"Get you trousers on you're nicked!"
Rob laughed.
"My favourite line from 'The Sweeney'," Tony added, "I've wanted to use that one for years but would you believe it the opportunity has never arisen."
"Ok, this is my best, Reagan and Carter are talking to a snout on this stairway, right, and John Thaw he says to him "'Come on, I know about that little tickle you 'ad' then this guy replies," he gave a laugh. " 'I swear Mr Reagan I don't know nothin' about no tickle'. Not the exact I know but most I can remember. I mean 'tickle', was that an actual slang word in the Seventies?"
The two officers were walking down Taft Road again. Rob felt more relaxed pounding the same beat again although he still kept an eye out for Trisha. Tony was eager to find out more about his partner's missing wife but hadn't wanted to press the issue last night especially after everything that had just happened.
"Remember how it was when you first joined? A whole new world and vocabulary," Tony mused.
"I was locked up in a cell when I first decided to join up," Rob explained, "Drunk and disorderly when I was a student. They locked a bunch of us up for the night for turning the town centre into a racetrack for shopping trolleys."
"And that made you want to come back? If it had happened to me I'd be scared straight."
"For the first time, I mean I never thought about it before, but for the first time I looked at the Police differently."
"Through the bars of a cell? What do you mean differently?" Tony asked.
"Not sure I can describe it but whatever it was it must've been good for me because here I am 13 years later," he sighed. "Met my wife at Hendon too, I sometimes wish that had never happened either."
"You don't mean that, surely you must've had some good times together. A touch of the 'Hart to Hart's', husband and wife crime fighting duo."
"I came down here looking for her, that shows you how much she means to me. Or I may just be fooling myself into thinking that if I make a grand gesture then we may have another go at it. I don't know," Rob replied, Tony looked a little shocked.
"New challenge?"
"Just decided to get off my arse and look for her down here. It's been a couple of years and I spotted a position in Sun Hill in 'The Job'. It may be a little backwater but it's as good a place as any to start, I've still no idea where she is, it could be anywhere in London."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Tony asked.
"Who do you think you are? Sergeant Wilson," he retorted. " We're not divorced just separated. I can patch it up, I think."
"I don't think Police Officers are meant to have love lives," Tony grumbled.
"Perhaps not even lives at all outside of the job. Police officers are on the perimeter of life; patrolling the outside rim so that everybody inside can enjoy a normal existence, 9 to 5 job in a bank, marriage to a perfect virginal partner, 2.4 children and doing all this until they die in their sleep aged 102. We are the whipping boys, Tony; we take all the lumps for everyone else. Personally I don't believe you can have it both ways, good luck to those that cross over and do make a good enough go of it of course but for the rest, even the things we've seen at the end of the day, puts us outside the box," Rob explained his thoughts sounding a little bitter.
"595 from Sierra Oscar," the radio crackled.
"Go ahead, Sarge," Tony replied.
"The Inspector wants you two chuckleheads back in and quick. Jerry Trent's down here and raising merry hell. Carl's discharged himself and done a runner."
"All received," Tony replied, a little on edge.
"51…PC Weston, did you receive that?" Sergeant Boyden continued.
"All received," replied Rob, never taking his eyes off of Tony.
"Happy now?" Tony asked his colleague sounding angry. The two walked on in silence as they turned tail and quickened their pace back towards the nick.
As PCs Stamp and Weston inched closer to Sun Hill Police Station, knots in their stomachs, they witnessed their superior officer bustling through the double doors with her coat casually adorning her shoulders and a packet of cigarettes in her hand. Tony was unsure about whether to tell the truth. He could deny knowing about what Rob had told Carl but then he wasn't 100 on it himself, not being in the room at the time. Rob began to get itchy too. In the cold light of day he wasn't sure what he did was the right thing, the Inspector was a mystery to him too, she seemed pretty old school but you could never tell when they were vying for promotion or when examples had to be made. He could either get a secret pat on the back for ridding the borough of a nasty piece of work or chucked out of the job permanently. Neither would help him to sleep any better though, last night had been terrible, staying up to all hours watching a ridiculous science fiction film about a large brain invading the town of Nowheresville, USA, until he drifted off for three hours.
