Chapter Two
"Well that was a complete waste of time & police resources!" Said Sam in a exasperated tone as the three officers entered The Railway Arms. It was 7 o'clock and Gene, Sam & Ray hadn't actually made it back to the station following their tour of some of Manchester's most salubrious drinking dens. Sam, who had been on soft drinks all afternoon and had been watching his colleagues get slowly pissed in the pursuit of a lead, was less than amused. The only upside of the afternoon had been the fact that Sam had got to drive for once. In fact Gene letting go of the keys to his shiny new Opel Manta had been a minor miracle in itself! Under normal circumstances Gene's car keys would have had to have been prized from his cold dead fingers but even he could see the point Sam had made about a designated driver and had handed them over with the customary "Break it & your chances of conceiving children will be drastically reduced." threat.
"Don't be such a puff Tyler. Best afternoon I've 'ad in ages." Ray slurred as he grappled with the bar in an attempt to keep himself vertical.
"That's the point Ray, it wasn't meant to be, we were meant to be working. But you two used it as an excuse to get shitfaced." Sam snapped.
"Tyler," said Gene "I resent that. I am not shitfaced, not yet anyway, Nelson a bottle of Scotch." He demanded. Nelson handed the bottle to Gene but the booze had slowed his reflexes and Sam grabbed it before Gene got the chance.
"Oi!" Gene shouted. "Oh all right Tyler I 'spose you can have a shot seein' as you've been playing nursemaid all afternoon. But you ought to know, whilst you were clucking about like a mother hen & gettin' your knickers in a knot over a couple of pints. I got some very interesting information from our old friend Eric Lydon at the White Lion about a new thug on the block." Gene grinned.
"I should bloody well hope so Gene you were talking to him for long enough." Sam said taking the Glasses Nelson handed to him.
"Sam, man brav do sumtin' about de Sleepin' policeman, 'e's clutterin' up ma bar." Nelson drawled in his Mancarribean accent. Sam turned to see Ray, who had perched himself on a bar stool, slumped over with his head resting on his arm and his gob wide open, a sliver of drool trickling from one corner & a gentle snoring sound emanating from it. Sam looked to Gene who nodded and rolled his eyes heavenward. With much effort and grunting the two men shouldered Ray's dead weight & hauled him over to a quiet corner of the pub, propped him up and collapsed onto the settle next to him. Ray didn't stir, not even when Gene stuffed several beer mats into his open mouth.
Nelson brought over the abandoned bottle of Scotch and cleared away the empties that had been left by the table's previous occupants.
"So come on then Gene, what did you find out from Eric Lydon?" Sam asked taking a sip of the golden liquid Hunt had poured into his glass. In the background the high smooth saxophone refrain of Jerry Rafferty's Baker Street cut through the general chatter of the patrons. Sam looked up at nothing in particular and smiled at the sudden memory the music had unlocked. A sun soaked schoolyard, his first proper girlfriend, cherry red lips...
Hunt lit the cigarette that he had hanging on his lip and took a long draw before he spoke.
"He said there's a bloke 'oo matches our description been comin' into the pub with the lads from the dye works. 'e first appeared about four or five months ago. He's not the loudest bloke, keeps 'imself to 'imself mostly but 'e 'ardly ever 'as to buy a drink for 'imself and the lads seem to respect 'is opinion when 'e gives it. Even Razor Hackett gives 'im the time of day."
"Razor Hackett, isn't he one of..."
"Keith Evans' cronies." Hunt finished the sentence for Sam.
"But Ashfield said he didn't recognise the guy who threatened him as one of Keith Evans' mates." Sam reminded Gene.
"True, but maybe 'e's not a mate of Evans, just Razor. And Ashfield wouldn't 'ave come across 'im before cos Ashfield's a red an' the White Lion's a blue pub." Gene suggested.
"Did you get a name for this bloke?"
"Moc." Hunt stated mid gulp.
"Moc?" Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, Moc." Said Gene, mimicking his DI's actions.
"That's it?" Sam frowned.
