Fair Game (4 page)

‘Dan! I didn’t know you were coming back today,’ she said. Katra had worked for Shepherd for more than three years but still had a noticeable East European accent that betrayed her Slovenian origins, though there was also a trace of Australian from the hours that she spent watching Antipodean soap operas.

‘Neither did I,’ he said.

‘Are you OK? You look tired.’

‘It’s been a long day,’ he said. ‘How’s Liam?’

‘He’s fine,’ she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘He said he’d had trouble getting hold of you on the phone.’

He nodded. She was right. It had been more than three days since he’d spoken to his son. ‘I’ve been really busy,’ he said.

Katra gestured at the fridge. ‘Do you want me to cook you something? I could make you an omelette or scrambled eggs.’

‘Toast is fine,’ he said. ‘Then I’m straight to bed. He’s been doing his homework?’

‘Eventually,’ she said. ‘I have to nag him.’

‘I’ll talk to him,’ said Shepherd. ‘But no problems?’

Katra shook her head. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘No girlfriend yet?’

Katra laughed. ‘If there is he hasn’t told me.’ She got up, went over to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. ‘Are you back for a while?’

‘Fingers crossed,’ he said.

‘Liam’s playing football on Saturday.’

Shepherd raised his coffee mug. ‘I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘Now you go back to bed.’

Katra nodded and went upstairs. Shepherd finished his toast and coffee, put his plate and mug in the sink and headed up to Liam’s bedroom. His son was fast asleep, curled up with his back to the door. He tiptoed over and bent down over the sleeping boy. He watched him for almost a minute, fighting the urge to ruffle his hair because he didn’t want to wake him.

He went along to his own bedroom and set his alarm clock for seven. It meant that he’d only have just over two hours’ sleep but he wanted to be up with Liam.

He went to sleep the moment his head touched the pillow, and it seemed no time at all before his alarm was buzzing. He pulled on the same shirt and jeans that he’d worn before he went to bed and padded down to the kitchen. Katra was in the kitchen scrambling eggs and preparing to stir in the cheese that Liam loved.

‘You hardly slept,’ she said, popping bread into the toaster.

‘I wanted to see Liam before he goes to school. Is he up yet?’

‘I checked, he’s showering.’

‘I’ll take him to school,’ said Shepherd.

She looked over her shoulder. ‘Are you sure? You must be tired.’

‘I’m fine,’ he said, switching on the kettle. ‘How was he while I was away?’

Katra carried on stirring the eggs. ‘He’s a good boy, you know that.’

‘No problems at school?’

She shook her head. ‘He’s doing really well. They had a maths test two days ago and he got ninety-four per cent.’

‘Wow,’ said Shepherd.

‘And he’s doing really well at football.’

‘I’ll watch him on Saturday.’

‘He’d like that. You know he misses you.’

Shepherd sighed. ‘I know.’

She smiled. ‘At least you’re home for a while now,’ she said. ‘Do you want some eggs?’

‘My eggs?’ asked Liam, appearing at the door. He was wearing his school uniform but his tie was loose around his neck.

‘Hi,’ said Shepherd. He went over and hugged him and kissed the top of his head.

Liam squirmed out of his grasp. ‘Dad, I’m not a kid,’ he said. He sat down at the kitchen table, gulped down orange juice and bit into a slice of toast.

‘When did you get back?’ he asked.

‘Early this morning,’ said Shepherd. ‘And don’t talk with your mouth full.’

Shepherd ate his toast and drank his coffee as Liam bolted down his breakfast, then he went back upstairs for shoes and socks.

By the time he got back to the hall Liam was at the front door with his backpack on. ‘Tie,’ said Shepherd.

Liam tied it half-heartedly.

‘Properly,’ said Shepherd.

‘It’s the style,’ said Liam. ‘Everyone wears them like this.’

Shepherd picked up the keyless remote for the BMW X3 and opened the door. ‘After you, your lordship,’ he said, and did a mock bow.

Liam shook his head sadly and walked out. Shepherd followed him. ‘So how long are you staying for?’ asked Liam as he climbed into the car.

‘A few days at least,’ Shepherd said. ‘Maybe a week or so. I’ll definitely be at the game on Saturday. Katra says you’re playing a blinder these days. Seat belt.’

Liam fastened his belt as Shepherd started the car. ‘Can I ask you something, Dad?’

