usual roles involved passing himself off as a career criminal, and one of the perks of the criminal fraternity was being able to choose your hours.
Shepherd spotted the major looking out over the river, a metallic attache case in his left hand.
‘Good to see you’re not in uniform, Spider,’ he said as they shook hands. His was the size of a shovel and he wore the Regimental signet ring on his little finger.
They walked together towards Westminster Bridge.
‘Thanks for this, Major.’
‘I was early, anyway. I hate these briefings to politicians, but at least they get me out of the barracks.’ He hefted the metal case. ‘All I do is wait for the sat phone to ring, and when it does all hell breaks loose. But until it rings, it’s just me and four walls. With a staff sergeant who still can’t make a decent brew.’
‘It’s like that in the ARV. We spend hours driving around waiting for something to kick off. But when it does, there’s all sorts of rules and regulations about what we can and can’t do. It’s like going into battle with one hand tied behind your back.’
‘Any idea how long you’ll be undercover this time?’
‘I’ve almost cracked it.’
‘Hell of a job, Spider.’
‘If they’re bent, they deserve what’s coming to them.’
‘I meant a hell of a job for you. Winning their trust so that you can betray them. Especially when they’re cops.’
‘I try not to think of it that way,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m just gathering evidence. If they weren’t bad, they wouldn’t have anything to worry about.’
‘It would do my head in,’ said Gannon. ‘We tried using our guys undercover in Ireland, but it never worked.’
‘Different skills,’ said Shepherd.
‘Yeah. They grew their hair long, wore the right clothes and got the accent, but they just didn’t fit.’
‘Everyone knows everyone else over the water. You were trying to blend into an incestuous community.’
‘The UK criminal fraternity’s not that big – aren’t you worried you’ll be rumbled by someone you’ve come across before?’
‘I’m good with names and faces,’ said Shepherd. ‘I can usually spot trouble before it happens. And, more often than not, I leave an operation before the bad guys are busted so no one’s the wiser.’
‘But you’re doing okay?’
Shepherd knew Gannon wasn’t talking about work. Was he okay about Sue? ‘One day at a time,’ he said. ‘That’s what they say, isn’t it? You take each day as it comes, and after a while it doesn’t hurt as much. Eventually life gets back to normal.’
‘It’s easy to say, I know.’
‘I miss her so damn much.’
‘That’ll never change.’
‘It would be easier if there was someone to blame.’ Shepherd took a deep breath. ‘There’s no one I can talk it through with,’ he went on. ‘Liam’s too young, Sue’s parents are trying to deal with their own grief. The unit’s given me a psychologist but she’s more interested in knowing if I’m up to the job.’
They sat down on a bench beside the London Eye. Shepherd grinned. ‘Let me give you a crap analogy.’ He pointed to the giant wheel. ‘That’s life, in a way. We all get one circuit, then it’s someone else’s turn. But with the whole world to experience, most people never get beyond the pod they’re born in. Once round and then off into the long night.’
‘Fuck me, Spider, how depressed are you?’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not after the meaning of life. It’s just that there are times when you wonder what the point of it is.’
‘Life? Or the London Eye?’ Gannon smiled. ‘The London Eye’s a tourist attraction – but life? Who the hell knows?’
‘The guy who topped himself in front of me – Barry Jones. We’d started on a meaning-of-life conversation before he pulled the trigger.’
‘He had a history of depression. That’s why he was RTUd. He was a loose cannon, waiting to go off.’
‘His life had turned to shit, was what he said. Wife had left him, found a new man, wouldn’t let him see his daughter.’
‘He used to knock her around. That’s what I was told. Any problems he had, he brought them on himself.’
‘That’s not the way he saw it. He said he loved his kid, that his wife was turning her against him, and that he’d never laid a finger on her.’
‘He had a short fuse – it was in his file. He decked an officer once but it was in the field and the officer was due to move on so nothing came of it.’
‘I tried to see the little girl afterwards,’ said Shepherd. ‘Jones asked me to tell her that he loved her, but her mother wouldn’t let me into the house. Said I was a murderer – she seemed to think we’d killed him. I had his blood all over me.’
‘Probably best that you didn’t see the child, then. It would have been pretty traumatic for her. The gear that SO19 wear is as intimidating as our kit, with or without bloodstains.’
‘I keep having dreams that she was at the window watching her dad shoot himself. She wasn’t – I know she wasn’t.’
‘Small mercies,’ said Gannon. ‘You wouldn’t want a kid seeing something like that. Probably wouldn’t benefit from seeing you, either, to be honest. She’s always going to remember you as the man who was there when her dad died.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe I’ll write her a letter or something.’ He scowled. ‘Nah, the mother would just throw it away. But she has to know her dad loved her. If I don’t tell her, she’ll go through life thinking he didn’t.’
‘You’re not responsible for his actions,’ said Gannon. ‘You don’t owe him anything.’
‘He was Sass, and it was his last request,’ said Shepherd. ‘And if I don’t carry it out, who will? Jeez, what state must he have been in to pull the trigger? We were talking and then,
‘Jones lived for the Regiment. It was his be-all and end-all. When he was RTUd, he fell apart. It happens.’ Gannon took a packet of Wrigley’s gum from his pocket and offered a piece to Shepherd. Shepherd shook his head. Gannon popped a stick into his mouth and chewed. ‘It’s like greyhounds. They’re bred for one reason. To win races. As soon as they’re past their best, they’re surplus to requirements. Twenty-five thousand healthy dogs are put down every year just so that the punters can bet a few quid on a Saturday night.’
‘It’s a better analogy than my London Eye.’
‘It’s the way it is. Greyhounds aren’t bred as family pets, they’re bred to win races. The Sass doesn’t train men to be good fathers or husbands or to run businesses. It trains them to jump out of aeroplanes, march through hazardous terrain with back-breaking loads and kill people. Once your Sass days are over, those skills aren’t especially useful. You know what most guys used to end up doing after they left the Regiment?’
‘The building trade.’
‘Dead right. Brickies or scaffolders. I’ve had guys end up as gravediggers and lollipop men. Most leave thinking they’re going to earn a living as mercenaries or security consultants, but most end up on building sites or guarding car parks. Iraq has thrown up job opportunities but not everyone’s suitable for close-protection work. And the ones who’ve been out of the Regiment for a few years have lost their edge. Life’s tough, and it’s even tougher for our guys out in the real world. I’m sorry Barry Jones took his life, but he’s one of half a dozen former members of the Regiment so far this year.’
That was news to Shepherd. ‘And there’s nothing anyone can do?’
‘It’s a rough old world. We’re the SAS, not the Samaritans. I’m not happy about the way it is, Spider, and I do what I can. But I’ve enough on my plate with the Increment. So, tell me about the trick-cyclist.’
‘My boss reckons I might be stressed out. It was tough going undercover in a high-security prison. Then there was Sue’s accident. And I’ve been pretty much flat out since I started with the unit.’
