A/N: I don't own Ashes to Ashes, but I want Gene for Christmas.
I posted the first four chapters of this story last Christmas, but it became far longer than I'd anticipated and for various reasons I was unable to finish it until last month. So here I am, publishing the final chapters (two more after this one) a year after I started it!
A brief recap on the first four chapters: Shortly before Christmas, Lady Joan Sheldon, a formidable charity worker, gave Gene and Alex a tipoff that Michael Judd, a disgraced financier and former book-keeper to Simon Neary, might be hiding out in her Crisis at Christmas shelter. As SuperMac refused to authorise an undercover operation, Gene and Alex spent Christmas Day at the shelter as voluntary workers. While Gene was busy playing Santa Claus, Alex located Judd, his wife and daughter Megan. Realising that Judd's main concern was to keep his family safe from gangland reprisals, Alex agreed a deal with Judd: new identities for Mrs Judd and Megan in exchange for his full co-operation with the police. Santa Gene and Lady Joan arrived in time to save Megan from two gunmen who tried to take the family hostage to get Judd's information about Neary's hidden millions.
Alex has been assisted in arranging witness protection for Judd's family by Fenchurch's temporary desk sergeant, PS Michael Clarence, and DCI Myra Bishop, head of City of London Police Witness Protection (yes, the names are significant - DCI Bishop's husband is called Nicholas). She has persuaded Gene to treat the Judds as guests at the station until DCI Bishop arrives to collect Mrs Judd and Megan, so that Megan will not know that her father is under arrest.
All the comings and goings at the shelter have been witnessed by one of its residents, Martin Summers, who has overheard enough to realise that Alex is the woman in the room next to him in hospital in 2008...
On the drive back to Fenchurch, Alex was deeply worried that their deception would be unmasked as soon as they reached the station. The temporary Skip would surely have heard of Judd and would expect to have him cuffed, booked in and locked up in a brace of shakes. But the fresh-faced youth on the desk, whom she assumed was PS Clarence, simply smiled a welcome to the Judds and wished them a merry Christmas.
"It'll be merrier when we can get these heated up, Sergeant." She gestured to the stack of cooling foil trays in her arms. "We'll get the canteen to put them in the oven."
"Canteen's closed today, Ma'am," Clarence volunteered. "Christmas holiday."
"Shit," Gene muttered. "An' Luigi's is closed." He glared at the unoffending sergeant. "Got the canteen key?"
"In the safe, Sir. I'll get it." He went into the office.
Megan looked overawed at the way everyone was obeying Gene. "So this is your station?"
"That's right, love. This desk 'ere's where people came if they want to see anyone 'ere. An' when we bring bad people in, like those two bas - bad boys you saw, the sergeant 'ere locks 'em in the cells downstairs. We won't show you the cells 'cos there are some bad men in 'em." He opened the swing door. "An' along there are the rooms we use when we talk to people, when we need 'em to tell us about crimes."
Clarence returned. "Here's the canteen key, Sir."
"Right. Troops, follow me."
"In a minute, Guv." Alex pushed the trays into his arms and edged towards the door. "I've, er, got to get something from the office."
While Gene took the Judds upstairs to the canteen, Alex fled to the office. Bammo and Cotsey, who had drawn the short straw for duty over the holiday, looked up in surprise as she entered.
"Hello, Ma'am. Thought you were off duty today."
"I was, Bammo. The Guv and I nailed a couple of gangsters at the Crisis shelter in Bermondsey. Lady Joan Sheldon gave us a hot tip."
"I know, Ma'am, the plods who brought 'em in told us."
"Have either asked for lawyers yet?"
"The Paddy has, Ma'am. He's 'ad 'is statutory call. Told me 'is brief's away in Wiltshire until the 28th an' asked to make another call. I let 'im. That OK, Ma'am?"
"Irregular, but I think we can allow it. This must be the worst day in the year to get hold of a lawyer."
Bammo looked relieved. "Thanks, Ma'am. I was with 'im while 'e made the second call, just in case 'e was setting anything up. Didn't sound like 'e was talking to a brief. Gave 'is name an' said 'e wanted the Boss. Told 'is Boss to get 'im out."
"Good work. We can be sure he's working for a gangster, so he must have been asking the man who hired him to get his lawyer onto the case."
