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have his DNA or fingerprints so all he had to do was to stick to his story and he’d get asylum.’
    ‘The world’s gone crazy, Charlie. You’re telling me a Somali pirate can just waltz into the UK and end up with a British passport?’
    ‘It’s not as simple as waltzing, but most of Somalia is a war zone so any Somali who can get into the UK is pretty much assured of asylum status.’
    Shepherd sat back. ‘Like I said, the world’s gone crazy. And why the UK? Presumably they all pass through Europe, why don’t they claim asylum there?’ He held up his hand. ‘Don’t tell me, it’s because we’re a soft touch and because once they hit British soil they can claim a free house and full benefits.’
    ‘Actually Crazy Boy did apply for and received benefits while his application was processed, even though we believe he had access to overseas funds of the order of ten million dollars. He obviously couldn’t touch that because it would have blown his application.’
    Shepherd shook his head in disgust.
    ‘If it makes you feel any better, he dropped his asylum application two years ago.’
    Shepherd frowned. ‘But he’s still in the UK? How come?’
    Button tapped another photograph, this one of Crazy Boy with an overweight black woman with dreadlocks holding a baby that had been wrapped in a multicoloured cloth. ‘He married this woman. Haweeya Bergman. A German national. She fled Somalia in 2002 and married a German who had British citizenship too. She got a British passport and a German one, divorced him and moved to the UK. When Crazy Boy married her he got British citizenship and German citizenship. The baby she’s holding is Crazy Boy’s. A son. The son was born in Britain so getting Crazy Boy out of the country is now nigh-on impossible.’
    ‘The woman, how old is she?’
    ‘Thirty-nine.’
    ‘And Crazy Boy is twenty-four, you said.’
    ‘That’s right. Your point is?’
    ‘Well, forgive me if this is sexist and ageist, but she’s a fair bit older than him and with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, so I don’t see how anyone can think it’s a love job.’
    Button feigned dismay. ‘Spider, the courts have to take people at their word. If they say they want to be together until death do them part, then who are we to pour scorn on their choices?’ She grinned. ‘It’s as clear as day that he married her for the passport, and had the child because that gives him extra security. But the simple fact is that he’s now in the UK to stay. He’s brought in several million pounds, he’s purchased a large house in Ealing and he’s set up two restaurants in the area, along with a Somali shop and a café. He’s also active in the gar system.’
    ‘ Gar ?’
    ‘Somali criminal courts, where judgement is handed down by the community elders. Crazy Boy is unusually young to be running a gar but after several elders died or ended up in intensive care, he was invited on board. In his area of Ealing he effectively functions as judge and jury, holding sway over several thousand Somalis.’
    ‘So if he’s a legitimate businessman and happily married father, what’s Five’s interest?’ asked Shepherd.
    ‘I didn’t say anything about him being legitimate,’ said Button. ‘His businesses are almost certainly money-laundering fronts and he’s continuing to run the family’s piracy operations out in Somalia. He sends money out to fund the pirates and brings back the profits. He runs a gang that also deals in drugs, mainly marijuana, but we think he also imports coke and heroin through Somalis in Amsterdam. But our interest is because there are terrorism considerations. Serious considerations.’
    She took another surveillance photograph out of the envelope, this one of a tall black man wearing desert fatigues and cradling an AK-47, his face half masked by a black and white checked scarf. There were half a dozen other men similarly attired standing around him.
    ‘This is Ahmed Abdi Godane, the