Читать книгу Specials: Based on the BBC TV Drama Series: The complete novels in one volume - Brian Degas - Страница 34

With the Specials gathered in the Division ‘S’ Parade room, Bob Loach was between Freddy Calder, John Redwood and Tom Fields as they listened to SDO Rob Barker taking the parade. Probably a little rusty, Loach figured. Barker began by clearing his throat with a dry laugh.

‘Got your pencils sharpened?’

Surveying the faces in the parade room, he must have noted that his heavy attempt at humour raised but a few wan smiles. ‘Because you’ve been invited to put your names down for a “special” cause, I advise only the physically fit to apply.’ He tried another dry laugh, then gave it up. ‘But to more serious matters …’

His tone and expression indeed became more serious, as he frowned at the face he was holding in his hand. ‘The Inspector has given me an identikit picture, which I’ll pass around. It’s a man in his mid-thirties who drives a light-coloured car whose registration number includes a five, a six and a three.’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, that’s all we’ve got to go on. He has sexually assaulted three women to date. His method is to force them into his car. He’s dangerous, so do not approach him.’

As Barker was moving on to more mundane matters, Fields tapped Loach on the shoulder. ‘Been demoted again, have we?’

‘Very funny, Tom.’ Barker’s words became indistinct.

‘Looks like Barker’s back, doesn’t it?’

Loach didn’t take his eyes away from watching Sub-Divisional Officer Barker. ‘Don’t count his chickens.’

‘Oh,’ Fields wondered aloud, ‘something I should know?’

‘When the time comes …’

Barker’s voice faded back into Loach’s consciousness. ‘Right … As far as the tours of duty are concerned … Special Constable Redwood? You’ll be out in the panda with WPC Morrow.’

Some feral hound in the pack gave her a wolf whistle.

‘Now, now,’ Barker scolded, ‘let’s show more respect for WPC Morrow.’

The wolf howled.

Another anonymous wag agreed with the wolf. ‘Can’t get more respect than that!’

‘That’s the drill for tonight. Good luck, everyone …’ As the Specials filed out, he picked out a face in the crowd. ‘Ah, Special Constable Redwood …?’

Redwood nodded, waiting for Barker to join him. In the background, Loach watched with a speculative eye.

‘Can I have a word?’ Again Redwood nodded, remaining behind the others. Rob spoke to him in a lower, confidential voice. ‘It’s rather noisy here. Perhaps we can go up to the Club. It’ll be quiet at this time of the evening, and Loach can manage the store.’ He signalled to Loach to stay and take care of business while he was gone, then turned to escort John Redwood from the parade room.

Freddy looked for Loach’s reaction. ‘The new boy’s getting a lot of attention?’

Loach shrugged. ‘You on your own, tonight?’

‘Looks like it,’ Freddy affirmed, not looking forward to pounding the beat by himself.

‘Is it Viv’s night off?’

Equivocating, Freddy scratched his chin. ‘That’s debatable, if I know Viv …’

Her bedroom looked like a boudoir straight out of Cosmopolitan, and that was just what Viv wanted. Standing in front of the make-up mirror in her fluffy, comfy robe, she was generally pleased with what she saw while slowly applying another layer of eye-shadow. She would do.

A buzz on the door-intercom startled her, and she frowned, smearing some of the eye-shadow. She wasn’t expecting a certain visitor … not just yet anyway. Walking into the small sitting room, she went to the door and lifted the intercom telephone.

‘Hello?… Ginger? But I thought …’ Didn’t he remember the time they set? ‘Of course you can come up. It’s just I didn’t expect you for another hour. I’m not decent …’

Neither was his response.

‘Ginger, you’ve got a dirty, horrible mind …’ she half-smiled.

‘I know it’s a bit late in the day, but congratulations,’ Barker declared, once they were settled at a table in the Pub on 4th and Briggsy had served him a mug of brew, which he offered in solitary toast.

‘Thank you,’ nodded the modest John Redwood. He had declined having to drink.

‘It’s good to see professional people like yourself joining the service,’ Barker began. ‘When I became a Special, more moons ago than I care to remember …’ he winked, ‘… well, the quality of intake was, shall we say, lower down the scale. Conversation was on a par with the corner pub.’ He took a sip of the brew.

Redwood raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s more important, surely, is if a man or a woman can do the job well? I don’t believe their background makes any difference.’

Barker wasn’t about to argue if Redwood were going to make an egalitarian issue out of an innocent pleasantry. Already he could see the man’s tenacity in defending a moot point, which was, after all, an encouraging sign.

‘True. Very true, John … I can call you John?’ Redwood indicated his assent. Barker smiled, then assumed a more confidential attitude. ‘The reason I wanted to have a chat with you is not so much that you’re a fellow Special – although that’s important,’ Barker reassured him. ‘No … it’s of a more personal nature, if you follow me.’

From the look on his face, Redwood did not follow exactly, seeming uncomfortably uncomprehending. ‘As a solicitor, you must get a lot of people chewing your ear … needing advice … You probably hear all kind of things …’