Shepherd smiled. ‘I’m not sure that’s so,’ he said.
‘You can tell if someone’s killed by looking at them?’
‘There’s a look that people who’ve been in combat have. They call it the thousand-yard stare. There’s a coldness in their eyes as if they’re looking through you.’
‘And does everyone who’s been in combat have it?’
‘No,’ said Shepherd. ‘I know men who have killed several times and they’re the most laid-back guys you’ll ever meet. But I’ve never met someone with the thousand-yard stare who hasn’t killed. I’ve seen it in the eyes of non-soldiers, too. Gangsters. Drug-dealers. Blaggers.’
‘Blaggers?’
‘Armed robbers,’ said Shepherd. ‘What I’m saying is, if they’ve got the look, they’ve killed.’
‘Unless they’re faking it,’ said Stockmann.
‘Faking it?’
‘Say there’s a hard man who wants you to think he’s a killer. He fakes the thousand-yard stare. How would you know?’
‘I’d know.’
Stockmann grinned. ‘But if they were sociopaths, they’d be good at faking it.’
‘So a sociopath would fake a thousand-yard stare to make me think he was a killer?’ Shepherd exhaled through pursed lips. ‘You’re giving me a headache here, Caroline.’
‘I just want you to understand that it’s virtually impossible to tell if someone is guilty or not by looking at them,’ said Stockmann. She beckoned the barmaid. ‘If it was possible, the police’s job would be a lot easier, wouldn’t it?’
‘Here’s the thing,’ said Shepherd. ‘I look into Elaine’s eyes and I see an honest person who wouldn’t harm anyone. There’s no guile, no deviousness. She shows no signs of lying.’
‘Elaine is the woman in Belfast?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘She’s been hurt, and she’s carrying a lot of baggage, but that’s to be expected, considering the way her husband was killed and her son died.’
‘You sound like you’re empathising.’
‘I am. A lot. And that’s not good.’
‘You’re human,’ she said. ‘It’s natural.’
‘That means you’re giving me a clean bill of health?’
‘Buy me another pint and we’ll talk about it,’ laughed Stockmann.
Noel Kinsella looked around the hotel suite and sneered. ‘This is the best you can do?’ he asked.
‘It’s four hundred pounds a night,’ said Patsy Ellis, folding her arms, ‘and that’s before you pick up the phone to order room service.’
‘It’s tiny.’
‘It’s a suite. And it’s not for long.’
‘Have you got the tickets yet?’
‘They’ll be here tomorrow.’
‘First class, right?’
Ellis sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘Elizabeth insists on first class.’
‘Well, maybe Elizabeth should be buying her own bloody ticket. It’s not as if she’s strapped for cash.’
‘It’s not her fault that everything turned to shit in Belfast,’ said Kinsella, sitting down on the sofa. He took a bunch of grapes from the crystal bowl on the ornate coffee-table and popped one into his mouth.
‘That’s an exaggeration,’ said Ellis. ‘Frankly, I don’t see why you need to go back to the States.’
‘Because four of the guys who killed Robbie Carter are dead and I’m the only one left.’
‘They weren’t as protected as you are,’ said Ellis. ‘Lynn was riding around with two psychopathic gunmen, and McEvoy was sitting in his drug den on his own. And we still don’t know that it’s the same killer. McEvoy was a low-life with enemies all over the city, and plenty of people would happily have put a bullet in Gerry Lynn’s head.’
‘Please don’t insult my intelligence. We both know what’s going on.’
‘And we both know how well protected you are. There’ll be a man in the corridor outside and another in the next room.’ She gestured at the connecting door. ‘That will be unlocked at all times. Any problems and he can be here in a second.’ She sat in an armchair by the window. The view was spectacular, across Hyde Park and beyond to North London. ‘I do wish you’d reconsider. Now’s a pivotal time for Northern Ireland and you could make a real difference to what happens in the province.’
‘If I’m dead, I’m not going to be able to do anything.’
‘And if you run away again, the people of Northern Ireland won’t forget. Or forgive.’
‘Don’t screw around with me, Patsy,’ said Kinsella. ‘You owe me, remember?’
Ellis smiled tightly. ‘We owe each other,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t forget that.’
‘You said it would be safe to come back.’
‘It is safe.’
‘Are you stupid?’ hissed Kinsella.
Ellis stood up. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Noel. Sleep on it. Talk to Elizabeth.’
‘She wants to go home.’
‘Belfast is your home. In the States, you’re just another Irishman on the make. In Belfast, you could be a leader. You could be in the inner circle, making real decisions.’
‘Which is where you want me, right? This isn’t about me, it’s about you. You just want to use me again.’ He threw a grape at her. It bounced off her chest.
‘Very mature,’ she said.
Kinsella tossed a handful of grapes at her. Ellis stalked out of the room, fuming.
Shepherd drove off the motorway into the service-station car park and saw the grey Jaguar beside a strip of grass. As he pulled up beside it, the Major climbed out, grinning. ‘Nice car, SOCA must pay well,’ he said.
‘It goes with the legend,’ said Shepherd. He flashed his Casio watch with its calculator keyboard. ‘Same as this.’
The Major opened the boot of the Jaguar. ‘I’ve got what you wanted, Spider, but are you sure about this?’
‘I don’t have any choice,’ said Shepherd. ‘He sent a man to kill my son. If it hadn’t been for Billy and Jack, he’d have succeeded. I can’t take the chance that he’ll try again.’
‘You don’t have to do it yourself.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘There are guys who’d do it for you at the drop of a hat.’
‘I know, but this is personal.’
‘If it goes wrong, you’ll lose everything, you know that? He’s a stone-cold killer, no question, but if you handle this yourself you’ll be a vigilante in the eyes of the law.’
‘I know you’ve got my best interests at heart, and I know you’re talking sense,’ said Shepherd, ‘but we both know that if our positions were reversed there’s nothing I could say to you that would change your mind.’
‘I can’t argue with that.’
‘So I appreciate what you’re saying, but this is my fight. That bastard attacked my family, and it’s up to me to take care of business.’
The Major stepped forward, put his arms around Shepherd and hugged him. ‘You be careful,’ he whispered, then released him. He pulled the metal case out of the boot and gave it to him. ‘Okay, I’ve configured it for the nine-millimetre, like you asked. You’ve got rounds, right?’
‘I’m sorted,’ said Shepherd. ‘I had some over from an undercover operation I was on a year ago. Untraceable.’
The Major nodded. ‘Once you’ve used it, remove the bolt, the barrel and the magazine, wreck them and lose them. Make sure you screw up the inside of the barrel with a file, then cut it into pieces so it can’t be used again. If it can’t be test-fired it can never be identified.’ He pointed at the case. ‘In there is a replacement bolt, barrel and magazine for the .45 ACP. Reassemble the UMP in the .45 configuration and get it back to me. No one will ever know.’
Shepherd put it into the boot of his Audi.
‘You’re going to take that on the ferry to Belfast?’ asked the Major.
‘I’ll take it apart and hide it under the back seat,’ said Shepherd. ‘But they never check, anyway. And if they do, my SOCA credentials should get me through.’
‘You need anything, you call me,’ said the Major.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Shepherd.
Shepherd climbed into his car, waved at the Major and drove off.
Gannon watched him go. ‘I wish I had your confidence, Spider,’ he murmured.
Shepherd arrived in Belfast at just after seven that evening. Customs had waved him through. He drove the Audi into the garage, switched on the light and pulled down the door.