‘Sure. Anything. You know that. Just so long as it’s not going to cost me anything.’

Liam pulled a face. ‘That might be a problem, then.’

‘I’m joking, Liam,’ said Shepherd. ‘What’s up?’

Liam took a deep breath as if he was steeling himself to break bad news. ‘Can I go to boarding school?’

It was the last thing that Shepherd had expected to hear and his jaw dropped. ‘Can you what?’

‘Boarding school. Can I go to boarding school?’

‘You’ve been watching those Harry Potter movies again, haven’t you? You know they’re not real?’ He drove slowly away from the house.

‘I’m not six, Dad.’

‘Yeah, I know that, but boarding school isn’t all midnight feasts and learning to do magic tricks.’

‘How do you know what it’s like? You never went to boarding school.’

That was true, and it made Shepherd pause. All he knew about boarding schools came from what he’d read and seen on television; he had no first-hand experience at all. ‘I know it means being away from home for months at a time,’ he said. ‘It means being at school twenty-four hours a day.’

‘So?’

‘So I’d miss you not being here. You’re fourteen and soon you’ll be leaving home for good. I’d like to spend time while you’re still around.’

‘I’m thirteen, Dad. Fourteen is months away.’

‘But you’ll be going to university when you’re eighteen. That’s only four years.’

Liam sighed and folded his arms. Shepherd didn’t have to be an expert in reading body language to know that his son was upset about something.

‘What’s wrong, Liam?’

The boy sighed again. ‘OK, look, it’s not as if you’re here much, is it?’

‘I’ve been away a lot, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be at home more if that’ll help.’

‘You always say that, Dad. You always say you’ll spend more time at home but you never do. And you’ve just been in Ireland for almost six months.’

‘I was back most weekends.’

Liam shook his head. ‘No, you weren’t. Maybe once a month you came back.’

Shepherd took his right hand off the steering wheel and ran it through his hair as he realised that his son was right. The Northern Ireland operation had been as dangerous as they came and every time he had left the Province he’d been putting himself at risk. ‘It was a tough job, Liam.’

‘They’re all tough jobs, Dad. And they all need you to be away.’

‘So what do you want? You want me to stop doing what I do and get a job in an office?’

Liam’s eyes narrowed. ‘Would you do that?’

Shepherd felt his stomach churn as he realised that he was having the same conversation he’d once had with his wife, a conversation that had resulted in him leaving the SAS.

‘It’s my career,’ he said.

‘It’s your life,’ said Liam, which was exactly what his mother had once said to Shepherd, and he smiled despite himself.

‘Sometimes I have to be away, there’s nothing I can do about that,’ said Shepherd. ‘I try to be here as often as I can and I phone every day when I’m away.’

Liam shook his head. ‘No you don’t,’ he said. ‘Sometimes you don’t phone for two or three days. You’re always sorry when you do eventually call and you always bring me a present when you come back, but . . .’ He tailed off and didn’t finish the sentence.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Shepherd.

‘You don’t have to keep apologising, Dad, I’m not a kid. I understand about your job and I know what it means to you. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.’

‘So how does boarding school help?’

‘I don’t know. I just thought . . .’ He shrugged and looked away. ‘I just thought it might make things better, that’s all. Better for everybody, you know.’

‘Is there a problem at school here?’

Liam shook his head. ‘No, it’s OK.’

‘You’re not being bullied or anything?’

‘Of course not,’ said Liam disdainfully.

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘It’s not a problem,’ said Liam. He sighed again. ‘I’m just fed up being here on my own.’

‘You’ve got Katra.’

‘Katra’s great but she’s not my family and she’s a girl.’

‘You’ve got your grandparents.’

‘And I’d still have them if I was at boarding school. Dad, it’s no biggie.’

‘It is a biggie,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s about you leaving home.’

‘It’s boarding school, Dad. That’s not leaving home. I’d be back at holidays and half-terms and you can visit at weekends. I don’t see what the big deal is.’

‘There’s the cost, for a start.’

Liam scowled. ‘So it’s about money? I thought with all the overtime you work that money wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Of course it’s not about money.’

‘So why talk about the cost?’

Shepherd fought the urge to smile. He hadn’t realised how forceful and devious his son had become. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d been changing his nappies and wiping away his tears, and now he was arguing his case as confidently as any adult. ‘OK,’ he said quietly. ‘Let me think about it. But answer me one thing. What’s put this in your head? Something must have sparked it off.’

