‘It’s those bricks,’ she said.
‘Well?’
‘In Slovenia they would think you were crazy, running with bricks.’
‘They might be right.’ He twisted the top off the bottle and drank half of it.
‘It makes you stronger?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘But you don’t look strong.’
Shepherd wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You are not big.’
‘Size isn’t everything,’ said Shepherd, looking at her playfully.
Katra looked perplexed.
‘Strength and size aren’t the same thing,’ he explained. ‘A lot of big people aren’t strong. I train for stamina. I want to be able to run long and hard, and the bricks help me do that. They make my heart stronger.’
‘You trained like that in the army, yes?’
‘A lot of the time. Being a soldier is often about moving a lot of equipment from place to place in the shortest possible time. It’s all very well being able to run in shorts and expensive trainers, but in the real world you’re wearing heavy clothes and boots, and carrying a pack on your back.’
‘But you’re not a soldier any more.’
‘Old habits,’ said Shepherd.
‘Old habits?’
‘It’s an expression. Old habits die hard. It means that once you’ve done things one way for a long time, it’s hard to do things differently.’
Shepherd went upstairs to shower and change. He pulled on a denim shirt and black jeans, then grinned as he caught sight of his reflection in the wardrobe mirror: his own taste in clothes pretty much matched Tony Corke’s.
The three mobiles were lined up in their chargers by the bedside table. Shepherd picked up the Tony Corke phone, then paced up and down for a few minutes, getting into character. He connected the digital recorder, then hit ‘redial’. The Uddin brothers’ number was the only one in the phone.
‘It’s me,’ said Shepherd. ‘Is that Ben?’
‘Yes,’ said Salik.
‘Everything okay with the cans?’
‘They were fine.’
‘Still not going to tell me what was inside them?’ He kept the tone light, chatty.
‘You were paid.’
‘Thanks for that,’ said Shepherd. ‘Though to be honest, it’s going straight into the pockets of my lawyer. Look, have you thought about what I said about my boat?’
‘I have thought about it, yes.’
‘So?’
‘We should talk.’
‘That’s why I called.’
‘Not over the phone,’ said Salik. ‘We must sit down and talk. You and me and my brother.’
‘The guy with the money was your brother?’
‘I don’t want to discuss anything on the phone,’ said Salik. ‘Today’s Monday. Let’s say we get together on Wednesday. We’ll have dinner. You can tell me about this boat of yours.’
‘Excellent,’ said Shepherd. ‘Where and when?’
‘I’ll phone you on Wednesday,’ said Salik. ‘Where are you?’
‘Dover,’ said Shepherd, ‘but I can come in to London, no problem. Call me when you’re ready.’ He ended the call, pleased with the way it had gone. There was plenty of time for Hargrove to decide how to play the meeting, and Salik had seemed genuinely hooked.
Shepherd put down the Tony Corke mobile and picked up his work phone. He called Hargrove and told him about the conversation with Uddin.
‘Well done,’ said the superintendent. ‘The timing’s perfect because I’ve just got the boat fixed up. Former SBS guy, now lives in Southampton, Gordon McConnell. Ever come across him?’
‘No,’ said Shepherd.
‘He’s expecting you tomorrow. I’ll text you his number. He’ll do a couple of night runs with you – that way you’ll be up to speed before your sit-down with the brothers.’
Shepherd went downstairs. ‘I’m going to be away tomorrow night,’ he said. ‘Make sure Liam does his homework.’
‘Of course,’ said Katra. ‘Don’t forget you’re going to his grandmother’s this weekend.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ he said, ‘and I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.’ He could tell from her blank look that she had made as much sense of his sarcasm as she did of his humour. He winked.
Shepherd drove down to Southampton in the ten-year-old Land Rover. The battered, mud-splattered vehicle was registered in the name of Tony Corke at the Dover address and was full of the sort of gear a sailor might need, including wet-weather clothing, boots, a tool-kit, and various sailing magazines.
He phoned McConnell on the way and they arranged to meet at a pub on the outskirts of the city. ‘Keep an eye open for the big man with the beard and a look of bored contempt on his face,’ said McConnell, in a Northumberland accent.
Shepherd spotted him as soon as he walked into the pub. The self-description was bang on, although McConnell wore an amused smile as he shook Shepherd’s hand. ‘So, I’m going to turn you into a sailor in twenty-four hours, am I?’ he said.
‘That’s the plan,’ said Shepherd. ‘You’re Gordon?’
‘Gordy on dry land,’ said McConnell. ‘Skipper when I’m at the helm. Okay, lesson one. We need antifreeze in the system before we go anywhere near the water. What are you drinking?’