An Explosive Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) (5 page)

By rising at six the next morning, and skipping breakfast, Crombie managed to avoid most of the rush hour traffic, and presented himself at Headquarters on time. He wore black trousers with a sharp crease in them and a creaseless white shirt with a grey and mauve stripped tie, matching socks and shoes that reflected the light. Not because of Blythe, but because the poor old taxpayer was footing the bill and Crombie told himself this might prove to be the exception, a seminar worth attending.

Impossibly wide shallow white stone steps swept up to the building’s front entrance which consisted of smoked glass with a pair of automatic doors that swung open at Crombie’s advance. Directly to the left, two women sat behind an enquiry counter, dealing with the public. On top of the counter was a reel of printed numbers and a hand operated device that displayed the numbers currently being served. To Crombie’s right was a double row of plastic seats, already occupied by early birds who looked at him smugly, clutching their numbered ticket.

Crombie was about to push in when he noticed a placard placed on a diagonal to the counter, directing all attendees for the “Chemical Substance Abuse Workshop” to proceed through the swing doors and take the lift to level three and follow directions to conference room one.

‘I’m here for the drugs.’ Crombie called over, flapping Blythe’s file at the woman closest to him, who didn’t even look up as she nodded him through. So much for homeland security. Crombie thought and distaining the lift as always, jogged upstairs to find another woman behind another counter who insisted on sticking a name badge to his shirt after ticking off Acting Sergeant Karen Mooney against the names on her list.

Somehow Crombie managed to get through the role playing without drawing attention to himself and being thrust centre stage to “explore the emotions of a habitual recreational chemical dependant”. One young officer really threw himself into the role of a drug addict, but otherwise the stilted “ad-lib” conversation made by those poor souls who’d been shanghaied into acting convinced Crombie these conferences were more punishment than educational.

When a halt was called for lunch, Crombie waited for half a dozen or so attendees to file out first, meaning to lose himself in the crowd. Jostling along a wide corridor he kept his head down, knowing he was being anti-social but unable to make polite conversation
 
on the Government’s classification of “Soft Drugs”. Half glazed double doors opened into a large windowless room with petrol blue carpet tiles and eye straining fluorescent lights. Twenty long tables with benches either side reminded Crombie of school dinners, and the herd slowed as a queue was formed for food, laid out on metal canteen tins under heat lamps for diners to help themselves.

Crombie looked appreciatively at the spread and began to comprehend why Acting Sergeant Mooney volunteered for these conferences. Having narrowed his choice down between lasagne verdi or roast beef, (school dinners were never like this) Crombie started when a hand tapped on his shoulder.

‘D I Crombie, don’t tell me you’ve been a naughty boy as well.’

It was Ricky Chandri, and Crombie had never been happier to see a friendly face, pink and grinning under thinning ginger hair. It'd taken a while for Chandri to forgive his playmate for choosing family and home life above their partnership. Now they moved in different spheres, but life in the fast lane, or the elite Flying Squad had taken it's toll on Ricky's own marriage.

Keeping his own face straight Crombie tapped his name badge and said ‘Acting Sergeant Karen Mooney to you sunshine.’

Ricky detached himself from the queue to push in front of Crombie. When a stringy quartet of women dared to complain Ricky replied ‘My friend’s just had a sex change, Ms Karen isn’t quite sure how to use the equipment yet and needs extra personal time in the ladies loo. I’m her partner.’ to Crombie he said ‘Only decent thing all day, almost makes up for the timewasters' prattling.’

Taking a portion of lasagne and beef, adding a spoonful of peas and half a dozen roast potatoes Chandri scolded him.

‘You got boring Crombie, stuck in the sticks, why’d ya wanna move all the way out in the middle of nowhere?’ This was an old grumble of Ricky’s, and Crombie ignored it, Ealing was hardly the middle of nowhere, and Mrs Crombie already had her eye on the tropic of Ruislip, her idea of genteel living.

Ricky lowered his backside into a seat at a table already occupied by three fellow sufferers, and without waiting for a reply introduced Crombie to the group: A slim intense looking Asian called Nathan; Patsy, a middle aged prim and proper woman, and Heather Clack, whose red hair was cut in a short mannish style and wasn’t much older than WPC Holland, but had an air of authority about her which she’d probably been born with. Chandri launched into a tale of the old days, playing up an abortive raid for laughs.

‘Man, you should have been there, funniest thing ever.’

It hadn’t been funny at the time. Acting on a tip off that a deserted farmhouse was being used to make porn or worse, snuff films, Crombie found himself somehow tagging along with Chandri and his “boys”. Crombie felt his ears going red and concentrated on the plate in front of him.

‘So Del Boy here went up the front entrance playing the straight man, and he’s clocked all these vans got the BBC OB logo on their side, and seen the catering trailer, but it’s too late to call us off, we’ve all gone in through the back, team handed, armed bastards, proper Gene Hunt stuff.’ Ricky choked with laughter, a smile spreading on the faces of his listeners as they guessed what was coming.

‘And the bald one, the one that plays one of the brothers, meant to be the hard nut, he’s hiding behind the actress playing the pub landlady, and she’s gone red in the face, and there’s six men all dressed in black, all pointing guns at her and the crew.’

‘Don’t tell me.’ Patsy said ‘They were filming an episode of “East Enders” and trying to keep the ending secret.’

Ricky nodded, laughing a lot harder than the story warranted. ‘And Del Boy rushes over, and he says “Sebastian, Roderick, I told you this was the wrong set, come along now, Julian will be tearing his hair out.” and the woman that plays the landlady of the pub, tottered over, for a moment I thought she was going to say “Gerrout my pub!” instead she’s saying to Crombie “don’t I recognise you from somewhere?” well she used to be married to Ronnie Knight - and of course, Crombie helped at the trial that put him away.’

