Fic - How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Kirsteena, PG
Title: How to Win Friends and Influence People
Author: kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: 2.02
Rating: Green Cortina.
Pairings: None
Word Count: 3002
Summary: A young PC Hunt gets an important lesson which will affect his whole career
a/n Written for the lifein1973 ficathon 2008. Prompt was 'Young Gene and Young Harry, education, humiliation'. Much love and kisses to the wonderful ladybug218 for her down and dirty beta.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Young PC Hunt walked into the station, ready to start another shift to the usual stony wall of silence. For the last two weeks this had been the usual situation for him - ever since Harry Althway had hanged himself after being shopped for taking a backhander.
Gene Hunt was the young idealistic copper who turned him in.
He’d walk into the station in silence as every single plod ignored him. He’d find things in his locker - dead birds, excrement, sometimes written threats, but he never let any emotion show on his face. Even his wife, who he’d married a whole six months ago, hadn’t a clue what he was being put through at work. She’d demand he leave the job if she ever found out.
Gene knew that he wouldn’t. He’d done the right thing, of that he was certain. So why did it feel like it wasn’t?
No one knew what he was going through. No one understood him, or so he thought.
A pair of eyes were locked onto Gene through the window as he was tidying up the latest gift left for him in his locker - a dead cat. DI Harry Woolf had heard about what had happened; well, it was hard not to with the gossips in the station. He admitted to a certain degree of curiosity in this young, idealistic PC. He pushed himself away from the wall, seemingly having come to a decision.
Another reasonably uneventful shift had passed for Gene. He’d been paired with a new PC, one who obviously hadn’t heard what had happened yet. The others made sure he had quickly, and Gene had been left walking the streets of Manchester on his own. This time his locker had been decorated with pictures of topless women. He flushed slightly as he ripped them down. How much more would he have to go through?
“PC Hunt,” a voice boomed from behind him. Gene spun, ready to say something to his tormentors, but found himself face to face with the station’s new DI. He knew Woolf had been appointed to Detective Inspector a few weeks ago, brought over from Hyde. He straightened into an ‘attention’ pose as soon as he realised who was talking to him.
“DI Woolf, sir, I...” His eyes flicked to the pictures on his locker.
Harry waved his hand, dismissing his apology. “Oh don’t worry about it, it’s not the worst I’ve seen,” he said, smiling slightly at the flush on Gene’s face. By all accounts, Hunt hadn’t exactly had a sheltered upbringing, but then Harry remembered he was a newlywed. Gene continued to stand at attention.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, curiosity at war with embarrassment on his face.
“You can buy me a drink,” Harry said, with a small smile. “The Fox and Hound, Chapel Street, half an hour. Don’t be late.” At Gene’s frown he said, “Unless the wife expects you home, that is.” The implication was that this was far more important than running home to his wife.
Gene caught on quickly. “She’s out with friends tonight, sir.”
“Good. Mine’s a tan and bitter, when you get there, Hunt.” With that Harry left the room, leaving a stunned Gene in his wake.
Gene was too curious about why Woolf had done this to worry too much about Lizzie, and whether his dinner would grow cold. He headed down to the Fox and Hound as quickly as he could. Buying two rounds - he’d decided on the same as Woolf, even though he wasn’t much of a drinker - he took the drinks and settled at a quiet table, looking around him, taking in everything while waiting on the older man to arrive. The first thing he noticed was that there were no police there. All the police tended to gravitate towards one or two pubs after shift. This one had a smattering of locals, but no one he recognised. His curiosity grew.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and in walked Harry Woolf, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. Everyone looked up at his entrance, then went back to their own private conversations.
“Afternoon Jimmy,” he boomed, waving at the barman who nodded in return. “Aha!” he said, spotting Gene and the requested alcohol. “Good lad.”
Gene tried not to shrink under Woolf’s watchful gaze as he sat down. Woolf immediately toned down his voice after he took a long swig of his pint.
“So, young PC Hunt. I’ll bet you’re wondering why I asked you here today, am I right?” Harry pinned Gene with a piercing look. “So curious that you’d happily risk upsetting the little woman at home by coming to the pub with a stranger?”
Gene looked at Woolf, then ducked his head, taking a drink. “Yes, I’m curious,” he admitted. “Given most people in the station would rather I was somewhere else - and they don’t really care where.”
“What, that Althway business? Don’t beat yourself over the head about it. It was only a matter of time. He’d gotten too greedy, by all accounts.”
“Well, why don’t you tell them that?” Gene growled out. “Dead animals are getting old.” All the frustrations of the last two weeks burst out of Gene and were aimed squarely at the man in front of him. Gene suddenly realised who he was talking to and shut up quickly.
Woolf just smiled at him. “Now that’s what I’m looking for. How long have you been a plod, Gene?” Harry asked, using Gene’s first name deliberately.
“Just short of a year, sir,” Gene replied, having got his temper under control.
“None of that here, son,” Woolf said. “In here, I’m Harry.” This was accompanied by a smile.
“What do you want, Harry?” Gene asked, emphasising the name.
