Fic: Old Harry's Game - part 1
Title: Old Harry’s Game, Chapter 1
Author: Kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: Set after 2.02, with mild 2.07 and 2.08 spoilerage
Rating: Green Cortina for implied violence.
Pairings: None
Word Count: 991
Summary: Harry Woolf looks for a way to get his own back on Tyler
A/N: This started out in response to Marsorbiter’s bunnie Fathers and Sons, where Harry Woolf, dying and disgraced, looks for a way to discredit Sam in Gene’s eyes. Somewhere along the way, it grabbed another of the bunnies, Moving On, where Glen Fletcher knows more than he is saying about Sam’s time in Hyde, mutated it a bit, and came out with this. Many thanks to the wonderful emeriin for beta reading this for me.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Harry prowled round his flat, smoking. God, what a shitheap. But it was all he could afford. Lost all the money he had, lost his wife, their beautiful children, stuck on state pension, relying on hand outs from Gene... What an end, condemned to dying in this - hell, alone. Still, better than prison.
“At least it is bigger than Tyler’s” Gene had quipped when he had checked Harry was ok.
Harry glared at him. “Why, Gene? Why do you insist on helping me out?”
Gene looked up from where he was sitting. “Because you were the best, Harry. Whatever you did, I could only hope to be half as good. And - I promised meself I would make sure you were ok till...”
“Till they cart me off in a box?”
A flash of pain passed behind Gene’s eyes .“Why didn’t you tell me, Harry?”
“About the cancer or my alternative career as a crime lord?”
Gene rolled his eyes. “Well, both, but mainly about the cancer.”
“I didn’t want pity, Gene. Especially yours. It was bad enough with me wife mollycoddling me, I didn’t need it at work, from you, as well.”
Gene looked visibly hurt by the response. After a minute he stood up. “Well, I’d best be going. Villains won’t catch themselves, and someone has to keep Tyler under control.”
“Bloody Tyler - why the hell do you put up with him?”
Gene sighed. “He is a damn good copper - though if that gets repeated, I’ll deny it. I guess - he reminds me a bit of the way you and I worked.”
Harry chuckled. “The good old days. Seriously Gene, he is a shifty bugger, something about the eyes.”
“He’s not that bad.”
Harry just sighed in response.
Gene put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, a bit uncomfortably. “I’d better go. If you need anything...”
“I’ll call, I know.” He resumed his pacing round the flat. Gene watched him for a bit, and then quietly left.
For a while, he continued to prowl about. Bloody Tyler. He had spoiled everything. Gene had been a good copper before, but was easy to mould. Tyler’s influence had introduced something else. Something indefinable. No. Not indefinable, but... intelligence. Was making Gene into a new kind of copper, turning his protégé away from him! Bastard!
Pain lanced through him, forcing him to collapse into a chair. God it hurts so much! Maybe he should just smoke and drink himself to death now. Be better than waiting on the cancer.
After a bit, he got up. Made some food, switched on the TV. Time to watch the news. After a few minutes, Margaret Thatcher appeared on the screen, talking about her latest educational policies.
“Half of CID will be alcoholics by the time Maggie Thatcher becomes Prime Minister.”
“If Margaret Thatcher ever becomes Prime Minister, I’ll have been doing something a lot stronger than whisky”
Harry leant back, thinking. Why had Tyler mentioned Thatcher? Especially as if he knew something was going to happen? He didn’t appear the politics type.
“You were at Hyde.”
“Yeah”
“You know, I was at Hyde for a bit. Weren’t there a bit of bother? I’m sure I remember your name.”
Wasn’t that what the coloured copper, Fletcher, had said? Trouble at Hyde. He smiled. Yes. Let’s find out what that trouble was. That would be the way to get even. He thought about all the contacts he knew at Hyde. No, news about him would have spread there, couldn’t call in favours. Still, it meant there was only one currency left to him in this town. His silence. Too many people he could turn round and shop in. He reached for his phone, dialling a number from memory.