"I've seen the walk of shame many times, boys, let's speed it up a bit shall we?" she called over to them, casually lighting a cigarette from the well-worn packet.
Rob gave a brief yawn, trying to hide it as best he could.
"Keeping you up are we, Robert?" Gina commented, blowing a few wisps of smoke. "Carl Trent managed to get past the guard, PC Neilson, when she nipped out for a cup of tea. There's an all units out for him at the moment."
"Do you want us out there, ma'am?" Rob asked.
"What I want, PC Weston, is you away from this case as far as possible. Jerry Trent is in there and he's not a happy bunny, he's accusing you of all sorts, which I have the pleasure of getting to the bottom of later on. It was hardly worth the DPS going was it? They'll be getting their own parking space here soon. Tony, can you see to Jerry please? He was asking after you so give him some tea & sympathy and try to calm him down. Rob, I want you in my office pronto! Go on, off you both pop!" Gina explained sternly through various drags.
Robbie Cryer sent Tony into the front interview room where he found Jerry sitting hunched over in one of the seats wringing his hands together.
"Mr Stamp," he looked up "You heard all this? About Carl?"
"We're doing all we can, Jerry, we'll find him don't you worry, he can't have got far."
"Amazing, he's out until all hours of the day and night and I don't worry, disappears from hospital and I worry like hell."
"Has anyone offered you a cup of tea yet?" Tony asked.
"They have, they have. I don't like those cups, those tiny little plastic things that break all too easily. I need a mug, I'm drying up here, mouth like the Sahara."
"I'll get you a proper drink then, be back in five minutes and we'll have a chat, ok," he sounded worried and left the room.
Standing outside the Inspector's office caused Rob to think back to his schooldays, indeed he had the same feeling in the pit of his stomach, the same pangs of guilt and dread. He stood bolt upright, like a giant ruler had been inserted down the back of his shirt, a trick he had learned at Hendon. An old Sergeant, who had served in the Falklands, called it 'Getting into a military frame of mind'. Rob dabbled with the idea of entering and standing inside but thought it was best to take the least amount of initiative when about to get punished.
"You can go in, you know," Gina said when she finally merged from around the corner, "Its not infested with man-eating sharks. She strode into the office, owning every inch of it, and invited the Constable to sit down.
"According to our Mr Trent you and PC Stamp were at St Hughes yesterday paying a little visit to his son, deliberately disobeying my orders to stay within the confines of this nick. You had words with Carl after which he became very withdrawn, agitated and disagreeable. More so than usual I expect. Now he's gone and done a vanishing act. Would you say that is a fair assessment of the situation?"
"Very fair ma'am."
"What exactly did you say to Carl?"
"Told him Arsenal lost against Chelsea."
"Doesn't sound like that big of a deal to me."
"Unless you're a red, ma'am," Rob smiled. "Don't know, don't follow it myself."
Tony backed into the front interview room carrying two steaming hot mugs of tea in his hands slightly burning his fingers on the edges of one because the handle was broken.
"Here we go," he said placing them down on the table, "Two freshly brewed cups of Rosie lee."
Jerry grabbed one; it had a picture of a train on it and the name 'Reg' in black lettering, firmly by the handle and started gulping it down.
"That's wonderful that is, really hit the spot," he added, hand still grasped around the cup.
"My old dad used to hold his pint glass exactly like that," said Tony.
"I used to, I bet that's no surprise to you. I've been dry since the last Tory government, old habits die hard, I seem to slurp down any beverage like it's a pint of mild."
"Telly Savalas, old 'Kojak', used to do that, well sort of, they say that's why he sucked lollypops all the time. An effort to give up smoking," Tony replied.
"Any more news on my boy?" Jerry asked rubbing the cup with one of his hands.
"Not yet but we have plenty of officers out searching," Tony said trying to reassure him.
"Not too hard though, eh, I know what you lot think of him," moaned Jerry, looking mournful, "the psycho kiddie of the old lag. No one's in a hurry to see him back. Tell me something Mr Stamp, what exactly did your mate say to him?"
