The CAD room at Sun Hill Police Station receives thousands of messages per day. Some are of grave importance whilst others are a waste of time but once in a while an officer radio's in a message which sends shock waves around the building. The death of WDC Viv Martella in 1993 was one, the stabbing of PC Dave Quinnan in 1999 was another, while the most recent was the brutal murder of PC 518 Cassandra Rickman at the hands of the Sun Hill serial killer. PC Nick Klein relayed that particular message when he found her corpse at the riverside. For a station in mourning it was a surprise to hear 'Cass' back on the air again.
"Sierra Oscar from 518, request a list of all items stolen in the Dorrell Road burglary earlier today, over."
It wasn't her voice of course, not her shrill, bouncy scrouse brogue, but a male voice containing the downbeat patter of PC Rob Weston although it caused most of the officers listening to their radios to reflect on events for a moment. From the individual members of the relief on the ground, through the Inspector in her office right up to the Superintendent and those members of CID who had their handsets switched on. For some it was nothing new however they were used to dead officers being 'resurrected' with many a change in sex or accent. Soon enough the number would become synonymous with its new owner but in the beginning the memories would begin to resurface. One thing was for sure though: it would definitely spark off a discussion at refs.
"It sent a chill right down the back of my spine," said Kerry "That number should not have been reassigned so soon, I'm going to put in a complaint with Superintendent Okaro!" Various officers were gathered in the canteen getting whatever refreshments they required to make it through the next portion of their shift.
"Actually, Kerry it either sends a chill up your back or down your spine, you can't feel a chill in your spine its pure bone, see," chipped in Reg.
"Thanks, Dr Ross," she retorted sarcastically.
"Will the both of yous stop bein' so wet," cut in Des "A number's a bleedin' number it doesn't make any difference, it's the person underneath that'll screw ya if you're not careful! That's what I wanna know, if I can trust the blert and if he'll buy us a pint at the end of the shift."
"Sun Hill has a history of recycling numbers, at least a third of all officers here today have a number that belonged to someone else. Take Ruby for instance," added Reg taking a bite of his sandwich.
"What?" the probationer asked.
"Well 988 has been used previously. Before you took it over it was…er," he hesitated slightly. "Eddie Santini's," he quickly sipped his tea and looked around at a sea of blank faces.
"Who's he?" inquired Ruby, asking the question that was on most of their minds.
"Dear, dear how soon they forget, eh, tch. He was here a few years ago, a little notorious in his time was Eddie," Reg continued.
"Wait a sec, was 'e that bloke what killed that old prosi?" Des interjected. Ruby looked horrified.
"Yes, Jess Orton was her name, but he was found innocent remember."
"Yeah, also found dead on 'is floor I remember. Gave Vicky Hagen a good seeing to as well didn't 'e. rather 'im than me I'll tell you that much!" Des added.
"What happened to him?" Ruby probed further.
"No, he's not around anymore, as Des said, he was found dead shortly after the trial," Reg explained.
"Probably of frostbite."
"Shut up, Des, give your mouth a rest!" Kerry interrupted.
"He was shot actually, Des, we never found who did it though," Reg continued, trying not to alarm Ruby but found it hard not to with Des' various interruptions plus the cold hard facts of the case.
"Oooh so it's cursed your number's up, Rube, you might even get possessed. Reg'll have to do an exorcism like in the film and you'll be shootin' pea soup out of ya nostrils," Des joked waving his hands trying to indicate a ghostly presence.
Ruby looked a little phased but put a brave face on it.
"I don't care, it doesn't mean anything anyway, it's only a number."
"Yeah a dead man's digits eh and what if 'e wants them back. Woooo."
"A number can't be cursed, Des, its silly superstition that's all," she replied definitively.
"You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss it, Ruby," Honey Harman added. "Certain numbers can have lucky or unlucky properties. Number seven for example is commonly thought to be very lucky while thirteen you just shouldn't touch."
"James Dean 'ad a car once, poor sod crashed it and died. Now whoever else took possession of it 'ad bad luck too, all came to a sticky end they did," Des added again.
"Yeah, just like that," Honey continued "even objects can have good or bad karma attached to them. A cousin of mine bought a new hairdryer once she swore was cursed. Split ends the works, every time, gave it away to the local Oxfam in the end."