Liam shrugged carelessly. ‘Well, a friend of mine left school here to go to boarding school and he says it’s great.’

‘Where is his school? The new one?’

‘In the Lake District. He says there are no girls there, which is great, and they get to play sports every day and they’ve got an amazing swimming pool. They do lots of day trips to the lakes and he’s learning to sail. It sounds great, Dad.’

Shepherd smiled. ‘It does, doesn’t it? I might see if I can book myself in for a few months.’

‘It’s for kids, Dad.’

‘I was joking,’ Shepherd said. ‘Are you serious about this? It’s not just a whim?’

‘I want to do it, Dad. Really.’

‘OK,’ said Shepherd. ‘I tell you what, you get me the details of their website and I’ll take a look.’

Liam’s face brightened. ‘And then I can go?’

Shepherd wagged a finger at him. ‘Then we’ll talk about it.’

‘But you’re not saying no?’

‘I’m saying I’ll look at the website and we’ll talk about it.’ They were a hundred yards from the school entrance and he slowed the SUV. ‘Do you want me to drop you here?’

‘Why, can’t you take me to the gates?’

‘I thought teenagers didn’t want to be seen with their parents.’

‘Dad, this is a BMW X3. Do you think I don’t want to be seen in a cool car like this?’

Charlotte Button didn’t call Shepherd for a week. He’d been working full-time on the Northern Ireland job for almost six months so he was due plenty of time off, and she was also well aware how mentally exhausting it was to work undercover. Shepherd spent his days lounging around the house and simply enjoying the fact that he was Dan Shepherd and not Matt Tanner, Real IRA enforcer, and that he didn’t have to be constantly thinking about what he was going to say next. He ran for at least an hour a day, usually across nearby fields, wearing his old army boots and carrying a rucksack filled with bricks wrapped in newspaper, and he worked on the garden, mowing the lawn, cutting the hedges and weeding the flowerbeds, and finally got around to repairing a leak in the roof of the garage.

He made a point of taking Liam to school every day, and picking him up every afternoon. He stood on the touchline and cheered with the rest of the parents as Liam’s team lost 3–1 on Saturday and he took him shopping for new clothes and school shoes and ended up buying a pair of football boots that cost more than any footwear that Shepherd had ever owned.

He kicked a football around with Liam in the garden, and had Sunday lunch with Liam’s grandparents at their home, and helped him with his homework. He enjoyed being a father again and not having to deal with the stress of constantly having to pretend to be someone else, but he was still happy to hear Button’s voice because that meant that she had a job for him.

‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

‘All good,’ said Shepherd.

‘And Liam’s OK?’

‘He’s thinking about boarding school. I’d like to pick your brains sometime. Your daughter is a boarder, right?’

‘And loves it,’ said Button. ‘How about you pop down to London in a day or two.’

‘For a chat about boarding schools or because you’ve got something for me to do?’

Button laughed. ‘Cabin fever already? I thought you wanted time off.’

‘I do. Of course I do.’

‘I know you, Spider. You need to work or you start howling at the moon.’

‘Is that a yes, then?’

‘There’s an assignment that needs your particular skills and I’d like to run it by you. But it’s not pressing. Whenever you’re ready to get back in the saddle is just fine. You’ve racked up a stack of overtime and days in lieu over the past year.’

‘That’s the way it goes,’ said Shepherd. ‘I can hardly tell the bad guys I’ve got to clock off, can I?’

‘I’ve had a word with the powers-that-be and they’re happy to pay you for the extra days off, if you want. It’ll be a nice windfall. Or you can take the days.’

‘It’s a nice change not to have to be worrying about overtime and whether or not I’ll be paid for working on my off days.’

‘That’s the War against Terror for you,’ said Button. ‘The police are getting their budgets slashed but MI5’s money is still flowing.’

‘Funny that, because you’re a thousand times more likely to be mugged or killed by a hit-and-run driver than blown up by a terrorist.’

‘What newspaper are you getting your information from?’ she asked.

‘Depends on who I am,’ said Shepherd. ‘Matt Tanner read the
Belfast Telegraph
and the
Irish Republican News
. Me, I still read the
Daily Mail
. But I like the
Sunday Times
at the weekend.’