Rough Justice Part 38

'You are wonderful,' said b.u.t.ton.

Shepherd laughed. 'You've called me up to ma.s.sage my ego, have you?'

'No actually, I've called to fill you in on your CSO buddy, Ross Mayhew. Like you said, he was in Basra. That was his last tour, as a sergeant with the Second Battalion, The Rifles. I don't suppose you know why they changed their name from the Royal Green Jackets, do you?'

'They were amalgamating regiments, I think,' said Shepherd. 'Cost-saving. Some of the regiments had to go.'

'And they moved their barracks to Northern Ireland. I guess part of the government's policy of decentralisation. Anyway, again like you said, he did two tours. Did he tell you he left as a sergeant?'

'We didn't have too deep a conversation,' said Shepherd. 'Though he could have been feeling me out.'

'He joined from school, did ten years as a squaddie and was made up to sergeant before his second tour. Left the army when he got back from Afghanistan.'

'That's a bit strange,' said Shepherd. 'He must have been career army to do that long. And getting his stripes suggested he was doing okay.'

'He handed in his papers when he got back from Afghanistan and he was honourably discharged. But it's not easy getting information from the army. Other than that he was honourably discharged, I can't get a word out of them. But I can tell you why he didn't get taken on by the Met.'

'He says because he didn't fit the right ethnic profile.'

'I'm sorry, what?'

'Mayhew said the Met was more interested in recruiting blacks and Asians.'

'And you believed that?'

'I've heard similar things from other cops,' said Shepherd. 'The Met wants its workforce to reflect the community it serves, and that means it needs more cops from the various ethnic groups.'

'Well, I can tell you that Mayhew wasn't rejected because he was white,' said b.u.t.ton. 'Apparently there were psychological issues.'

'Post-traumatic stress disorder?'

'Perhaps, but that's not what showed up in the tests that all entrants have to take,' said b.u.t.ton. 'It was more a question of anger-management issues. Aggression is a great thing in a soldier but it's not always helpful for a police officer.'

'So he had the wrong temperament for the Met but he could join as a CSO?'

'The criteria are a lot less stringent for Community Support Officers than they are for the police,' said b.u.t.ton. 'I guess because they don't have the same powers or responsibilities.'

'He wants to be in CO19,' said Shepherd.

'I doubt they'll ever let him near a gun again,' said b.u.t.ton. 'Do you think he might be in on it?'

'I don't know,' said Shepherd. 'I've seen him talking to the Serial in the canteen, but I just had him down as a wannabe. But, yeah, if he's got his heart set on CO19 there'd be no point in him sucking up to the TSG. I'll keep an eye on him.'

'Meanwhile I'll have a word with a friend of mine at the Ministry of Defence,' said b.u.t.ton. 'Everything else okay?'

'Yeah, I'm easing in,' he said.

'Any problems?'

'It's fine,' said Shepherd. 'Just winning friends and influencing people, setting them up for the big betrayal.' b.u.t.ton didn't say anything and Shepherd winced as he realised how that had sounded. 'I've had a tough week, Charlie. These TSG guys work hard and play hard. They're a tight-knit team, and when I'm working I'm never alone so I'm constantly on my guard. There's no let-up, you know?'

'I know it's not easy,' she said. 'Would a chat with Caroline help?'

For a moment Shepherd thought she was talking about Carolyn Castle, then realised she meant the SOCA psychologist. He chuckled. 'I'm under cover, tracking down killer cops, and you think therapy's the answer?'

'I was thinking that perhaps you could talk through your feelings with someone who might be able to help put them into context,' said b.u.t.ton, patiently.

'I'll go for a run with a rucksack full of bricks instead,' said Shepherd. 'That usually does the trick.'

'Sounds like a plan,' said b.u.t.ton. 'You have a good weekend.'

Shepherd arrived home just after midnight. Lady came running from the kitchen when she heard him open the front door and jumped up, pawing at his legs and whimpering. He patted her and tickled her behind the ears. He went through to the sitting room. The glazier had done a good job: there was no sign that the window had ever been broken. He made himself a cup of coffee and took it upstairs. Lady tried to follow him but he made her stay in the kitchen. On the way to bed he popped into Liam's room but his son was fast asleep. As he went back into the hallway, Katra opened her door. 'Hi,' she said sleepily.

'Go back to bed,' he said.

