‘And will you pick me up?’
‘I’ll try,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ve some work to do at the barracks. Some training.’
‘Secret Squirrel?’
Shepherd laughed. ‘Yes. Secret Squirrel.’
‘Are you going back in the army?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘So you’re going back to London?’
‘In a day or two.’
‘Can I come with you?’
‘I’ve got to get us an au pair fixed up first, but as soon as I’ve done that you can be back in your old room.’
‘Soon?’ Liam’s eyes were half closed and Shepherd could see he was struggling to stay awake.
‘Soon,’ said Shepherd.
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Okay.’ Liam’s eyelids fluttered and closed.
Shepherd stroked his cheek. ‘Sweet dreams, kid,’ he said.
Shepherd woke up and tried to work out where he was. He relaxed when he remembered he was in Moira and Tom’s house, in the double bed he had shared with Sue whenever they had stayed over. He looked at his watch. It was seven thirty. He could hear Moira downstairs in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready.
He slid out of bed, shaved, showered and changed into a clean shirt and jeans. Liam was sitting at the kitchen table, spooning porridge into his mouth. ‘Hiya, kid, what time do we have to leave for school?’
‘Half past eight,’ Liam replied.
‘Liam, not with your mouth full,’ admonished Moira. ‘Egg and bacon, Daniel?’
‘Lovely,’ said Shepherd. His mother-in-law was a first-class cook and served a great fry-up. ‘Egg and bacon’ was her shorthand for eggs, bacon, sausage, fried bread, tomato and baked beans. He helped himself to coffee. ‘Where’s Tom?’ he asked, sitting next to Liam.
‘Tom leaves at seven on the dot,’ said Moira, ladling beans on to his plate. ‘He likes to be first in. Makes a point of it. He hasn’t had a day off sick in twenty-seven years. What about you? What are you doing today?’
‘It’s Secret Squirrel, Gran,’ said Liam. He took a couple of gulps from a tall glass of orange juice.
‘Just training,’ said Shepherd. ‘Nothing exciting.’ He didn’t want to tell his son or Moira that he was going to spend all morning firing handguns to get his accuracy up to the level expected by SO19.
He tucked into his fry-up, and Liam went upstairs to get ready for school.
‘Shall I pick him up this afternoon?’ asked Moira, and poured herself a cup of tea.
‘What time does he finish?’
‘Half past three.’
‘Thing is, I’m not sure what time I’m going back to London.’
‘But you’ll be here this evening?’
‘I hope so, but it’s not up to me. The Regiment’s handling transport.’
‘This coming and going doesn’t do Liam any good at all,’ said Moira. She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to nag.’
‘I’ll phone you when I’m done,’ said Shepherd, ‘and, whatever happens, I’ll be back at the weekend.’
Liam reappeared with his schoolbag. Shepherd wolfed down the last of his breakfast, picked up his overnight bag and took his son to the car. Liam gave him directions, and Shepherd realised he’d never even seen the school his son went to. He had no idea who his teacher was. He started to ask questions about it, but Liam was monosyllabic. ‘It’s not my school, Dad,’ he said eventually. ‘My school’s in London.’
‘I know,’ said Shepherd.
‘London’s where my friends are.’
‘I know.’
‘So don’t keep asking me about it. I won’t be here long.’
‘Okay.’
‘Will I?’
‘I hope not.’
Shepherd pulled up and Liam unclipped his seat-belt. ‘I’ll see you tonight, yeah?’
Shepherd nodded.
‘You will be here, won’t you?’ asked Liam.
‘I’ll do my best, kid,’ said Shepherd.
‘Promise?’
‘Cross my heart.’
Liam beamed, slung his bag over his shoulder and ran to the gate. Shepherd knew he’d been playing with words and was suddenly ashamed. He had promised he’d try to be there, but that was not how Liam had understood it. So far as Liam was concerned, Shepherd had promised to be there, and that was a promise he couldn’t make. Telling people what they wanted to hear was part of working undercover, but it was no way for a father to talk to his son.
Larry Hendrickson was sitting with his feet on the desk and sipping his second cup of coffee when his intercom buzzed. It was his secretary telling him that Norman Baston was outside and wanted a word. Hendrickson told her to send him in. Baston was the firm’s IT team leader, a nerdish computer geek with slicked-back hair and two PhDs. He rarely left the computer room so Hendrickson realised it had to be important. Either something was wrong with the system or he had received another job offer and wanted his salary bumped up again. He was already earning six figures, but was worth every penny. The problem was, he knew it.
‘How’s it going, Norm?’ asked Hendrickson, swinging his feet off the desk.
‘Have you heard from Roger?’ asked Baston. He had few social graces and never made small-talk. He was far more comfortable with his computers than he was with people.
‘Not since last week,’ said Hendrickson.
‘Any idea where he is?’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Maybe nothing, but he logged on yesterday and went through the accounts system. I just wondered if something was wrong.’
Hendrickson fought to stay calm. ‘If there was a problem, I’m sure he’d mention it to me.’
‘When’s he coming in?’
‘Like I said, I haven’t spoken to him since before the weekend, but he didn’t say he was going anywhere.’
‘We had a meeting fixed up today. Thursday, ten fifteen. His secretary says he hasn’t been in all week.’
‘You know what Roger’s like.’
‘He hasn’t even spoken to Barbara.’
‘It’s only Thursday, and it’s not as if the ship will sink if he’s not at the helm, is it? Have you tried his mobile?’
‘Goes straight through to voicemail.’
Hendrickson’s mind was whirling from the ramifications of what Baston had said. Sewell couldn’t have logged on because he was in a shallow grave in the New Forest. So who had got hold of his User ID and password? The only person that came to mind was Tony Nelson. Had he decided to make some extra money by stealing from the company? He might have tortured Sewell before he killed him, forced him to hand over details of the company bank accounts. Hendrickson tried to appear calm. As far as anyone in the company was concerned, Sewell had gone AWOL for a few days. It wasn’t unusual, and it was far too early for Hendrickson to show signs of concern. ‘Email?’ he suggested.
‘I’ll send one now. I just thought maybe he’d said something to you.’
Hendrickson shook his head. ‘I’m sure it’s not worth worrying about.’
Baston put his left thumb to his mouth and began to gnaw at the nail. He ambled out of the office.
Hendrickson stood up and began to pace. Everything had been going exactly as planned. Sewell was dead