Chandri’s audience gave wry smiles. Crombie said apologetically ‘It’s one of those stories where you had to have been there.’ and before Chandri could embarrass either of them further, asked Nathan which station he was from.

‘Uxbridge. I’m hoping to try for undercover, we’ve a huge problems with cannabis farms. That’s why I’m attending today.’

Chandri raised his eyebrows, but Patsy and Heather nodded agreement.

‘It’ll be interesting to see if the prospect of legalisation or decriminalisation is raised.’ Heather said. This time Nathan and Patsy nodded. Crombie liked their optimism, but doubted any ground breaking discussions would take place today. The tannoy pinged, and a voice informed all delegates to begin making their way along the corridor and down the stairs to conference room three.

Nathan, Patsy and Heather rose to their feet, shook hands with Chandri and Crombie who noticed Patsy held onto Chandri’s hand a little longer than necessary, perhaps she wasn’t quite as prim and proper as the A line suit and sensible shoes indicated.

Conference Room Three had tiered cinema style seats so everyone had a clear view of the podium in the middle. Four people sat behind their name placards on a wide steel and chrome desk which must have weighed a ton. A screen hung behind their heads, and Crombie had just time to note only one was in uniform, and the man closest to him had the red nose of a drinker, and must have been at least ninety before the lights dimmed. He stumbled behind Chandri to a back row and found a seat just as introductory music played and the film titles rolled.
 

‘Showtime!’ Chandri whispered, as they took their seats.

The lasagne verdi resting comfortably in his tummy, Crombie settled back and tried to watch the adventures of a drug addict in rehabilitation, or rather the rehabilitation of a chemical substance abuser, but the early morning start caught up with him. He intended to rest his eyes for only five minutes, but jerked awake with a start to find the film had finished, the lights were back on and speeches were being made. He nudged Chandri dozing beside him.

‘Wha’d I miss?’ Chandri asked.

‘Nothing much.’ Crombie said ‘The Big Wigs’ speech on how we can combat crime together. Usual stuff.’

The floor opened up for a question and answer session. Crombie clamped his lips together, it seemed everyone agreed with him: “Let’s keep quiet and we’ll get out early.”

‘Come on now, someone must have a point of view on this?’ The Assistant Chief Constable said, a touch of annoyance in his voice. ‘Yes you there? What’s your name?’

Several rows in front of Crombie and half a dozen seats to the left, a head bobbed up, and Crombie recognised the mannish hair cut of Heather Clack.

‘Since Portugal decriminalised registered drug addicts, and other countries, notably Mexico have followed suit, does the Home Office have any plans to legalise drugs, or at least decriminalise registered addicts?’

Crombie brightened, and mentally got the popcorn ready. The nonagenarian opened his mouth, but the Assistant Chief Constable answered for him after a speedy consultation with his assistant.

‘Thank you for raising this issue. If you’d like to ring my secretary to make an appointment after this conference, I’ll gladly discuss your theories with you.' His gaze shifted dismissively. 'Now moving on.’

‘Let’s discuss it now.’ A glance at Chandri’s face confirmed the voice belonged to Patsy.

Crombie saw the advisor’s lips move again. With a satisfied smirk the Chief Constable said ‘Thank you Acting Sergeant Wilson. Your ... fervour on this matter has been noted, and one of my aides will be in contact with you shortly. Now unless anyone else has any objections, I’d like to move on.’

Apart from one or two muttered ‘Shame’ no-one rushed to be singled out.

But the Chief couldn’t resist a little dig. With a chuckle he said ‘Whatever next? Maybe we should discuss legalising brothels.’ This brought one or two sniggers. When the hall quietened again a voice next to Crombie call out ‘Why not?’

The Assistant Chief Constable didn’t have to wait for his advisor to supply Ricky’s name.

‘That might be something you’d like to see in London Mr Chandri, or even visit, but I can assure you it was meant as a joke.’

A muted tittering rose from the front rows. Choosing his words carefully Crombie waited for the sniggering to subside. ‘And I can assure you Sir, DCI Chandri is happily married, and even if he were not, I doubt he would ever have to pay for anyone’s company.’

Ricky nodded encouragement, from in front Crombie heard murmurs of support.

‘However, it is the oldest profession in the world, and it would make everyone in this hall’s job easier, not to mention providing a safer environment for the majority of sex workers, who tend to be young vulnerable women.’

While the Assistant Chief Constable glared again, the advisor scribbled frantically, at her nudge, the Chief looked down at her notes, then smiled broadly in Crombie’s direction.

‘And how would you feel, DI Crombie if a careers’ advisor suggested that as a job to your daughter?’

This time Crombie didn’t have to think. ‘Sir, at the risk of pointing out the obvious, I don’t imagine too many careers’ advisors ever single out school children as road sweepers or traffic wardens come to that. Prostitution is not the chosen career of anyone, no matter what your assistant would have you believe.’

He stopped there, declining to dignify the Chief’s nasty personal attack with a response.

Apart from the rustling of paperwork and the nonagenarian clearing his throat, the hall fell silent once more. Seeing there was no help coming from the girl wonder beside him, eventually the Assistant Chief said:

‘Well, this is all very fascinating, and I appreciate the feedback, but there is a time and place for everything, unless we want to be here all night, I’m sure some of us have homes we want to get to, not to mention jobs to go back to tomorrow.’ He turned to the elderly man by his side. ‘Mr Rose do you have anything to add?’

Crombie turned to meet Ricky’s equally bewildered gaze. ‘Did he just threaten us?’ Ricky shrugged and grimaced.