“Alfie? Harry Woolf. I need a favour. I think you will like it.”
“A favour, Mr Woolf? From what I hear, you couldn’t pay my rates.”
“How much is my silence about the post office job in Rochdale Street worth to you? All it would take is one little phone call, and DCI Hunt would still believe me.”
“... Notice I am not hanging the phone up on you.”
“I want you to arrange a private talk with someone. I need some information from him.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, that and keep him away from everyone for a few days after our talk. I need some time.”
“What’s so special about this one?”
Harry grinned to himself.
****
“So why me, Harry? Don’t you normally use Toolbox Terry for this?”
“He doesn’t have your ‘finesse’ Alfie. Too fond of torture. I prefer your style. Plus, I don’t officially know about his dealings, whereas tonight I can totally forget about the post office job, the bookies job and the two prostitute murders. Now let’s see if our guest is willing to talk.”
Harry knelt down in front of the shaking form of Glen Fletcher, and patted him on the shoulder. Fletcher shrank back from the touch, and looked up at Harry.
“Now then Glen, all I want from you is a little information. Then, you can go. Easy as that.” Harry crooned. “Just tell me what the trouble was at Hyde with DI Tyler.”
Fletcher dragged himself up to a sitting position, and spat at Harry.
Harry looked at Alfie, who nodded to his two associates.
“I like these new guys you have Alfie. Where they from again?” Harry asked as they wandered away from Fletcher.
“Hungary. They wanted to leave communism behind, start a new life. I like them, they are inventive, and thorough.”
“Not employing British?”
“No, Eastern European is the future Harry.”
Fletcher suddenly cried out. “OK - I don’t know much, but I can give you one thing - just make it stop!”
Harry strode back to the prone form of Fletcher. “A name?”
Fletcher nodded, then sobbed with pain. “Just... make them stop.”
“Name.”
“Morgan.”
Harry smiled at the sound of sobbing as he turned on his heel and walked away.
To be continued
Author: Kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: Set after 2.02, with mild 2.07 and 2.08 spoilerage
Rating: Green Cortina for implied violence.
Pairings: None
Word Count: 991
Summary: Harry Woolf looks for a way to get his own back on Tyler
A/N: This started out in response to Marsorbiter’s bunnie Fathers and Sons, where Harry Woolf, dying and disgraced, looks for a way to discredit Sam in Gene’s eyes. Somewhere along the way, it grabbed another of the bunnies, Moving On, where Glen Fletcher knows more than he is saying about Sam’s time in Hyde, mutated it a bit, and came out with this. Many thanks to the wonderful emeriin for beta reading this for me.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Harry prowled round his flat, smoking. God, what a shitheap. But it was all he could afford. Lost all the money he had, lost his wife, their beautiful children, stuck on state pension, relying on hand outs from Gene... What an end, condemned to dying in this - hell, alone. Still, better than prison.
“At least it is bigger than Tyler’s” Gene had quipped when he had checked Harry was ok.
Harry glared at him. “Why, Gene? Why do you insist on helping me out?”
Gene looked up from where he was sitting. “Because you were the best, Harry. Whatever you did, I could only hope to be half as good. And - I promised meself I would make sure you were ok till...”
“Till they cart me off in a box?”
A flash of pain passed behind Gene’s eyes .“Why didn’t you tell me, Harry?”
“About the cancer or my alternative career as a crime lord?”
Gene rolled his eyes. “Well, both, but mainly about the cancer.”
“I didn’t want pity, Gene. Especially yours. It was bad enough with me wife mollycoddling me, I didn’t need it at work, from you, as well.”
Gene looked visibly hurt by the response. After a minute he stood up. “Well, I’d best be going. Villains won’t catch themselves, and someone has to keep Tyler under control.”
“Bloody Tyler - why the hell do you put up with him?”
