Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (41/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (41/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1154 (this part); (59,067 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
A/N: I am terribly, terribly sorry for the long delay. It was completely unintentional and unexpected, and was due to a sick, malfunctioning computer. But! The computer has finally been fixed, seems to be working normally, and I intend for the story to progress at a regular pace from now. (Barring any further technical difficulties...) Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
“Oh now this bloke, he’s right wanker. Every time me guv’nor brings him in, he demands a pot o’ tea. If there ain’t three sugar cubes with it, he won’t talk.”
“Can’t be him, then,” Ray shook his head. “Too proper to abuse a kiddie.”
“You’d hope so,” Reggie sighed, crossing the name off his list with one hand while drinking from his pint with the other.
“Couldn’t you grab us the actual files, Reg?” Ray asked as he continued to look over the hastily written notes.
“If I wanted the sack,” Reg rolled his eyes. “I told you, these gangs are high on me DCI’s ‘To Collar’ list. He’d notice if they all went AWOL.”
“But there might be summat in them files that breaks our case for us.”
From his quiet corner, Sam snorted.
“Didn’t know you could read,” he sneered, running a finger round the rim of his long-empty half pint glass.
“Ain’t it time you took your pills?” Ray shot back. Sam made a show of padding his pockets.
“Hm. Seems I must’ve left them at the hotel.”
“You son of a bitch!”
“Erm,” Reg cut in, “Ray, if you can narrow it down to one, maybe two, gangs, I might be able to get you the files then.”
One evil eye still on Tyler, Ray returned to Reggie’s list. They worked through it for another two hours and another three pints. Sam occasionally interjected with a snide remark, but mostly kept mum while various names were crossed off, circled, or question-marked. It was nearing ten when Reg remembered he was supposed to meet his girl for dinner at nine and ran off to try and salvage his relationship.
“That just leaves us,” Sam grinned cheekily as Ray stared at the edited list. “What do you want to do, Sergeant?”
“Go back to the hotel and get your drugs.”
“And waste another night?” Sam argued.
“You’re not fit to do owt tonight, anyhow.”
“Why? Because I haven’t taken medication I don’t need that was prescribed by a doctor with Neolithic views on psychiatry?”
“Weren’t saying that last night. Fact, you were begging me for ‘em.”
“That was different,” Sam’s face darkened. “I wasn’t feeling...well, last night. I’m much better today.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t expect you to. Bur right now, this is the perfect time for us to go back to Soho. The area will be teeming with people this time of night. Unless, you don’t want to find Gene anymore.”
“Get your coat.”
*
Soho was indeed teeming. Prozzies, pimps, and rent boys littered the formerly quiet streets. Nervous foreigners were being lured into seedy nightclubs. Beauty, sex, and drugs beckoned at every corner. One leggy brunette with big doe eyes took a particular liking to Tyler and followed them for about a block, constantly asking if he was looking for a good time. Sam finally blushed, politely refused, and hurried away.
“Remind you of Joni, don’t she?” Ray ribbed once she had disappeared. Sam immediately stopped walking.
“Who?”
“Joni.”
“Again I ask. Who?”
“Joni Newton. Warren’s girl. Your honey trap.”
“I remember Warren. Can’t recall any Joni, though.”
“You’re taking the piss, you are,” Ray rolled his eyes and began walking again.
“I’m not,” Sam argued, hurrying to catch up.
“How could you forget her?”
“How do you think?” Sam stuffed his hands in his coat pockets as the pair returned to their normal walking speed. “Dr. Wynton must have shocked it away. It happens. Probably more than I realize.”
“So, you don’t remember slamming me into a brick wall after you saw her body?”
“Nope,” Sam shrugged. “I also don’t recall having a seventh birthday party. But I must have. My mum always threw me the best birthdays.”
“Right. Look, we won’t get any answers if we don’t ask any questions,” Ray quickly changed the subject. The less they talked about Tyler’s mental state, the more he could forget the twat was off his meds. “You have that picture of the Guv?”
“Here,” Sam pulled it from his inside jacket pocket and Ray grabbed it from his hand.
“Remember - don’t call him ‘Guv.’ Probably best no one knows he’s a copper.”
“I’m legally insane, Ray. Not legally stupid,” Sam grimaced and snatched the picture back.
