Viva Paris 1/8ish
Title: Viva Paris 1/8ish
Spoilers: none this chapter, but this takes in a AU after 2.06.
Rating: Blue Cortina for language and some sexiness, but expect the rating to go up and down throughout the series.
Summary: Sam gets an international phone call. Gene is not impressed.
A/N: Un beated, please forgive me :) Feedback is extremely welcome
Warning: Genes comments will be getting rather colourful in this. Also, there is no slash. Appologies :)
Sam could not tear his eyes away as his DCI tried to commit vehicular suicide. The oncoming cars blared and wavered as they hurtled down the road, so fast that he kept stomping on a brake that wasn't there.
He turned desperately to the Guv.
'Gene, GENE! You're driving on the wrong side!'
Gene looked at him, narrowly avoiding another car crash.
'Which is the wrong side?'
'The left side!!'
Still not looking at the road Gene snorted at him.
'What, can't the Frenchies do anything right?'
'Look out!'
Gene's eyes returned to the road just in time to avoid a head on collision.
'Oh don't get your knickers in a twist Mabel, I know what I'm doing.'
The younger man covered his face in his hands and tried to remember how he'd gotten into this mess....
'Oi, open your ears you wally!'
Sam sighed as he turned towards Ray, coughing slightly at the haze of smoke surrounding his DS.
'I have a name you know.'
'Look, you want to talk philosophy or take this call? The Guv's out and they want to talk to the man in charge.'
Ray held out the phone to him, puffing on his cigarette.
With an aggrieved air, he took it.
'DI Sam Tyler.'
'DI Tyler, so glad to talk to you. This is Special Agent Caden Rush from Interpol.'
'Interpol?' Now there was a name to conjure with.
'Inspector, we have an interesting proposal for you....'
Gene arrived at CID in a foul mood. The wife had burned the sausages this morning at breaky, and to add insult to injury, Chris had spilled hot tea on his foot when he came in, burning his toes and staining his shoe. The last thing he wanted to see was Sam bloody Tyler standing by his office door like a pimp waiting for his cut. Despite the withering glare he shot him, he followed him into his office.
'Guv..'
'Not now!'
'But-'
Gene slammed his hands down on his desk.
'Not now! Maybe not ever, maybe not today or sodding tomorrow! Now skip off Toto before I personally punt you over the rainbow so hard that your teeth fall down your arse!'
Sam backed away with his hands in the air, his face a mask of innocence that immediately roused Gene's suspicions.
'Fine sir. I'll just give the Interpol case to Litton.'
He turned to go, only to have a gloved hand slam the door closed.
'The what to who?!'
The DI smiled. 'The Interpol case. To Litton. That's who they'd talked to in the first place anyway.'
Gene growled and then stomped over to his chair, throwing himself into it. Spinning around, he glared at Tyler, feeling not unlike a Bond villain, although he doubted any of them plotted making 007 into sausages.
'Two minutes.'
Sam grinned, held up his hands, both index fingers pointing up.
'All right, all right so it turns out, when Paris was being invaded by the Nazi's, they smuggled out some of the Louvre artwork.'
He pointed one hand to the left and one to the right.
'One of the pieces went to Manchester where it stayed for some time before it was moved to the National Gallery in London. But when London was being bombed, it was moved to Canada. It stayed in Halifax until the war was over, and then, back to Paris.'
He brought both hands together, probably demonstrating the paintings return. Gene was not impressed.
'And?' he said. Bloody Tyler. How did he manage to talk forever and not say a damned thing?
'And the piece was stolen from the Louvre last night. Interpol wants representatives from Halifax, Manchester, and Paris to work with them to solve the case!'
Sam's eyes were practically shining with excitement. Any more excited and he'd be making a mess in his trousers no doubt.
'What's with you Tyler? The last time I saw you this worked up was when you got Chris to help you re-furbish the filing system.'
'Solving an art theft Gene! Come on! Haven't you ever seen "The Thomas Crown Affair" ?' he rebuked.
There was an unsmothered snort of contempt from Gene.
'What, you want us to go over to France? They don't even speak English! Poncey stuck up Frenchies.'
Sam sighed. 'Ah well, guess I'll go and give the case to Litton. That'll be a feather in his cap wouldn't it?'
