Salik said something to the two young men and they hurried over, grabbed two cans each, then jogged back to the van.
‘You’ve done well, Tony, thank you,’ said Salik.
‘You don’t have to thank me. Just have my money ready tomorrow.’
Salik grinned. ‘Don’t worry, it will be.’
It took about ten minutes to unload the cans, then Hussain tossed the rope into the back of the boat.
Salik waved goodbye. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow. Our office.’
‘I don’t know where your office is, Salik,’ shouted Shepherd.
‘We’ll call you.’
‘You’d better,’ said Shepherd. He put the engine into reverse and edged away from the beach, then turned the boat, pulled on the goggles and made for Southampton.
Shepherd took the boat to its mooring, then drove to the Best Western hotel, where he gave the transmitting equipment to Amar Singh. Hargrove was out with the surveillance team, on the trail of the Uddins.
‘You came over as clear as a bell,’ said Singh. ‘Hargrove called the French and they were there to see the whole thing. Captured it on film with infra-red cameras. Hargrove told me to tell you what a great job you did.’
‘Thanks,’ said Shepherd, putting his shirt back on.
‘You heard he’s leaving, right?’
‘Onwards and upwards.’
‘Hard act to follow,’ said Singh.
‘No question.’
‘You heard about his replacement?’
Shepherd shrugged. Singh was on attachment from NCIS and, as such, wasn’t a full member of Har grove’s team so he didn’t want to say too much. ‘I’ve only just found out he was moving on,’ he said. ‘Why? What have you heard?’
Singh stashed the equipment in his briefcase. ‘Just that he’s going to New Scotland Yard. Office job.’
‘Promotion, right?’
‘Yeah. Chief super. At least we’ll have friends in high places.’
Shepherd drank two cups of coffee and ate a beef-salad sandwich before he drove back to London. It was seven thirty in the morning when he parked in front of his house. Liam was sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and jam.
‘What happened to the cheesy scrambled eggs?’ asked Shepherd, dropping on to a chair opposite him.
‘I fancied a change,’ said Liam.
Katra appeared at the door. ‘You’re back!’
‘Well, if I’m not, a stranger just stole this kid’s toast.’ Shepherd grabbed a slice off Liam’s plate and stuffed it into his mouth.
‘Hey!’ shouted Liam.
‘I’ll make more,’ said Katra.
‘How were Gran and Granddad?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Okay. They’ve got a PlayStation Two.’
‘What?’
‘And a load of games.’
‘Well, that must be for your benefit. I can’t see Tom and Moira playing video games.’ He frowned. ‘Hey, didn’t I say that losing your PlayStation was part of your punishment?’
‘It wasn’t my PlayStation, it was Gran’s PlayStation,’ said Liam, speaking slowly as if Shepherd was hard of hearing. ‘Anyway, it was a PlayStation Two, not a PlayStation One.’
‘Sounds like you’re going to be a defence lawyer when you grow up,’ said Shepherd. ‘What’s happening about the piano lessons?’ he asked.
‘What piano lessons?’ said Liam.
‘You wanted to learn the piano, right?’
Liam pulled a face. ‘The guitar’s better – bass guitar.’
Shepherd leaned back in the chair, grinning. ‘She likes somebody else, right?’
‘I dunno what you mean.’
‘The piano girl. She’s not as pretty as she was a few days ago. Hey, I’m not complaining. A guitar is a tenth the price of a piano.’
‘You’re going to buy me one?’
Shepherd held up a hand. ‘That’s not what I said. You’re grounded, remember? But you’ll be out on remission by Christmas, so unless you’ve fixated on the trombone by then, I don’t see why you can’t have one.’
‘Cool!’
‘Did your gran say anything about me?’
‘Asked how you were.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I said you were okay.’
‘And am I?’
‘What?’
‘Am I okay?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Yes.’
Shepherd leaned over and gave him a hug.
‘But you don’t half smell bad.’
Kathy Gift’s high heels clicked along the walkway as she headed towards the Starbucks outlet. Down to her left were the platforms of Paddington station, and below, harried-looking men in suits with briefcases next to their stools plucked small plates off the Yo Sushi conveyor belt. She smiled to herself. Fast food, literally.
She took off her raincoat and shook it, then went into the coffee shop. A woman in her forties was already getting to her feet. Gift wasn’t surprised at the ease with which Charlotte Button had recognised her. As an MI5 high-flyer, she would have had access to Gift’s police file, and more.
Button smiled and extended her hand. ‘Good to meet you, Dr Gift.’
‘Kathy, please,’ said Gift.
‘Excellent,’ said Button. ‘Titles do get in the way, don’t they? I’m Charlie.’ They shook hands. Gift noted the elegantly painted nails and the thin gold bracelet with half a dozen charms. It was a strangely old-fashioned piece of jewellery for an intelligence officer to wear, she thought, especially one who was meeting a psychologist.
‘My grandmother’s,’ said Button. ‘She left it to me and I always wear it on her birthday. What can I get you?’
Gift asked for a low-fat latte. As she sat down she wondered if she’d been staring at the charm bracelet. She was sure she hadn’t, but even a glance hadn’t gone unnoticed. Gift was normally the one who did the observing, picking up on the body language and subtle signals, spoken and unspoken, that gave her the clues she needed to assess the personality of her clients. It made her feel uneasy to be in the presence of someone equally adept at reading people. She was sure that Button had already noticed the Star of David on the gold chain round her neck, and the absence of a ring on her wedding finger.
She watched Button order the coffee. The other woman looked like the naturally slim type. Her heels weren’t low enough to be frumpy, or high enough to be tarty. Bally, perhaps. Or Gucci. Good legs, a skirt that ended a few inches above the knee, and a long jacket, a blue so dark it was almost black. Her hair shone glossily, black without a trace of grey. Her make-up was expertly applied, a touch of eye-shadow, mascara and lipstick, which might be Lancome’s Chilled Rose. Gift used the same colour. Button could have been a merchant banker or a sales director: efficient, confident, with an accent that suggested a Home Counties childhood and a public-school education. No wedding ring. A Rolex watch. Her money could have come from her inheritance or she might have a wealthy husband who didn’t mind that she didn’t wear a ring.
Button returned with the latte and placed it on the table, then sat opposite Gift. ‘I’m sorry to ask you to meet me here, but I’ve got a train to catch and I thought I’d kill two birds, as it were.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Gift. ‘Actually, I’m a caffeine addict.’ She smiled brightly but kicked herself mentally for the slip. Addiction was a weakness, and she didn’t want to show any in front of this woman.