'I'm awake now,' she said, rubbing her eyes.

'It's late,' he said, 'I'll talk to you in the morning.' She nodded, went back into her room and closed the door.

Shepherd showered and fell into bed. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was eight o'clock. He groped for his mobile and squinted at the display. Talovic. Shepherd groaned and took the call.

'So you are back,' said Talovic.

'What?' said Shepherd.

'You are in Hereford. Now you can talk to the police.'

'If I talk to the police, Mr Talovic, it'll be to report you for vandalising my car and throwing a brick through my window.' Shepherd sat up. 'How did you know I was back? Are you spying on me?'

'You have to tell the police that my son had nothing to do with the video on your son's phone.'

'I've already told you that's not going to happen. I'm not lying to the police and neither is Liam.'

'You want a problem with me? Is that what you want?'

'Mr Talovic, it's obvious that I already have a major problem with you. The only question is, how do I deal with it?' Shepherd ended the call. Talovic rang back almost immediately and Shepherd switched off his phone. He got out of bed, shaved, showered and pulled on a pair of black jeans with a denim s.h.i.+rt.

Katra was already in the kitchen and had a mug of coffee ready for him. She asked him what he wanted for breakfast but Shepherd shook his head. 'I'm going out for a while,' he said. 'I'll eat when I get back.'

'For a run?'

'No. I'll take the car. I won't be long.' He sipped his coffee. 'That man, Talovic, he hasn't been phoning the house, has he?'

Katra leaned against the sink and folded her arms. 'Somebody has been calling and hanging up. It might have been him. But they don't say anything. When they hear it's me they put down the phone.'

'And you haven't seen him hanging around?'

'No,' she said. She frowned. 'Has something happened?'

'Nothing I can't handle,' he said. 'Don't worry about it.' He went outside and drove to Talovic's house. It was a semi with a front garden that hadn't been mown for at least a year and was on an estate of similar council houses to the north of the town. There was a Sky satellite dish on the end wall and a rusting Honda Civic in the driveway. Shepherd was trying to work out what to say to the man. He had no doubt that Talovic had thrown the brick through his window and punctured the CRV's tyre, but no proof either.

The front door of the house opened and Talovic appeared on the step. He was wearing his Umbro sh.e.l.l-suit and holding a rolled-up newspaper, which he pointed at Shepherd. 'I see you!' he shouted across the street. 'I see you watching me!' He put his hands on his hips and stared defiantly at Shepherd, his chin up aggressively.

Shepherd climbed out of his car. He walked towards Talovic's house.

'I'm not scared of you!' Talovic yelled.

Shepherd saw the net curtains twitch at the sitting-room window and caught a glimpse of a grey-haired woman with a tight, pinched face before the curtain fell back into place. He walked past the Honda Civic. The back seat was filled with old fast-food wrappers and screwed-up carrier bags. There was a scratch running down one side of the car and a wing mirror was cracked. He stopped beside it and stared at Talovic. 'This has gone too far,' said Shepherd. 'You're going to war over nothing.'

'War? What do you know about war?' snarled Talovic.

'I know you slashed my tyre and threw a brick through my window.'

'Prove it,' sneered Talovic.

'And you did it for nothing,' said Shepherd.

'Nothing to you, maybe, but my son is in trouble with the police because of your son.'

'Your son is in trouble because he filmed an a.s.sault,' said Shepherd. 'A racist a.s.sault.'

'Your son gave the video to the police. He shouldn't have done that,' said Talovic.

'My son did no such thing,' said Shepherd. 'I showed the video to his teacher and the school called in the police. But that's nothing to do with Liam or me.'

Talovic jabbed his rolled-up newspaper at Shepherd's face. 'It's everything to do with you. And you have to stop it. You have to stop it now.' He took a step towards Shepherd.

'I can't do that. It's a police investigation. It's up to them.'

'Your son can tell the police that he was mistaken, that somebody else gave him the video.'

Shepherd shook his head angrily. 'I keep telling you that's not going to happen. He's not going to lie to the police and neither am I.'

Talovic prodded Shepherd in the chest with the newspaper. 'If you know what's good for you, you'll do it.'

'Are you threatening me?' said Shepherd.

'I'm telling you that if you don't want something bad to happen to you, you'll tell the police that your boy made a mistake.'