*
Block by block they walked, and though they found plenty of girls who were wanting to speak, they quickly silenced themselves once Gene’s picture was flashed. More willing to open their legs than their lips, they clammed up once they realized the Northern pair wanted only information.
As each hour passed, the wind grew colder and Tyler moved slower. He spoke less, allowing Ray to take the lead in the enquiries, and seemed increasingly disturbed by the flashing lights and crawling streets. Every time Ray asked if they should quit for the evening and start fresh tomorrow, Sam took it as a personal offense and stormed ahead.
Feeling his own legs burning and stomach growling, Ray eventually forced Sam to a compromise, and the two took a brief respite at a nearby, all night diner. Ray was quite surprised there was still some place open and serving food so late into the night. Sam simply rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like “get used to it.”
After a refreshing butty for Ray and a cup of tea for Tyler, they hit the cold streets again, with Sam reluctantly agreeing they should head back towards the tube. They made sure to walk back a different way and continued to question as many girls as they could. Fifteen minutes after their short break, Ray spotted a somewhat cheery bunch of working girls across the street and suggested they headed over.
“You just have a thing for blondes,” Sam snorted as they made their way to the golden-haired group.
“No. I have a thing for tits,” Ray corrected. “Being blonde is an added bonus,” he leered. “Don’t matter, anyhow. This is a professional enquiry, this is. Evening ladies!”
This time was no different than all the rest. The girls were flirty and debauched as soon as they were spoken too, then silent and reserved as soon as the picture was shown. One by one the hurried away, on the prowl for paying punters. One remained, though, Ray noticed. One that wasn’t even a girl.
“Oi, what’s your name?” he asked the young lad leaning against the wall. The teen had gone unnoticed by Ray when all the women were around, but now stood out more than ever.
“Freddy,” he replied his voice full of uncertain disobedience.
“So, Freddy. You their pimp?”
“Ha,” the boy mock laughed and crossed his arms.
“’S what I thought. Well, asking everyone else. Might as well ask you,” Ray held out the picture. “You seen this bloke around lately?”
Sam was the one that ran after him when Freddy legged it down the street.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1154 (this part); (59,067 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
A/N: I am terribly, terribly sorry for the long delay. It was completely unintentional and unexpected, and was due to a sick, malfunctioning computer. But! The computer has finally been fixed, seems to be working normally, and I intend for the story to progress at a regular pace from now. (Barring any further technical difficulties...) Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
“Oh now this bloke, he’s right wanker. Every time me guv’nor brings him in, he demands a pot o’ tea. If there ain’t three sugar cubes with it, he won’t talk.”
“Can’t be him, then,” Ray shook his head. “Too proper to abuse a kiddie.”
“You’d hope so,” Reggie sighed, crossing the name off his list with one hand while drinking from his pint with the other.
“Couldn’t you grab us the actual files, Reg?” Ray asked as he continued to look over the hastily written notes.
“If I wanted the sack,” Reg rolled his eyes. “I told you, these gangs are high on me DCI’s ‘To Collar’ list. He’d notice if they all went AWOL.”
“But there might be summat in them files that breaks our case for us.”
From his quiet corner, Sam snorted.
“Didn’t know you could read,” he sneered, running a finger round the rim of his long-empty half pint glass.
“Ain’t it time you took your pills?” Ray shot back. Sam made a show of padding his pockets.
“Hm. Seems I must’ve left them at the hotel.”
“You son of a bitch!”
“Erm,” Reg cut in, “Ray, if you can narrow it down to one, maybe two, gangs, I might be able to get you the files then.”
One evil eye still on Tyler, Ray returned to Reggie’s list. They worked through it for another two hours and another three pints. Sam occasionally interjected with a snide remark, but mostly kept mum while various names were crossed off, circled, or question-marked. It was nearing ten when Reg remembered he was supposed to meet his girl for dinner at nine and ran off to try and salvage his relationship.
“That just leaves us,” Sam grinned cheekily as Ray stared at the edited list. “What do you want to do, Sergeant?”
“Go back to the hotel and get your drugs.”
“And waste another night?” Sam argued.
“You’re not fit to do owt tonight, anyhow.”
“Why? Because I haven’t taken medication I don’t need that was prescribed by a doctor with Neolithic views on psychiatry?”
