Liam frowned. ‘For ever?’
‘Not necessarily, no,’ said Moira, hurriedly. ‘But your father’s very busy at work, you know that. And remember what happened last night. He said he’d phone but he didn’t. He isn’t very reliable, so Granddad and I think you might be better off here with us.’
‘Is this Dad’s idea?’ asked Liam. Tears sprang to his eyes.
Moira put her arm round his shoulders. ‘No, it’s not. He’s still talking about you going to London to be with him. But it’s going to be difficult, and it might be better for him if you stayed here.’
Liam wiped his eyes on his sleeve. ‘It isn’t fair.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Moira.
‘It’s like you’re all trying to force me to do something I don’t want to do.’
‘No one’s trying to force you to do anything, Liam.’
‘Dad never asked me if I wanted to come and stay here. He just dumped me.’
‘Now you’re being silly.’
‘He doesn’t want me. That’s why he left me here and it’s why he didn’t call.’
‘He does want you, Liam, of course he does. We want you, too – and we all want what’s best for you.’
‘I want to be with my mum!’
‘Liam!’ Moira protested. ‘Calm down.’
‘I don’t want to! I wish I was with Mum right now. I wish I was dead like her!’
Liam rushed out of the room, knocking over his glass with what remained of the juice.
Tom came in from the garden as Moira was dabbing at the carpet with a damp cloth. ‘I heard shouting, what’s wrong?’
Moira shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’
Even from the far side of the field Shepherd could hear the crunch of bone against bone as the two men collided at full pelt. The rugby ball bounced into touch and the two men helped each other up, grins on their mud- splattered faces.
Hargrove was sitting on a wooden bench outside the pub, which overlooked the rugby pitch. Shepherd sat down next to him, wearing his black leather jacket and blue jeans. He hadn’t shaved. The superintendent was immaculately dressed as always, in a pristine blue blazer, grey flannels and gleaming brogues. He sipped his shandy. ‘Can I get you a drink, Spider?’
‘I’m okay,’ said Shepherd. He stretched out his legs and sighed.
‘Not a rugby player, are you?’ asked the superintendent.
‘Not really, no.’
‘Too many rules?’ said Hargrove.
‘Something like that.’
‘I’m a cricket man myself,’ said Hargrove. ‘Never understood why it isn’t played all year round.’
‘The weather, maybe,’ said Shepherd.
‘The thing I like about it is that it’s a team game,’ said Hargrove, ignoring Shepherd’s comment. ‘But at the same time you function as an individual. When you’re batting, it’s all down to you. No back-up, no support. When you’re fielding, you’re working as a team.’
Play restarted on the pitch, but after a few seconds there was another juddering crunch, three players went down and the referee blew his whistle.
‘You’re a runner, right?’ asked Hargrove.
‘It’s a way of keeping fit,’ Shepherd said. ‘I don’t run for fun.’
‘What do you do for fun?’
Shepherd ran a hand through his unkempt hair. It was a good question. He used to go to the cinema and for long walks. He used to eat, drink and make merry. But that was before Sue had died. He still tried to have fun with Liam, but more out of parental duty than from the desire to enjoy himself. He’d kick a football with his son, play video games and take him to matches, but no matter how much he loved Liam, the boy was an ever-present reminder of the wife he’d lost. Fun hadn’t been a major part of his life in recent months.
Hargrove took a sip of his shandy. ‘Charlie Kerr,’ he said. ‘We’ve opened a real can of worms.’
Shepherd looked across at him. ‘He’s known?’
Hargrove smiled. ‘Oh, yes. Not Premier Division yet, but on the way. Greater Manchester Drugs Squad have been on to him for a while. The Firm and the Church have been keeping a watching brief.’
The Firm: MI5. It had been tasked with targeting big-time drugs-dealers and career criminals after the fall of the Soviet Union and the IRA’s decision to start peace talks had left the Security Service with little to do. And the Church: Customs and Excise.
‘Why just a watching brief?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Kerr’s one of the smart ones. Doesn’t go near the gear, doesn’t touch the cash. It’s a question of resources. It would cost millions to put him away. They’ve been hoping that eventually he’ll deal with someone they’ve turned.’
Hargrove took a CD Rom in a plastic case from his blazer pocket and handed it to Shepherd. ‘Those are the files on him. Surveillance pictures, known associates, all the intel we have.’
Shepherd pocketed the disk. He knew that the nature of the investigation was about to change, but he waited for the superintendent to continue. Spectators cheered as a bald, burly player ran a good fifty yards down the pitch and hurled himself between the posts. The referee’s whistle blew long and hard.
‘He runs a sideline in protection rackets but that’s a hangover from his old days. Now he leaves that pretty much up to one of his heavies, Eddie Anderson. His nightclubs are busy, but they’re money-laundering set-ups more than anything.’
And a source of eager young girls, Angie had said. The woman scorned. The woman whose life was about to change for ever, and not for the better, thought Shepherd.
‘Kerr’s father was an old-school villain, Billy Kerr. Armed robber who got involved in the drugs trade in the late eighties. Got shot on the Costa del Crime a few years back. Professional hit, but there was never anyone in the frame for it.’
‘So Charlie’s following in his father’s footsteps?’
‘Seems that way. But he’s self-made. He was only a teenager when his dad was killed. He was living with his mother. She and Kerr had separated not long after he was born and Kerr had almost no hand in raising him. Must have been in his genes.’ Play started again on the pitch. ‘This could be a godsend, Spider.’
‘Maybe,’ said Shepherd.
‘We’ve got her on tape, conspiracy to murder. If she turns up with the cash tomorrow, that’s the icing on the cake. If we offer her a way out, there’s a good chance she’ll take it.’
‘She’s scared to death of him.’
‘She doesn’t have a choice,’ said Hargrove. ‘No real choice, anyway. If she goes down he’ll know exactly what she was planning. He might decide that life behind bars is punishment enough, but a guy with his resources can have someone killed in prison just as easily as on the outside. If she gives evidence against him, though, he’ll be the one behind bars.’
‘Yeah, but she’s not stupid. She’ll know that just because he’s banged up doesn’t mean he can’t have her killed,’ said Shepherd.
‘So she’s damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t,’ said Hargrove. ‘At least we can offer her protection. A new identity. The works.’
‘Plus she gets to keep his money?’
‘Anything that’s not confiscated as the proceeds of crime,’agreed Hargrove.‘That’s got to sound more attractive than life behind bars.’
Shepherd stretched out his legs. If it had been a simple matter of offering Angie Kerr the choice of two evils, there would have been no need to give him the files on her husband. Hargrove obviously wanted him to make the approach.
‘We’ll only get one shot,’ said Shepherd. ‘If she turns us down, Kerr will know we’re on to him and go to ground.’
‘Which means we’re no worse off than we are now,’ said Hargrove.
‘And we’ve no idea how much she knows about her husband’s operation.’
