The Rescue
“You do realise that this is all very irregular,” DI Sam Tyler said. “It’s a good job my Guv’s out today.”
The man standing next to him as they waited for the lift appeared to consider this statement. “I have a feeling my editor wouldn’t be too happy if he knew what we’d done either.”
“Look, Cal, if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. All I ask is that you don’t publish anything yet.”
“No, we’re both in this together. And it’s as much my fault as yours.” Cal McAffrey failed to add that there was something about this police inspector that attracted him in a way that he wasn’t sure about.
The lift arrived and the two men stepped inside, followed by a teenage lad.
“You okay, Cecil?” Sam asked.
The lad nodded, his slight frame emphasised by the way he wrapped his arms round his chest. It was clear from his demeanour that he didn’t really want to be in a police station, but at the same time the quiet way he was following the two men indicated that he trusted them.
Cecil watched as Sam and Cal continued their conversation in the lift. He saw the way they smiled at each other and how they unconsciously stood slightly closer than might be expected and then as the lift juddered to a halt they moved apart as if they’d both suddenly realised what they were doing.
The three left the lift and walked into CID.
As they walked into the main office Sam turned to Cecil, “When did you last have something to eat?”
The lad shrugged, “Dunno, sometime this morning.”
“Are you hungry?”
Another shrug, the way he looked down at his feet indicating clearly that he was hungry, but wasn’t going to admit it to a copper.
“Chris,” Sam called, “take Cecil up to the canteen and get him something that passes for a decent meal.” He took some coins out of his pocket and gave them to him, “And bring me back the change.”
Once Cecil had left Sam turned to Cal, “You and I have things we need to discuss. Like who told you about the filming and how come you knew the back route out of the warehouse.”
Sam considered using the DCI’s office, but then appeared to change his mind. “If anyone needs me, we’ll be in Lost and Found.” The two remaining detectives nodded; neither looking up from what they were doing.
Sam led the way and once they were inside the room he indicated to Cal to sit down. He himself remained standing. Suddenly he grabbed Cal by the shoulders and pulled him forwards so that their faces were about six inches apart. “Were you involved?” he demanded.
Cal looked shocked, “Of course not. I told you I had received a tip off. And as to why I knew about the back route: I had been afraid that the situation could turn nasty (as it did) and wanted to be sure I had a reasonable chance of getting out without being hurt.”
Sam’s grip on Cal’s shoulders relaxed although he did not take his hands away. “I’m sorry. I had to ask.” As if trying to make up for his actions he started to rub Cal’s back with one hand.
“Are you okay?” Cal asked softly.
“Yeah, sort of. It’s just that those sort of situations make me feel, well, vulnerable.” Sam wondered why he was admitting things to a comparative stranger that he would never say to Gene Hunt, despite the closeness they often shared.
“I know what you mean,” Cal put his own arms around Sam. For a minute the two men hugged, then “Sh*t,” said Sam, “I think life has just got even more bl**dy complicated.”
Sam and Cal returned to CID to be greeted by Chris who gave Sam his change.
“There’s not much here,” Sam was surprised.
“Well, Cecil had double helpings of pudding after ‘is sausage and mash. It’s okay, Boss. Gwen only charged half price for the second helping, said it was nice to see someone so enthusiastic about her food.”
Sam nodded.
“What are you going to do with Cecil tonight?” Cal asked him.
“I had thought of leaving him in a cell, but that would mean charging him, which I don’t really want to do. I’ll have to take him back with me to my flat. It’s not ideal in the circumstances, but I can’t see any alternative and I definitely don’t want him back on the streets.”
“Do you want me to give you a lift?”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Sam didn’t add that the more time he was able to spend with Cal in whatever circumstance, the happier he would be.
They called Cecil to join them and went out into the dark. When they reached Sam’s flat Sam invited Cal to come in with them and then tried to disguise his pleasure when he agreed.
Sam went into the kitchen, “I’ll get us a drink. Cecil, why don’t you get yourself into bed.” He sensed the boy’s hesitation. “It’s okay. I just meant for you to sleep there, nothing else. You can stay fully clothed if you like, but I’d prefer it if you’d take your boots off.”
Cal joined Sam in the kitchen, to give Cecil some privacy. Sam was filling the kettle, so Cal put his hands on his waist and Sam lent back into his arms. “I could do with something stronger if you have anything,” he murmured into Sam’s ear.
