and wearing a rumpled suit with a scuffed briefcase at the side of his chair. He had the yellowing fingers of a smoker and, from the way he was tapping them on the table, Shepherd figured it had been a while since he’d had a cigarette.
    ‘You’re late,’ said Wedekind.
    ‘I said four-ish,’ said Shepherd, sitting down.
    Wedekind glanced at his watch, a cheap black plastic Casio. ‘It’s half past.’ There was something off about his left eye. It was slightly closed and the pupil seemed a bit further to the side than it should have been.
    ‘Which is four-ish,’ said Shepherd. ‘In a few more minutes it’ll be five-ish and I’ll be officially late.’ He smiled at a waitress in a short skirt. ‘Bombay gin, Schweppes tonic, lime and ice,’ he said. She smiled and tottered away on impossibly high heels. Shepherd turned to watch her, playing the ladies’ man for Wedekind’s benefit. ‘I’d give her one,’ he said.
    ‘How did it go?’ asked Wedekind.
    ‘Same as it always goes. He begged me not to shoot him, he offered me money, then I shot him.’ He shrugged. ‘Same old, same old.’
    ‘As easy as that?’
    ‘I didn’t say it was easy,’ said Shepherd, ‘but there’s a predictability about it. First they don’t believe it’s happening, then they try to negotiate or threaten their way out of it, and finally they accept it. Or they try to rush you. But Larry wasn’t a rusher. You’ve got my money?’
    ‘Obviously I’d like proof of death,’ said Wedekind, his voice a low whisper.
    Shepherd reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the gold bracelet he’d taken from McGovern. He gave it to Wedekind, who smiled as he weighed it in the palm of his hand. ‘He loved this, Larry did. Never took it off.’
    ‘Yeah. Well, not any more.’ He fished a small memory card out of his wallet. ‘If the lads want to see McGovern’s final seconds, show them this.’
    Wedekind stared at it in amazement. ‘You’re joking.’
    ‘Serious as cancer.’
    ‘You filmed it?’
    ‘Howard, there’s a reason they call it a handgun. One hand is all you need.’
    ‘This is a fucking first,’ said Wedekind, taking the card.
    The waitress returned with Shepherd’s gin and tonic. She bent down low, giving him a fairly decent view of her impressive cleavage and flashed him a smile, then straightened up and tottered away.
    ‘I can’t believe you filmed it,’ said Wedekind, putting the card into his wallet. ‘The boys are going to love that. And no one will ever find the