Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller Read Free Page B

Westfield malls in White City and Stratford. Mahmud was just as active on the Ealing library’s computers, spending hours looking at websites that detailed the construction of IEDs.
    As the two men continued to research and plot, the surveillance teams increased their hunt for the third jihadist, but his habit of only using a pay-as-you-go phone and constantly changing his SIM card meant he was impossible to pin down. The teams drew up more than a dozen possible suspects from the people that Khalaf and Mahmud met, but they couldn’t get any concrete proof of who the elusive third man was.
    Shepherd had joined the surveillance team at eight o’clock in the morning, just as they had taken over from the night shift. Outside the vehicle were three watchers, codenames Whisky One, Whisky Two and Whisky Three. Whisky One and Whisky Two were on the pavement and Whisky Three was kitted out as a bicycle courier. All were in position outside Khalaf’s building. He wasn’t expected out before ten o’clock.
    It wasn’t until after eleven that Khalaf appeared. He was wearing a black Puffa jacket with the hood up and he had a grey North Face backpack slung over his shoulder.
    ‘That’s new,’ said Brewer, nodding at the screen showing the view from the CCTV camera mounted under the van’s rear-view mirror. It could be moved using a small joystick on a panel in front of Brewer.
    ‘He’s had a backpack before, right?’
    ‘Smaller than that. Adidas.’
    ‘Tango is on the move,’ said Shepherd. He was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece connected to the transceiver on his waist.
    ‘Whisky Three, I have eyeball. He’s going back behind the house.’
    Shepherd and Brewer watched on the screen as Khalaf disappeared behind the house. There were a dozen occupants, each with their own room, though they shared two bathrooms and a kitchen. The rubbish bins were at the rear but Khalaf hadn’t been carrying any rubbish.
    ‘What’s he playing at?’ said Brewer.
    The mystery was solved soon enough when Khalaf reappeared pushing a bicycle, an old-fashioned type with a wicker basket fastened to the handlebars.
    Brewer cursed. ‘Where did that come from?’
    ‘Whisky Three, you need to stay on him,’ said Shepherd. He nodded at Brewer. ‘Get the driver moving.’
    ‘He’s never done this before,’ said Brewer.
    ‘It’ll be okay,’ said Shepherd. He looked back at the screen. Khalaf was pedalling down the street. ‘Whisky Two, Whisky One, you need to get mobile and head south. Taxi or bus. Over.’
    ‘Whisky One, roger that.’
    ‘Whisky Two, roger.’
    Shepherd picked up his mobile and called the supervisor of the second surveillance team, over in Ealing. Her name was Lisa Elphick and like Shepherd she was sitting in the back of a van. ‘Dan, hey, we’re a bit busy here,’ she said.
    ‘Us too. Our Tango’s on a bike. Heading south. He’s never done that before.’
    ‘Ours is running what looks like counter surveillance, and he’s never done that before. I’m down to one eyeball at the moment.’
    ‘You’ve got a guy on a motorbike, right? I’m looking to borrow him for a while.’
    ‘That’s not going to happen. He had a car stop for him, turns out it’s an Uber cab. Normally he takes the bus so we were on foot. The bike is the only eyeball I have at the moment.’ She swore vehemently. ‘He’s just got out of the cab on The Broadway. Bravo Two stay close. If necessary, dump the bike. Bravo One, Bravo Three, where the hell are you? Dan, sorry, we’ve lost him, I’ll have to call you back.’ She cut the connection.
    Shepherd brought Brewer up to speed.
    ‘You think they’re up to something?’ asked Brewer.
    ‘Could be a coincidence.’
    ‘Both out of character at the same time? That sets alarm bells ringing.’
    ‘Do you want to call for backup?’
    ‘I’d be happier,’ said Brewer.
    ‘Whisky One, I’m in a cab.’
    ‘Good man. Stay on him.’
    ‘Whisky Three, I have eyeball.’
    Shepherd looked at