Black Ops: The 12th Spider Shepherd Thriller by Stephen Leather Page A

what I mean,’ he said. ‘Hereford would be a better bet for me. And cheaper for you.’
    Shepherd nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll get that sorted for you, I’ll see what schools are available. Second, we need to get you a lawyer. You didn’t have one when the police questioned you, did you?’
    ‘They said I could have one but I said it wasn’t necessary. I figured I hadn’t done anything wrong. Was that a mistake?’
    Shepherd pulled a face. ‘It depends. Sometimes you can clear things up by just telling the truth, but you had Class A drugs. A lawyer might have been a good idea. But there was an appropriate adult with you?’
    Liam nodded. ‘Mrs Grainger, from the school. She’s one of my teachers.’
    ‘And she didn’t say you should have a lawyer?’
    ‘She didn’t say much, actually. The police did most of the talking. She just said that I should tell the truth.’
    Shepherd sighed. Sadly it wasn’t always true that honesty was the best policy, especially when dealing with the police. ‘And what exactly did you tell them?’
    ‘The truth. That Roger gave me the package to hold for him until the weekend. He said it was cannabis and he’d let me have some at the party.’
    ‘And why did Roger give it to you?’
    ‘He said he was having problems at home and didn’t want his mum to find it. It wasn’t the first time.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He’s done it a few times in the past and there’s never been a problem.’
    ‘I don’t see why anyone would think it was a good idea to take drugs into the school in the first place. And how were you going to get to this party?’
    Liam looked away, embarrassed.
    ‘You were going to sneak out of school?’
    ‘Everyone does it, Dad.’
    Shepherd shook his head in frustration. ‘I’m sure that’s not true. You were sneaking out for drugs and booze, is that it?’
    ‘For parties, Dad. Didn’t you go to parties when you were a kid?’
    ‘I didn’t take drugs when I was your age,’ said Shepherd. ‘Or any age,’ he added quickly.
    ‘But you didn’t wait until you were eighteen before you had a beer, right? No one does.’
    Shepherd held up his hands. ‘Liam, this isn’t about you having the odd bottle of beer or even the occasional joint, this is about you being caught with a Class A drug. But none of this would have happened if you’d just followed the rules.’
    Liam nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘I know you’re sorry. But unfortunately being sorry isn’t going to count for anything.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe how stupid you’ve been.’
    He got out of the car and looked at the card the headmaster’s secretary had given him. It belonged to a Detective Sergeant Paul Drinkwater and had a landline number and extension, and a mobile. He called the mobile but it went straight through to voicemail. He left a short message and then called the landline. That extension also went through to voicemail. This time he didn’t leave a message. He called back on the main station number and was told that DS Drinkwater had left the station and wasn’t expected back until Monday. Shepherd went back to the SUV and climbed in. Liam was wiping away his tears as he stared out of the window. Shepherd hated his son being so unhappy but knew that the lad had brought it upon himself. ‘I’ll have to talk to them on Monday,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile you’re grounded in Hereford. And I mean grounded. No TV, no PlayStation, no phone.’
    Liam nodded but didn’t look at him. ‘I thought you’d be angrier than this,’ he said.
    Shepherd forced a smile. ‘I am angry, Liam. I’m furious. But getting angry isn’t going to fix anything.’ He started the engine and put the SUV in gear. ‘Let’s see what I can do.’
    H arper picked up a rental car from an independent firm run out of a railway arch in the East End of London. He paid cash and didn’t have to show his licence. The car was a nondescript Ford Mondeo, three years old with almost 100,000 miles on the