Hi everyone, thanks again for all the reviews and reading this. Sorry if I didn't reply to anyone's review last time I haven't been getting alerts and I managed to empty my inbox by mistake, if I did miss anyone thanks for taking the time to review anyway. Hope this is ok and not a bit yawn!
I still don't own anything.
Chapter 3- No room to move, or try to look away
It was mid-afternoon by the time they drew up at the Pilgrim Street Station. Once inside, Gene marched up to the high, wooden counter, announcing himself to the young WPC on duty at the front desk. She was petite and slender, the height of the desk made her seem even tinier, and she was overly made up, Alex thought. Despite her slight frame, she was incredibly buxom, evident even in the confines of her buttoned up uniform. Smiling broadly she made small talk with Gene, giggling and exuding a chirpy, almost excessively friendly manner, her bouncy ponytail swishing as she spoke, bright blonde hair betrayed by dark roots. Alex observed his easy nature with the girl, as she lapped up his attention and banter. She scowled, scanning the girl up and down, her assessment: all cleavage and teeth, probably very little else of substance. It made her feel uncomfortable, and she felt the sharp stab of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She rolled her eyes, as the girl fussed and insisted that he really needed a cup of tea after the long drive, and good God did she just call him 'pet'. The girl paid little attention to Alex, who shuffled and eventually forced out a cough to remind Gene she was in the room. He continued regardless.
"I am still standing here," she finally snapped, suddenly a little embarrassed at her own outburst.
"Sorry love, my DI gets 'er posh knickers in a twist. What the bleedin' 'ell's the matter with you Drake?" his tone shifted markedly as he spoke to the two women, from gentle, low and soft, to bark of annoyance. The girl's eyes widened as he spoke, and she surveyed Alex with curiosity.
Right on cue a short, overweight and balding man, somewhere approaching around fifty appeared from a set of double doors, a cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth, as he came closer, his well-loved suit was misted with the faint smell of whiskey. His top button was undone, and his badly knotted tie was slung loosely around his neck. His cheeks were flushed red, his nose even more so. He smiled.
"DCI Blake, Ken. Must be wor colleagues from the Met," he said in his broad Geordie accent, offering his stubby hand out to Gene.
"Gene Hunt," Gene replied, shaking hands firmly in a display of mutual respect. Blake's eyes were drawn immediately to Alex, and he scanned her body, his height placing him at an unfortunate chest level.
"DI Drake, Alex please," she jumped in as politely as she could, hoping to draw his attention to her face as she spoke. He took her hand, holding on to it more lingeringly than she might have liked, she could feel the slightly clammy sheen of sweat on his palm and repressed a grimace.
He turned to face Gene, "well mate ye' must a' done something right 'cos she's a cracker. Where'd ye' get a DI that looks like that?"
Gene grinned, he didn't doubt for a second Alex would have some objection on principle; the bloke was paying her a compliment. He felt a sense of almost pride as he looked at her, she was without question the most beautiful DI he had ever seen, no, more than that she was the best looking woman he had ever seen, quite possibly the moodiest too. She, as he had predicted, looked disgruntled, come to think of it, she'd been in a strop since they'd arrived. He consoled himself with the thought that he would never understand women, especially not her. God knew what he'd done now. He silently admired her for a second longer.
"Believe me, yer won't be saying that when she opens he big posh gob, won't do as she's told" he laughed, her frown deepened, as Gene swept aside his feelings with his usual brand of humour. Blake read the signs when a frosty silence followed, sensing a moment of tension between his visitors and refrained from pushing the issue further.
It was Gene who disturbed the quiet, "right, well, we've come to get Carter."
Blake chuckled, "aye, aye, though if ye' lookin' for the car park, that's Gateshead technically, over the river, not on wor patch."
"So," Alex said resuming her professional manner, "how did you find him up here, know he was wanted in for a crime in London?"
"It was Mason here, keeps an eye on these things, she's a good lass, aren't ye' pet," Blake said in a paternal, but slightly patronising tone, "spotted him in the town, bold as brass out for a pint, nicked him herself." He patted her on the arm, a short step from patting her on the head like an obedient dog or a child. It was a warmer and softer version, but Alex recognised the similarity to Gene's constant underestimation of Shaz. Though Mason smiled sweetly and shrugged in a girlish way, Alex suspected there was a little more to this WPC than her initial assessment had given her credit for. Gene remained oblivious to such considerations.
"He got a bit rough with the lassy, so I've...er put the lad in his place," it was evident what he meant. He may not have looked like Gene, but it was evident that in many ways they had been pressed from the same mould, old fashioned coppers, a dying breed.
