Chapter Three

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

Christina turned from where she had been looking out of the window into the inky black night surrounding Dorrell Road and frowned. "What?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

"About reporting me."

She paused, wondering for a moment what Frank was referring to, then remembered the conversation when he had said he could kiss her over news of Tommy Fulton's fingerprints. "No, of course not."

"Good. Wouldn't do your career much good you know...making complaints about senior officers."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, I'm not simple."

"Anyway," he shifted in his seat. "I could report you."

"Me? For what?"

"For the comment you made earlier about me and anything that moves."

She snorted back a laugh, waiting for him to share the joke and finding herself left wanting by his silence. "Are you being serious?"

He turned to look at her, his face half hidden by shadow, "I'm deadly serious, darling. I don't like having my character besmirched by idle gossip."

"Your...am in some sort of parallel universe?" she asked, choosing not to take him on as to whether it was idle gossip or, in fact, truth. He wasn't exactly known for his subtlety when it came to the women in the station he had tried to crack onto. "One where it's ok for you to say anything you like to me and about me but I can't reciprocate?"

"It's called rank," he replied. "You'd do well to remember that."

Christina sighed heavily and turned her attention back to the lock up a few hundred yards away. Two hours they had been sitting watching it and for two hours nothing had happened, nothing had stirred and she had been forced to make small talk with Frank. She had hoped to be paired with Jim, even Mike, but no. She had definitely drawn the short straw and once all work related chat had dried up, things had started to get personal. "I can hardly forget that you're my DI, sir, now can I?"

"Maybe it's because you're married to a detective sergeant," Frank observed. "I'm guessing he doesn't make you call him sir at home...or maybe he does in certain rooms..."

"Yes you're quite right. He likes to handcuff me to the bed and spank me while I call him sir, master, God..."

"All right, I don't need to know your kinky sex secrets." He shifted again. "All this sitting about is going to play havoc with my bad back. What the hell are they doing anyway? Why has nothing happened?" He lifted his radio. "Burnside to Dashwood, over."

"Dashwood receiving."

"Anything happening on your side, Michael?"

"Not a sniff, Guv."

"Brilliant. If Alfie's given me the runaround so help me God I'll swing for him." He tossed the radio back onto the dashboard and settled back in the seat. "So what's hubby doing tonight then?"

"Working," she replied.

"Must be tricky. Both of you in the job, both working shifts...can't be easy finding time to spend together."

"We manage."

"Most police marriages don't last, you do know that don't you?"

She rolled her eyes again, "I didn't actually, but thanks for letting me know."

"How long have you been married now?"

"Eight years."

"You must have been a child bride, young and naive."

Christina turned to look at him again, "As opposed to you, Guv? Old and jaded?"

"Burnside from Dashwood, over." Mike's voice crackled over the radio, sparing her from Frank's reply. "There's movement on this end. A blue Ford van making its way along Dorrell Road in your direction, over."

"Received, over." Frank replied. "About bloody time."

They sat in heightened silence, waiting as the van came into sight. As it approached the lock ups, its headlights darkened and it slowed to a stop. Through the darkness, Christina could make out two figures in the front. "Metcalfe and Fisher?"

"Probably."

Both doors opened and the men jumped out. One stood by the van while the other made his way over to the lock up and sprung the door open. A few seconds later, he reappeared carrying a box which he then placed in the back of the van before re-entering the lock up and repeating the process.

"He's doing all the heavy lifting whichever one he is," Christina observed. "Number Two's just stood there like a twat." After the fifth box had been placed in the van she glanced at Frank. "You want to nick them now or follow them?"

"What do you think?" he replied. "We might as well catch them in the act of supplying." The van door slid shut and the first man closed the door of the lock up. "They must be finished. All units from Burnside. Looks like the transfer is complete. We're going to follow the van at a distance. Ramsay and Haynes, you stay back here and keep an eye on the lock up and let us know if there's any other movement. Garfield, Yorkie, stay behind us."

"Yes Guv," Pete Ramsay's voice came over the radio, sounding less than thrilled at being left behind.

The van snapped on its headlights and began reversing back along Dorrell Road. "Mike, he's heading back towards you and Jim," Frank said. "Follow at a distance. We'll be behind you."

"Received," Mike replied.

Christina felt a frisson of excitement as Frank started the engine. There was something about being moments away from a big collar that always gave her shivers. It was as if all the regular shit didn't matter if you could have moments like this. Slowly, they made their way along Dorrell Road in time to see Mike's taillights disappear around the corner. Staying close, but not too close, they followed as the van led them through Canley and out towards the docks. "What if there's a ship or something?" she said. "This could be huge."

"Keep your knickers dry."

"They're bone dry, thanks."

They lapsed into silence again as, ahead, the van drew up alongside an iron gate and stopped. Mike pulled in behind another parked vehicle with Frank following suit. As the van doors opened and both men got out, Christina realised she was holding her breath. They moved to the back doors, appearing to be in conversation with each other, then both lit up cigarettes, the butts glowing in the darkness.

"They must be waiting for a buyer," Frank said. The words had no sooner left his lips when another van came down the road past them and pulled in alongside. "Run a PNC."

