A/N: Due to popular demand (well, more people asking for this than I realised lol) This is back for a limited time. (The publishers will hopefully be publishing and releasing this in around 6 months and it will be down permanently then, so save it while you can.) As it's finished, it'll be post pretty regular till it's up. So no waiting for me to stop being busy in the real world top update lol. As always, let me know it.

A/N 2: For those that don't know, this was my first fic and I originally posted this around 18 months-2 years ago, and it brought me a great bunch of friends, including 3 of the best damned writers on here. You all know who you are. ;-D

A/N: As always Mk2... I'm a Scouser, so my fics are based in the places I know best. All the buildings etc in this exist in the real world and Liverpool is always well worth a visit.

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Anything to Declare?

Chapter 1

Liverpool. Great place to live, great place to work. Let me give you a little history. It's a bustling little city in the north of England. Great night life, home of the Beatles. Not one, but two cathedrals, not one but two football teams and a history of giving me the crappest work assignments on record.

Take my present predicament. It's 7.30 in the morning and I'm trying to help another porter get a really big dead guy into what's more commonly termed as the 'jolly trolley' to take him to the morgue. Now don't get me wrong, I've nothing against the dead guy, poor bastard, and you may wonder why I'm complaining about my job when it's a porters job description to do this stuff. But that's my problem. I'm not a porter. Never asked to be one. I got shafted with this work. Let me explain.

Besides Liverpool having the two cathedrals etc, one thing it does have that not a lot of people know about, is the H.Q of Her Majesties Customs and Excise special branch. That's my real job. Let me introduce myself. Naomi Campbell at your service. (Don't roll your eyes, that IS my real name). I'm a sergeant in the Liverpool division of the special branch. Sounds exciting don't it? Well, let me tell you how exciting it gets. You get to go undercover at times (so, guess what I'm doing right now? Occasional fun, but usually dirty work), you get shot at (really not my idea of fun at all), you get to carry a firearm and be allowed to use it (handy when you're being shot at) and the best part of all, you get to nick villains (now that is fun and the only thing they do advertise on the application form….).

The downsides to go with all the excitement are loads of paperwork, and a boss who occasionally makes David Brent look charismatic (and have rhythm). Unfortunately I also can't keep a girlfriend because of this job. So why do it? I could be a hero here and say I like to keep the streets safe, but honestly? I have a nice flat near the docks and I like the money! It's not a job you can do forever either. Pretty soon I'm either going to be 'promoted' to a desk, or returned back to normal duties. The criminal world's not as large as you would believe, and soon your face becomes known. And that's my problem.

I'm one of the only female operatives in this department, but I'm actually smarter and tougher than most of the hormonal children I work with. They never give up you know? And it's always the old fuckers who are worse than the younger lads.

"You wanna pair up with me on this obbo tonight Nai?"

"Oooo your eyes are such a pretty colour"

"How big a girl are you anyway?"

"Are all your assets this big Nai?"

The answers are always the same. It's Sergeant to you, you wanker, Eyes: green, Tad under the 5 foot 9 mark, and no unless your names Jodie Foster. One guy did eventually get the hint after I took to cleaning my gun pointing it at his crotch. Like I'd even waste the bullet!

So I became the walking bad attitude to compensate. Hence, all the crap assignments. No one calls me a dyke to my face, but you catch the odd 'muff diver' and 'ice queen' comment. It's no wonder I'm as cynical as I am, but hey, it goes with the territory. My boss does flatter me though. He tells me he gives me the crap assignments cause I'm the only one who'll get a result. Hey, at the end of the day I'm a woman, and like my ego pandered to, what can I say?

So, here I am in a really small Liverpool hospital working undercover cause some dickhead staff nurse has apparently been bragging about getting his drugs cheap from abroad, and some model citizen has grassed him up. And quite right too. That'd be like me running guns and letting criminals go for fucks sake, talk about abuse of power. The insane idea is that porters go everywhere and new ones pop up everyday so a new face won't be suspected (especially mine which contradicts my cynicism). My job is to get invited on one of the regular piss ups and befriend him to find out the facts. He's only small fry; it's his dealers we're really after.

Peter, my portering partner for this job, nods at me and draws me from my musings, "Alright Nai? Let's get this gent sorted then shall we?"

"No probs Pete lead the way"

We pushed the trolley (and gent) out of the hospital and towards the morgue nodding at the staff we passed. There were certainly some good lookers in this place, that was for sure. Pete caught me winking at one nurse as we went.

"Aye aye Nai? Something you're not telling us? Thought we were all members of the porters union here?"

