'I haven't a clue. But I know one thing for sure. The Real IRA don't have the expertise to break into a shoebox, never mind a high-security prison.'
'And?'
'Hell, I don't know, Allan. Why don't you tell me? Four men in black use an RPG to blow their way into a high-security prison. They cut all communications, overpower a couple of dozen trained officers and disappear into the night with two prisoners from the remand wing. Sounds like special forces to me, buddy.'
'You might be right.'
'Then there was the other prisoner that got out with Carpenter. What was his name?'
Gannon shrugged.
'Macdonald,' said Willis thoughtfully. 'Armed robber. Seems strange company, doesn't it? A big-time drug- dealer and a small-time thief. I mean, if the Real IRA had gone to all that trouble, don't you think they'd have gone the extra mile and broken into the Special Secure Unit and got a few of the boyos out?'
Again, Gannon shrugged.
Willis leaned back in his chair and sipped his whiskey, watching Gannon over the top of his glass. 'So, where were you when it all went bang?' he asked.
'I was playing squash with my staff sergeant.'
'You win?'
'I did,' said Gannon.
'Interesting,' said Willis.
The barman brought over their drinks and they waited until he'd gone back to the bar before continuing their conversation. 'We'd like to undo the damage,' said Gannon.
'All the king's horses?'
'And all the king's men. Snag is, we don't know where Humpty Dumpty is.'
'But you're looking?'
'The Regiment doesn't have that expertise. And the security services don't usually react favourably to requests from us for help. We work for them, not vice versa.'
'And you're looking for the two of them? Carpenter and Macdonald?'
'Just Carpenter.'
Willis looked up at the ceiling. 'Why am I not surprised?' he mused.
'Just the big fish,' said Gannon.
'And you're assuming he's left the UK?'
'He'd be mad to stay,' said Gannon.
'And am I to assume that's the end of it, so far as MI5 and MI6 are concerned?'
'I wouldn't be coming to you if they were on the case,' said Gannon. 'Interpol are on the lookout for him, but Carpenter won't be travelling on his own passport.'
'What about his family?'
'They left the country the day after he was taken out of prison. Got on the Eurostar to Paris and vanished.'
Willis ran a finger round the lip of his glass. 'You want me to get our guys active on the case?'
'He killed one of yours.'
'I know he did, but there's no proof. If there was, we'd have had him back in the States.'
'Couldn't have been extradited, not with the death penalty a possibility.'
Willis grinned. 'There are ways around that. We'd have had him. But, like I said, there's the little matter of proof.'
'The cops and the Church had proof, but Carpenter came close to getting off.'
'Inside help, I hear,' said Willis.
'What big ears you have.'
Willis swirled his whiskey in the glass. 'So, going back to your request, you want the DEA to find Carpenter, and then what?'
'Put in a request for the Increment to go and get him.'
'That'll depend on where he is.'
'He won't be in the States, that's for sure.'
'And then what?'
'We take him back to prison.'
Willis took a long pull on his whiskey, his eyes never leaving Gannon's face. He put down his glass. 'Are you sure about that, Allan?'
Gannon looked at Willis levelly. 'Absolutely.'
'Cross your heart?'
Gannon grinned. 'And hope to die.'
The organist started to play a hymn that Shepherd could only dimly recall. Weddings and funerals were pretty much the only times that he walked on hallowed ground. The vicar closed his Bible and smiled reassuringly at the congregation. A small hand slipped into Shepherd's. 'Don't be sad, Daddy.'
Shepherd smiled down at his son. They were sitting in the front pew at the small stone church down the road from the house where Moira and Tom lived. They'd wanted their daughter buried close to them and Shepherd had agreed. His in-laws were sitting in the same pew on Liam's other side. Liam was in his school uniform, his shoes polished, his tie neat. Shepherd was wearing a suit.
'I'm not sad,' he said, and put an arm round his son to pull him close. That was a lie. He was sadder than he'd ever been in his life. He hadn't had time to grieve for Sue while he'd been in prison, but as soon as it was all over the enormity of what he'd lost had washed over him.
'What happens now?' asked Liam.
'We live our lives,' said Shepherd. 'We remember her all the time and we think about her and we miss her, but we have our lives to live.'
'And then we see her again in Heaven?'
'That's right,' said Shepherd.
'Are you still going to be a policeman?' asked Liam, squeezing his hand.
'I'm not sure,' said Shepherd, and that was true.
'I want to be a policeman when I grow up.'
'Really? Why?'
'Because they help people.'
Liam was right, Shepherd thought. Sometimes policemen did help people. And sometimes they killed them. And sometimes they brought misery to those around them.
He looked over his shoulder. At the back of the church he could see Major Gannon, in a dark suit, flanked by O'Brien, Shortt, Armstrong and Mitchell. Gannon nodded at Shepherd, who smiled thinly. It was reassuring to know that they were there, watching his back literally and figuratively. Shepherd didn't believe in angels with wings and harps, but guardian angels were a different matter and the five men at the back of the church were just that.
Shepherd walked out with his son and into the churchyard with Moira and Tom. Tom was wearing a tweed hat that hid the plaster covering his head wound. He had his arm round Moira's shoulders.
Outside, Shepherd stopped and stared up at the cloudless sky. It was a perfect summer's day. Birds were singing in the trees that bordered the churchyard. Butterflies flitted around yellow-flowered bushes on either side of the path that led from the church to the road. It was a perfect day for a wedding, thought Shepherd, but a lousy one for a funeral. Funerals should be held on rainy days, with cold winds blowing from the north and leaden skies overhead.
Gannon came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry about your loss, Spider,' he said. He was carrying the sat-phone briefcase in his left hand.
'Thanks, Major.'
'Do you know what you're going to do?'
'It's all up in the air.' He gestured at Sam Hargrove, who was walking to his car. 'He wants me back in harness.'
'You do good work,' said Gannon.