"We'll be 'earing from one of the richer, dodgier briefs in the next twenty-four hours, then," Bammo opined. "We've tried talking to the Chink, but 'e doesn't speak anything but 'is own foreign jabberwock."
"We got that impression. We'll need an interpreter for him, but I doubt you'll get one today."
"We tried, Ma'am, but no joy. Doubt any lawyer'll want to turn out for 'im until tomorrow, anyway."
"Don't bet a Christmas cracker on it. We think they're both attached to major gangs, so their bosses will want to get them out before they can implicate anyone. And, boys, I'll need a special favour of you."
"Ma'am?" Both looked unnecessarily hopeful.
"We also nailed Michael Judd - "
"WOW!"
" - but he was with his wife and daughter. We've brought them all here, we'll want the wife's statement to help us nail the gunmen. I don't want to ruin his little girl's Christmas. She's had a bad time today, one of the gangsters took her hostage."
"Bastard!" Bammo intoned.
"I'm pretending to her that the whole family are our guests here. Someone's arriving soon to collect the wife and daughter, but until then we aren't acting as though Judd's under arrest. Once they've gone, he'll be interviewed and charged."
"Roger that, Ma'am." Cotsey looked impressed. "But what's the Guv saying to all this?"
"He's agreed to play along. I need to use his office to make a call."
She went in, closed the door and pulled the blind down, and dialled DCI Bishop's number. This time the lady herself answered.
"DI Drake here again, Ma'am. I'm at Fenchurch East and we have the Judds here."
"Good work. I've organised all the paperwork for new IDs for the wife and daughter and a new location for them. I'm afraid I can't tell even you where it is, though."
"Of course not, Ma'am. The fewer people who know, the better."
"I'll arrive to collect them in about three hours."
"Thank you, Ma'am. I should tell you, the daughter doesn't know that her father's under arrest and we want to keep it that way. We're letting him stay with them until you arrive."
"A kind thought, and very suitable for Christmas. Goodbye, DI Drake, I'll see you soon."
"So, is the Guv 'ere, Ma'am?" Cotsey ventured as Alex emerged from the office.
"Yes, he's up in the canteen at the moment."
"But it's closed today."
"I know. We got Skip to open it up so that we can give the Judds Christmas dinner."
"She's turning 'im soft," Bammo muttered as the swing door closed behind her.
-oO0Oo-
Without its bustling staff and clientele, the canteen looked vast and empty, but when Gene switched the lights on it looked more inviting.
"So, love, this is where all the coppers eat. Cooks 'ave got the day off today, but we can 'eat this stuff through, no trouble."
With the endless curiosity of the young, Megan found the industrial-sized kitchen fascinating. "That must be the biggest oven in the world!" she breathed. "And do you know how to cook with it?"
There were certain things that Gene Hunt would not do. "Er, no, I don't, but Drake does. She'll be 'ere in a minute,"
"Anyone mention my name?" Alex entered, carrying a small, decorated Christmas tree which she had filched from Shaz's desk.
"Yeah, we need you to do the cooking. You're a bird."
Alex decided not to argue. If Gene were left in charge, their food would probably end up as black as a cinder. "Sure thing, Guv." She placed the tree in the centre of one of the long tables. "Let's all sit here. Guv, here's the cutlery drawer, lay it for five, please." He glared but complied.
In the massive oven, the food was soon heated and Alex plated it up. She reflected that Crisis at Christmas certainly served a good dinner. Turkey, stuffing, sprouts, parsnips, roast potatoes, even a little container of cranberry sauce, with a small pudding to follow. She raided the canteen's stores and found mince pies and Coca-Cola for Megan. Lacking anything alcoholic for the adults, she brought them mineral water and orange juice.
"Bloody 'ell, is this all they've got to drink?"
"Afraid so, Guv. Drinking on duty's discouraged." That was certainly true for plods, she reflected, but she knew that Gene would never function without regular alcoholic lubrication.
Gene scowled. "Wait there." He rose, pushing his chair back noisily, and stalked out of the canteen. The door banged noisily behind him.
"Why is the handsome man cross?" Megan asked in the silence.
"Remember, he's a policeman, and that means that he's always very busy," Alex said consolingly. "That can often make people cross. Never mind, he'll be back soon."
