‘Yeah,’ said Shepherd.
‘You did good work today, Dan.’
‘Where the hell were you?’ he snarled.
‘It’s complicated,’ she said.
‘No. Quadratic equations are complicated. A boss being there when her team needs her, that’s basic police procedure. Hell, it’s common fucking sense.’
Button’s face hardened. ‘I know you’ve been through a lot today, but I won’t allow you to verbally abuse me, DC Shepherd.’
‘We don’t use ranks,’ said Shepherd coldly. ‘Ever.’
‘You work for me, Dan. I don’t work for you. Remember that.’
‘Yeah, well, that could change,’ said Shepherd. ‘I needed you today.’ He jerked a thumb at Sharpe. ‘He needed you.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting that I’m responsible for what happened to Jimmy.’
‘There were two of us, unarmed, on a train with four suicide-bombers. We should have had back-up. There should have been armed cops with us.’
‘Dan, let’s not start off on the wrong foot.’
He flashed her a tight smile. ‘We’re not dancing here. It’s not a question of right foot or wrong foot. Four terrorists with bombs could have killed a hell of a lot of people on that train, and you had your phone switched off.’
‘I don’t have to justify myself to you,’ said Button. ‘But I can tell you that I was at the American embassy for most of today, interrogating the man who planned the bombs on the Eurostar. And a lot more.’
‘Who is he?’
‘A Saudi. I was involved in his interrogation and I have to say it was pretty fucking unpleasant.’ She smiled thinly. ‘I’ve had a pretty shitty day myself, Dan. But, unlike you, I don’t come out of it covered with glory.’
Shepherd nodded slowly. ‘Okay. You’re right. I wasn’t aware of the big picture.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I need to get home.’
‘I’ve arranged a plane,’ said Button. ‘There’s a car outside that’ll take you to the airport. I’ll stay here and arrange Jimmy’s transport back to the UK.’
‘What’s happened to the Uddin brothers?’
Button looked uncomfortable. ‘They’re out of the picture.’
‘They were arrested?’
‘We took them in, along with their contact in the Passport Agency.’
‘Will I be giving evidence?’
‘There isn’t going to be a trial. Not in the near future, anyway.’
Shepherd frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘They’re being taken to Guantanamo Bay.’
‘What?’
‘They provided passports to Hagerman. The Americans want to know who else they supplied. They’re putting them on a military flight tonight.’
‘They could be questioned here. Why the hell take them to Cuba?’
‘The Americans wanted them, and the way the world is just now, the Americans get what they want.’
‘The brothers probably don’t even know who Hagerman is,’ said Shepherd.
‘I agree,’ said Button.
‘They’re not terrorists.’
‘In which case they’ll be released.’
‘When? After three years? Five? Ten?’
‘When they’ve proved they’re not terrorists.’
‘How do you prove a negative?’ asked Shepherd. ‘They’re just guys who broke the law. Okay, prison here, that’s fair enough, even though we both know of men who’ve done things a thousand times worse and never been behind bars. But they don’t deserve to be clapped in irons and kept in cages.’
‘I’m not the enemy here, Dan.’
‘Then who is? The Yanks?’
‘It’s the way of the world. The Uddins provided terrorists with passports. That puts them in the terrorist camp. It’s like Bush said, you’re either with them or against them. There’s no middle ground any more.’
‘They probably thought they were helping asylum-seekers,’ said Shepherd.
‘So they can explain that.’
‘They shouldn’t have to explain it to military interrogators in Cuba,’ said Shepherd. ‘We made the case. They should be put on trial here and, if they’re found guilty, a judge decides on a fair sentence. That’s their right, laid down by the bloody Magna Carta. The right to a fair trial. And not to be punished until they’ve had one. It’s bugger all to do with the Police and Criminal Evidence Act or the European Court of Human Rights. It’s what our ancestors fought and died for hundreds of years ago.’
‘The world has changed, Dan,’ said Button, quietly.
‘Too bloody right it has.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and patted his shoulder as if she was comforting a bereaved relative.
Shepherd twisted out of her grasp and she flinched as if she’d been struck. ‘It’s okay, I’m not-’ he started to say, but saw from the look of sympathy on her face that explanations weren’t necessary. She understood. But there was nothing she could do. Shepherd walked away without looking back.
When Shepherd got home the house was dark. He went upstairs and opened the door to Liam’s bedroom. His son was fast asleep so he went back downstairs, threw his pea coat on to the sofa and went over to the bookcase. A bottle of Jameson’s stood there and he picked it up. He rarely drank whiskey at home, and never when he was alone. He’d drunk wine with Sue, usually chardonnay or pinot grigio, and usually as a prelude to an early night. The Jameson’s was for visitors, especially Sue’s father, Tom, who was a great fan of Irish whiskey.
Shepherd unscrewed the top and raised the bottle to his lips. He held it there, knowing that what he was doing was out of character. He never used alcohol as a crutch. He’d known lots of men, in the SAS and the police, who turned to the bottle in times of stress, but he had always found relief in other ways. He put it down. It was time for a run. A long, punishing run. A run that would leave him bone-weary and aching.
He was about to head upstairs when he heard a mobile phone ring – the Tony Corke phone in the pea coat. He bent down and fished it out. The call was coming from a blocked number. Shepherd accepted it and put it to his ear.
‘It’s Richard,’ said an American voice. Shepherd knew only one American called Richard. And only one American who would have the technical expertise to get hold of the number of the pay-as-you-go mobile.
‘Yes,’ said Shepherd. Yokely was the last person he wanted to talk to.
‘I just called to say congratulations,’ said Yokely.
‘Congratulations?’ Shepherd knew what he was alluding to, but he could feel resentment and hostility building in him with each second that the man was on the line.
‘The Eurostar,’ said Yokely. ‘You saved the day, I’m told.’
‘I had help,’ said Shepherd. ‘A colleague was with me. He was stabbed.’
‘But you took care of all four of the bastards, didn’t you? Even left us with one to question.’
‘Jimmy’s fine, thanks for asking,’ said Shepherd, frostily. ‘Nearly bled to death, but, hey, plenty more cops where he came from, right?’
‘Dan, you did what needed doing. You neutralised a threat. God damn it, you saved more than seven hundred lives today. I assumed you’d be pleased, basking in the glory and all that.’
‘I killed three people,’ said Shepherd. ‘Two men and a woman who were prepared to die for their beliefs.’
‘Exactly,’ said the American.
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ asked Shepherd.
‘I get it, Dan. You went up against four hardened terrorists and you won. And you even managed to do it all on the British side of the tunnel so that the French can’t try to fuck things up for us.’
‘Why do you people always talk as if it were a game?’ said Shepherd. ‘It wasn’t a bloody game and I didn’t