He stood up, crossing his arms and glaring at Sam.
'Give over! You're not really going to give it to Linty Litton?'
His DI said nothing, just smiled like some nancy Colgate advert.
'Fine then I'll go.'
'We'll go.'
He frowned. 'Me!'
'Us. I've already booked the plane tickets.'
A threatening growl issued from his mouth, but Sam just smiled
'Start packing Guv, the plane leaves tomorrow morning!'
'I'll get you for this!' Gene threatened as the other man walked out of the office.
In reply Sam just waved back jauntily.
Walking towards the lockers, Sam bumped into Annie, heading the other way.
'Hey.'
Annie smiled back. 'Hey. Heard you're leaving for Paris. Fancy.'
He nodded. 'Yeah. We're going to investigate an art theft. Should be interesting.'
They smiled at each other affectionately.
'Will you be coming over again tonight?'
He hummed thoughtfully.
'If I come by early enough, yeah.' He leaned over, whispering in her ear.
'We can do that thing you like, with the oil?'
He winked and then walked into the locker room.
Before he knew what was happening, he was slammed up against the lockers.
Oh God, not another Gene Hunt bonding exercise.
'And then what?' Annie's said a little breathlessly.
He grinned. 'I thought you were Gene.'
She was kissing his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. He gently grabbed her hands.
'Not at work.'
A purring sound came out of her mouth as she nuzzled his skin and he felt his willpower melting away.
'You can't just tell me all these things an expect me to walk away!' she said, her voice low and velvety.
His grip on her was growing weaker as she kissed her way across his collarbone.
'No, no Annie, now's not the time-'
He groaned as Annie grabbed two handfuls of his arse.
'Oh fuck it,' he finally said, and spun her around, slamming them both into the lockers as he pushed up her skirt.
'Oh dear me! I cannot find my DI anywhere! I guess I'll just have a quick look around in here then shall I ?'
They both froze as they heard Gene's voice and frantically started to fix their clothes.
'Oh there you are DI Tyler, Cartwright.'
Gene came into view around the lockers just as they finished making themselves presentable.
'Having another discussion about proper procedure? I think you'll find it works best when you take your kit off.'
Sam glared at him as Annie blushed.
'You know it wouldn't kill you to show a little tact.'
His superior sniffed, smiling. 'Got enough of those holding up them posters on the bulletin boards.'
As Sam passed by him, Gene grabbed his elbow and gave him a quick shark smile.
'Oh an I've upgraded our tickets, we're leaving in one hour. So put a smile on and a ribbon in your hair eh?'
He winked as Sam looked at him with utter loathing.
'God I hate you.'
'Poke your fingers through the bars and you'll get bit. Oh, and don't worry about those blue balls Sammy boy, when we get to Paree, I'll buy you a prozzie. Might even throw in a few French letters too.'
There was a loud bang as Sam nearly put his hand through one of the lockers.
After a really really horrible plane ride, Gene had attempted to turn them into blueberry traffic jam and broke at least seven road laws as he barreled towards Paris.
All in all, Sam was beginning to regret he'd ever taken that call.
Which was probably what Gene had been going for, as the more miserable Sam felt, the perkier Gene looked.
Thankfully, they were almost at their destination. With a screech of tires, Gene managed to knock over a newspaper box as they parked the car.
'What's with you?' he said as Sam sat there with his head in his hands, trying to slow down his heartbeat. Sam sighed, looking up.
'Just...wondering if I've died and gone to hell Guv.'
The other man leaned over the car door, smiling beatifically.
'Well since you're here, you may as well dance to me fiddle, so stop thinking about Cartwrights tits and get out! Places to go, people to see.'
Annie sighed heavily as she looked at her report, drawing a chuckle from Ray.
'Thinking about your amoor? Thought he gave you one afore he left.'
The look she shot him was full of deep disgust.
'Oh that's right Ray. Five minutes is more then enough time.'
He gave her a puzzled look. 'Wha', isn't it?'
Just then the doors to the CID swung open and Litton and his cronies swanned in.
'Guten morgen all. And how is my team?'
The members of CID turned to look at him, all in various states of confusion.