“There’s a bottle of whisky under the sink.”
Sam made the coffee and took it through, followed by Cal carrying the bottle and two glasses. Cecil had obviously decided that he could trust them because his jeans and shirt were in a pile by the bed. Sam offered him a mug of coffee and as the lad took it Sam noticed the marks on his arm.
“Someone mistake your arm for an ashtray, did they?” The lad whimpered. “Show me your other arm.” Cecil reluctantly held his arm out. “Anywhere else?”
“My back,” the whisper was scarcely audible.
Sam gently lifted Cecil’s vest and looked at his back. The red wheals from where he’d been hit by a leather belt showed sharply against his pale skin. Sam swallowed. Disguising his anger at those who’d beaten the boy he said quietly, “Get some sleep. I promise you I’m not going to let anyone do that to you again.”
The lad lay down and very soon he had was asleep. Sam and Cal looked at each other and started to chew over the events of the day.
#####
That morning:
An informant had phoned Sam to tell him that rumour had it there was going to be some interesting filming taking place at Askey’s old warehouse. Ordinarily Sam would have taken backup, but an outbreak of the flu, combined with an upsurge in break-ins that had Gene Hunt wishing the criminal classes would take a winter holiday somewhere very hot, meant that A division was struggling. Accordingly, and because this particular informant was not known for his reliability, Sam had decided to take a look by himself before returning if necessary with additional men.
What he had expected to see was a few scantily clad women together with some men in an equivalent state of undress. In other words a further version of “Very Dirty Harry with Added Sally” which they had found the month before. What he didn’t expect to see was a teenage lad being forced onto his knees, clearly expected to give a blow job to a man in a mask.
The lad was wearing a blindfold and was being shouted at by the director. “And this time, if you know what’s good for you, look like you’re enjoying it. You’re a slut, boy, so be a pretty little slut.”
As Sam watched the lad use his hands to find the masked man’s penis, he could feel himself wanting to retch. He turned away and in doing so knocked a bucket over. Instantly the men on the set froze.
“’oo’s there?”
“Someone’s spying on us.”
“If you’ve told anyone about this, kid, I’ll bloody kill you.”
The last speaker picked up what looked like at spade handle and looked menacingly at the lad from across the floor. Not wishing to see anything happen to the boy, Sam decided to trust to an element of surprise and rushed over, grabbing the boy, (who had taken the blindfold off to see what the shouting was all about), and pushed him towards the door. As they went through the doorway they saw out of the main door someone throw a brick through the windscreen of Sam’s car.
“Shit,” Sam started to look around for another exit. At that moment someone grabbed his arm, “Quick, come this way.” The lad started to look back, but their rescuer took his hand and pulled him along a corridor with Sam following. The corridor led them to the back of the building.
“My car’s parked just over there.” The man led the way across some wasteland and all three jumped into the car. He drove for about half a mile before parking beside the canal.
“Okay,” he said, “time for introductions. I’m Cal McAffrey and I currently work for the Manchester Herald.”
“DI Sam Tyler,” said Sam. “Oh, no you don’t.” The last was said to the lad who was starting to get out of the car. Clearly he had no wish to be involved with the police. Sam got into the back seat and sat next to the boy.
“What’s your name?” The lad muttered something unintelligible. “Look, lad, I want to help you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
The lad looked at him and Sam willed himself to look as calm as possible. He had found the whole episode deeply upsetting, but he knew that if he showed any of his own distress then there was no chance he would be trusted. Evidently it worked, because finally the boy said, “It’s Cecil.” Sam debated about demanding Cecil’s surname, but decided that that would be more than he could reasonably expect.
Instead he turned back to Cal, “How come you were at the warehouse?”
“Apart from to rescue you?” Cal chuckled. “I had a tipoff. It sounded like there might be a story the paper could publish. I’m on a three month probationary contract, so I figured a good story might improve my chances of being kept on long term.”
#####
Sam leaned forward and refilled both their glasses. “What I don’t understand is why you’re on a probationary contract.”
“That’s easy,” replied Cal. “I threw up my job in London to follow someone back here and got myself a job locally.”
Sam nodded and glanced at his watch. “Hadn’t you better be getting back to them?”
Cal laughed wryly. “Unfortunately, it didn’t work out. I’m currently sleeping on the couch of one of the other hacks on the paper.” He too looked at the time. “Except that it’s so late now, that I’ll probably be spending the night in my car.”
