Dead Men (41 page)

‘You’re such a sweetie.’

Shepherd grinned. ‘That’s what my mum says.’

‘Okay, but we share the driving.’

They drank coffee and smoked for half an hour, then Elaine went home. Shepherd phoned Button. ‘Were you listening?’ he asked.

‘Every word,’ she said.

‘She loves her car, you know.’

‘We’ll get it back for her – assuming she isn’t a serial killer, of course.’

‘I’ll go through her bags first chance I get. If she has her husband’s gun, we’ll know for sure. What about you? Will you go to London?’

‘Sure. I’ll set up surveillance on her sister’s house. I’ll take a morning flight and be there before you.’

Shepherd ended the call, then took his personal mobile into the garden, called Martin O’Brien and told him Button was flying to London. O’Brien confirmed that he’d be at Heathrow to keep tabs on her.

As Shepherd turned back to the house, his eyes strayed up to Elaine’s attic. He wondered if she was up there, taking the rounds from the trunk, preparing to kill Kinsella. Was she capable of cold-blooded murder? Could she shoot a man in the knees and the back of the head, then act as if it had never happened?

Elaine rang Shepherd’s doorbell at just before six in the morning. It was a two-hour drive to Dublin, which would give them plenty of time to catch the high-speed ferry to Holyhead. She was wearing a black blazer over a dark blue dress and carrying a large Louis Vuitton bag and her briefcase. ‘Ready?’ she said brightly.

‘I’m all packed and ready to go,’ he said. ‘I left my car in the garage in case the joyriders were on the rampage again.’ He took her bag. ‘I’ll put it in the boot for you. The kettle’s just boiled so why don’t you make us both a coffee?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

‘I’ll take your briefcase, too, yeah?’

‘I’ll keep it with me,’ she said. ‘It’s got my mobile and cigarettes in it.’

They went into the kitchen together and Shepherd opened the door to the garage. He closed it behind him, then opened the car boot and put Elaine’s bag next to his hard-shelled suitcase. He took a deep breath and slowly unzipped the bag. On the top were two magazines, then a toiletries bag. Shepherd opened it and peered inside – toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, moisturiser, hairbrush. There was a Prada leather case containing cosmetics, neatly folded underwear, silk pyjamas, two shirts, a pair of jeans and a pullover. Shepherd groped around in the bottom.

The door opened. He pulled his hand from the bag and closed the boot, heart racing. ‘Toast?’ asked Elaine.

‘Just coffee, please,’ said Shepherd.

‘It’s ready,’ she said. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Just a last-minute check,’ he said. ‘Don’t want to forget anything.’ She pulled the door to but didn’t close it. Shepherd couldn’t risk searching the bag any further. He opened the boot again, zipped up the bag, then slammed the boot.

Elaine gave him his coffee as he went back into the kitchen. She had put her briefcase on the floor by the table. She offered him a cigarette, and as they smoked and drank their coffee, she seemed totally at ease, laughing, smiling and flirting with him. Shepherd found it impossible to believe she could be so relaxed if she was going to London to shoot Noel Kinsella. He remembered Stockmann’s words, that a true sociopath could fake all emotions. Was Elaine Carter a sociopath?

‘Penny for them?’ said Elaine.

Shepherd realised he hadn’t been listening to her. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘You were miles away, Jamie.’

‘Sorry. Just getting my head straight.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not really a morning person.’ He hated it when she called him Jamie. It was a reminder that everything she thought she knew about him was a lie. She had made love to him, she had shared her innermost thoughts with him, but in return he had done nothing but lie to her.

There was little traffic on the motorway to Dublin, and theirs was one of the first cars on to the Stena Line ferry, which was packed. Elaine and Shepherd found two seats at the rear of the boat. Shepherd wanted to go back down and search Elaine’s bag and briefcase but passengers weren’t allowed on the vehicle deck while the ferry was at sea. He had his SOCA identification in a hidden compartment in his wallet but he wasn’t sure that the ferry staff would know what it was. His police warrant card had always been accepted without question, but SOCA was a relatively new agency and, more often than not, his credentials were met with frowns and head-scratching. The last thing he wanted was to attract attention to himself so he made small-talk as the ferry powered across the Irish Sea.