'Your team? We don't report to you. With the Guv and Tyler gone, I'm in charge 'ere!' Ray growled, jabbing a finger at his chest. The DCI smiled in what he must have thought was a kindly fashion, but it looked more like he'd got a splinter somewhere sensitive.
'Au contraire.' he replied as he smoothed back his hair.
'Whilst my colleges are away, Superintendent Rathbone has put me in charge of DCI Hunt's merry band of vagabonds. From now on children,' he said, smiling with cheerful spite. 'You work for me.'
Gene clapped his hands together against the slight spring morning chill as Sam looked at their map.
'So! Where are we going?'
Sam looked up, scanning their surroundings. He was just dying for a coffee and a croissant (and they knew how to make them here too!) but tried to concentrate on their rendezvous instead.
'Well, we're supposed to meet up with the Interpol, Paris, and Halifax representatives down there, by Le Petit Pont.' He pointed to a bridge a short distance away and started walking towards it, Gene Genie in tow.
'Per tit Pint? What's that mean?'
He looked at the other man in disbelief.
'The Little Bridge, don't you know anything about Paris?'
The DCI rolled his eyes. 'Well I know you don't have much faith in me Mabel, but I did do a little research.'
A copy of TIME magazine was thrust into his hands.
After leafing briefly through it, Sam looked at the front.
'Guv!'
'What?'
Sam held the magazine up.
'This article is about 'Last Tango In Paris'! It hasn't anything to do with Paris the city! Didn't the cover with Marlon Brando give it away?'
An indifferent shrug greeted his tirade.
''The missus got it. Anyway, thought maybe he'd been here.'
Sighing, Sam shook his head. 'You really are the limit.'
'Me? I'm beyond limits Tyler, you should know that by now son.' Gene said, turning to look at Sam and gave him a wink.
As he did so, he failed to see the hydrant behind him, and so tripped and fell, sprawling on the concrete like a furry prehistoric whale.
'Jesus..! Who the bloody hell put that there?'
Sam looked down at his DCI, grinning.
'If I had to guess, I'd say the Parisian fire department.'
'No-one likes a smart ass.' came the answering growl.
'Well are you bloody well going to help me up, or stand there like sodding patience on a monument?'
'Since you ask so nicely...'
Sam reached down to help his Guv up, just as a tall, blonde man walked up to them. He was around Sam's age, maybe a little younger, with straight blonde hair styled sort of like Chris's, in blue jeans, white cotton shirt, and a jean jacket. His whisky brown eyes gave him a friendly, approachable appearance. Probably the Canadian, thought Sam as he helped Gene straighten up. All the French coppers I've met wear ties.
'Sam Tyler and Gene Hunt?'
Sam nodded as Gene rose unsteadily to his feet.
'Nice to meet you DCI Hunt.' said the man, holding his hand to Sam.
Sam shook his head, smiling.
'No, I'm Tyler, he's Hunt.'
'My apologies DCI Tyler.'
'Well...No no, still got it wrong mate. DI Tyler and DCI Hunt.'
He held out his hand and the other man shook it.
'Inspector Joseph Campbell, Halifax Police Constabulary. You can call me Joe. Just not Jay, alright?
Sam grinned. 'You can call me Sam then.'
'And you can call me Mister Tibbs!' Gene growled as he finally stood upright. 'Then we can all go for tea an braid our hair!'
The Inspector looked Gene up and down.
'Funny, you don't look a thing like Sidney Poitier. For one thing, he's slimmer.'
Gene leaned over, his nose almost poking Joe's.
'You callin' me fat you bloody Eskimo?' he said, his voice low and threatening, using the same tone he'd get just before he punched someone.
Joe grinned maliciously. 'Do I look like the type who would call a superior fat?'
'No, you look like the type who's about to get my foot up his jacksie!'
Joe hmmed. 'If that's a come on, your lines definetly need work.'
Sam grabbed Joe and pulled him aside.
'Back in a moment Guv, just got to talk to Inspecotor Campbell about, ah, proper procedure.'
He pulled the other copper away before Gene tried to kill one of them (or both).
'Look Joe, there something you need to know about my DCI..'
'What, that he's an arrogant loudmouthed braggert who'd rather think with his fists then his brain?'
Joe glared back at Gene. 'I know the type, see a lot of it in my own city.'
Sam sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.