"I don't honestly know, Jerry, sorry, Mr Trent," Tony replied, trying to figure out what to say, "I was out of the room with you at the time."
Although he told the truth, that he didn't know for certain exactly what had been said, he knew what Rob probably implied to Carl. He weighed up the pros and cons of telling Jerry but also felt the need not to make the situation worse.
"He's a new bloke, just started this week, none of us really knows him yet."
"I know Carl's not the best lad, right little bastard sometimes, but he's had a hard enough life, I was in Parkhurst for most of it and then him mum went and died of Cancer. We were just starting to get some stability too. I was going to take him over to the States to see some old mates of mine, try and straighten him out a bit."
"He did tell me though that they were discussing your record," Tony said.
"That's nothing to me, Carl's proud of my lot, can't say I am these days, but he knows most of it," Jerry replied.
"Even what you got up to in the Sixties."
"It don't go back that far, you're bluffing, everything's digitalised these days on them computers."
"Paper trail still exists though," Tony continued. Jerry looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say.
"I've been meaning to ask, how are you settling in anyway?" Gina inquired.
"Good ma'am," Rob replied quickly, a little unnerved.
"How's your wife? Has she adjusted to the move up here in Sin City?" she probed further, sitting behind the desk but keeping her eyes firmly fixed on him.
"She's finding it a little hard but we're getting on good so far, knock on wood," he added giving a brief rap on the Inspector's desk. A mug of tea sat near the middle spilling a little with the vibrations causing Rob to look slightly embarrassed.
"It was cold anyway," Gina noted icily. "I've been reading your file, very interesting, married to someone else in the job too, that must be tough. So tough in fact that I see she moved down here over a year and a half ago."
Rob tried to think of something to say various lies swirled around his head but none seemed to stick, so he just remained silent. Senior officers, like any boss, loved to have their moment of glory in the sun before they bring the rebel employee to heel.
"DC Amanda Finnigan, a promising young detective so I've heard."
"DC!" Rob said in amazement.
"A full Detective Constable, well on her way to becoming a Sergeant, yes. Oh, you seem surprised Robert? That little bit of chitter-chatter never come up around the dinner table?"
"Must've slipped her mind, ma'am," he knew the game was up.
"She's up for a commendation too, saved a ten year old girl from being raped at knife point by a violent paedophile over in Camden."
"She's living in Camden now?" he asked.
"Don't you know?"
"I haven't heard much from her, Christmas Cards, but nothing about where she's been living or what she's been doing. Changed her name back too I see. Not surprising really, she never liked the name 'Weston'," he said dolefully.
"We are not a lost and found agency for runaway spouses, Robert. You are here to work and if you don't like that then you can clear off. If you really want to make a go of it down here then I wish you luck, the same goes for if you want to find Amanda but if you do then you do it on your own time and under your own steam. If I should hear about you abusing the system or any of the personnel files then you will be out, not just this station but the job, in about the same time as it takes my boot to reach your backside. Is that clear?" Gina continued.
"Crystal, ma'am," added Rob feeling that their 'little chat' would never end.
"Your mate told my son I'm…didn't he?" Jerry said looking hurt.
"I don't know if he did for sure. We were out of the room remember," Tony replied sounding uncomfortable.
"Fair enough, you can't blame someone else for the crimes of another I suppose. What is it they call it? Shooting the messenger, that's it. I bet that's what he said though, I bet that's the sole reason you two turned up!"
"I'm terrible sorry, Jerry. I was trying to keep an eye on him," Tony apologised.
"At least I know why he ran off and that's some comfort. Closure I think they call it these days, daft word. All the cogs in Carl's head must be going a mile a minute right about connecting all the dots. He thinks his Uncle James is, well, his Uncle James. If he ever returns there's going to be some heavy fallout."
"At least you've finally got it off your chest, truth is better out than in, isn't it?" Tony said.
"Some things are best left buried, deep down, where they can't be found. I would've gone to my grave with it!" Jerry spat back. "These days everyone thinks its so much better to be open about everything and that its so much better now than back in the old days when we kept ourselves to ourselves but that's just poppycock. We were just…just keeping each other from being hurt," he added with the beginnings of a tear in his eye.
