‘I’m here to help you do your job better,’ said Gift.
Shepherd smiled thinly. ‘That’s not strictly true, is it? You’re also the one who decides whether or not I’m fit for duty.’
‘And are you?’
‘Definitely. Are you hungry?’
‘I could eat.’
‘Toast?’
‘Why not?’
Shepherd went over to the toaster and slotted in two slices of wholemeal bread. He pressed the lever, then turned and leaned against the counter top. ‘I’m fine. Really.’
‘Still running, I see.’
‘Keeps me fit.’
‘How’s Liam?’
‘Doing well at school. No nightmares. He seems fine, too.’
‘Does he talk about what happened to his mum? The accident?’
‘He talks about her. We both do. He misses her, of course – he’ll miss her for ever – but he doesn’t talk about the crash.’
‘Do you think he blames himself?’
‘No,’ said Shepherd, emphatically.
‘He was in the back of the car, your wife was turning to help him when she jumped the red light. If wouldn’t be unnatural for Liam to blame himself.’
‘He doesn’t.’
‘What happens when you’re away on a case?’
‘We have the au pair. She lives in. Is this about me or my son?’
‘It’s about putting you in context, that’s all. Are you in a relationship at the moment?’
‘I’m a father,’ said Shepherd. ‘That’s a relationship, right?’ The toaster pinged and ejected the two slices. Shepherd put them on to a plate and arranged it on the table with butter, strawberry jam and marmalade.
‘You know what I mean,’ said Gift, as she picked up a slice of toast.
‘I’m too busy for a relationship at the moment,’ he said. ‘When I’m working, I’m with villains or victims and neither would make suitable girlfriend material. When I’m not working, I’m at home with my son.’
‘It can’t be easy, being a single parent and an undercover policeman.’ She was buttering her toast.
‘Katra’s a big help. She does the school run, same as his mum would have done. She cooks, cleans, helps him with his homework if I’m not around.’
‘Are you away much?’
‘The unit operates all over the UK,’ said Shepherd. ‘You know that. We go where the work is.’
‘And you were overseas recently?’
‘France. But only for a few days.’
‘And you’re okay with that?’
Shepherd sighed. ‘In a perfect world, I’d like to be able to spend more time with Liam. But in a perfect world, my wife wouldn’t have died. Look, I don’t see what Liam has to do with my ability to function under cover.’
‘It’s stress, Dan. Pressure.’
‘I can take it.’
‘Stress manifests in different ways.’
‘I don’t have nervous twitches and I sleep like a newborn babe.’
‘Newborn babes tend to cry a lot and wet themselves,’ said Gift, with a smile. ‘So I’m told.’
Shepherd laughed and helped himself to a slice of toast. ‘I know you’re only doing your job,’ he said, ‘but, really, I’m fine.’
‘What happened down the Tube last year. The suicide-bomber. Can we talk about that?’
‘He was going to kill a lot of people. I shot him. End of story.’
‘It’s a big thing, to kill a man,’ said the psychologist, then took a bite of toast.
‘With respect, how the hell would you know?’
‘I could take that as defensive,’ she said.
‘It’s just such a glib thing to say,’ said Shepherd. ‘I know it’s a big deal, but it needed doing. I’m not going to lose any sleep over a dead suicide-bomber. Anyway, he’s up in heaven with his seventy-two virgins so I’m sure he’s not complaining.’
‘You believe in heaven, do you?’
Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. He was silent for several seconds. ‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘I don’t believe in heaven, or hell, or God.’
‘You’ve never been religious?’
‘I was baptised as a kid,’ said Shepherd, ‘but it meant nothing to me.’
‘The Catholic religion is based on guilt, pretty much.’
‘I guess.’
‘And confession, of course. The premise that, by confessing, your sins can be absolved.’
‘Three Hail Marys and Jesus will forgive you. I don’t see what I do as sinning, if that’s what you’re getting at.’
‘Playing devil’s advocate here. You do break a lot of commandments, don’t you?’
‘I’m one of the good guys, remember?’
‘The end justifies the means?’
‘That’s the way I see it. Yes, I shot him dead, but he was wired up with enough explosives to blow himself to kingdom come. You can’t expect me to feel guilty about that.’
‘Just because what you did was right doesn’t necessarily make it easier to deal with.’
‘I disagree.’
‘There are as many cases of post-traumatic stress disorder among troops on the winning side of a conflict as there are on the losing side. Stress is stress.’
‘I was well trained,’ said Shepherd.
‘The best of the best?’ There was a note of sarcasm in her voice.
‘The selection procedure weeds out the guys who aren’t up to it,’ said Shepherd, ‘and the training teaches you to cope with pretty much anything.’
‘A high percentage of former SAS members end up killing themselves, don’t they?’ she said quietly.
‘That’s not stress,’ said Shepherd. ‘If it was stress, they’d do it while they were in the Regiment, not after they’d left.’
‘So, if it’s not stress, what is it?’
‘They miss the action, I guess. They can’t live without the adrenaline kick.’ Suddenly Shepherd realised where the conversation was going. ‘You always get back to this, don’t you? You make it sound as if I’m addicted to violence.’
‘We were talking about former members of the SAS.’
‘We were talking about me – it’s always about me but you take the long way round sometimes.’
‘Honestly, I wasn’t being that devious. But it’s a fair question, isn’t it? The men who do what you do: do they do it because it’s a job, or because they enjoy it?’
‘You enjoy your job, right?’
‘It’s challenging,’ she said.
‘So what’s wrong with me enjoying my job?’
‘I don’t kill people, Dan,’ said Gift, quietly.
‘The only people who enjoy killing are psychopaths,’ said Shepherd, firmly, ‘and I’m not a psychopath.’
Gift opened her mouth to reply but before she could say anything they heard a key in the front door. Instead she finished her toast.
‘Katra,’ said Shepherd.
Gift nodded. The front door opened and Katra hurried down the hall. ‘It’s me!’ she called, and burst into the kitchen. She frowned when she saw Gift at the kitchen table. ‘Hello?’ she said.