Sam looked apologetic, “I’m afraid my bed’s already occupied.” He indicated the peacefully sleeping Cecil. “But you’re welcome to the chair. I can sleep on the floor - I shall have to get to the station early tomorrow.”
“Thank you. But you have the chair. I’ve slept on worse floors. And if you go in early I can always grab a couple of hours in the chair.” Cal smiled.
Accordingly, Sam settled himself in the chair. The combination of the stress of the day and the amount of whisky they had consumed meant he too was soon asleep. Cal noted Sam’s regular breathing and crept over to pull up the blanket that was in danger of falling off Sam onto the floor.
#####
Sam set off for the station early the following morning, turning over in his mind just how much he was going to tell Gene Hunt.
His thoughts took him back a few months. Everyone else had departed for the pub, but he and Gene had stayed behind at his insistence. The case they were working on was complicated, requiring an amount of tact that he believed the Guv incapable of. Inevitably their argument had got out of hand and Gene had pushed Sam up against the filing cabinet, intent on making his point clear.
In the middle of the DCI’s rant against the Irish, the blind, homosexuals, anyone from either the West Indies or the Indian sub-continent and the Welsh, Sam had suddenly said, “I’m gay.”
“I know,” yelled Gene.
Sam braced himself for the fist that never came.
“What?”
“I’ve known for some time.”
“Oh. How?” Realising that he wasn’t about to be hit, Sam relaxed and as the tension left his legs he nearly collapsed. Gene grabbed him under the arms and pushed him into a chair.
“As I’ve told you before, Gladys, they don’t just hand out DCI badges in lucky bags.”
“But you’ve never said anything.”
“There was no need. You’re a good copper and I want to keep you in my team. How long do you think you’d last here if something like that got out?”
“Not long,” Sam admitted with a grimace. “So what do we do now?”
“Carry on as before. Just make sure no-one else knows. Fortunately for you, everyone knows you’re a bit strange, so nobody actually takes any notice of you behaving slightly oddly.”
“Thanks, Guv.”
“And don’t start making a pass at me, even if you are attracted to my extremely manly physique.”
“Don’t worry, Guv, you’re not my type.”
“I’m not sure whether to take that as a complement or an insult. Pub?”
“Pub.”
#####
As Sam walked into CID he was greeted by Gene Hunt. “Right, Tyler, I need to know what’s going on.”
Sam followed Gene into his office. “There’s nothing much to report, Guv. At least not yet.”
“What’s this about a lad Chris mentioned?”
“He’s just a lad. He had nowhere to go so he spent the night in my flat.”
“Sh*t, Sam. He’s a rent boy. If even Chris knows this then we can be pretty sure that everyone else will know it too. You cannot afford to have a rent boy staying in your flat. Why the hell didn’t you charge him? He could have spent the night in the cells.” Gene stood up and glared down at Sam.
“I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.”
“You’re a copper. Of course you could.”
“No, not after what I saw they were making him do.”
“What are you talking about?”
To Gene’s surprise, Sam wrapped his arms round his chest as if hugging himself.
“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Gene spoke more gently.
“When I was about eleven, my Mum had a ‘gentleman’ friend,” Sam began slowly. “One evening Mum wanted to go to the cinema with my Auntie Heather and this friend said he’d babysit for her.”
Gene grunted, he had a horrible feeling he could see where this was going.
“That evening he put his hand inside my trousers and pants and started to feel me. Then he made me feel him too. I wanted to pull away, but he grabbed my wrist and forced me.”
Sam swallowed hard. “He told me that it was our secret and I wasn’t to tell my Mum.”
Sam had started to cry and Gene put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Did you say anything to your Mum?” he asked.
“No. Fortunately she stopped seeing him soon after that.”
Not knowing what else to do, Gene grabbed the other chair, sat down and put his arms round Sam, pulling him close to his chest. He rocked him gently as twenty-five years of fear and shame poured out in Sam’s tears. Finally, Sam stopped crying and Gene found a handkerchief and wiped Sam’s eyes.
“So, you see, I can’t charge Cecil,” Sam mumbled.
“Probably wouldn’t do any good if you did,” Gene muttered. “And we’ll never get the kid in the witness stand. But he still can’t stay in your flat.”
Sam was about to protest when Gene added, “I’ll just have to break the news to the Missus that we’re having a house guest for a couple of days.”
The Rescue (continued)