Martin O’Brien looked over the top of the
Evening Standard
. He had already seen two British Midland flights arrive and there had been no sign of Charlotte Button on either. She was not on the third, either. It had been twenty minutes since the flight had landed and Button never flew with checked-in luggage. He took out his mobile to phone Shepherd when someone tapped his shoulder. He whirled round. The woman herself, with a Samsonite carry-on case, was at his side, smiling. O’Brien’s heart sank.

‘Hello, Martin,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You look like you’ve lost weight.’

‘I’m training for the Marathon des Sables,’ he said.

‘People die running that race, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘You be careful.’

‘I will.’

‘And following me is part of your training, is it?’

O’Brien smiled ruefully. He knew there was no point in lying. ‘You’re good,’ he said.

‘Yes, Martin, I am. So are you. How long have you been on my case?’

‘Not long.’

‘But you’ve had someone else in Belfast, right?’

‘A few pals of mine from the Ranger Wing have been helping me out.’

‘Tall man with curly hair and a Tag diving watch? And a heavyset fellow with a limp?’

‘Diving accident a few years back,’ said O’Brien. ‘They were that obvious, were they?’

‘Actually, they were damned good. And I only spotted the two. Most of the time I had no idea where they were. Are you here alone?’

O’Brien jerked a thumb at the exit. ‘I’ve a driver outside. Black cab.’

‘Am I right in thinking that Spider’s behind this?’

O’Brien looked pained.

‘Special forces’ code of silence? I hardly think you’ve developed a crush so I assume someone’s asked you to keep an eye on me. The common link between us is Spider.’

‘You ought to be a detective,’ said O’Brien.

Button ignored his attempt at sarcasm. ‘So the question I need answering, Martin, is why did he want you tailing me? Why is he suddenly interested in my comings and goings?’

‘It was more a case of protecting you than tailing you,’ he said.

‘Protecting me from what?’

‘He thought someone might want to hurt you.’

‘Spit it out, Martin. We’re both big boys and I don’t have all day.’

O’Brien sighed. ‘He said there was a contract out on you. Some raghead. Hassan Salih, a Palestinian. He didn’t know what the guy looked like, he just had the name.’

‘This Palestinian, is he the one offering the contract or the killer?’

‘He was the hitman. He didn’t say who put up the contract.’

Button nodded thoughtfully. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Well, as of now you’re off the case. I don’t need minding and Spider should know that by now. There’s nothing I can say that’ll stop you phoning him thirty seconds after I’ve walked out of here, so all I’ll ask is that you tell him you’re rumbled and that if I find anyone else on my tail he can look for employment elsewhere. Are we clear?’

‘Crystal,’ said O’Brien.

‘Excellent,’ said Button. ‘So, I’ll wish you good day and good luck with your run in the desert. I did the Marathon des Sables in my gap year. Drink plenty of water, and pop any blisters with a sterilised needle.’ She gave him a final tight smile and walked away, her high heels clicking on the hard floor.

As soon as she had left the terminal building, O’Brien rang Shepherd’s number. His call went to voicemail but he decided not to leave a detailed message – it would be better to give him the bad news in person. ‘Spider, call me.’ As he put the phone away he saw Button through the terminal window. She gave him a thumbs-up and climbed into a taxi.

About two hours outside London, Shepherd told Elaine that he needed the washroom and pulled into a service station. Elaine said she wanted to buy cigarettes so she headed for the shop. Shepherd had listened to O’Brien’s brief message as he had driven off the ferry in Holyhead but hadn’t wanted to call him while Elaine was in the car. As soon as he went into the men’s room he punched in O’Brien’s number.

A sales representative had taken off his jacket and tie and was shaving with a disposable razor, a leather attaché case at his feet. He nodded at Shepherd and carried on. O’Brien answered. ‘Martin, hey. What’s up?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Good news, bad news,’ said O’Brien.

‘You lost her?’

‘No, she found me.’

‘Shit.’

‘Sorry,’ said O’Brien. ‘She blindsided me.’

‘And what’s the good news?’

‘She wasn’t as mad as I thought she’d be. Quite laid back, actually. She said we had to lay off her and that she’d sack you if you ever did anything like that again, but other than that she was pretty relaxed.’

‘How much did you tell her?’ asked Shepherd.

