‘Awards ceremony,’ said Hargrove. ‘Bravery above and beyond, all that jazz. There wasn’t a guy there who’d done a tenth of what you have over the past couple of years.’
‘It’s not about being brave,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s about getting the job done.’
The driver got behind the wheel and edged the car towards the M25.
‘Be nice if you could step up and take a bow some time, though,’ said Hargrove.
‘I’ve got half a dozen photographs of me shaking hands with various police commissioners,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m just not allowed to show them to anybody.’
‘You know what I mean, Spider.’
‘I’m not in this for the glory,’ said Shepherd. He smiled ruefully. ‘Or the money.’
‘How did it go with your man?’ asked Hargrove.
Shepherd shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t play ball. I’m not even sure he knows he was carrying money.’
‘I’m sorry you were in there for so long. There was a manpower shortage. Local cops didn’t have anyone to bring him over until the evening shift.’
‘I figured something had gone wrong.’ He stretched and groaned. He needed a shower.
‘Wasn’t as if we could call and tell you,’ said Hargrove. ‘So, you reckon he didn’t know what was in the cans.’
‘He says he didn’t. I didn’t tell him – thought that might be pushing it too far. I planted the idea that it might have been drugs and he didn’t argue. We could use that as leverage, maybe. If he thinks he’s facing ten years for bringing in a class-A drug, he might talk.’
‘Did he say what he was supposed to do with the cans?’
Shepherd shook his head. ‘Clammed up, pretty much. That was when he started the head-banging routine. I couldn’t put him under pressure without stepping out of character.’
‘How do you read him?’
‘Just a guy trying to do the best for his family. Figured they’d have a better life in the UK. Probably thought the streets were paved with gold. Sad bastard.’
‘No one forced him to come,’ said Hargrove. ‘Everyone on that boat was there by choice. They’d all paid for their passage.’
Shepherd sighed. The superintendent was right. But it was easy to talk about choice when you’d been born in England with the safety-net of a welfare state and a health system that might have its faults but was head and shoulders above what was on offer in the third world. He wondered how he’d feel if he had been born in a country with no prospects, no health care, no free education, no pension provision, no future, just a lifetime of toil with no prospect of anything better for his children. Would he grin and bear it? Shepherd was pretty sure he wouldn’t stay put. He’d save whatever money he could, then take his family to a country where a man was paid a decent wage for his labour. ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ he said. He didn’t want to argue politics with Hargrove. ‘What happens next?’
‘I’ll get Immigration to speak with him and run through his options. He won’t be able to claim asylum without giving us an explanation for the cash.’
‘So, if he doesn’t talk he gets sent back?’
‘That’s the way it works,’ said Hargrove.
‘And if he does talk, what’ll his life be worth? Whoever gave him those cans isn’t going to stand by and let a million euros go without repercussions.’
‘If he helps us with the money, and gives evidence against Pepper, we can arrange witness protection for him,’ said Hargrove, patiently. ‘He’s already opted for a new life so he might as well live it under a new name.’
‘I hope he sees it that way,’ said Shepherd.
At just before midnight the Rover pulled up in front of Shepherd’s house. The drive from Newcastle had taken the best part of four hours. ‘Take a few days off, Spider,’ Hargrove said.
‘I’m okay.’
‘We’ve only just pulled you out of the sea,’ said the superintendent, ‘and you’ve been working for two weeks non-stop. Spend some time with Liam.’
‘Okay.’ It had been four days since Shepherd had been at home, but he had spoken to his son on his mobile.
‘We’ll sweat the father for a few days. When he tells us what he was supposed to do with the money, we’ll work out how best to play it.’ Hargrove patted Shepherd’s shoulder. ‘You did good, Spider.’
‘Thanks.’ Shepherd opened the door and climbed out. He waved as the Rover drove off, then let himself into the house. The kitchen light was on. ‘It’s me,’ he called, not wanting to startle the au pair.
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ said Katra. She appeared in the doorway as he walked down the hall.
‘Sorry I didn’t call first. I thought you might be asleep,’ he said.
Katra was wearing pink flannel pyjamas and her black hair was clipped up at the back. ‘I was just getting some warm milk,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to cook something for you?’ Her English had improved a lot during the year she had worked for Shepherd, but she still had the strong accent that betrayed her Slovenian origin.
‘I’m fine,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ve had a sandwich and I’ll make myself a coffee. You get off to bed.’
‘Sit down,’ Katra said, and switched on the kettle. ‘You look exhausted.’
‘It’s been a rough few days.’ Shepherd pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. ‘How’s Liam?’
‘Fine,’ said Katra. ‘He wants to start piano lessons.’
‘What?’
‘He wants to learn to play the piano. He can have lessons at school. He brought home a form for you to fill in.’
‘I didn’t know he liked music.’
Katra spooned coffee into a cafetiere. ‘One of his friends has started lessons.’
‘A girl?’
Katra laughed. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because it’s the way we guys operate. There’s a girl he likes, she starts piano lessons so he wants piano lessons.’
‘You are suspicious because you are a policeman,’ she said.
‘I’m suspicious because I know how guys think.’
‘Liam is nine,’ said Katra.
‘Nine, nineteen, ninety-nine – guys are all the same. Trust me.’
‘She is pretty,’ admitted Katra.
Shepherd stood up again and stretched. ‘I’ll just go up and check on him,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute for the coffee.’
He went upstairs and nudged open the door to Liam’s bedroom. His son was asleep on his side, mouth slightly open, snoring softly. Shepherd knelt down next to the bed and stroked Liam’s hair. He looked so like Sue when he was asleep, he thought, with a twinge of sadness. ‘Sweet dreams,’ he murmured. ‘Sleep tight. Hope the bedbugs don’t bite.’
‘Hello, Mum,’ whispered Liam.
‘It’s me,’ said Shepherd.
Liam’s eyes fluttered open. ‘Oh. Hi, Dad. You’re back.’
‘I just got in,’ said Shepherd. ‘Sorry. It took longer than I thought.’
‘Can I have a cuddle?’
‘Sure you can.’ He lay down next to Liam and put his arm round him. ‘Goodnight,’ he whispered.
‘Goodnight, Dad,’ said Liam. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ said Shepherd.
‘Three, four, five,’ said Liam.
Shepherd closed his eyes, took a deep breath and was asleep.
‘Dad?’ Shepherd groaned and rolled over at the sound of his son’s voice. He opened his eyes and blinked.
Liam was standing next to the bed in his school uniform, carrying his sports bag. ‘Dad, I’m going to school.’
Shepherd sat up and rubbed his face. He was still wearing his Tony Corke clothes and they smelt foul. Katra
