need for me to be based in London. I don’t see why Liam and I couldn’t live in Hereford.’ He waited for Moira to reply, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Moira, are you still there?’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m stunned. You’re serious?’
‘Sure. Over the last few days I’ve been up to Newcastle, over to France, down to Southampton. If anything, I think the travelling will get worse in the new job, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t make Hereford my base. That way you’d be able to see Liam whenever you wanted.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Daniel.’
‘I hoped you’d be pleased.’
‘I’m delighted – and I know Tom will be too. But what about his school?’
‘He liked the one he went to in Hereford, and it would mean less travelling for him.’
‘Daniel, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Really, I can’t.’
‘It’ll be much better for me, too,’ said Shepherd.
‘I’ll talk to the headteacher,’ said Moira. ‘I’m sure they’ll find a place for him. Do you have any idea when you’ll move?’
‘Let me talk to an estate agent to see how easy it’ll be to sell this place. Then we’ll talk about it in detail.’
After he’d hung up, Shepherd lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I miss you, Sue,’ he whispered. ‘I will do until the day I die.’
The limousine was waiting for Madison a short walk from the hotel’s entrance. She climbed into the back and sighed. ‘I hate fucking Arabs,’ she said. ‘I mean, I hate Arabs. And I hate fucking them.’
‘Was it terrible?’ asked the American.
He’d told her he was Dick but he had a funny sense of humour and Madison wasn’t sure whether or not he was joking. He was forty-eight, forty-nine maybe, with short grey hair and lips that went really thin when he smiled. He was wearing a dark blue blazer, grey trousers and gleaming black shoes with tassels. When he’d first approached her she’d thought he was a banker or a property developer. He had the confidence that came from handling large amounts of money and knowing that people would always do what he wanted. She didn’t want to know what he did or whom he worked for – it would be dangerous. She would just take his money and run. ‘They always want to do anal, and I told him I didn’t. He kept nagging and nagging and offering me more money.’
‘I’m sorry, honey,’ said the American.
‘He paid me five thousand, so I had to do it, right? But I told him it was under protest. Now I’m bleeding.’
‘Was he enormous?’
Madison flashed him a humourless smile. ‘He was rough. Kept calling me a bitch, too.’
‘Poor baby,’ said the American. ‘But you have it, right? What I want?’
Madison sighed. ‘That’s the other thing about Arabs. They always want to do it bareback. He kept upping the ante-’
‘Madison,’ said the American, coldly, ‘please don’t tell me you didn’t use a condom.’
‘Don’t be stupid. For what you’re paying me, there was no way I wasn’t using one. Speaking of which…’
‘Your money?’ The American smiled coldly. ‘You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’
Madison opened her evening bag and took out a small polythene bag. Inside was a used condom. The American had supplied the bag and the condom. He took the bag and examined it closely. ‘Excellent,’ he said.
‘What are you going to do with it?’ she asked suspiciously.
The American took an envelope out of his blazer pocket and handed it to her. She opened it and flicked through the contents. Twenty-five thousand dollars, in one-hundred-dollar bills.
‘You’re not going to, like, eat it, are you?’ she asked.
‘Do I look like a pervert, Madison?’ he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Well, yeah, a bit. Sorry.’
The American laughed. ‘You’re probably right, honey,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, you’re not my type.’
Madison nodded at the used condom. ‘What do you want it for?’
The American smiled. ‘That, honey, is for me to know. Now, off you go.’
Madison blew him an air-kiss, then climbed out of the limousine and tottered off on her high heels in search of a black cab. Twenty-five thousand dollars from the American, and five thousand from the Saudi. It had been a good night. Apart from the anal.
The Saudi stood in the shower and let the water play over his face. He loved the huge showerheads in the Savoy’s bathrooms. It was like standing in the rain. He rubbed the honey-scented soap over his torso and smiled as he remembered the way the American woman had soaped him in the shower. She had been good, and worth every dollar he’d paid her. She’d gone down on him in the shower, taking him in her mouth as the water cascaded over his chest. He’d screwed her in the sitting room of the suite, on the sofa, across the coffee table, and finally in the king- sized bed. He’d paid a lot more for a lot less.
The Saudi loved screwing American women. They always started off so self-assured, so confident, so full of themselves, as if they were doing him a favour. But when they were on their knees and he was behind them, pounding into them, making them gasp and moan, there was no doubting who was in control. He hadn’t realised Madison was a hooker until she’d asked for money, but it hadn’t been a problem. He was happy to pay for sex and, frankly, where Western women were concerned, he preferred it that way. His smile widened. He doubted that Madison was her real name. Not that he cared. It had been a one-off. He had paid for sexual relief and he had got what he’d paid for.
The doorbell rang. The Saudi rinsed his hair, wrapped himself in the Savoy’s thick towelling robe, then headed for the door. ‘Room service,’ called a waitress.
The Saudi had ordered eggs Benedict, a pot of coffee, and Buck’s fizz, with Pol Roger. A leisurely breakfast, a stroll by the Thames, then off to the airport. The Saudi would miss London, but he would be back, sooner rather than later.
He padded across the thick carpet and opened the door. A matronly waitress, with grey hair tied back in a bun and an ample chest that strained at her white blouse, was standing behind a trolley. She had a nametag over her left breast. Amy.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said brightly. She smiled, showing greying teeth.
The Saudi nodded. He didn’t believe in talking to the hired help. He waved for her to wheel in the trolley.
‘How are you this morning, sir?’ she asked.
The Saudi ignored her and headed back to the bathroom. He heard a rapid footfall but before he could react he felt a thump in the small of his back and slammed into the wall by the bathroom door. The barrel of a gun was forced under his chin. ‘Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off,’ the waitress hissed
There were more footsteps in the corridor outside the suite, then half a dozen men burst in, all armed. Hands grabbed at the Saudi’s arms and forced him around so that his back was to the wall. The grey-haired waitress was grinning as she kept the gun rammed against his neck. The Saudi stared at her, but said nothing.
The Labrador growled softly and dropped the tennis ball at Charlotte Button’s feet. Button ignored her and carried on flicking through the dozen or so personnel files she had scattered across the coffee table. The dog gave a plaintive yelp and Button sighed. ‘What part of working at home don’t you understand, Poppy?’ she said. ‘I’ll take you out at lunchtime.’
The dog was panting and Button patted her. Then she picked up Shepherd’s file and reread Kathy Gift’s most recent assessment. There was no doubt that Shepherd was going to be an asset to SOCA. His Special Forces background combined with his police experience made him the perfect undercover operative. She had been impressed with him when they’d met at the Ritz, and he didn’t appear to be the sort who’d have problems working for a woman. The police was still a very male-dominated organisation, especially when compared with MI5 where more than half of the two thousand or so officers were female and the director general was a woman. But Shepherd didn’t seem bothered by Button’s sex, and she hadn’t once caught him glancing at her breasts or legs. Jimmy Sharpe was a different matter. During his interview he’d made some outrageous observations about the role of women in police work, always followed by a gruff ‘no offence intended’ – although he clearly didn’t care one way or the other whether she was offended or not. Button didn’t plan to hold Sharpe’s sexist views against him. It took all sorts to make up an undercover unit and his assets far outweighed his liabilities.
It had been two days since Shepherd had taken the Christopher Donovan birth certificate and he was due to
