‘I want to be a policeman when I grow up.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Because they help people.’

Liam was right, Shepherd thought. Sometimes policemen did help people. And sometimes they killed them. And sometimes they brought misery to those around them.

He looked over his shoulder. At the back of the church he could see Major Gannon, in a dark suit, flanked by O’Brien, Shortt, Armstrong and Mitchell. Gannon nodded at Shepherd, who smiled thinly. It was reassuring to know that they were there, watching his back literally and figuratively. Shepherd didn’t believe in angels with wings and harps, but guardian angels were a different matter and the five men at the back of the church were just that.

Shepherd walked out with his son and into the churchyard with Moira and Tom. Tom was wearing a tweed hat that hid the plaster covering his head wound. He had his arm round Moira’s shoulders.

Outside, Shepherd stopped and stared up at the cloudless sky. It was a perfect summer’s day. Birds were singing in the trees that bordered the churchyard. Butterflies flitted around yellow-flowered bushes on either side of the path that led from the church to the road. It was a perfect day for a wedding, thought Shepherd, but a lousy one for a funeral. Funerals should be held on rainy days, with cold winds blowing from the north and leaden skies overhead.

Gannon came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry about your loss, Spider,’ he said. He was carrying the sat-phone briefcase in his left hand.

‘Thanks, Major.’

‘Do you know what you’re going to do?’

‘It’s all up in the air.’ He gestured at Sam Hargrove, who was walking to his car. ‘He wants me back in harness.’

‘You do good work,’ said Gannon.

‘Thanks.’

Gannon knelt down so that his head was level with Liam’s. ‘You should be very proud of your father.’

‘I am,’ said Liam.

Gannon ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Is that your gran over there?’ Liam glanced at Moira and nodded. ‘Why don’t you go over and see if she’s all right?’ said Gannon. ‘I want a word with your dad.’

‘Okay,’ said Liam, and ran over to his grandmother.

Gannon straightened up. ‘We’ve found him,’ said Gannon.

‘Where?’

‘On a Colombian ship in the Atlantic. Used the ship’s sat-phone to talk to his wife and kids and the NSA tracked it.’

‘And?’

‘We’re going out to get him.’

‘Officially?’

‘Oh, yes. The DEA has formally requested that the Increment do the dirty.’ The Increment was Gannon’s unit, an ad-hoc pulling together of SAS and SBS troopers capable of carrying out tasks deemed too dangerous for the Security Services. On the far side of the graveyard, Moira held one of Liam’s hands and Tom took the other. ‘Do you want to come?’ asked Gannon.