Judd looked terrified, clearly dreading that Gene had gone to get the handcuffs and that he would be hauled away in front of his family. Seeing Megan looking at him, he managed to smile at her.
"Are you enjoying your Christmas, darling?"
"Oh, yes, Daddy!" She snuggled up to him. "It's lovely because you're here, and Santa promised me the handsome man will talk to you and you'll never go away again!"
Both the Judds had to look away, and there was a lump in Alex's throat. To cover for the heavy silence, she said quickly. "Did Father Christmas give you a present, Megan?"
"Oh, yes!" Megan held out the doll she had been clutching since she unwrapped it. "Isn't she pretty?"
Alex's heart skipped a beat. She had noticed before that the doll had dark hair, jeans and a white jacket, but seeing it close up...
It's just like me. The image. But how? The presents are all donated by members of the public. Just another eerie coincidence in this crazy world I've imagined. But it was one which disconcerted her for several seconds until she recovered enough to smile and say, "Yes, she's lovely. What's her name?"
"Hasn't got one yet. What's yours?"
"I'm Alex."
Megan frowned. "But that's a man's name."
"It's short for Alexandra. There was a Queen of England called Alexandra once."
"I'll call her Alex'Sandra then." Megan cuddled the doll contentedly. "Isn't she like you!"
"Yes, she is." Alex felt uneasy.
"Are you a policeman?"
"A policewoman. A detective."
"Alex'Sandra's a policewoman too, then."
The door flew open and Gene stumped in, clutching a treasured bottle of whisky. Without a word, he poured generous measures into four glasses and passed three to Alex and the Judds.
"Drink up. Merry Christmas."
Greater love had no Gene, she thought, than to give his best single malt to a suspect under arrest. It must be an unwelcome attack of Christmas spirit.
They fell to, all suddenly realising that they were ravenous. Judd had the dazed look of a man in a dream. Alex was reminded irresistibly of Donny's birthday party.
She had spent some strange Christmases in her time. That agonising nightmare of a Christmas when my parents had died only six weeks before and Evan didn't know what to do to make things better for me. That time I was on holiday in the south of France with Pete and we were kicked out of our hotel in Nice on Christmas Eve because he'd run out of cash and couldn't pay the bill. We camped on the beach for three days until Evan could wire us some money. The Christmas after Pete walked out. Bryan and Marjorie were so kind, but I was constantly drowned in tears. Thank God Molly was too young to realise how unhappy I was. But she knew that there would never be a Christmas quite like this one which she spent in a world inside her head, eating her dinner in a huge, echoing, empty police station canteen with a suspect, his wife and daughter, and a gruff, grim DCI with the hide of a rhinoceros and a heart of gold. Looking back on it afterwards, she would pinpoint that afternoon as the time when she first accepted that, even if - no, when she returned home, this world, and the golden-haired man with the blazing blue eyes who ruled it, would always hold a part of her heart.
The meal over, Gene took them down to the main office, ostensibly to continue showing Megan around but actually to make sure that Mrs Judd could make her statement about the attempted kidnappings before she left. But although Megan was shown the main office and Gene's office, and was introduced to Bammo and Cotsey, who shook hands with her very formally, it was clear that the station had lost its novelty and that she was getting tired. It was hardly surprising, Alex reflected. On top of the usual childish excitement over Christmas there had been the emotion of her reunion with her father and the terror of being held hostage. She had displayed remarkable resilience for a child of her age.
She'll need it, poor kid. She isn't four yet, and she'll be starting over in a new part of the country, with a new identity, and she won't see her father again for years. Maybe never. But at least she'll be safe and free to live her own life.
Gene took advantage of Megan's waning interest in her surroundings to whisk Mrs Judd away to take her statement. Megan, weary and fractious, instantly burst into tears. "Noooo! Mummy, don't go! Want Mummy!"
"It's all right, darling," Mrs Judd said reassuringly. "I just need to talk to the nice man here for a few minutes. And you can stay with Daddy while I'm gone."
"Yes, you can stay with me." Judd settled into a chair and pulled her onto his lap. "Won't that be lovely?"
"Yes! Stay with Daddy!" Megan snuggled against him. He rocked her gently, humming a lullaby, until she fell asleep with her head against his shoulder. The look on his face as he held his sleeping daughter, knowing how few and precious the moments with her were, was something that Alex would never forget. Longing for Molly overwhelmed her like a flood tide and she had to look away to hide her tears. She backed away to her desk and began to write her report of the day's events while drying her eyes.
