‘I’ve spoken to you before about political policing – well, that was it on acid – and the people who oversaw it haven’t all retired or died. Yes, these days the Special Eight is considered a stain on our record, but not by everybody. In any case, nobody is going to blame the son for the sins of the father. Joe Kennedy has worked very hard over the years to get where he is and he’s gone out of his way to distance himself from his father’s reputation. But blood ties run deep. He’ll be extremely sensitive to the kind of accusations you’re making. Not that he won’t deal with them if the media gets hold of the story. Jesus, he’ll be after those guards like the hounds of hell, just to make a point. Behind closed doors is another story, though. He never fell out with his father. Which would make you wonder.’

‘Christ.’ Tom took a sip of his drink. ‘Kennedy didn’t really say anything that I could pin down as supporting those guards’ attitudes, but he certainly left me feeling like I was the problem, not them. And it infuriates me. How did you cope back then, Sean?’

‘Behave. I’m only a decade older than you, man.’

‘You know what I mean.’

Sean shrugged.

‘I got my first promotion in the eighties. I remember the boss pulling me in to have a word about how things were done behind closed doors – after I’d officially been given the title of detective. “It’s us and them, son,” he said. “It’s our job to nail the scumbags and sometimes you need to bend the rules. Just remember, go with your gut and if it’s telling you he’s guilty, he’s guilty. The people are relying on us to get the job done. Show no weakness. No judge will worry about the odd black eye.” It gave me a shock, I can tell you. I’m no soft-soaper, you know that, but I’d never gone beyond a bit of pushing and shoving with any suspect.’

‘Did you see suspects being strong-armed?’

‘Yes. I did.’

‘What did you do?’

‘The first time – I pulled the detective off the chap. He was being done for a house burglary. He’d taken a telly and some cash and my co-interrogator was ready to put him on life support. Nothing was said to me by upstairs, but the lads treated me differently after that. They’d offer me a coffee and spit in it, schoolboy stuff. It didn’t stop me protesting when somebody was going overboard. So they stopped bringing me in for questioning. Tried to put me on desk work, that sort of thing.’

The inspector frowned. It was hard to imagine anybody bullying this hulk of a man.

‘Hell, Sean. You were a regular Serpico. How did you deal with it?’

Sean exhaled heavily.