ausmac
in
lifein1973
Fic: Return Ticket to Coventry part 4
Title: Return Ticket for Coventry Part 4
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating for this segment: Green Cortina at best.
Summary: When Gene sees Sam with a prostitute, odd things happen. In this part, I descend further into angst.
It was easier if he didn't try to justify it. If he ignored the tired droop of Sam's shoulders, the shadows under his eyes, he could pretend it wasn't his fault. Justification was proving to be a very iffy thing for Gene Hunt right then, considering his own demons.
And anyhow, it wasn't his fault. He'd never told the mongrel to go with a male prostitute, never told him to be a mattress muncher. Never told him to become so important to me that it hurt just to look at him, and know what I've done.
He glanced at the report on his desk when he arrived the next morning, noting that towards the end Sam's normally neat handwriting had deteriorated to a scrawl. The fact that the report wasn't needed was just another nail in his own coffin; he already had the facts from the B Division DCI via a longish phone call. Yet more evidence that Gene Hunt could be a total bastard when he wanted to be.
He was contemplating a morning cuppa laced with scotch, and possibly arsenic, when the phone rang. It was one of his snitches, with info that the gang were going to be hitting the Liverpool Road Tote that morning. He slammed the phone down, grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Sam wasn't at his desk and he called across to Cartwright.
"Where's Tyler?"
"Getting something in the canteen, Guv. Will I get him?"
"Yes, on the double. The rest of you, drop what you're doing and gather round. We haven't got much time." He looked over at the clock on the wall. There wasn't time to wait for Tyler. "Right, I just good a concrete lead on those robbers. They're going for the Tote in Liverpool Road in thirty minutes. I want you all to book out a pistol and head off. You've got five minutes."
He saw Tyler arrive as he finished his instructions, recognised the scowl. "Guv, we should discuss this. These are bad people, we should really call in some help, more heavily armed officers. We could have civilians…"
"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Pick a nice gun to match your ensemble and get moving."
He saw the disapproving shake of the head and the fact that Tyler just might be right made it worse. He brushed past him, and hissed. "You can stay here if you want, Sammy, if you feel it's too much fer yer delicate disposition." He continued past, pushing Chris in front of him. "Get moving, we've only got twenty minutes!"
It took five minutes for them to get their weaponry and organise transport, and in the meantime Gene phoned the Tote and spoke to the Manager. He had the Manager gather his staff together and send them out the back door in singles and pairs with orders to leave the area in different directions. In a ballsy act the Manager offered to stay behind and man the desk and Gene agreed, telling him to stay calm if the gang turned up early and just give them what they wanted.
Minutes later they were in the cars and headed off to Liverpool Road at full speed.
There wasn't a lot of traffic on the street when they arrived, and thankfully not too many pedestrians, though still enough to cause Gene some concern. The squad parked the cars at various points and Gene took them into a café for a quick strategy.
"Tyler, you take Chris and George around to the back in case they move that way. I'll stay with the rest out front. Cartwright, you man the car and stick by the radio, in case we need backup. No-one is, under any circumstances, to make a move until I say so. Got it?"
They all nodded. Gene didn't look at Tyler as he took the two officers and walked down the laneway behind the Tote. He sent in one of his men to take the Manager's place and planted himself in the bookshop across the street, radio in hand, to wait.
The last of the staff had just left the laneway when two cars pulled up outside the tote building. Four men climbed out of the old Morris and three more from a red Triumph TR6 that had to be nicked. Four headed for the front door and two towards the lane heading for the back door. Gene swore. "Shit, seven of 'em." He flicked on his radio. "Tyler, two coming your way down the lane. Be warned, five going in the front."
"Seven! Right."
As soon as the five at the front had gone inside, Gene signaled the go. The rest of his team ran across the street and waited on either side of the door. Gene could hear low voices, the sound of a door slamming, coming from inside the building; nothing too alarming yet, but there was no time to waste, he knew'd they'd notice the lack of staff very soon. He ducked down and checked carefully through the bottom of the window. The robbers had his officer with his hands up behind the counter, with automatics and pistols being waved around. He waited until their attention shifted towards the cashbox, then gave the word.
"Alright, move in. Tyler, stay in place, watch for movement out. Let's go!"