'Okay, he might be a...racist sexist alcoholic homophobe, but let me tell you something.'
He looked Joe in the eye, determined to get his point across.
He's good to his people. He's fair, loyal, and honest. Well, he's fair. Er, well....' he said, messing up his hair.
'Stop, please, you're embarassing yourself.' Joe said dryly.
'He's my DCI! Don't you start with me, or we'll be having words.' Sam felt a pain in his arms and realized that he'd been clenching his hands into fists.
Joe blinked, then smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry. You're right, we're all on the same team. We'll just have to learn how to get along. Deal?'
He held out his hand to Sam, who hesitated, then shook it.
'Yeah, you're right, it's going to be...'
He paused as he saw two other people walking towards Gene.
'Oh shit.'
From the looks of things, that was the Interpol Agent and their French liason. And they were about to talk to Gene. Shit shit shit shit shit.
Gene looked up from his scotch to see some poncey looking Frog poofter and an some librarian bird whose bun looked so tight, if he yanked on it her brains'd probably fall out.
'Yeah?'
The little man paused.
'Are you....the english policeman?'
He looked him up and down like he'd sat down to breakfast and found a dog'd shat in it. Well then, he'd get what he deserved Gene thought, and grinned with fake delight.
'You frogs do speak English! Excellent, you can tell me where to find a good boozer in this shitty little place! All I've feckin' seen since I've got here is some girly looking statues and this Pint bridge 'ere.' Gene waved to the bridge.
'Oh that reminds me of a joke. How many frogs does it take to defend Paris?'
He looked brightly at the two, who looked sideway at each other, and then looked back at him.
'No one knows, cause it's never been tried!' Gene chuckled.
The bird looked at him like he was vomit on her shoe and the poofs jaw clenched before he spoke.
'I am Inspecter Paul Lafayette of the Prefecture of Police, and this is Special Agent Caden Rush of Interpol. You'll be working with us during the investigation. And,' he moved closer to Gene. 'That will be the last time that you insult my country. Do we understand each other...sir?'
Gene gave a tight mouthed smile.
'As the prevarbiale crystal Inspector.'
'Good. Then we will proceed.'
chapter two
Spoilers: none this chapter, but this takes in a AU after 2.06.
Rating: Blue Cortina for language and some sexiness, but expect the rating to go up and down throughout the series.
Summary: Sam gets an international phone call. Gene is not impressed.
A/N: Un beated, please forgive me :) Feedback is extremely welcome
Warning: Genes comments will be getting rather colourful in this. Also, there is no slash. Appologies :)
Sam could not tear his eyes away as his DCI tried to commit vehicular suicide. The oncoming cars blared and wavered as they hurtled down the road, so fast that he kept stomping on a brake that wasn't there.
He turned desperately to the Guv.
'Gene, GENE! You're driving on the wrong side!'
Gene looked at him, narrowly avoiding another car crash.
'Which is the wrong side?'
'The left side!!'
Still not looking at the road Gene snorted at him.
'What, can't the Frenchies do anything right?'
'Look out!'
Gene's eyes returned to the road just in time to avoid a head on collision.
'Oh don't get your knickers in a twist Mabel, I know what I'm doing.'
The younger man covered his face in his hands and tried to remember how he'd gotten into this mess....
'Oi, open your ears you wally!'
Sam sighed as he turned towards Ray, coughing slightly at the haze of smoke surrounding his DS.
'I have a name you know.'
'Look, you want to talk philosophy or take this call? The Guv's out and they want to talk to the man in charge.'
Ray held out the phone to him, puffing on his cigarette.
With an aggrieved air, he took it.
'DI Sam Tyler.'
'DI Tyler, so glad to talk to you. This is Special Agent Caden Rush from Interpol.'
'Interpol?' Now there was a name to conjure with.
'Inspector, we have an interesting proposal for you....'
Gene arrived at CID in a foul mood. The wife had burned the sausages this morning at breaky, and to add insult to injury, Chris had spilled hot tea on his foot when he came in, burning his toes and staining his shoe. The last thing he wanted to see was Sam bloody Tyler standing by his office door like a pimp waiting for his cut. Despite the withering glare he shot him, he followed him into his office.
'Guv..'
'Not now!'