"An 'aunted 'airdryer is not the same thing."
"That's very interesting, Honey, yeah, certain can have quite serious connotations. Take 416 for example now the first person I knew to hold that was young Ken Melvin, died tragically in an IRA car bomb right outside this very nick in 1990 and then of course there was poor Sam Harker last year, right above our 'eads," Reg said.
"Proper little boom town we live in isn't it. Sure it's just not this place that's bad luck."
"Des, that's a terrible thing to say. An IRA bomb in Sun Hill, Reg? Seriously?" asked Honey.
"Yeah, the yard wouldn't be half the size it is now without that thing going off," he continued.
" I'm going back to work!" stated Ruby getting up and walking away.
"Urgh, I won't be able to go out there again now, thanks for that!" Kerry protested.
"You didn't even go through it," mused Reg to himself " y'know the more I think about it that number might be cursed. I feel sorry for whoever winds up with it next."
Tony approached the table with a tray of food in his hands.
"Afternoon all, anything interesting going on?" he asked.
"We were just discussing numerology, Tony, y'know, numbers which can be good or bad luck for the holder," Reg replied.
"Is this about Rob Weston again? Why can't you just leave it alone," he retorted " it's not the poor bloke's fault he got saddled with Cass's number and sent to this nick."
"Where is the man of the hour anyway?" Des asked.
"Booking in Carl Trent and Joey Peters for that burglary. He's alright really, need a pop culture dictionary to keep up with him some of the time though."
"Cass's number?" Nick Klein stood behind the table.
Nobody said a word in response.
"Nick, where have you been?" Kerry asked.
"Overslept!" he replied immediately although his eyes told everyone that looked into them that he had been doing anything but sleeping. "Now will someone kindly tell me what's going on?"
"New guy started today."
"Kerry!" warned Honey.
"No! He deserves to know," she replied in defiance.
"Why does 'e 'deserve to know', so what, e's gonna find out sooner or later. The lad's no Trigger!" Des added.
"I'm deaf, dumb and blind so what's going on? What is he a West Ham fan or something?" he joked back.
"The idiots up at the Home Office have reassigned Cass'' epaulette number," Kerry continued.
"518."
"Bingo."
"You alright, Nick?" Sergeant June Ackland carried a tray from the counter and took up a position on the next table. "You look very pale."
"I'm good, Sarge," he replied flatly.
"If you're still sick you should go home. I'll square it with the Inspector if you like," she added.
"Thanks but I've got to go now, got to get back," he replied, rushed past the rest of the tables and past the queue. Sweat ran from his brow like a dripping tap as he burst through the double doors of the canteen. In his rush he barged past several other officers including Rob Weston who had just entered.
"Watch out!" he shouted but Nick didn't pay any attention to him. Rob felt nervous about entering the canteen after the frosty reception he had in the parade room. For that reason he steered clear of scolding the young man who had just pushed past him, making a scene now might enflame his already volatile situation. If it continued after a few weeks though then the man would not know what hit him.
"Well done, blondie, you just set off a tub of fireworks that Guy Fawkes would've been proud of!" Des noted.
"You get those two booked in alright?" Tony shouted over to Rob with his mouth full of peas.
Rob walked over feeling that all eyes were upon him.
"Yeah, Kevin and Perry all tucked up safe and sound," he replied.
"See what I mean," muttered Tony to the others. "Well grab yourself a tray of something and I mean that literally because no-one knows what the hell it is."
"Yeah I know the sort, sandwiches which would've tasted better with some actual sand in them, that sort of thing. The local pub back in Woking did a roaring trade come refs back at our nick."
"Don't invite him over here!" hissed Kerry.
"Why not he seem like a nice bloke," June replied. "Remember your first day at a new station, honestly I don't know what's happened to you lately, Kerry."
"Just bad company, Sarge," she replied tartly.
"We are all cut up about Cass, Kerry. Grief is not exclusive to you, or Nick, for that matter." She replied, talking over the tables.
"It's just that number…"
"Which would've been reassigned sooner or later anyway. This isn't the first time this has happened, just look at Des," June added calmly and quietly.
