the years, all them stories you writ about me.’
‘It’s
wrote
, actually,’ Sargood meekly corrected him.
But Gene ignored him: ‘All the times I didn’t quite get it right. All the times I maybe, just
maybe
made a wrong call in a tight corner, or went that bit too far. Like that business with Zak Benney, remember him? You
pilloried
me over that lad!’
‘Well, you did rather leave him in a state,’ Sargood said. And then, swallowing nervously, he added, ‘But maybe I was a little harsh about you.’
‘And then there was them nancy boys up from … Wiltshire, was it? And that thing with the sausages.’
‘Oh yes, the sausages!’ Sargood smiled, his face brightening at the memory. ‘I can’t forget the sausages!’
‘Neither can I, not after what you writ!’
‘Like I say, it’s
wrote,
actually.’
Sam stood back, watching. He knew nothing of Zak Benney, the Wiltshire boys, or some scandalous CID business connected with sausages – they were all presumably from before his arrival in A-Division – but what he did understand was that there was a long history between these two men … a history of bad blood, of hatchet jobs in the paper, of simmering resentment. It was no wonder that Gene expected a bomb to go off if Sargood and his fellow hacks discovered that there was a murderous past hidden in the police records that Gene himself had made no effort to unearth and avenge.
With effort, Sam insinuated himself between Gene and Sargood, pushing them apart.
‘Time out, gentlemen, let’s not get into an undignified brawl,’ he said, keeping himself between Hunt and the hack. ‘I think it’s best if you get back to your desk, Mr Sargood. Don’t you?’
‘I think you might be spot on there, DI whatever-your-name-is,’ said Sargood, picking up his trilby and beating a retreat back along the corridor. ‘It seems that right now isn’t an opportune moment for taking statements. And I think I’m just about to do a lot of toilet in myself.’ But then, from a safe distance, he called back: ‘I will not be intimidated by you, Mr Hunt! You cannot silence the voice of the free press! The pen is the sword of truth, or something like that. And truth shall always … it will always … oh dear.’
He started gingerly checking his trousers for untoward dampness. Furiously, Gene made to lunge at him. It was enough to send Sargood skittering away, barely keeping his balance as he crashed through a set of swing doors and vanished from sight.
‘I can see you and him have a colourful past,’ said Sam.
‘He’s stuck so many knives in my back you’d think I was a ruddy voodoo doll,’ growled Gene. ‘I nearly once got the sack coz of what he writ.’
‘It’s
wrote
actually, Guv.’
‘Don’t you start an’ all, Tyler.’
Sam held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. They headed off together along the corridor, each wrapped in his own thoughts. But just as they reached the exit, Sam turned to Gene.
‘I’ve just got to ask, Guv. Where did you learn about the fall of Constantinople?’
‘Sleepless nights in front of the Open University,’ Gene replied, arrogantly sparking up a cigarette. ‘If you’re gonna sit up all night, might as well improve your mind. Besides, there ain’t nowt else on at four in the morning.’ He fixed Sam with a mean look. ‘But I can guess how you
spend
your
sleepless nights, eh, five-tissue Tyler.’
CHAPTER TEN: WESTWORLD
Back at CID, Gene ordered his team to assemble. Annie sat behind her desk, with Sam standing next to her. Chris stood eagerly to attention, awaiting his captain’s commands. Ray lounged, smoking and chewing gum at the same time.
‘I’m convening a meeting,’ Gene announced gravely. ‘A council. A council of the utmost confidentiality. I want everyone in my office. Everyone except Bristols.’
Annie looked up angrily from her desk. Gene glowered implacably back at her and said, ‘And before you pipe up in her defence, Tyler, she’s
‘It’s
wrote
, actually,’ Sargood meekly corrected him.
But Gene ignored him: ‘All the times I didn’t quite get it right. All the times I maybe, just
maybe
made a wrong call in a tight corner, or went that bit too far. Like that business with Zak Benney, remember him? You
pilloried
me over that lad!’
‘Well, you did rather leave him in a state,’ Sargood said. And then, swallowing nervously, he added, ‘But maybe I was a little harsh about you.’
‘And then there was them nancy boys up from … Wiltshire, was it? And that thing with the sausages.’
‘Oh yes, the sausages!’ Sargood smiled, his face brightening at the memory. ‘I can’t forget the sausages!’
‘Neither can I, not after what you writ!’
‘Like I say, it’s
wrote,
actually.’
Sam stood back, watching. He knew nothing of Zak Benney, the Wiltshire boys, or some scandalous CID business connected with sausages – they were all presumably from before his arrival in A-Division – but what he did understand was that there was a long history between these two men … a history of bad blood, of hatchet jobs in the paper, of simmering resentment. It was no wonder that Gene expected a bomb to go off if Sargood and his fellow hacks discovered that there was a murderous past hidden in the police records that Gene himself had made no effort to unearth and avenge.
With effort, Sam insinuated himself between Gene and Sargood, pushing them apart.
‘Time out, gentlemen, let’s not get into an undignified brawl,’ he said, keeping himself between Hunt and the hack. ‘I think it’s best if you get back to your desk, Mr Sargood. Don’t you?’
‘I think you might be spot on there, DI whatever-your-name-is,’ said Sargood, picking up his trilby and beating a retreat back along the corridor. ‘It seems that right now isn’t an opportune moment for taking statements. And I think I’m just about to do a lot of toilet in myself.’ But then, from a safe distance, he called back: ‘I will not be intimidated by you, Mr Hunt! You cannot silence the voice of the free press! The pen is the sword of truth, or something like that. And truth shall always … it will always … oh dear.’
He started gingerly checking his trousers for untoward dampness. Furiously, Gene made to lunge at him. It was enough to send Sargood skittering away, barely keeping his balance as he crashed through a set of swing doors and vanished from sight.
‘I can see you and him have a colourful past,’ said Sam.
‘He’s stuck so many knives in my back you’d think I was a ruddy voodoo doll,’ growled Gene. ‘I nearly once got the sack coz of what he writ.’
‘It’s
wrote
actually, Guv.’
‘Don’t you start an’ all, Tyler.’
Sam held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. They headed off together along the corridor, each wrapped in his own thoughts. But just as they reached the exit, Sam turned to Gene.
‘I’ve just got to ask, Guv. Where did you learn about the fall of Constantinople?’
‘Sleepless nights in front of the Open University,’ Gene replied, arrogantly sparking up a cigarette. ‘If you’re gonna sit up all night, might as well improve your mind. Besides, there ain’t nowt else on at four in the morning.’ He fixed Sam with a mean look. ‘But I can guess how you
spend
your
sleepless nights, eh, five-tissue Tyler.’
CHAPTER TEN: WESTWORLD
Back at CID, Gene ordered his team to assemble. Annie sat behind her desk, with Sam standing next to her. Chris stood eagerly to attention, awaiting his captain’s commands. Ray lounged, smoking and chewing gum at the same time.
‘I’m convening a meeting,’ Gene announced gravely. ‘A council. A council of the utmost confidentiality. I want everyone in my office. Everyone except Bristols.’
Annie looked up angrily from her desk. Gene glowered implacably back at her and said, ‘And before you pipe up in her defence, Tyler, she’s
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