Christina lifted the radio and hurriedly called in the registration. "They're not exactly in a hurry," she commented as a third man got out of the second van and stood speaking to Metcalfe and Fisher.

"WDC Lewis from Sierra Oscar, over."

"Go ahead, over."

"Registration Delta Alpha Six Four, Romeo Hotel Hotel is showing to a grey Ford transit van. Registered owner is a David Nelson, 43 Latimer Gardens, over."

"Received. Recognise the name?"

Frank shook his head, "You?"

"Nope."

Suddenly, both sets of men opened their respective van doors and Metcalfe and Fisher began moving the boxes over, the third man standing back to watch. As the last box was being placed in the back of the grey van, Frank called it.

"All units, go, go, go!"

Christina leapt out of the passenger seat and ran towards the vans, mere moments behind Mike and Jim as George and Yorkie screamed up the road in the patrol car. Metcalfe and Fisher went one way, Nelson the other, slipping out of Jim's grip as he lunged for his jacket. Losing his footing gave her the advantage and, as he sought to leap over the gate, Christina grabbed him, pulling him back down and intending to put him on the ground.

"Police! You're under arrest..." before she could finish the sentence, he swung out of her grip, turned to face her and punched her squarely in the face, causing her to fall to the ground. Her ears starting buzzing and, for a moment, it felt as though he had broken her jaw. She could hear scuffling and shouting around her and then felt herself being pulled upright.

"You all right?! Chris, are you all right?!" Jim's face swam in front of her.

"Yeah..." she heard herself say, "yeah I'm ok..." she clutched onto his arm and then bent forwards, pressing her hand to the side of her face. "Jesus...did we get them?"

"All three in cuffs. You should sit down..." Jim propelled her towards the back of one of the vans and she sat down heavily on the step. "You sure you're all right?"

"She's fine," Frank said, coming up behind them. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied, squinting at him.

"Good. Let's get this lot back to the nick then."

Jim took her arm again and helped her up. "All heart, isn't he?"

XXXX

"You wanting to see the police casualty surgeon?" Bob Cryer asked, pointing at Christina's face as he finished processing the last of the three prisoners.

"No, it's fine," she replied, touching her jaw. "I'll live."

"Which one was it?"

"Nelson," Frank replied. "So you'd better add police assault onto the charge sheet."

"As long as I'm not adding on a complaint," Bob said.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning he's got a busted nose, or did you miss all the blood?"

"He resisted arrest," Frank said. "Goes with the territory." He turned to look at her again. "You sure you're all right?"

"Well I'm not dead so let's take that as a win, yeah?"

"Well if you're sure..."

"Excuse me Guv," Tony said, sticking his head around the door. "There's a DS Church in the front office looking for you and WDC Lewis."

"Stewart?" Christina queried.

"Uh, yeah..." Tony said, clearly embarrassed. "He didn't look very happy."

A niggle started at the back of Christina's mind and when she looked at Frank she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Wordlessly, she followed him out of custody and through the corridors to the front office where Tony gestured to the interview room.

Stewart's face was white with anger and when she opened the door and saw him, Christina was convinced, for a split second, that he wasn't her husband.

"Well, well, DS Church," Frank said, closing the door behind him. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I want to know what the hell you thought you were playing at," Stewart demanded.

"What are you on about?"

"I'm referring to you nicking David Nelson."

Christina frowned, "How do you know about that?"

"I'll tell you how I know," Stewart stepped forwards, his face inches from hers. "I know because we've been watching him for four months! Round the clock surveillance! So we couldn't really miss you bunch of hillbillies storming in and arresting him now, could we!"

"Now hang on a minute," Frank moved slightly in front of her, forcing Stewart to step back. "We received legitimate information about a drugs shipment on our patch. There were no memos from your department circulated stating you had any major operations going on Sun Hill ground so it's hardly our fault if we do our jobs!"

"And when you got this legitimate information none of you thought of calling us to find out if we were even interested?"

"No, we didn't!" Christina said, shocked at his aggression. "Why would we?"

"Because it should have been obvious from the fact that Nelson was an unknown quantity to you that this was bigger than your little station! I don't give a damn about his little sidekicks Metcalfe and Fisher. For all I care you can sling the book at them, but I want Nelson released."

"No chance," Frank scoffed. "He was caught red handed receiving what looks to be heroin with a street value in excess of two hundred thousand pounds, not to mention he's responsible for doing that to her face," he gestured to Christina. "He's going nowhere except jail."

"You don't get it do you?" Stewart sneered. "Nelson isn't the end of the chain. He's a small fish in a very big pond, only we need the small fish to tempt the big fish. Our operation is vast and long running and isn't anywhere near completion so you'd better find a reason to get Nelson out on bail and hope to God he goes ahead with the next part of the operation or I'll be going to your Governor!"

"I think you're forgetting yourself Sergeant," Frank snapped. "Don't you come into my nick and read me the riot act like I was a beat constable fresh out of Hendon!"