“Weren’t saying that last night. Fact, you were begging me for ‘em.”
“That was different,” Sam’s face darkened. “I wasn’t feeling...well, last night. I’m much better today.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t expect you to. Bur right now, this is the perfect time for us to go back to Soho. The area will be teeming with people this time of night. Unless, you don’t want to find Gene anymore.”
“Get your coat.”
*
Soho was indeed teeming. Prozzies, pimps, and rent boys littered the formerly quiet streets. Nervous foreigners were being lured into seedy nightclubs. Beauty, sex, and drugs beckoned at every corner. One leggy brunette with big doe eyes took a particular liking to Tyler and followed them for about a block, constantly asking if he was looking for a good time. Sam finally blushed, politely refused, and hurried away.
“Remind you of Joni, don’t she?” Ray ribbed once she had disappeared. Sam immediately stopped walking.
“Who?”
“Joni.”
“Again I ask. Who?”
“Joni Newton. Warren’s girl. Your honey trap.”
“I remember Warren. Can’t recall any Joni, though.”
“You’re taking the piss, you are,” Ray rolled his eyes and began walking again.
“I’m not,” Sam argued, hurrying to catch up.
“How could you forget her?”
“How do you think?” Sam stuffed his hands in his coat pockets as the pair returned to their normal walking speed. “Dr. Wynton must have shocked it away. It happens. Probably more than I realize.”
“So, you don’t remember slamming me into a brick wall after you saw her body?”
“Nope,” Sam shrugged. “I also don’t recall having a seventh birthday party. But I must have. My mum always threw me the best birthdays.”
“Right. Look, we won’t get any answers if we don’t ask any questions,” Ray quickly changed the subject. The less they talked about Tyler’s mental state, the more he could forget the twat was off his meds. “You have that picture of the Guv?”
“Here,” Sam pulled it from his inside jacket pocket and Ray grabbed it from his hand.
“Remember - don’t call him ‘Guv.’ Probably best no one knows he’s a copper.”
“I’m legally insane, Ray. Not legally stupid,” Sam grimaced and snatched the picture back.
*
Block by block they walked, and though they found plenty of girls who were wanting to speak, they quickly silenced themselves once Gene’s picture was flashed. More willing to open their legs than their lips, they clammed up once they realized the Northern pair wanted only information.
As each hour passed, the wind grew colder and Tyler moved slower. He spoke less, allowing Ray to take the lead in the enquiries, and seemed increasingly disturbed by the flashing lights and crawling streets. Every time Ray asked if they should quit for the evening and start fresh tomorrow, Sam took it as a personal offense and stormed ahead.
Feeling his own legs burning and stomach growling, Ray eventually forced Sam to a compromise, and the two took a brief respite at a nearby, all night diner. Ray was quite surprised there was still some place open and serving food so late into the night. Sam simply rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like “get used to it.”
After a refreshing butty for Ray and a cup of tea for Tyler, they hit the cold streets again, with Sam reluctantly agreeing they should head back towards the tube. They made sure to walk back a different way and continued to question as many girls as they could. Fifteen minutes after their short break, Ray spotted a somewhat cheery bunch of working girls across the street and suggested they headed over.
“You just have a thing for blondes,” Sam snorted as they made their way to the golden-haired group.
“No. I have a thing for tits,” Ray corrected. “Being blonde is an added bonus,” he leered. “Don’t matter, anyhow. This is a professional enquiry, this is. Evening ladies!”
This time was no different than all the rest. The girls were flirty and debauched as soon as they were spoken too, then silent and reserved as soon as the picture was shown. One by one the hurried away, on the prowl for paying punters. One remained, though, Ray noticed. One that wasn’t even a girl.
“Oi, what’s your name?” he asked the young lad leaning against the wall. The teen had gone unnoticed by Ray when all the women were around, but now stood out more than ever.
“Freddy,” he replied his voice full of uncertain disobedience.
“So, Freddy. You their pimp?”
“Ha,” the boy mock laughed and crossed his arms.
“’S what I thought. Well, asking everyone else. Might as well ask you,” Ray held out the picture. “You seen this bloke around lately?”
Sam was the one that ran after him when Freddy legged it down the street.