Free Dead Men by Stephen Leather Page B

And for her life will mean life. There’ll be no early release, no Good Friday Agreement to put her back on the streets.’
    ‘No one ever said life was fair,’ said Button.
    ‘So why did the case end up on your desk?’ asked Shepherd.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You know what I mean,’ said Shepherd, sitting back in his chair and linking his fingers behind his head. ‘Has SOCA decided to target her, or has someone in government decided they want to protect the husband of a minor Kennedy?’
    ‘Two murders have been committed, Spider. That puts it within our brief.’
    ‘No argument there. But we’re not in at the request of the Northern Irish police, are we?’
    ‘They won’t know you’re on the ground, that’s true.’
    ‘And your old firm? MI5?’
    ‘This is a SOCA operation. We won’t be clearing it with anyone else.’
    ‘Which means when I pop up with my English accent everyone and anyone could be checking up on me.’
    ‘Which is why your legend will be watertight.’
    ‘Like the proverbial duck’s arse?’
    ‘I’ll be watching your back, Spider.’
    ‘I know that, Charlie,’ said Shepherd. ‘That’s never an issue.’ He ran his finger through his hair. ‘I’ve done some dirty jobs, but putting away the widow of a dead cop has to rank pretty much at the top of the list.’
    ‘If she’s doing it, she’s a serial killer. You can empathise with her, you can sympathise, but if she’s a killer we have to stop her.’
    ‘Even if she’s killing killers? Killing the scum that murdered her man? Would you kill to avenge your husband, Charlie?’
    ‘That’s not the sort of question you can ask a person, it really isn’t. I’m not a killer, Spider. I’ve never killed anyone.’
    ‘Well, I have. In combat and in the line of duty. And if someone ever killed someone close to me, I wouldn’t hesitate. I really wouldn’t.’
    Button held up her hands. ‘I hear what you’re saying. But what you or I might or might not do is hypothetical. Here in the real world two men are dead and it’s our job to find out who killed them.’ She reached into her handbag and passed a packet of Marlboro across the table. ‘You’ll need to start smoking,’ she said.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘She’s a smoker. Forty a day. In my experience, smokers tend to trust other smokers.’
    ‘That sounds like the voice of experience.’
    Button nodded. ‘I started when I was a teenager. Only gave up a couple of years ago.’ She gestured at the packet. ‘That’s her brand. Should help you break the ice, if nothing else.’
    Shepherd picked up the pack. ‘You’re serious?’
    ‘You’re not local, Spider. You’ll need all the help you can get to gain her confidence.’
    ‘And offering her a cigarette will get me in, will it?’
    ‘Trust me. It’ll help.’
    ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Elizabeth, looking up at the grey stone walls of Belfast Castle. ‘But I thought it would be more . . . castley.’
    ‘Castley?’ said Kinsella. ‘What do you mean?’ They were standing in the grounds by a fountain. Beyond the castle they could see the wooded slope of Cave Hill. The building’s window frames, guttering and downpipes had been painted pink. Two big men in dark suits, Kinsella’s police bodyguards, waited near the stairs that led down from the car park to the gardens.
    ‘More like a castle, you know,’ said Elizabeth. ‘With a moat, turrets and slits for archers.’
    Kinsella laughed and hugged her. ‘It’s not a real castle,’ he said. ‘It’s more of a baronial mansion. It was built in eighteen seventy as part of the British occupation,’ he said. ‘It’s a clone of Balmoral, the Queen’s Scottish home.’
    ‘Where’s your romance?’ she said, putting her arms round his waist and kissing his cheek. ‘Have you seen the white cat yet?’
    ‘The what?’
    ‘The white cat. There’s a legend that the castle will only prosper so long as there’s a white cat living there.’
    ‘You’ve been