It was a little after four when Gene and Mrs Judd returned. Looking exhausted, she sat in a chair close beside her husband and laid her head on his shoulder. Gene skirted the family group and approached Alex.
"Drake." He spoke quietly so that the Judds would not hear. "We're interviewing O'Neill. Now."
"Who?"
"Today's number one gun."
They moved out into the corridor, out of earshot of the Judds. "How do you know his name?" Alex demanded.
"Patrick O'Neill. Used to be Dermot Leary's man," Gene said impatiently. "We knew he was lying low, thought 'e'd gone back to Belfast. His son was one of Santa's customers today. Told me 'is family were on the run because people were throwing stones at their 'ouse, an' I guessed O'Neill 'ad come after Judd. Then young Megan turned up an' I knew the Judds were in the building."
"Ah, so that's how you and Lady Joan knew to come to our rescue."
"Yep."
"But his lawyer hasn't arrived yet."
"All the more reason for us to talk to 'im now, you daft dolly Bolly! As soon as 'is brief's 'ere, 'e'll be trying to get 'im out. Won't succeed, not on an attempted armed kidnapping of a three-year-old, but the brief'll be working for O'Neill's employer, an' my money's on Leary."
"It figures," Alex said thoughfully. "Bammo was with O'Neill when he made his phone call. His lawyer was away, so Bammo allowed him a second call and heard him asking for his boss to get him out."
"Right. We're 'aving a word with 'im now. Before Leary can pull any strings."
"Roger that, Guv." Alex doubted whether O'Neill would volunteer anything, but there was a chance that she could get information from him using association techniques.
"Well, Nick Nack Paddy Wack," Gene snarled as soon as the three of them had been left together in the interview room and Alex had switched the tape recorder on. "Long time no see. Last recorded sighting we 'ad of you was in Belfast. What're you doing over this side of the Irish 'erring pond, then?"
O'Neill smirked. "I came over to spend Christmas with my family and friends. No law against that, is there?"
"Depends who your friends are! An' your family are with you. I spotted them at the shelter. You dragged 'em in there to cover for your dirty deeds!"
O'Neill made no reply, but the way he was undressing Alex with his eyes made Gene long to pound him to wallpaper paste. She took up the tale.
"Which friends did you come to see, Patrick?"
O'Neill smirked. "Why do you want to know, luscious?"
"You came to that shelter to kidnap a terrified little girl," Gene said grimly. "Who are you working for? Which friend got you to do it?"
"I'm working solo," O'Neill said nonchalantly.
"When you grabbed Megan, you said we'll be in touch, we'll want information ," Alex said sternly.
"The royal we, sweetie."
"Much more out of you an' I'll kick you so 'ard you won't be able to wee for a fortnight!" Gene snapped. "Who are you working for?"
"My sweet self."
"All right, if you claim you were working alone, where were you going to keep Judd's daughter?" Alex said sweetly. "You've said yourself, you're visiting. Your family are in a shelter. So who was going to shelter you and that poor child after you'd taken her away?"
"I have my bolt holes," he said nonchalantly.
"I'll stick a bolt in your 'ole in a minute!"
"Calm down, Guv. It's Christmas. Let's play a game."
"Eh?" Gene was open-mouthed. I know she hasn't got many marbles left, but it looks like she's just lost them. His temper was not improved by seeing how O'Neill was enjoying his discomfiture.
Alex blazed a megawatt smile at O'Neill. "Say the first thing that comes into your head. Fish."
O'Neill grinned, humouring her. "Chips."
"That's the spirit. Fun fair."
"Roundabouts."
"Black."
"White."
Gene was looking back and forth at them like a spectator at a tennis match.
"Meat."
"Two veg."
"Christmas."
"Turkey."
"Dermot."
"Leary."
"GOTCHA!" Gene bellowed.
"Dermot."
"Leary - oh, shit!"
"An' shit's what you're in, my fine friend!" Gene was triumphant. "That's an admission!"
O'Neill's face was white. "Now, look here, just because I said a word in the lady's game - "
"Because you can't think of anything else." Alex's sudden stillness calmed the two men like the prospect of a dry pub. "Because you know what will happen to you, now you've failed."