I just laughed at him. "Can't blame a girl for looking Pete, what's the matter? Can't you take the competition?" Like I said before, I don't see the point in being too far into the closet, and I'm a big girl, I can handle myself when it comes to the bigots. My coppers instincts about people were usually spot on too, that's why I got results.

"From Andy, sure, but you? Neither of us stands a chance against your looks girl" came the reply. I just grinned. Andy and Pete were known as the terrible twosome for their dating antics and taking young ladies up to the roof 'to see the view'. If I wasn't already a world weary copper, I'd never had believed it.

On our way back from the morgue and on the way to a well earned brew (well, we HAD been working for an hour already), I tried to prise some info out of Pete. "So, I hear there's some wild nights out in this place then? When's the next one? Might as well get my introductions to the nursing staff out of the way?"

"Jesus Nai, you've only been here a couple of weeks! You a fast worker or what?" We walked into the porters' office, sure enough; the kettle was on, marvellous. Two lads were sitting in residence, TV on, coffee in hand, ringing phone being ignored.

"Hey, Andy, John, our mate here's going to have to be watched, she's probably gonna be pulling more women than us" Pete laughed as he started to make the two of us a cuppa.

"You a dyke then Flash?" John sneered. "Yeah fat boy, problem with that?" I replied as I took the cup Pete offered. John just mumbled as I stood over him, coffee in hand directly over his crotch. John's a pathetic excuse for humanity. Whereas you might have noticed a certain liking for Pete and Andy, (kindred spirits more like!) John was the sort of wanker who brought out the homicidal psycho we women only unleash once a month.

"Cool, can't wait for the next night out then" Andy laughed. "I'll ask big Jimmy when he's sorting one out for us hot horney studs"

"Who would that be then Andy? Me and Pete?" I laughed.

"Yeah yeah, all mouth and no trousers Nai, that's you"

I smiled at Andy, 'big Jimmy' was my target. Hopefully this gig and all its great perks would be over sooner rather than later. Now if only I could bag a nice nurse to go with the assignment, this mightn't be too bad a result. Coffee, sex talk, and women in stockings. Nice!

I spent the rest of my shift doing my portering job, but watching the natives. I've got to be honest; the job had its funny moments. You ever seen Little Britain? Know the character Andy? (Yeah I know?) Well, every ward had at least two of him, and they were total bastards to get in those chairs to take them to x-ray, then to somewhere else, then to transfer to another ward. They could walk to the smoke room, but they couldn't pour a glass of pop. Ungrateful dip shits. Still, at least I managed to get a good look at my target on one trip.

We'd been called to the High Dependency Unit (or the Highly Dramatic Unit as Andy called it) to move a punter to another ward.

As we struggled to help the diva, sorry, patient onto the ward bed, I saw Andy look up.

"Alright Jim, nice tan, back off your hols then? Where did you go again?"

Ah, so that would explain why I'd been here a fortnight and not met him. Typical government efficiency, the prick was on his holidays for fucks sake.

"The Dominican" came the rumbled reply. "Had to take the bitch with me, she'd been moaning we never go anywhere, you know how it is"

Christ, this one was a charmer. What the hell did women see in men like that? Buggered if I knew.

"Huh, right, well, when you sorting out a night out for us then? We gotta introduce Nai here to the masses"

I felt eyes boring into my back, so I stood up and bored back at him. I knew him from the surveillance photos and background check we had done, but you can't really get the feel for a person (pardon the pun) until you get to see them up close and personal so to speak. Everything I knew about this man from what I'd studied and what I saw in front of me screamed tosser, arsehole, or wanker, take your pick. Big framed, but muscle turning to flab, dirty blonde, and, well, to be honest, he looked thick. I think he was taken aback that I could look him directly in the eye. I'm going to pick wanker and stick to that description.

He was a nurse so earned about £20,000 a year, before taxes, but we'd raided his bank for details, hey, we are the law you know, it's all done in your name, the public safety thing. And the guy had cash deposits every month for sums between £1000 and £2000. If he was putting his 'earnings' in the bank, he was even more of an arsehole than we thought.

"No need for us to introduce her to the masses" he said, with his idea of charm "she can just be introduced to me"

"Nai, Jimmy, Jimmy, Naomi" Andy did the introductions, unnecessary of course on my part. I stuck my hand out. "Nice to meet you Jim, heard only good things about you from ugly here" I stook my thumb in Andy's direction.

"Glad to hear that, see you soon gorgeous" he leered as we took the patient off his hands.

Wow, he was a real charmer, wonder what his 'bitch' was like to tolerate that Muppet with his wide boy, 'I'm great' antics. Big Jimmy my arse, the only thing big about this prick, was his ego. Of that I was sure; I'd met enough small time gangster wannabie's in my time.

Time would tell.