Talovic went to prod him again but Shepherd slapped the newspaper away. It fell from Talovic's hand and landed on the uncut lawn. 'Don't touch me,' he said softly. 'I came here to talk to you, not to start a fight.'

'We're already fighting,' said Talovic. 'You are trying to destroy my life and so I will destroy yours.'

'Now you're being ridiculous,' said Shepherd. 'This is an argument over nothing.'

'Nothing? You report my son to the police and you say it's nothing!'

'It's something that you can easily sort out with them.'

'You caused this problem, you can sort it out,' said Talovic.

'That's not going to happen,' said Shepherd, quietly.

'Then if it doesn't, I'll f.u.c.k with your life I'll f.u.c.k with you so bad that you'll wish you'd never set eyes on me.'

'What are you talking about?' said Shepherd.

'I'll kill your f.u.c.king son and I'll rape that pretty wife of yours and I'll kill her and then I'll kill you and I'll dance on your graves.'

Shepherd couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'What?' he said. He realised that Talovic thought Katra was his wife.

'You're deaf and stupid, are you?' said Talovic, taking a step towards him. His face was so close to Shepherd's that spittle peppered his chin. He pushed Shepherd in the chest with the palm of his hand. 'You will tell the police you made a mistake or I will burn your f.u.c.king house down.'

Shepherd was genuinely stunned by the man's outburst. He had stood face to face with some of the hardest criminals in the country but had never felt anything approaching the pure hatred that was pouring out of Talovic. 'You can't threaten someone like that,' he said. The net curtains twitched again but he ignored them.

'I can do what I want,' said Talovic. 'You think I am scared of you? You're nothing to me. You're not even s.h.i.+t on my shoe.' He stabbed his finger at Shepherd's face but Shepherd grabbed his wrist and held it firm. He stared at Talovic, and as he looked into the man's eyes he realised there was no point in saying anything to him. Talovic was beyond reason. He wanted to hit the man, to scream at him to leave his family alone, that Katra was his au pair and not his wife, and that if he went anywhere near her or Liam then Shepherd would kill him, but he knew that the words would have no effect on a man like Talovic.

Talovic pulled his hand away. 'You tell the police it was nothing to do with my boy, or you'll wish you were dead,' he said.

Shepherd narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

'You think you're a hard man, do you?' asked Talovic. 'You don't know what hard is. You don't scare a man by staring at him, you scare him by destroying the things he loves.' He spat at Shepherd phlegm splattered across his cheek then went back into his house and slammed the door.

Shepherd walked quickly to his car. He kept a small pack of tissues in the glove compartment and used one to clean his face. He folded the tissue carefully, wrapped it in a second, and placed it in the glove compartment. He drove home. Katra was still in the kitchen. Shepherd asked her to make him a coffee, then fished two Ziploc bags from one of the kitchen cupboards and took them to the car. He used one of the bags to cover his hand as he collected the tissue from the glove compartment and placed it in the second bag. Then he took the bagged tissue back into the house and put it into his desk in the sitting room.

When he went back into the kitchen Katra was peeling potatoes. 'Is everything all right?' she asked, clearly worried.

'Everything's fine. Are you coming to watch Liam play football?'

'Of course,' she said. Lady ran over to her, tail wagging, as if she knew that a trip was on the cards.

Shepherd took his coffee into the sitting room. He sat down on the sofa and called Steve Renshaw, one of SOCA's best biometric laboratory officers. He was based at SOCA's forensics lab in Tamworth, fourteen miles north-east of Birmingham. Their paths had crossed on several high-profile SOCA cases and Shepherd had been impressed with the scientist's professionalism. He apologised for bothering Renshaw at the weekend.

'No problem. I'm in the lab,' said Renshaw. 'We're backed up like you wouldn't believe. I'm doing twelve-hour s.h.i.+fts during the week just to stand still, and this is my third weekend in a row. Still, can't complain the overtime's paying for my new conservatory.'

'Too busy to do me a favour?' asked Shepherd.

'Never too busy to help you, Spider,' said Renshaw. 'Ask and ye shall receive.'

'If I send you a saliva sample can you do me a DNA a.n.a.lysis on it?'

'No problem.'

'Then run it through as many DNA databases as you can, especially Europol?'

'Ask me something difficult,' said Renshaw. 'Might take a day or two. Are you in a rush?'