They slammed into the Tote office through the front door; the copper behind the counter dropped down as a gun went off over his head. Ray executed a superb rugby tackle on one gunman, taking him down with a hip throw, and Roberts took out another with a shot to the chest. Gene got a third in the leg and the crim went down screaming. Another robber dropped his gun and threw his hands in the air, while the fifth made a dash for the backdoor.
Gene went after him, leaping behind a desk as a shot blasted through a chair back inches from his head. He rolled to his feet and threw himself through the door into a back office. The robber went for the back door, kicked it open and fell through, and Gene followed.
He caught sight of Chris and George handcuffing the two robbers who'd gone down the alley, with Chris sitting on one fella who was making a considerable fuss. As he stumbled down the back step, Gene saw the robber he'd chased outside spin on his heel and bring up his big automatic. Gene sank to his haunches, raised his own pistol, pulled the trigger --
And nothing happened. A jam!
For a time that took up far too many heartbeats he saw the barrel of the gun swing towards him; a shape flew through the air and struck the gunman in the chest. It was a garbage tin lid, thrown like a big Frisbee and Gene saw Tyler next to the building wall, and he wondered briefly, why didn't he shoot? and then the robber was falling backwards, his automatic discharging twice before he fell into a pile of cardboard boxes behind him.
Gene stood and scrambled across to grab the gun, flipped it over and slammed the butt down on the shooter's head; he fell backwards with a groan, out cold. He looked at his watch; five minutes since he'd sent them in, which was often the way of it. Gene pushed the jammed pistol back in his belt holster, determining to have a few short words with the weapons boss when he got back. "Tyler," he said, turning back, "call in the uniforms and the wagons, get these fellas secured."
Sam was still standing against the wall, hands down by his side, looking at the ground in a sort of distracted way and Gene frowned. "Tyler, did you 'ear me?"
He saw Sam lift one hand and slowly open his leather jacket. The green-and-white striped shirt beneath was discoloured by a spreading patch of red, and his hand began to shake. He looked at Gene, as shock paled his features and he blinked rapidly. "I think --"
And Gene moved, reaching out as Sam's knees buckled beneath him and he fell.
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating for this segment: Green Cortina at best.
Summary: When Gene sees Sam with a prostitute, odd things happen. In this part, I descend further into angst.
It was easier if he didn't try to justify it. If he ignored the tired droop of Sam's shoulders, the shadows under his eyes, he could pretend it wasn't his fault. Justification was proving to be a very iffy thing for Gene Hunt right then, considering his own demons.
And anyhow, it wasn't his fault. He'd never told the mongrel to go with a male prostitute, never told him to be a mattress muncher. Never told him to become so important to me that it hurt just to look at him, and know what I've done.
He glanced at the report on his desk when he arrived the next morning, noting that towards the end Sam's normally neat handwriting had deteriorated to a scrawl. The fact that the report wasn't needed was just another nail in his own coffin; he already had the facts from the B Division DCI via a longish phone call. Yet more evidence that Gene Hunt could be a total bastard when he wanted to be.
He was contemplating a morning cuppa laced with scotch, and possibly arsenic, when the phone rang. It was one of his snitches, with info that the gang were going to be hitting the Liverpool Road Tote that morning. He slammed the phone down, grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Sam wasn't at his desk and he called across to Cartwright.
"Where's Tyler?"
"Getting something in the canteen, Guv. Will I get him?"
"Yes, on the double. The rest of you, drop what you're doing and gather round. We haven't got much time." He looked over at the clock on the wall. There wasn't time to wait for Tyler. "Right, I just good a concrete lead on those robbers. They're going for the Tote in Liverpool Road in thirty minutes. I want you all to book out a pistol and head off. You've got five minutes."
He saw Tyler arrive as he finished his instructions, recognised the scowl. "Guv, we should discuss this. These are bad people, we should really call in some help, more heavily armed officers. We could have civilians…"
"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Pick a nice gun to match your ensemble and get moving."
He saw the disapproving shake of the head and the fact that Tyler just might be right made it worse. He brushed past him, and hissed. "You can stay here if you want, Sammy, if you feel it's too much fer yer delicate disposition." He continued past, pushing Chris in front of him. "Get moving, we've only got twenty minutes!"