"What about me?" the scouser said in surprise.
"Well when Luke first quit the Met you were given his old call sign, 432."
"You wha…!"
Kerry cracked a smile for the first time that day but kept it a little hidden.
"That's complete bollards!"
"Its true," replied Tony. "Taviner and Ashton – separated at birth. Who would've thought it," he smiled.
"C'mon Reg we're off!" Des got up from the table and stormed out of the room throwing half a ham and cheese sandwich down onto his plate.
"Now you've done it, he'll be grumpy until the end of the shift," Reg sighed and quickly followed his partner out the door.
"Uh-oh trouble in paradise for the top team," Tony remarked.
"We better be going too, c'mon Honey," Kerry stood up.
"Kerry, my doors always open if you want to talk sometime," June offered.
"Really Sarge? All mine seem to be closing lately. I can handle this on my own anyway, you just wouldn't understand!" she added coldly, walking away from the table.
"Experience doesn't seem to count for much these days," Tony said quietly to June. "We're just dinosaurs who don't understand how they feel. There's too much of that around, everyone's concerned with their pain and their pain alone."
"That's what you reckon when you're young though, Tony, the world's all yours and you are the first one to step out into it wide eyed and bushy tailed. Your perfect career is all lined up and waiting for you around the corner along with your perfect partner and a nice little love nest where no one will ever age or get bored. For some it works out but for the majority of people they just have to settle and along the way life throws these little things in our paths just to spice things up like the death of friends, family and colleagues."
"Are you alright, June?" he asked. "Don't tell me all this has got to you too."
"I realised something the other day, Tony, it's been ten years since Viv was shot. Did you know that?" she admitted moving onto a seat closer to him.
"Really? Ten years, it slipped my mind. At the time I thought that would be the only memory which would never leave me."
"I certainly won't forget taking the call, one of the hardest things I've had to do in this job, I dare say it was the same for you, holding her in your arms while back-up arrived knowing that she was…" she stalled quietly, a tear in her eye.
"There, there, I know what you mean, you don't have to go through it all again," he comforted.
"I'll never forget what happened a few years later though," she recalled, sitting up, " It was around 96/97, I hadn't been a Sergeant long, I know that much. I was seconded to Spicer Street, they had a Sergeant suspended over a corruption allegation, you remember John Hall at all?"
"No, not really."
"Me neither, I think they found him innocent in the end. Anyway they had a WPC there Beth, Beth something, Earnshaw that was it; she was a probationer at the time a bright young twenty-something, which made me feel old at the time. She had been assigned a number…" her voice trailed off.
"Did you tell anyone? You know you could've come to me or Jim, Sergeant Cryer or anyone."
"I nearly did, I mean its not as if Viv had recently used it she spent the last three years of her life up in CID. I spent most of my time on nights in the CAD room and had to hear 221 calling every few hours for every night of that week, one of the longest I've ever spent it was. Once I got back home I sobbed silently into my pillow every morning," her voice started to trail off again as she casually wiped her eyes trying not to be too conspicuous.
"I had no idea," Tony empathised, putting his arm briefly around her shoulder. " Maybe we could get together sometime later this week: you me, Jim and Reg just the old ones just to raise a glass in Viv's memory.
"I'll think about it, thanks Tony it's a lovely idea. You're the first person I've ever told that to," she finished off her tea still with a brief tear in her eye. She had the look of somebody with such a stiff upper lip that it would probably crack once she was alone, maybe later up in CSU or back home. She stood up and glanced at a pack of female PC's in the canteen queue laughing and giggling with each other. "Back to work I suppose," she added. " I guess that's one of the reasons while I'll always offer the Kerry Youngs of this station a shoulder to cry on and why it hurts so much when they throw it all back in my face. But then again I wouldn't know what they're going through would I?" she walked away with a twinge of sarcasm and regret in her voice.
Rob swiftly took her place.
"You'd think rationing was back in the amount of people there was in that queue, didn't miss much did I?" he asked.
"No, nothing."
"Now it seems no one wants to sit with me either, they've all had it away on their toes. Thanks for being a mate, Tony," he added.
"Just finish up, quick as you can, we've got an interview to do," Tony replied flatly and thoughtfully, sipping the last of his tea.