A tall, slender man in his early thirties appeared at the door, fashionably dressed and floppy haired. "Hey boss, come to introduce myself to our guests," he flashed a wide smile at Blake, scanned Gene quickly, before zeroing in on Alex. "And who might you be, lovely lady," he said, his accent local, but much softer than that of his older colleague. Gene narrowed his eyes, he disliked the man instantly.
"That's my DI, Newton, bit of a ladies' man mind, I'd keep an eye on him...wi' her," Blake nodded in the direction of Alex. He had spoken quietly, as Newton was busy introducing himself to Alex. She reached out her hand to shake his, but instead he took hold her outstretched hand, and raised it to his lips. Gene watched, his stomach churned, he liked Newton even less. He was just her type. Blake's understanding showed on his face, as if he could read Gene's thoughts.
"I'll get Karen to sort you out," he said pointing in the direction of WPC Mason, waggling his eyebrows at his own innuendo, "there's accommodation sorted, for ye', nice and central, and you'll be wanting a word with the bonny lad in the cells no doubt." Gene had barely paid any attention to what was being said, his eyes firmly fixed on Alex, laughing, seeming to lap up the attention from the young officer. He gritted his teeth, as he seethed with jealousy. He hadn't even had the decency to speak to him; no, he was straight in there, making good progress by the looks of it. It had taken him all of five seconds to totally charm her.
Despite their recent acquaintance, Ken Blake was not oblivious to Hunt's visibly shifting mood. He clearly shared his view of Newton, "told ye', he's a smooth git," he shook his head, "right, I'll have to love ye' and leave ye', give 'es a shout if ye' need anything." With that he disappeared down the corridor, leaving WPC Karen Mason in his place.
She smiled sheepishly, "looks like you've got me then."
Hunt pouted slightly, if Alex was going to be chasing after Newton on this trip, then at least the consolation prize was easy on the eye.
Gene and Karen were settled down in a slightly untidy and smoky break room with two steaming mugs of strong, sugary tea she had made. He found her pleasant and certainly a lot sharper than he was expecting. She asked a lot questions about the Met, about him, laughed heartily at his quips and comments. In truth he was rather taken by surprise by her apparent interest in him. She was young, attractive, and easy going; he wondered what she saw in him, if anything, maybe he hadn't read it right at all, if she was anything like Alex what she said, did and thought would be a million miles from whatever he expected or understood. They were sorting through transfer papers, sharing a filthy joke she had cracked when Alex and her northern counterpart appeared at the door. The room fell into an awkward silence. Newton had swept her off with some excuse about showing her around the station, a darkened cupboard probably, given half the chance undoubtedly. Alex's eyes darted between Gene and the girl. They seemed uncomfortable at her sudden presence, but as she has opened the door it had been clear that they were very relaxed in each other's company, having fun. She disliked it, hated it, not that she would admit it, they had only known each other for a five minutes. Repressing her feelings, she did her best to fix a smile on her face.
"Guv," she said trying to avoid sounding jealous, "Craig and I thought we'd do a quick interview with Carter now."
Gene's eyes bored into the local DI, who stood with a rather smug expression on his face, leaning around the door frame to move in behind Alex. Gene raised an eyebrow, it was bloody Craig now. "No, Bols, you and I will be doing the interview...'e's not familiar with the case," he snapped.
"Oh I'm sure we can manage, it was our collar, after all, since he gave you the slip," Newton said with a slight sneer and an air of superiority.
"As I 'eard it, it was Karen 'ere's collar," Gene rose to his feet. Karen had put her head down, but bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to stop a fit of laughter escaping, she had clearly enjoyed Newton being taken down a peg or two. "Come on, Bolly, let's see what the scrote has to say for 'imself."
Karen leapt up to her feet, "I'll get ye' an interview room, and have him sent along," evidently still savouring Gene's victory over her senior officer. Alex felt vindicated; there he was jumping to defend a girl he barely knew. She sighed and followed him down the hall. Karen had slipped in front and was chattering at Gene. Newton beamed at her.
They got nothing from Carter, both had expected as much, he claimed he was innocent repeatedly; Gene got irritated and banged his fist against the desk. The blagger demanded a lawyer, said no comment far too many times to count. Once Gene became bored, he had summoned for him to be returned to the cells.
"So Bolly," he said leaning in closely, "you better unpack whatever it is that's slutty, think it's about time we got to this 'otel, you got scrubbed up and we found a pub," he looked intently at her, with the expectation he was about to be slapped down. Alex was confused, he hadn't seemed too concerned about her earlier, disappearing with that young woman. Maybe she had got it wrong. She rolled her eyes, best seem less than enthusiastic, she thought. He leaned a little closer; his eyes twinkled, her mind drifting back to her dream. Her mouth was dry; it was the way he looked at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but before the words could come out, another voice filled up the silence. It came from the door way to the interview room.
"Night out, brilliant, I'll show you all the best places in the city, meet you at the hotel at seven," it was DI Newton.