"My dad's just like that. Keeps all his feelings bottled up and everything was better in the old days when men were men, women were kept in the kitchen and all everyone talked about was the weather."
"Sensible chap. I've still got other secrets though which I'm glad Carl hasn't discovered."
"Like what?" enquired Tony.
"This never gets out ok, I feel I can trust you and if it does this time I will know exactly who said what to whom!" Jerry warned. " That job, the Lonsdale Bank one, I never planned it or anything I was just a muscle for hire in them days but I was the first one they nicked so they pinned the whole lot on me. Morley and Lock never put their hands up once they got caught either so that just left me," he explained, chugging down more tea. "I went along with it of course, I wanted to be the big man especially inside, the other cons couldn't do enough for me but then they also thought I had a nice few grand tucked away somewhere."
Tony laughed.
"I mean how could I? It was a complete fuck-up from start to finish. There was barely enough time to fart let alone stash the gear before my collar was felt," he sounded melancholy, cradling his cup carefully. "I liked playing up to the image though so if Carl found out that I was just one of the skivvies instead of this giant kingpin that planned it all then that would've killed him just as much. If he ever returns."
"He just needs some cooling down time that's all," added Tony
"Hope its not too long," Jerry said with a little smile.
"I'm going to tell you a little story, Robert," Gina said calmly getting up from her seat and starting to pace around the room.
"Why, ma'am?" Rob asked, trying to figure out his senior officer's way of thinking. As soon as she seemed to be giving him a ticking off she would say something which appeared to be letting him off the hook.
"Because today is my day on 'Jackanory' now shut up and listen!" she ordered. "Way back in the Stone Age when I started out I was stationed over at Golders Green, very appropriate, and we had a Sergeant there, Sergeant Foster, who was inclined to dish out his own brand of justice whenever he was in charge of Custody. 'Service Circles' he used to call them. He would gather up a gang of PC's, bring out a particularly nasty prisoner and they would all give him a good hard kicking."
"Didn't the Inspector do anything?" Rob looked shocked.
"Darling, it was the Sixties there very few of us who were true blue 'Dixon of Dock Green's especially if you had a guvnor like Peter Harlow who used to enjoy putting the boot in as much as anybody."
"That's barbaric."
"Oh it wasn't every prisoner just a…select few," Gina whispered. "The name Susie Blake mean anything to you?"
"One of the very first WPC's wasn't she?" he replied.
"Very good, that'll earn you a few brownie points with the feminists around here. She was posted to our nick briefly and one night she was sexually assaulted behind the back of a local pub, 'The Green Man' I think, while trying to break up a fight. A local thug named Mike Henderson was brought in for it and got the kicking of his life. These days the papers may be full of 'Sexism in the Met' headlines but trust me everyone sticks together and we look after our own. Most of the station turned out for that one," she looked wistful, recalling a memory but was unsure if it was one she was comfortable with. Rob felt a little more relaxed.
"Did you tell your superiors?" he asked.
"If I had, dear, then I would've been the first one in the cells and bunking down with the Chief Inspector at that. Now there was a man who smelt like a sewer," Gina sat back down in her seat behind the desk looking calm.
"I'm not sure what you mean, ma'am, how is this relating to me?" added Rob sounding confused.
"Unofficially I would be a happy as anyone to see the Carl Trents of this world fall into the nearest black hole but I prefer it done in the right way. We've had enough bad pennies at Sun Hill to fill the Nat West. Every copper has their fair share of skeletons in the cupboard but you, PC Weston, seem to have more than most and they all have a nasty habit of spilling out into the papers. Now we don't have the Woking Times or whatever down here we have the red tops to worry about and they don't play too nice or forgive so easily. Small columns enlarge into front pages that will stick to you like glue throughout your career. Watch your step and you'd better hope that Trent turns up safe and sound or I'll be down on you like a ton of bricks!" she continued. "Send PC Stamp in here next. Go on, off you pop!"
Rob hurriedly left, closing the door carefully as he set off down the corridors and in search of Tony, 1001 things tripping through his mind.