"Yep, Lydon did say 'e thought it might be short for Mockney though. As in cockney. One of the lads told 'im that 'e'd moved back up 'ere from London but 'e's not a southerner."
"Mmmm, that'd fit with what Ashfield said and perhaps the West Ham link too. Perhaps it's worth coordinating with The Met, they might have some IFC intel that could prove useful." Sam wondered.
"Not a chance, I am not gettin' those southern nancies involved on my patch. Get them involved an' we might as well 'and the 'ol lot over to regional and soddin' Litton." Gene growled.
"But Guv, we wouldn't be getting them involved. Just collating information. We know this guy Moc, if he is our guy, isn't averse to a bit of violence, he might have Inter City Firm links. Previous form. It could be useful."
"Inter City Firm? Why do I get the feelin' you're not talkin' about British Rail here Tyler?" Hunt replied taking a last drag on the stub end of his fag.
"West Ham's hooligan element." Sam said.
"Alright Sam, if you think it'll turn something up on this 'Moc' character I'll agree to you contacting The Met. But you can't let bloody Litton get a whiff of this or 'e'll be prancin' in in 'is dinky size 8's an' shovin' is oar in where it's not wanted." Hunt sighed and drained the last of the whisky in his glass and the song on the Jukebox cut through the silence that had fallen over the two men. Patti Smith was just reaching her climax when the pub door burst open.
"Guv, Guv, we've got something." Chris called breathlessly as he tumbled through the door of the Railway Arms. Annie followed him in looking far more composed.
"Never mind Christopher, course of penicillin should sort that." Gene joked.
"Sam," Annie said, "We've looked back as far as January '75 so far, discounting cases that didn't get off the ground due to a lack of evidence we've found 11 cases that should have reached court but key witnesses or victims have withdrawn statements. Almost without exception the defendants had the same legal representation."
"Well come on Cartwright, don't keep us in suspenders. Who is it?" Gene said.
"Appleby and Forrster, their practise is in Alton Street." She replied.
"That pair of stuck up bastards. I should've known." Hunt snorted.
"But there's more Boss." Chris said excitedly.
"Come on the Nipper o' the Yard, spit it out." Hunt mocked.
"There's not just a link between the legal representation, there's a link between the defendants too. They all give their home addresses as the Stonecroft Estate." Chris exclaimed.
"Well that doesn't surprise me, it's like the bleedin' Alamo that estate. We'd be better off if they just built a bloody great wall around the place an' locked 'um all inside, at least that way they wouldn't be cloggin' up my cells & the court system. Not that we can get any of the bastards to court. Well done Cartwright, Christopher you deserve a drink." Hunt announced.
"Oh, cheers Guv." Chris grinned.
"And while you're up mine's a pint" Gene replied giving him one of his best stretch lipped smiles. Chris looked crestfallen and trudged off to the bar. He hadn't even got his chips.
"Sam, I'm starving" Annie whispered. Looking pointedly at Gene who was starting on his third shot of Scotch and gazing off into the middle distance with unfocused eyes.
"Yeah, sorry Annie. I really didn't think that we'd be gone that long." Sam said smiling at her sadly.
From his spot in the corner Ray snorted loudly but he didn't wake. Annie jumped. "How much did 'e 'av?" She asked looking across at the prostrate figure in the corner.
"Too much! Er, Guv." Sam attracted Gene's attention. "Me and Annie are gonna get off. I'm bloody starvin.'"
"What, you mean y' gonna leave me 'ere wi' Sleepy an' Dopey over there." He replied nodding in Chris's direction.
"Yep!" Sam stood up and grabbed Annie by the hand. "Oh and I'm taking your car. Your too pissed to drive it, you can barely even focus."
"Tyler, I forrrbidh you tttoo take my blroody cchar." Gene slurred. He tried to get up from the settle but his legs wouldn't work.
"Too late, see you tomorrow." And with that Sam and Annie walked out. Leaving a pouting Hunt with the snoring Ray and a thoroughly puzzled Chris.