the stress?’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘It’s never been a problem.’
‘I’m sure you’ve seen undercover agents who have had problems, over the years,’ she said.
‘Sure.’
‘Alcohol, drugs, sex, pretty much every crutch available gets used at some time or another.’
‘You’re not going to ask me to pee in a cup, are you?’
Stockmann waved her hand. ‘Perish the thought,’ she said. ‘The point I’m trying to make is that you have performed one of the most stressful jobs imaginable for more than ten years. Almost twelve, in fact.’
‘And I still have all my own hair and I’m not smoking crack? Is that what you mean?’
‘Is the stress manifesting itself in any other way perhaps?’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘I sleep like a baby. My blood pressure is as steady as a rock and my appetite is just fine.’
‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ said the psychologist. ‘This latest case you were working on. Any problems?’
‘I was belted over the head by an immigration officer, but other than that it went OK, I guess.’
‘You were undercover quite a long time.’
‘Three months or so. But it was on and off. I wasn’t in character twenty-four-seven.’
‘How do you find long-term operations?’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘It can get boring pretending to be someone else. But no big issues.’
‘You know that a lot of agents who work undercover start taking risks, to spice things up?’ She took a sip of her coffee and Shepherd could feel her assessing his reaction over the top of her mug.
‘I’ve seen it happen,’ he said. ‘Not recently, but when I was with the police undercover unit I worked with a couple of guys who were heading that way.’
‘Specifically?’
‘One had started carrying his warrant card in his wallet. I flipped when I found out. The other started to talk about undercover cops all the time. He’d raise the subject for no reason. It was weird, as if he wanted to draw attention to himself.’
‘You know why, of course?’ she said. She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip.
‘Because they know that lying is wrong and subconsciously they think they deserve to be punished,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s the same force that drives murderers to confess. Or at least to tell someone what they’ve done.’
‘And you’ve never felt that compulsion?’ asked the psychologist.
‘The sort of work that I do, that’d be tantamount to a death wish,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m lucky, I seem to be able to compartmentalise things quite easily.’
‘That’s something sociopaths are adept at doing,’ she said. She put her mug down. ‘Just an observation.’
‘I don’t think I’m a sociopath,’ said Shepherd. ‘In fact the big problem I have is that sometimes I find it too easy to empathise.’
‘With the people you’re working against?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘When you’re undercover on a long-term case, you get to know everything there is to know about a person. You get to understand them but sometimes you can grow to like them. That’s the bit you have to control.’
‘Was that a problem with this recent case, the people smugglers?’
‘Not really,’ said Shepherd. He took a slow drink of coffee, using the time to get his thoughts in order. ‘The main guy wasn’t particularly likeable, but he was only in it for the money. And to be honest, at the end of the day, what he was doing wasn’t that bad. He was helping refugees to get into the UK. In some parts of the world he’d be regarded as a hero. The problem was that when we busted him, one of the guys he was working with had several kilos of heroin on him.’
‘Ouch,’ said Stockmann.
‘Exactly. Now he’s facing ten years or so for drug smuggling.’ He forced a smile. ‘Mind you, he was carrying a gun so he really only has himself to blame.’
‘But you think it’s unfair that he’ll be charged with the drugs.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘I guess so.’
‘That’s always been important to you, hasn’t
Shepherd shrugged. ‘It’s never been a problem.’
‘I’m sure you’ve seen undercover agents who have had problems, over the years,’ she said.
‘Sure.’
‘Alcohol, drugs, sex, pretty much every crutch available gets used at some time or another.’
‘You’re not going to ask me to pee in a cup, are you?’
Stockmann waved her hand. ‘Perish the thought,’ she said. ‘The point I’m trying to make is that you have performed one of the most stressful jobs imaginable for more than ten years. Almost twelve, in fact.’
‘And I still have all my own hair and I’m not smoking crack? Is that what you mean?’
‘Is the stress manifesting itself in any other way perhaps?’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘I sleep like a baby. My blood pressure is as steady as a rock and my appetite is just fine.’
‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ said the psychologist. ‘This latest case you were working on. Any problems?’
‘I was belted over the head by an immigration officer, but other than that it went OK, I guess.’
‘You were undercover quite a long time.’
‘Three months or so. But it was on and off. I wasn’t in character twenty-four-seven.’
‘How do you find long-term operations?’
Shepherd shrugged. ‘It can get boring pretending to be someone else. But no big issues.’
‘You know that a lot of agents who work undercover start taking risks, to spice things up?’ She took a sip of her coffee and Shepherd could feel her assessing his reaction over the top of her mug.
‘I’ve seen it happen,’ he said. ‘Not recently, but when I was with the police undercover unit I worked with a couple of guys who were heading that way.’
‘Specifically?’
‘One had started carrying his warrant card in his wallet. I flipped when I found out. The other started to talk about undercover cops all the time. He’d raise the subject for no reason. It was weird, as if he wanted to draw attention to himself.’
‘You know why, of course?’ she said. She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip.
‘Because they know that lying is wrong and subconsciously they think they deserve to be punished,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s the same force that drives murderers to confess. Or at least to tell someone what they’ve done.’
‘And you’ve never felt that compulsion?’ asked the psychologist.
‘The sort of work that I do, that’d be tantamount to a death wish,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m lucky, I seem to be able to compartmentalise things quite easily.’
‘That’s something sociopaths are adept at doing,’ she said. She put her mug down. ‘Just an observation.’
‘I don’t think I’m a sociopath,’ said Shepherd. ‘In fact the big problem I have is that sometimes I find it too easy to empathise.’
‘With the people you’re working against?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘When you’re undercover on a long-term case, you get to know everything there is to know about a person. You get to understand them but sometimes you can grow to like them. That’s the bit you have to control.’
‘Was that a problem with this recent case, the people smugglers?’
‘Not really,’ said Shepherd. He took a slow drink of coffee, using the time to get his thoughts in order. ‘The main guy wasn’t particularly likeable, but he was only in it for the money. And to be honest, at the end of the day, what he was doing wasn’t that bad. He was helping refugees to get into the UK. In some parts of the world he’d be regarded as a hero. The problem was that when we busted him, one of the guys he was working with had several kilos of heroin on him.’
‘Ouch,’ said Stockmann.
‘Exactly. Now he’s facing ten years or so for drug smuggling.’ He forced a smile. ‘Mind you, he was carrying a gun so he really only has himself to blame.’
‘But you think it’s unfair that he’ll be charged with the drugs.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘I guess so.’
‘That’s always been important to you, hasn’t
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