Maybe, King played it cautiously, heading deeper into the office.
Just like you did, PC Renita Mahajan laughed at Brown who pulled a face of disgust.
Did I fuck, he insisted. First rule of being a police officer never volunteer for fucking anything.
Well I volunteered, she proudly admitted, her bright smile adding to her attractiveness before she pushed her shiny, short black hair out of her face and returned to emptying the previous incumbents hordes of paperwork from her desks drawers and throwing them into a confidential waste bag. At only five-foot-five and the tender age of twenty-three, she made up for her shortcomings by remaining strong and athletic, fearless and tenacious. She had only three years service with the Met, but she was already confident and capable way beyond her years. Better than driving around in a patrol car all day with some old fart who doesnt want to get involved any more, delivering messages and taking crime reports.
Youll be wishing you were back in that patrol car soon enough when youre walking around the Grove Wood Estate in the middle of the night on your own, hen, Brown smiled evilly.
Ignore these two, Danny Williams, the final member of the team, advised King. They think theyre Laurel and Hardy.
Who? Brown spat the question. Williams ignored him as he tried to close the tall metal locker hed filled with equipment with no success, ramming it with his sizeable shoulder in frustration, before giving up and turning to King and straightening to his full six-foot-two, his lithe, athletic body augmented by his mahogany skin. He kept his Afro hair cropped so nothing would distract from his undeniably handsome face, although at only twenty-four some boyish features still remained.
We all volunteered, Williams ended the argument, and so did a shitload more people, but we got picked because were the best.
Aye, Brown interrupted. Six months of this shit and Ill have earned enough brownie points to fuck off to the TSG. Borough policings strictly for mugs. Territorial Support Groups the real show.
Its the CID next for me, Williams explained.
And you? King asked Renita, who continued tidying her desk for a few seconds while she thought.
I dont know, she shrugged. Promotion maybe. What about you?
I havent thought that far ahead, he admitted before Brown answered for him.
Have you not heard? Brown grinned. Sergeant King heres on accelerated promotion. Oh, hes strictly just passing through on his way to the top.
Youre on accelerated promotion? Renita asked, suspicious.
Thats the rumour. King knew hed need to quickly earn their respect. If thats the way I want to go.
If? Brown almost shouted. Listen, pal take some advice. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Fucking accelerated promotion easy life, eh.
Were not pals yet, King warned him. Lets start with Sarge and see how we get on, eh?
Brown eyed him silently for a few seconds before answering. Aye. Fair enough.
Williams calmed the tension. So whats the score whats the brief with this estate policing unit?
What you been told?
Only what Inspector Johnston told me, Williams explained. Police the Grove Wood Estate and sort it out. I was hoping you could be a little more specific.
King moved deeper into the office and dumped his heavy kitbag onto the only desk that hadnt been taken. Fair enough, he began. The estates in a shit state. Local criminals and yobs seem to run the place. Reported crimes through the roof, so God only knows how much unreported crimes going on.
Powers-that-be wont like that, Renita added.
Safer Neighbourhoods Team tried to get on top of it, but failed, King continued.
SNT, Brown scoffed. They couldnt get on top of a whore.
King ignored him. Our job, to put it bluntly, is to kick some arse within the confines of the law, naturally.
I like the sound of that, Williams joined in.
Cant make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Brown once more grinned his evil grin.
I said within the confines of the law, King reminded him.
Aye, Brown argued, but the local slags know the law better than most barristers. We want results, were going to have to bend things a little. Know what I mean?
No one minds things getting a little bent, King agreed. But it better be for the right reason and the right person. I dont want anyone overstepping the mark. Very low-grade stuff and only when theres no question of them being guilty. No stitch-ups even on the local faces. Were better than that. Someone tosses a stolen phone when they see you coming and your evidence says you found it in their pocket when you searched them hey, so be it. No ones going to get too worried about it, but no more than that. Everyone understand? Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Brown who just shrugged. Good, King left it.