"You an' Dermot Leary were as thick as Irish stew 'til you informed on 'is brother. Was Michael Judd going to be your way back into 'is good graces?"
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, yes you do!"
Trust Gene to turn a Christmas Day interview into a pantomime, Alex thought resignedly.
"You can't claim not to know." Her quiet voice was just as intimidating as Gene's bluster. "There is plenty of evidence that you've worked for Leary before. And we know that a number of gangs were after Judd."
"You're playing games with me! I want a lawyer!"
"That's if Leary's lawyer'll lift a finger for you, now you've cocked up getting Judd for your master!"
O'Neill started to shake. "I'm not saying anything. Want a lawyer."
"You know the lawyer you phoned for isn't available for three days." Alex was inexorable. "You'll have to take what you can get."
"Legal aid. I'm unemployed."
"You're in Dermot Leary's employment!" Gene snapped.
"You know you're going to be charged," Alex continued. "Attempted kidnapping at gunpoint in front of witnesses. Tell us what you know and it will be taken into account at your trial."
"Lawyer."
"Oh, I think we know a better idea than that," Gene said cheerfully. "Let's just let 'im out to find a lawyer, shall we?"
"What?" It was Alex's turn to think that her fellow interviewer had lost the plot.
"No need for us to go to the trouble of finding 'im a lawyer. Drake, tell Skip to book this one out. He can sleep rough tonight. No roof over 'is 'ead, no shelter'll take 'im. How long d'you think it'll be before Leary's troops find 'im? He doesn't like people who let 'im down."
"No!" O'Neill shrieked. "No! You can't do that!"
"What, a criminal asking to stay in clink?" Gene chuckled. "We'll 'ave to call the Guinness Book of Records."
"No! No!"
"Right. You've got a choice, Paddy. Talk or walk."
O'Neill subsided. "Yes. It was Leary. I wanted back in with him. He said, to get a lever on Judd. Not kidnap him, we knew he wouldn't talk. Get his weak spot."
"His daughter," Alex said tonelessly.
"Yes," O'Neill moaned. "Leary's had people watching out for Judd. Someone spotted him in Blackfriars the other night and tracked him to the Bermondsey shelter this morning. He called me and I went in."
"With your own family." Gene's voice was marinaded in disgust. "Lucky we 'ad one of our own hounds on the ground. Where can we find Leary?"
O'Neill looked pasty. "I don't know, I swear I don't. I haven't talked to Leary, only to Tony Maugham. His right hand man. By phone. Maugham hired a lock-up and told me to take the kid there. Tell him when I had her, and he'd get in touch with Judd."
"Where's the lock-up?"
"On the Albert Embankment. Railway Arch number 63. One of the set just east of Tinworth Street."
"Right." Gene made a note.
"So - what now?" O'Neill was trembling.
"Ta very much for giving us enough to charge you. We'll keep you under lock an' key. Patrick O'Neill, you are charged with attempted armed kidnap, illegal possession of a firearm, terrifying the shit out of a kid an' tempting Father Christmas to violence. An' your Christmas dinner'll be porridge. Interview ended four twenty-five." He turned the tape recorder off. "Drake, get Skip to return 'im to the cells."
"Do you think we'll get enough from him to go for Leary?" Alex said when O'Neill had been removed and they had emerged into the corridor.
Gene lit a fag and blew out a plume of smoke. "Wish I could say yes, but it's probably a no. Leary's too fly to give us a trail back to 'im. Only evidence we'll 'ave is who hired the lockup, an' you can bet a crate of mince pies that Maugham'll 'ave given a false name an' address."
"O'Neill will be in danger because he told us," Alex said soberly. "Leary will want him silenced."
"I know. I've told Skip to make sure nobody else gets put in the same cell. Otherwise we'll get some Irish drunk checked in 'ere who'll kill 'im in the night. Now 'e's been charged, the sooner we get 'im off to the calaboose the better, but it won't be till after the bank 'oliday."
"Roger that. What next?"
"No chance of talking to the Chink today unless we both 'ave a crash course in Mandarin, an' thanks to your do-goodin' instincts we aren't talking to Judd 'til 'is womenfolk 'ave gone. An' I need a drink."
TBC