Stephen Leather - Dead Men

Elaine smiled suggestively. ‘Define dangerous.’ She put down her glass and kissed him. Shepherd kissed her back, then stood up and switched off the lights. He lit two candles in the fireplace, then switched off the power at the sockets for the television and DVD player. He didn’t want Singh or Button listening in.

‘You are a smoothie, aren’t you, Jamie?’

‘I look better in candlelight,’ said Shepherd.

‘Because of your scar?’

‘What scar?’

‘Jamie, I’ve seen you naked, remember? The scar on your shoulder. It looks like a gunshot wound.’

‘It was a long time ago.’

She kissed him on the lips, slipping her hand around his neck. When she released him she smiled at him with amused eyes. ‘Who would want to shoot a nice guy like you?’ she asked.

There had been no military service in the Jamie Pierce legend, but Elaine seeing him naked hadn’t been part of the plan. He had to think on his feet, which was always dangerous. ‘It was another life,’ he said. ‘I was in the army.’

‘No way.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ said Shepherd. ‘Infantry, but I was trained as an electrician. Thought I was learning a trade. Then Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait and I was packed off with a gun and a prayer. I got hit by a sniper and that was the end of my soldiering.’

‘It looks bad.’

‘It wasn’t, but the doctors who treated me weren’t that hot.’

‘You never said you were in the army.’

‘I don’t talk about it much,’ said Shepherd.

Elaine stroked the back of his head. ‘What was it like, getting shot?’

‘I don’t remember much about it,’ he said. That was a lie. He still had nightmares about the dull thump of the bullet slamming into his shoulder, the crunch as he’d hit the ground, the wetness of the blood that seeped from the gaping wound into his shirt as he lay on the sand.

‘My hero,’ she said.

‘There’s nothing heroic about getting shot,’ he said. Instantly he regretted what he’d said. ‘Elaine, I’m sorry . . .’

‘It’s okay.’

‘What happened to me doesn’t compare with what happened to your husband.’

‘Jamie, it’s okay,’ she said, and kissed him again, harder this time.

Shepherd woke to find Elaine propped up on her pillow, looking down at him and smiling. ‘You snore,’ she said.

‘I’ve been told that before.’

She leant over to kiss him. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’ve got clients to see in Bangor.’

‘Dinner tonight? I’ll cook.’

‘I’ll be back late,’ she said. ‘Raincheck?’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

She slid out of bed and pulled on her clothes. ‘I’m going to London the day after tomorrow for a financial-services exhibition. Earls Court.’

‘Driving?’

‘Of course. I’ll probably go down to Dublin and across to Holyhead.’

‘For long?’

‘A few days. Why? Will you miss me?’ She tickled him.

Shepherd pushed her away and grinned. ‘Of course I will.’

He waited until he heard her leave, then reached for his mobile and phoned Button. ‘We have a problem,’ he said. ‘Elaine’s heading for London the day after tomorrow. She says she’s got a conference or something at Earls Court. Financial services.’

‘Now, that is interesting,’ said Button. ‘It’s either a hell of a coincidence or she’s going after Kinsella. How would she know where he is, though?’

‘Maplethorpe told her the Kinsellas are in London. And she’s got a lot of friends in the Intelligence Branch. I don’t think she’d find it too difficult to get his location. Look, I had a thought. I should go with her.’

‘Sure – but what reason would you have for going to London at short notice?’

‘I’m sure we could think of something. What’s the story with Kinsella?’

‘Under wraps,’ said Button. ‘Hotel near Hyde Park.’

‘How do we play this?’

‘Let’s see what she does when she gets to London.’

‘You still think it’s her?’ asked Shepherd.

‘I’m keeping an open mind,’ said Button. ‘You?’

‘I really don’t think she’s a killer,’ said Shepherd.

‘You’re not too close, are you, Spider?’

Shepherd cut the connection.

Shepherd’s doorbell rang. He groaned and went to the bedroom window. He couldn’t see who it was and there was no car parked outside. He pulled on a towelling robe and went downstairs.

Elaine looked as if she’d just got out of bed. ‘My car’s been stolen,’ she said.

‘You’re kidding!’

She ran a hand through her unkempt hair. ‘Jamie, if I wanted to wake you with a joke, I’d have thought of something better than that. Did you hear anything last night?’

‘Nah, and I was up until one. Have you called the cops?’

‘They’ll send someone round, they said. But what can they do?’

‘Keep an eye out for it, I guess.’

‘If it’s joyriders they’ll have set fire to it by now, and if it was stolen for parts it’ll have been stripped. Either way I doubt I’ll get it back in one piece. Bastards.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Elaine smiled. ‘You’re always apologising for things that aren’t your fault.’

He held the door open for her. ‘Come on, I’ll make you a coffee.’

Elaine went through to the kitchen. ‘Can I have one of your cigarettes?’

‘Sure,’ said Shepherd, switching on the kettle.

Elaine sat down and lit a Marlboro. ‘I am so screwed,’ she said.

‘And not in a good way, I suppose,’ said Shepherd.

‘I’m supposed to be driving to London tomorrow. Now I’ll have to hire a car. If they’ll let me take it to the mainland.’

‘Why don’t I drive you?’ asked Shepherd.

She blew smoke up at the ceiling. ‘That doesn’t make sense, Jamie.’

‘It makes perfect sense. There’s a couple of guys I need to see in London. I was going to fly next week but I could bring the meetings forward. I’ll drive you tomorrow.’

‘Where would you stay?’

‘I’ll go to a hotel. You?’

‘My sister. Are you sure about this?’

Shepherd made coffee. ‘It’ll be fun, a road trip. You’ve already booked your ticket, right? Just change the car registration number on it and we’re sorted.’

‘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.