'But-'
Gene slammed his hands down on his desk.
'Not now! Maybe not ever, maybe not today or sodding tomorrow! Now skip off Toto before I personally punt you over the rainbow so hard that your teeth fall down your arse!'
Sam backed away with his hands in the air, his face a mask of innocence that immediately roused Gene's suspicions.
'Fine sir. I'll just give the Interpol case to Litton.'
He turned to go, only to have a gloved hand slam the door closed.
'The what to who?!'
The DI smiled. 'The Interpol case. To Litton. That's who they'd talked to in the first place anyway.'
Gene growled and then stomped over to his chair, throwing himself into it. Spinning around, he glared at Tyler, feeling not unlike a Bond villain, although he doubted any of them plotted making 007 into sausages.
'Two minutes.'
Sam grinned, held up his hands, both index fingers pointing up.
'All right, all right so it turns out, when Paris was being invaded by the Nazi's, they smuggled out some of the Louvre artwork.'
He pointed one hand to the left and one to the right.
'One of the pieces went to Manchester where it stayed for some time before it was moved to the National Gallery in London. But when London was being bombed, it was moved to Canada. It stayed in Halifax until the war was over, and then, back to Paris.'
He brought both hands together, probably demonstrating the paintings return. Gene was not impressed.
'And?' he said. Bloody Tyler. How did he manage to talk forever and not say a damned thing?
'And the piece was stolen from the Louvre last night. Interpol wants representatives from Halifax, Manchester, and Paris to work with them to solve the case!'
Sam's eyes were practically shining with excitement. Any more excited and he'd be making a mess in his trousers no doubt.
'What's with you Tyler? The last time I saw you this worked up was when you got Chris to help you re-furbish the filing system.'
'Solving an art theft Gene! Come on! Haven't you ever seen "The Thomas Crown Affair" ?' he rebuked.
There was an unsmothered snort of contempt from Gene.
'What, you want us to go over to France? They don't even speak English! Poncey stuck up Frenchies.'
Sam sighed. 'Ah well, guess I'll go and give the case to Litton. That'll be a feather in his cap wouldn't it?'
He stood up, crossing his arms and glaring at Sam.
'Give over! You're not really going to give it to Linty Litton?'
His DI said nothing, just smiled like some nancy Colgate advert.
'Fine then I'll go.'
'We'll go.'
He frowned. 'Me!'
'Us. I've already booked the plane tickets.'
A threatening growl issued from his mouth, but Sam just smiled
'Start packing Guv, the plane leaves tomorrow morning!'
'I'll get you for this!' Gene threatened as the other man walked out of the office.
In reply Sam just waved back jauntily.
Walking towards the lockers, Sam bumped into Annie, heading the other way.
'Hey.'
Annie smiled back. 'Hey. Heard you're leaving for Paris. Fancy.'
He nodded. 'Yeah. We're going to investigate an art theft. Should be interesting.'
They smiled at each other affectionately.
'Will you be coming over again tonight?'
He hummed thoughtfully.
'If I come by early enough, yeah.' He leaned over, whispering in her ear.
'We can do that thing you like, with the oil?'
He winked and then walked into the locker room.
Before he knew what was happening, he was slammed up against the lockers.
Oh God, not another Gene Hunt bonding exercise.
'And then what?' Annie's said a little breathlessly.
He grinned. 'I thought you were Gene.'
She was kissing his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. He gently grabbed her hands.
'Not at work.'
A purring sound came out of her mouth as she nuzzled his skin and he felt his willpower melting away.
'You can't just tell me all these things an expect me to walk away!' she said, her voice low and velvety.
His grip on her was growing weaker as she kissed her way across his collarbone.
'No, no Annie, now's not the time-'
He groaned as Annie grabbed two handfuls of his arse.
'Oh fuck it,' he finally said, and spun her around, slamming them both into the lockers as he pushed up her skirt.
'Oh dear me! I cannot find my DI anywhere! I guess I'll just have a quick look around in here then shall I ?'
They both froze as they heard Gene's voice and frantically started to fix their clothes.
'Oh there you are DI Tyler, Cartwright.'
Gene came into view around the lockers just as they finished making themselves presentable.
'Having another discussion about proper procedure? I think you'll find it works best when you take your kit off.'