‘I couldn’t lie to her, Spider.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Shepherd. ‘Just tell me what you told her.’

‘That you had her best interests at heart, that you knew there was a contract out on her.’

‘Terrific,’ muttered Shepherd.

‘Spider, you know her background. If she gets pissed off at me, she could do me a lot of damage.’

‘It’s not your fault. I should have been up front with her.’

‘That was the strange thing,’ said O’Brien. ‘She wasn’t in the least bit fazed when I said there was a hitman after her. It’s like she already knew.’

‘Maybe she did,’ said Shepherd.

‘What do you want to do?’ asked O’Brien.

The salesman was splashing water over his face.

‘There’s nothing we can do,’ said Shepherd. ‘If Charlie says back off, we don’t have a choice. Like you said, she’s a heavy hitter.’

‘Did you know she was a runner? She said she did the Marathon des Sables when she left university.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said Shepherd. ‘But then the woman is constantly surprising me.’

‘Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her,’ said O’Brien.

‘I think I’ve left it a bit late to worry about that,’ said Shepherd.

‘I’ll call the guys in Belfast and stand them down.’

Shepherd thanked him and cut the connection. He used the urinal and washed his hands. As he left, the salesman was brushing his teeth with slow, even strokes.

Elaine was standing outside the service station, smoking. She offered him a cigarette. He took one and lit it. ‘Do you want me to share the driving?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ said Shepherd.

She looked at him quizzically. ‘You’re a funny one, Jamie.’

‘Now what?’

‘Most men wouldn’t give up the steering-wheel no matter how tired they were. Same way they’ll never ask for directions if they get lost.’

‘Ah, that’s because I’m in touch with my feminine side.’

‘Yeah, that’s glaringly obvious.’

‘I am,’ said Shepherd, seriously. ‘I cry at movies.’

She looked at him in disbelief. ‘What was the last movie you cried at?’

Shepherd pretended to consider the question. ‘
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
,’ he said eventually.

‘Rubbish,’ she said.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That first night when she stayed with the dwarfs and they all got into bed feeling sleepy. Sleepy had to get out again. I felt so sorry for him.’

Elaine laughed as she was taking a drag on her cigarette and began to cough. She bent over and Shepherd patted her on the back. ‘Do you need the Hindenburg manoeuvre?’ he asked.

She stopped coughing and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You mean the Heimlich manoeuvre. That’s for choking.’

‘No, it’s the Hindenburg,’ said Shepherd. ‘I fill you full of hydrogen and set fire to you. Guaranteed to stop coughing fits.’

She started to laugh again. Shepherd put an arm round her and kissed her cheek. He couldn’t believe she was a serial killer. The Elaine Carter he knew simply wasn’t capable of murder.

As they drove off the M1 and into central London, Shepherd asked Elaine if she wanted him to drop her at her sister’s. ‘What hotel are you staying at?’ she asked.

‘The Ibis in Earls Court. Opposite the exhibition centre.’

Elaine’s surprise was written on her face. ‘Why did you book in there?’

‘Thought it would be easy for you, and they’ve got car parking.’

‘You didn’t have an ulterior motive, did you?’

Shepherd chuckled. ‘Such as?’

‘Such as hoping to persuade me to stay over. I did say I was going to stay with my sister.’

‘Elaine, you have so little faith in me.’

‘Double bed?’

‘King size,’ said Shepherd. ‘I move around a lot when I sleep.’

She slid her hand along his thigh. ‘I know,’ she said, and grinned. ‘Okay, let’s go to the hotel first.’

It had started to rain by the time they reached Earls Court. They parked the Audi and checked in, then went up to the room. She kissed him as soon as he’d closed the door, a long, slow kiss as she pressed herself against him. Eventually she broke away. ‘I need a shower,’ she said. ‘Don’t start without me.’

Her bag was by the door and her briefcase was on the bed but she’d left the bathroom door open and the walls were mirrored so he couldn’t risk going through her things. ‘Hey, I’m out of cigarettes,’ he called. ‘I’ll just pop down and get some.’

‘Don’t be long,’ she said. ‘I’m hungry.’

As soon as he got down to Reception, Shepherd called Button on his mobile. ‘I’ve checked in,’ he said. ‘We’ll have dinner together and she’s going to the conference tomorrow. I’ll probably go with her.’