As Im sure you all know by now, there are several fairly notorious drug dealers in the estate and at least one prolific handler, he explained.
Ill soon take care of them, Brown crowed before King cut him down.
No you wont, he ordered. None of you will. Our job is to take out all the little shits whove been making life hell for everyone on the estate. Later on maybe we can move on to bigger fish, but right now we sort out these little bastards who are beginning to feel untouchable. The CID can deal with major crime. Our brief is to get the streets back.
The bloody CID? Brown asked in his own unique way.
Yes, King answered the fact he was losing patience plain to hear in his voice. Brown just shook his head. Now, I spent half of yesterday in with the Intelligence Unit getting the info on whos who on the Grove Wood and Ive identified the people we should be looking at. He pulled a folder and some Blu-tack from his kitbag and spilled the photographs from inside over his desk. As he spoke he stuck mugshots of the people he discussed to the closest whiteboard.
Lets start with the local burglars, shall we? he began. Tommy Morrison, seventeen-year-old residential burglar. The mugshot showed a skinny youth with bad skin and unkempt brown hair. He specializes in daytime burglaries of homes on the estate.
So much for not shitting on your own doorstep, Williams said.
Morrison doesnt care about rules and sayings, King told them. He only has one rule steal it if you can. He doesnt care from who.
Why dont the locals just give him a good kicking and teach him a lesson? Renita asked.
Because theyre all as bad as each other, Brown explained. All fucking thieving from each other all fucking each other over.
Probably, King agreed, but the fact remains this kid is a one-man crime wave, so lets bring an end to it. He stuck another photograph of a similarly unpleasant-looking youth to the board. Justin Harris. Another residential burglar and sometime partner-in-crime of the before-mentioned Morrison and just as prolific. Yet another photograph was stuck to the board, this time of a black youth in his late teens. Everton Watson, King explained. The last of our residential burglars, only he strictly works solo and is notoriously slippery.
Ive dealt with that slag, Renita told them. Nicked him for screwing a car. Looks like hes moved up to bigger and better things.
He has, King agreed, and now he needs to be stopped. But speaking of screwing cars, he continued, sticking two more photographs on the board, we shouldnt forget these two Craig Rowsell and Harrison Clarke a salt-and-pepper team specializing in theft from motor vehicles. Where you find one youll usually find the other. Prolific isnt the word for these two. Next time you feel broken glass from a smashed car window under your feet, you can be sure its probably down to these two clowns. Theyll think nothing of breaking into a car just to see if theres anything worth nicking. Theyre looking for satnavs people have been stupid enough to leave inside or mobiles, but theyll take absolutely anything: loose change, adaptors, chargers, pens, CDs, even lighters in the past. If they had a motto itd be steal first think later and they are causing havoc to the borough motor vehicle crime figures.
Well now, Brown added sarcastically, we cant have that, can we.
No we cant, King reprimanded him. And then theres those who are slightly further up the food chain. As Ive said, theyre not our immediate problem, but you should be aware of who they are.
The first mugshot was of an overweight man about thirty-four years old, with oily olive skin and hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was smiling in the photo, revealing his heavily stained teeth. This is Arman Baroyan, King told them. By all accounts hes a proper Fagin the main dealer in stolen goods on the estate, but judging by his lack of arrests hes no fool.
Next he slapped a photo of a man in his mid-twenties to the rogues gallery tall and skinny with a poor pox-marked complexion, his head shaved, dead blue eyes staring from his skull-like face. Micky Astills our main local heroin and crack dealer, selling out of his secured flat in The Meadows. He never seems to get turned over by any bigger or more violent dealers, so assume hes getting protection from somewhere.
Probably the Campbells, Renita offered, referring to the areas most notorious crime family.
Probably, King agreed, but the Campbells neither live on the estate nor commit the sorts of crimes were interested in.
Mores the pity, Brown snarled.