Sam glared at him as Annie blushed.
'You know it wouldn't kill you to show a little tact.'
His superior sniffed, smiling. 'Got enough of those holding up them posters on the bulletin boards.'
As Sam passed by him, Gene grabbed his elbow and gave him a quick shark smile.
'Oh an I've upgraded our tickets, we're leaving in one hour. So put a smile on and a ribbon in your hair eh?'
He winked as Sam looked at him with utter loathing.
'God I hate you.'
'Poke your fingers through the bars and you'll get bit. Oh, and don't worry about those blue balls Sammy boy, when we get to Paree, I'll buy you a prozzie. Might even throw in a few French letters too.'
There was a loud bang as Sam nearly put his hand through one of the lockers.
After a really really horrible plane ride, Gene had attempted to turn them into blueberry traffic jam and broke at least seven road laws as he barreled towards Paris.
All in all, Sam was beginning to regret he'd ever taken that call.
Which was probably what Gene had been going for, as the more miserable Sam felt, the perkier Gene looked.
Thankfully, they were almost at their destination. With a screech of tires, Gene managed to knock over a newspaper box as they parked the car.
'What's with you?' he said as Sam sat there with his head in his hands, trying to slow down his heartbeat. Sam sighed, looking up.
'Just...wondering if I've died and gone to hell Guv.'
The other man leaned over the car door, smiling beatifically.
'Well since you're here, you may as well dance to me fiddle, so stop thinking about Cartwrights tits and get out! Places to go, people to see.'
Annie sighed heavily as she looked at her report, drawing a chuckle from Ray.
'Thinking about your amoor? Thought he gave you one afore he left.'
The look she shot him was full of deep disgust.
'Oh that's right Ray. Five minutes is more then enough time.'
He gave her a puzzled look. 'Wha', isn't it?'
Just then the doors to the CID swung open and Litton and his cronies swanned in.
'Guten morgen all. And how is my team?'
The members of CID turned to look at him, all in various states of confusion.
'Your team? We don't report to you. With the Guv and Tyler gone, I'm in charge 'ere!' Ray growled, jabbing a finger at his chest. The DCI smiled in what he must have thought was a kindly fashion, but it looked more like he'd got a splinter somewhere sensitive.
'Au contraire.' he replied as he smoothed back his hair.
'Whilst my colleges are away, Superintendent Rathbone has put me in charge of DCI Hunt's merry band of vagabonds. From now on children,' he said, smiling with cheerful spite. 'You work for me.'
Gene clapped his hands together against the slight spring morning chill as Sam looked at their map.
'So! Where are we going?'
Sam looked up, scanning their surroundings. He was just dying for a coffee and a croissant (and they knew how to make them here too!) but tried to concentrate on their rendezvous instead.
'Well, we're supposed to meet up with the Interpol, Paris, and Halifax representatives down there, by Le Petit Pont.' He pointed to a bridge a short distance away and started walking towards it, Gene Genie in tow.
'Per tit Pint? What's that mean?'
He looked at the other man in disbelief.
'The Little Bridge, don't you know anything about Paris?'
The DCI rolled his eyes. 'Well I know you don't have much faith in me Mabel, but I did do a little research.'
A copy of TIME magazine was thrust into his hands.
After leafing briefly through it, Sam looked at the front.
'Guv!'
'What?'
Sam held the magazine up.
'This article is about 'Last Tango In Paris'! It hasn't anything to do with Paris the city! Didn't the cover with Marlon Brando give it away?'
An indifferent shrug greeted his tirade.
''The missus got it. Anyway, thought maybe he'd been here.'
Sighing, Sam shook his head. 'You really are the limit.'
'Me? I'm beyond limits Tyler, you should know that by now son.' Gene said, turning to look at Sam and gave him a wink.
As he did so, he failed to see the hydrant behind him, and so tripped and fell, sprawling on the concrete like a furry prehistoric whale.
'Jesus..! Who the bloody hell put that there?'
Sam looked down at his DCI, grinning.
'If I had to guess, I'd say the Parisian fire department.'
'No-one likes a smart ass.' came the answering growl.
'Well are you bloody well going to help me up, or stand there like sodding patience on a monument?'
'Since you ask so nicely...'