Gene sighed. “He is a damn good copper - though if that gets repeated, I’ll deny it. I guess - he reminds me a bit of the way you and I worked.”
Harry chuckled. “The good old days. Seriously Gene, he is a shifty bugger, something about the eyes.”
“He’s not that bad.”
Harry just sighed in response.
Gene put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, a bit uncomfortably. “I’d better go. If you need anything...”
“I’ll call, I know.” He resumed his pacing round the flat. Gene watched him for a bit, and then quietly left.
For a while, he continued to prowl about. Bloody Tyler. He had spoiled everything. Gene had been a good copper before, but was easy to mould. Tyler’s influence had introduced something else. Something indefinable. No. Not indefinable, but... intelligence. Was making Gene into a new kind of copper, turning his protégé away from him! Bastard!
Pain lanced through him, forcing him to collapse into a chair. God it hurts so much! Maybe he should just smoke and drink himself to death now. Be better than waiting on the cancer.
After a bit, he got up. Made some food, switched on the TV. Time to watch the news. After a few minutes, Margaret Thatcher appeared on the screen, talking about her latest educational policies.
“Half of CID will be alcoholics by the time Maggie Thatcher becomes Prime Minister.”
“If Margaret Thatcher ever becomes Prime Minister, I’ll have been doing something a lot stronger than whisky”
Harry leant back, thinking. Why had Tyler mentioned Thatcher? Especially as if he knew something was going to happen? He didn’t appear the politics type.
“You were at Hyde.”
“Yeah”
“You know, I was at Hyde for a bit. Weren’t there a bit of bother? I’m sure I remember your name.”
Wasn’t that what the coloured copper, Fletcher, had said? Trouble at Hyde. He smiled. Yes. Let’s find out what that trouble was. That would be the way to get even. He thought about all the contacts he knew at Hyde. No, news about him would have spread there, couldn’t call in favours. Still, it meant there was only one currency left to him in this town. His silence. Too many people he could turn round and shop in. He reached for his phone, dialling a number from memory.
“Alfie? Harry Woolf. I need a favour. I think you will like it.”
“A favour, Mr Woolf? From what I hear, you couldn’t pay my rates.”
“How much is my silence about the post office job in Rochdale Street worth to you? All it would take is one little phone call, and DCI Hunt would still believe me.”
“... Notice I am not hanging the phone up on you.”
“I want you to arrange a private talk with someone. I need some information from him.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, that and keep him away from everyone for a few days after our talk. I need some time.”
“What’s so special about this one?”
Harry grinned to himself.
****
“So why me, Harry? Don’t you normally use Toolbox Terry for this?”
“He doesn’t have your ‘finesse’ Alfie. Too fond of torture. I prefer your style. Plus, I don’t officially know about his dealings, whereas tonight I can totally forget about the post office job, the bookies job and the two prostitute murders. Now let’s see if our guest is willing to talk.”
Harry knelt down in front of the shaking form of Glen Fletcher, and patted him on the shoulder. Fletcher shrank back from the touch, and looked up at Harry.
“Now then Glen, all I want from you is a little information. Then, you can go. Easy as that.” Harry crooned. “Just tell me what the trouble was at Hyde with DI Tyler.”
Fletcher dragged himself up to a sitting position, and spat at Harry.
Harry looked at Alfie, who nodded to his two associates.
“I like these new guys you have Alfie. Where they from again?” Harry asked as they wandered away from Fletcher.
“Hungary. They wanted to leave communism behind, start a new life. I like them, they are inventive, and thorough.”
“Not employing British?”
“No, Eastern European is the future Harry.”
Fletcher suddenly cried out. “OK - I don’t know much, but I can give you one thing - just make it stop!”
Harry strode back to the prone form of Fletcher. “A name?”
Fletcher nodded, then sobbed with pain. “Just... make them stop.”
“Name.”
“Morgan.”
Harry smiled at the sound of sobbing as he turned on his heel and walked away.
To be continued