And last but not least, King ignored him, sticking his final photo to the board, Susie Ubana our primary local cannabis dealer. He tapped the photograph of the attractive black woman in her early thirties. If its cannabis you want shes your girl. She deals from her heavily fortified maisonette in Millander Walk. Drug Squad have hit it before, but by the time they got through the metal grates any drugs had been long flushed or so well hidden they couldnt find them.
If were not going to hit them, why we talking about them? Brown demanded to know.
Because theyre a good source of arrests, King told him. You see any local toe-rags coming from any of these addresses theres a strong chance theyll be carrying drugs or stolen goods. Never look a gift horse in the mouth wasnt that what you said?
Aye, well, Brown struggled for an answer.
King pressed on. And remember in amongst the scum therell be a lot of decent folk just trying to live their lives quietly. Treat them with respect when youre dealing with them and we might just win their support and confidence. Were there to police by consent not just force. Everyone understand?
Renita and Williams nodded, whereas Brown just shrugged.
Now, most of the people were interested in dont even get out of their beds till midday, lazy bastards, so theres no point us wandering around the estate at seven in the morning. Well work two shifts between ten am and six pm and six pm till two in the morning two of us per shift. You dont have to walk around holding hands, although sometimes well need to stick together. Any questions?
Aye, Brown asked. When do we get started?
Right now, King told him, clipping on his utility belt and pulling his body armour from his bag. The Grove Wood Estates crawling with criminality. Its time to restore the rule of law.
The small meeting began to break up before King stopped them. One more thing, before I forget. The others stopped what they were doing and turned back to look at him. Apart from the before-mentioned rogues gallery, the Grove Wood has an additional and very unwelcome problem.
Such as? Renita asked.
Some animal messing with the local kids, King explained.
The fucking kiddie fiddler? Brown jumped in. CID still not caught the bastard?
Yes, the kiddie fiddler and, no, the CID still havent caught him, King answered. But this ones already up to half-a-dozen attacks to date and doesnt look like stopping until hes stopped. I spoke with DS Marino about it and hes convinced whoevers doing it is already escalating. Only a matter of time before he commits a serious sexual assault on a child. We have to stop him before that happens.
Thats a lot of attacks in a relatively small area, Renita questioned. How come he keeps getting away with it?
CID have had the Crime Squad down there a few times, King explained, but he never attacks out in the open, so observation posts havent worked. They tried to put plain-clothed units on the ground, but you know what its like on the Grove Wood strangers stand out a mile and Old Bill even more so. As soon as the Crime Squad moved onto the estate the local slags put the alarm up warning whoever were looking for, even if they didnt mean to.
Forensics? Williams asked.
No forensics, King answered. Hes real careful. Uses his hands and hands only. Never leaves any body fluids behind for DNA.
And identification? Williams tried again.
King just shook his head. We have little or no chance of that. He uses the oldest disguise in the book: a baseball cap, hoodie hood up and sunglasses. Add to that the fact that the children are usually very young and traumatized theres little chance of a positive identification. No. This one were probably going to have to catch in the act.
Great, Brown shrugged and pulled a face of disgust.
King ignored him. OK, people. Thats the job, so lets get on with it. Starting right now.
King walked through the estate feeling better than he had in a long time. He caught a reflection of himself in the stainless steel doors of one of the many old lifts that ferried the inhabitants skywards to their homes. It had been a long time since hed seen himself in full uniform. Thered been no need for body armour and a belt full of equipment answering a phone on the Crime Desk. He took a second to admire his appearance a crisp white open-neck short-sleeved shirt under the armour. Black trousers and shiny shoes with rubber soles so he could move silently. Hed also chosen to wear his peaked cap instead of the traditional helmet and had told the others to do the same. He wanted them all to look the part to look different from other cops on foot. He wanted the locals to know they were dealing with something unlike anything theyd dealt with before. He took a deep breath and straightened his cap to perfection and let the feeling of power surge through his body. Strange how powerful a uniform could make a person feel like wearing an impregnable shield. A jolt of pain through his shoulder reminded him it was anything but.