"Your rank doesn't impress me," Stewart said. "I've heard too many stories from this one to owe you any respect." He gestured carelessly at Christina. "Now, like I said, I want Nelson bailed and I want him bailed within the hour..."

"Or what?" Frank asked.

"Or, like I said, I'm going to your Governor and I really don't think you want the squad making a stink about this when you're not that long in the job. You don't exactly have the best reputation as it is, Inspector." Without any further recourse, he stormed out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Christina felt shell-shocked. She had never seen Stewart so angry, never heard him berate a senior officer like that, not to mention that part of her was slightly hurt that he clearly hadn't given a toss for the fact that she had been injured, minor though it was. Glancing at Frank, she could tell he was furious. "I...I'm sorry."

"For what?" he turned to look at her. "For the way he spoke to me? For the way he spoke to you? Or for him letting slip that you've been telling tales about me."

"I haven't..." he threw open the door and left the room before she could finish, leaving her trailing in his wake along the corridor. "I haven't been telling tales!"

"Listen," he rounded on her. "I couldn't care less what you say about me over the dinner table or the duvet but I most definitely do care about a jumped up sergeant coming in here and having a pop at me because of my relationship with you!"

"We don't have a relationship!"

"I'm not talking about that sort of relationship, Christina. I'm talking about the fact that your husband wouldn't have come barrelling in here like that if you didn't work for me! Maybe he thought it would be a turn on for you. That you'd get all hot and sweaty seeing him trying to get one over on me!"

"Well he thought bloody wrong if he's under the impression I get turned on by being screamed at too!"

"Yeah well..." Frank said, "He wasn't exactly falling over himself about your face either. Doesn't he care if you get injured on the job?"

"Of course he does," she replied, her tone more indignant than she felt.

"If you were my wife, I'd be wanting to crack Nelson's skull open, not have him released!"

"If I was your wife..." she stopped herself quickly, before she said something she really couldn't come back from.

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Look, what are we going to do about Nelson?"

"We're going to bang him up, drugs squad or no drugs squad. Or do you suggest we just roll over and let them have their way?"

Christina paused. "No."

"Right then. Let's get him interviewed and once we've done that we'll ask for a remand and go home."

XXXX

"I've had a very irate DS Church from the Drugs Squad on the phone," Derek said two hours later after a predictable no comment interview from Nelson. "Though I would imagine that both of you would be aware of that. Now what the hell's been going on?"

"One of the men we nicked, David Nelson," Frank said. "It turns out the squad have been watching him. Looks like he's a courier. DS Church wanted him bailed so that he would hopefully carry on with the rest of the delivery and the squad could nail his buyer."

"Oh terrific," Derek said. "But instead, you've kept him locked up."

"He was caught with a large amount of drugs, sir," Christina said. "Letting him out on bail would have looked suspicious if nothing else."

"She's right," Frank said. "Any chance the squad had of him carrying on with the deal evaporated the moment we, legitimately might I add, nicked him."

"DI Burnside told me that you suggested we notify the drugs squad after the initial information came in," Derek said to Christina pointedly. "Sounds like that might have been a very good idea, don't you think so Frank?"

"With hindsight, sir..."

"No," Christina interrupted. "We did the right thing, sir. A crime was going to be committed on our patch and we stopped it. We shouldn't have to apologise for that."

Derek looked between them both. "Well I'll have to have a word with DS Church's senior officer and see if we can't smooth things over. There's no point in having poor relations with the squad."

"Thank you sir," Frank replied.

"Don't thank me, Frank, just make sure this sticks. Otherwise, I'm going to be coming after you."

"Sir." Frank held the door open for Christina and then closed it behind them both. "I suppose you expect me to thank you."

"For what?"

"For backing me up over not calling in the squad in the first place."

"Forget it."

"Now you listen..." he stepped in front of her. "I don't need you coming to my rescue or whatever you thought you were doing in there. If you still believe we should have called them when Alfie gave us the information, then at least have the courage of your convictions to say that."

She stared at him. "What, even if...?"

"Even if," he said. "I can look after myself when it comes to the senior management team here, ok?"

"Fine," she said. "If that's how you want it to be."

"It is. Anyway, you should go home and try to make things up to hubby. Maybe call him 'sir' a few times to get back in his good books."

Christina made a face at him, "Very funny. Anyway, uniform have apparently picked Tommy Fulton up. I figured we could interview him about the fingerprints and this Victor McDonald bloke."

Frank shook his head, "Ted and I can do it in the morning. You look dead on your feet."

"I'm fine."

"Go home."

"You've been here as long as I have."

"I don't have a face like that though, do I?" he pointed to her face. "You're going to start feeling it soon and it's not exactly the image we want to project in an interview is it?"

She smiled wanly, "I suppose not. I'll see you tomorrow then or rather..." she checked her watch, "later today."

"Yeah," he turned towards the stairs then turned back. "By the way..."

"What?"

"Why did you lie to Stewart about suggesting we get the squad involved? You could have scored yourself some points with him if you'd been truthful."

Christina met his gaze. "I wanted to back the right team."

"And he wasn't the right team?"

"On this occasion, no."

Frank smiled at her, "Now you know why most police marriages don't last."