Chapter 5

An American Englishman

Dempsey had fun on what he referred to as 'The Galactica Tour', taking in Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, The Houses of Parliament and a few other tourist traps. Although the weather was atrocious, they made the best of it, avoiding the snow-packed side streets wherever possible and taking it nice and slow. It was strange to be in the position of guide but it gradually dawned on him just how familiar he was with the London area these days. And why not? After all, he was out on these streets every day.

Toni and Greg professed themselves impressed by his local knowledge and Toni admitted she had been surprised that he'd opted to remain in the UK after his twelve month secondment was finished. Dempsey merely alluded to the 'ties and attachments' he'd forged since arriving in London and left it at that, any other explanation would just be too complicated, leading on to so many more questions that he wasn't completely sure even he knew the answers to.

"So," asked Greg as they started on their main courses, "how does Scotland Yard policing compare with the NYPD?"

The Covent Garden restaurant was extremely busy and noise levels were high but strangely, Dempsey was acutely conscious of the sound of their American accents above those of the British and European diners. These days, in a social situation such as this, he didn't hear himself – wasn't particularly aware of his own voice when he was among friends but now suddenly he felt almost a foreigner again and knew that those around them would assume just that. Hell, they'd even all three opted for the steak!

"Well," Dempsey mused, loading his fork with salad ,"seems to me that your criminal element is the same the world over – scum. Might act a little different but it still has to be skimmed off the surface before it contaminates the whole pool."

Greg nodded. "And the actual crimes committed? The same over here?"

Dempsey considered the question. "Pretty much. Plenty of organised crime, you know, protection rackets, heists, prostitution, gun-running, although what with the laws bein' different over here, you don't get punks on the street totin' a piece, that's still strictly for the big boys."

"You got turf wars goin' on here, Jimmy?" Toni put in.

"Sure, just not on the same scale as New York – small time, you know?"

He poured more wine for them and took up his glass whilst he talked. "Now drugs are getting' to be one helluva problem. I can see it getting' as bad as the Apple inside ten years if we can't keep a lid on supplies. Too much money to be made, too many dumb kids and party people to exploit."

Toni hacked crossly at the meat on her plate. "Too many rich bastards tryin' to get richer."

Greg eyed them both with interest. "So passionate!" he noted with exaggerated admiration.

"It's what makes a good cop great," Toni looked to Dempsey and winked, "eh, Jimmy?"

"Yeah, that and doughnuts, which, I might add, just ain't the same here." He gestured with his free hand. "They don't make 'em right and all they do are sugar-ring if you can believe that!"

They laughed and continued eating.

"Harry says I give the impression that Americans exist solely on junk food. I tell her she gives the impression that the Brits live solely off rabbit food." Dempsey smiled. "She hates hotdogs; asked me once if I'd considered how it got its name. You don't wanna dwell on that one, right?"

Toni jabbed her fork towards him. "I'm lookin' forward to meetin' this Harry of yours." She looked at him slyly. "You realise you can't go an hour without mentioning her name?"

"Hey, I noticed that too!" Greg joined in Toni's teasing. "Something you'd like to share with the group maybe?"

"A word to the wise," Dempsey grinned, spooning ketchup over his chips, "when you do get to meet her, don't even think about makin' any kind of comment like that in front of her. We got this whole love/hate relationship thing goin' on; sometimes borders on revulsion with open hostility thrown into the mix."

"Sounds intriguing," Toni cooed.

Greg raised his eyebrows as he sipped at his wine. "Sounds like we're back to that passion thing again," he sing-songed.

"Yeah, she's passionate," Dempsey conceded, "and pretty feisty too," thereby neatly avoiding Greg's meaning.

"So are you workin' some big case together at the moment?" asked Greg.

Toni tutted. "Why're you letting him off the hook? It was just startin' to get interesting."

"Because, sweetie," Greg said with parental patience, "I intend to catch him unawares later," he tilted his wine glass, "after a few more of these."

"I'll tell ya now, Greg, that ain't gonna work on Demp," she giggled.

Dempsey laughed uncomfortably when Greg winked at him.

"Sooooo, you got a big drugs bust in the pipeline?" he asked, "London Cosa Nostra to stake out?"

"That, my friend, would be classified information. I wouldn't even be able to tell you about a requisition of paperclips at SI-10. Gotta keep all that stuff on the low.

"That's cool. So you workin' with a bunch of real-life 007's?"

"He ain't no spy, Greg," laughed Toni. "He's still a detective only now he detects in London, It's probably exactly the same set-up as NYPD."

"NYPD tucked away in a classy closet," Dempsey corrected teasingly.

Toni flicked a handful of hair back over her shoulder. "Well pardon me, Mister Bond."

They finished the rest of the meal on a tide of laughter and high spirits as Dempsey regaled them with tales from his apparently never-ending store of cross-culture anecdotes. It was great to be able to share his experiences of England with people who would also find some of the Brits attitudes and approach occasionally out of kilter with what he was used to. He would have enjoyed having Harry sitting beside him right now, the perfect foil to his wisecracks and reminiscences. They were good together on these kind of occasions; their antagonistic flirting seemed to entertain observers and drew them together in some strange, warm, tender… salacious way. It was true her name had seemed to crop up quite a lot he realised and if you counted the times, as now, images of her popped into his head, well, she was never far from his thoughts. He smiled inside; she was a real big part of his life and he liked that – a lot.

After dinner they walked the few hundred yards along the icy street to Stringfellows which Dempsey assured them was one of the top London clubs.

"You've got your feet under the table in this town I see," Toni commented after Dempsey had spent a couple of minutes fraternizing with two of the doormen, Billy and Clive.

The pair had been a huge help to him the first time he'd visited the club, arranging for a taxi for him and Harry and keeping her on her feet while Dempsey went to the bathroom, talking her out of going back into the club when she'd insisted she needed to dance again, and laughing good-naturedly when she'd tried to get Billy to test out her theory that absolutely anyone could walk in high heels given a little practice.

"Yeah, they're pretty good guys," Dempsey acknowledged as he guided them through the foyer and down the crescent of steps into the main bar area, saluting the nubile, tutu-clad waitress who gave him a little wave of recognition as she passed by in front of him.