Sam reached down to help his Guv up, just as a tall, blonde man walked up to them. He was around Sam's age, maybe a little younger, with straight blonde hair styled sort of like Chris's, in blue jeans, white cotton shirt, and a jean jacket. His whisky brown eyes gave him a friendly, approachable appearance. Probably the Canadian, thought Sam as he helped Gene straighten up. All the French coppers I've met wear ties.
'Sam Tyler and Gene Hunt?'
Sam nodded as Gene rose unsteadily to his feet.
'Nice to meet you DCI Hunt.' said the man, holding his hand to Sam.
Sam shook his head, smiling.
'No, I'm Tyler, he's Hunt.'
'My apologies DCI Tyler.'
'Well...No no, still got it wrong mate. DI Tyler and DCI Hunt.'
He held out his hand and the other man shook it.
'Inspector Joseph Campbell, Halifax Police Constabulary. You can call me Joe. Just not Jay, alright?
Sam grinned. 'You can call me Sam then.'
'And you can call me Mister Tibbs!' Gene growled as he finally stood upright. 'Then we can all go for tea an braid our hair!'
The Inspector looked Gene up and down.
'Funny, you don't look a thing like Sidney Poitier. For one thing, he's slimmer.'
Gene leaned over, his nose almost poking Joe's.
'You callin' me fat you bloody Eskimo?' he said, his voice low and threatening, using the same tone he'd get just before he punched someone.
Joe grinned maliciously. 'Do I look like the type who would call a superior fat?'
'No, you look like the type who's about to get my foot up his jacksie!'
Joe hmmed. 'If that's a come on, your lines definetly need work.'
Sam grabbed Joe and pulled him aside.
'Back in a moment Guv, just got to talk to Inspecotor Campbell about, ah, proper procedure.'
He pulled the other copper away before Gene tried to kill one of them (or both).
'Look Joe, there something you need to know about my DCI..'
'What, that he's an arrogant loudmouthed braggert who'd rather think with his fists then his brain?'
Joe glared back at Gene. 'I know the type, see a lot of it in my own city.'
Sam sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.
'Okay, he might be a...racist sexist alcoholic homophobe, but let me tell you something.'
He looked Joe in the eye, determined to get his point across.
He's good to his people. He's fair, loyal, and honest. Well, he's fair. Er, well....' he said, messing up his hair.
'Stop, please, you're embarassing yourself.' Joe said dryly.
'He's my DCI! Don't you start with me, or we'll be having words.' Sam felt a pain in his arms and realized that he'd been clenching his hands into fists.
Joe blinked, then smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry. You're right, we're all on the same team. We'll just have to learn how to get along. Deal?'
He held out his hand to Sam, who hesitated, then shook it.
'Yeah, you're right, it's going to be...'
He paused as he saw two other people walking towards Gene.
'Oh shit.'
From the looks of things, that was the Interpol Agent and their French liason. And they were about to talk to Gene. Shit shit shit shit shit.
Gene looked up from his scotch to see some poncey looking Frog poofter and an some librarian bird whose bun looked so tight, if he yanked on it her brains'd probably fall out.
'Yeah?'
The little man paused.
'Are you....the english policeman?'
He looked him up and down like he'd sat down to breakfast and found a dog'd shat in it. Well then, he'd get what he deserved Gene thought, and grinned with fake delight.
'You frogs do speak English! Excellent, you can tell me where to find a good boozer in this shitty little place! All I've feckin' seen since I've got here is some girly looking statues and this Pint bridge 'ere.' Gene waved to the bridge.
'Oh that reminds me of a joke. How many frogs does it take to defend Paris?'
He looked brightly at the two, who looked sideway at each other, and then looked back at him.
'No one knows, cause it's never been tried!' Gene chuckled.
The bird looked at him like he was vomit on her shoe and the poofs jaw clenched before he spoke.
'I am Inspecter Paul Lafayette of the Prefecture of Police, and this is Special Agent Caden Rush of Interpol. You'll be working with us during the investigation. And,' he moved closer to Gene. 'That will be the last time that you insult my country. Do we understand each other...sir?'
Gene gave a tight mouthed smile.
'As the prevarbiale crystal Inspector.'
'Good. Then we will proceed.'
chapter two