It took five minutes for them to get their weaponry and organise transport, and in the meantime Gene phoned the Tote and spoke to the Manager. He had the Manager gather his staff together and send them out the back door in singles and pairs with orders to leave the area in different directions. In a ballsy act the Manager offered to stay behind and man the desk and Gene agreed, telling him to stay calm if the gang turned up early and just give them what they wanted.
Minutes later they were in the cars and headed off to Liverpool Road at full speed.
There wasn't a lot of traffic on the street when they arrived, and thankfully not too many pedestrians, though still enough to cause Gene some concern. The squad parked the cars at various points and Gene took them into a café for a quick strategy.
"Tyler, you take Chris and George around to the back in case they move that way. I'll stay with the rest out front. Cartwright, you man the car and stick by the radio, in case we need backup. No-one is, under any circumstances, to make a move until I say so. Got it?"
They all nodded. Gene didn't look at Tyler as he took the two officers and walked down the laneway behind the Tote. He sent in one of his men to take the Manager's place and planted himself in the bookshop across the street, radio in hand, to wait.
The last of the staff had just left the laneway when two cars pulled up outside the tote building. Four men climbed out of the old Morris and three more from a red Triumph TR6 that had to be nicked. Four headed for the front door and two towards the lane heading for the back door. Gene swore. "Shit, seven of 'em." He flicked on his radio. "Tyler, two coming your way down the lane. Be warned, five going in the front."
"Seven! Right."
As soon as the five at the front had gone inside, Gene signaled the go. The rest of his team ran across the street and waited on either side of the door. Gene could hear low voices, the sound of a door slamming, coming from inside the building; nothing too alarming yet, but there was no time to waste, he knew'd they'd notice the lack of staff very soon. He ducked down and checked carefully through the bottom of the window. The robbers had his officer with his hands up behind the counter, with automatics and pistols being waved around. He waited until their attention shifted towards the cashbox, then gave the word.
"Alright, move in. Tyler, stay in place, watch for movement out. Let's go!"
They slammed into the Tote office through the front door; the copper behind the counter dropped down as a gun went off over his head. Ray executed a superb rugby tackle on one gunman, taking him down with a hip throw, and Roberts took out another with a shot to the chest. Gene got a third in the leg and the crim went down screaming. Another robber dropped his gun and threw his hands in the air, while the fifth made a dash for the backdoor.
Gene went after him, leaping behind a desk as a shot blasted through a chair back inches from his head. He rolled to his feet and threw himself through the door into a back office. The robber went for the back door, kicked it open and fell through, and Gene followed.
He caught sight of Chris and George handcuffing the two robbers who'd gone down the alley, with Chris sitting on one fella who was making a considerable fuss. As he stumbled down the back step, Gene saw the robber he'd chased outside spin on his heel and bring up his big automatic. Gene sank to his haunches, raised his own pistol, pulled the trigger --
And nothing happened. A jam!
For a time that took up far too many heartbeats he saw the barrel of the gun swing towards him; a shape flew through the air and struck the gunman in the chest. It was a garbage tin lid, thrown like a big Frisbee and Gene saw Tyler next to the building wall, and he wondered briefly, why didn't he shoot? and then the robber was falling backwards, his automatic discharging twice before he fell into a pile of cardboard boxes behind him.
Gene stood and scrambled across to grab the gun, flipped it over and slammed the butt down on the shooter's head; he fell backwards with a groan, out cold. He looked at his watch; five minutes since he'd sent them in, which was often the way of it. Gene pushed the jammed pistol back in his belt holster, determining to have a few short words with the weapons boss when he got back. "Tyler," he said, turning back, "call in the uniforms and the wagons, get these fellas secured."
Sam was still standing against the wall, hands down by his side, looking at the ground in a sort of distracted way and Gene frowned. "Tyler, did you 'ear me?"
He saw Sam lift one hand and slowly open his leather jacket. The green-and-white striped shirt beneath was discoloured by a spreading patch of red, and his hand began to shake. He looked at Gene, as shock paled his features and he blinked rapidly. "I think --"
And Gene moved, reaching out as Sam's knees buckled beneath him and he fell.