“Blunt and to the point, aren’t you?” Harry laughed suddenly. “I like that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. Putting one in his mouth, he noticed Gene’s bemused expression and offered him one. “Go on son, it won’t kill you.”
Gene paused, then took the cigarette. Luckily it wasn’t the first time he’d tried it - his brother had encouraged him - so at least he didn’t choke on it. “Good lad. I’ll make a detective of you yet.”
That caused Gene to splutter. “What?” he said eventually.
Harry looked at him and laughed. It seemed to be a common response with him, Gene noted. “I’m new in the job, but I can recognise a good copper when I see one,” he said.
“And you are one of them. I know you need to do at least another year on the beat, but I want you working more with CID. Then, when it’s time, I’ll make you a detective. What do you say, Gene?”
Gene looked at Harry in astonishment for a moment. Detective! It was as if all his dreams had come true. He’d joined the force with the hope that one day, maybe, he could join CID, but to be trained up to it! He clamped down hard on his excitement. “Why me?” he asked. “I mean, I’m the one who shopped Althway. No one wants to bother with me.”
Harry looked at him for a moment, taking a long draw of his cigarette. “You’ve got integrity, son,” he said finally. “And you don’t give up. That’s the qualities I’m looking for in my detectives.”
Gene looked at him, and nodded. He’d be a fool not to take the opportunity. “I’m interested.”
****
He’d endured Lizzie’s annoyance when he got him. She recognised the opportunity immediately, and encouraged him.
The next day, Gene went in for his shift, expecting to have to clear out his locker again of whatever the rest of the station had decided to leave in there, but there was nothing. The same happened the next day. Word obviously travelled fast.
A few days later, Gene was discussing an arrest with his sergeant when Harry Woolf popped his head around the door. “Thomas, can I borrow your young PC?” The request was innocent enough, but the implication was of ‘he’s coming with me, like it or not.’ The sergeant nodded, ignoring Gene.
Gene followed Harry out of the station, to the waiting car. “What do you need me for, sir?” he asked, curious and excited at the same time.
“Need to talk to an informant. Time to get your face known out there, son,” Woolf said with the oily smile of his.
I can do this, thought Gene. “Yes, sir.” No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn’t break Gene of that habit. Harry just chuckled and went to the driver’s seat of the car.
They talked to the informant, got the information they needed - the name of someone who was fencing stolen jewellery. Gene had kept silent, sticking to Harry’s side, and taking it all in. Lesson 101 in how to deal with informants. It would be useful to know, he supposed.
“Going to see the fence, sir?” he asked, after they’d driven for a few moments. He couldn’t work out why he was there instead of one of the other detectives in CID.
“Mmmm hmmm,” Woolf hummed. “I think he needs a little talking to, don’t you?”
Talking to? “I suppose that’s one way to do it, sir,” Gene said, not sure what his role was to be.
“Oh come on Gene, I don’t fancy doing the paperwork. Talking to, and a little persuasion will do for now. Anything else, we can decide later. If you don’t like it, say so, and we’ll do something about it. Does that sound reasonable?” Harry asked, lighting up another cigarette, again offering one to Gene.
Gene took the cigarette without any hesitation this time. Lizzie wouldn’t be pleased if he came home smelling of smoke, but he didn’t want to let Woolf down. “That sounds fair, sir,” he replied.
“Good lad,” Harry smiled at Gene, driving off.
The house where they pulled up outside was far more luxurious than Gene expected a fence to be living in, but then, he reasoned, he didn’t know what kind of place to expect. Gene followed Harry out of the car, staring up at the house.
“Not exactly a small place is it?” Harry noted. “The man we’re here to see is a Thomas Carlisle. He’s a notorious fence, I suspect he knows where the jewellery is.”
“It makes sense, I suppose. Are you hoping he’ll lead you back to whoever did this?”
“Something like that,” Harry said, with a small smile, as he led the way up the path towards the house. He knocked on the door, and turned to Gene. "Let me talk to him, son," he said.
Gene nodded. He'd no wish to make things difficult for Harry, and affect his own chances of becoming a detective. Instead, he stood back, and watched, learning how to interact.
A small man opened the door. He took one look at Harry, then flicked a glance at Gene. "Mr Woolf?" he began.
Harry held a hand up to stop him. "Inside, I think, Carlisle," he said, before pushing his way past the man. Gene looked between the two of them, then followed Harry in. Harry had gone into the lounge, and had sprawled in a chair.
Carlisle looked at him and scowled. "I know why you're here, Mr Woolf. I'm out of that game now."
"Of course you are. Which is why all the fingers point straight to you every single time."
"Mr Woolf!"
Harry stood up. He wasn't the tallest man in the world, but he towered over Carlisle. "Who turned over the Harris', Thomas?" he asked quietly. "Tell me, and we can just go away." Carlisle stared at Woolf for a moment, then slumped and nodded.
"Johnny Mayer," he said quietly. "Just get out of my house." Woolf turned on his heel, and left the house quickly, Gene hurrying in his wake. He wisely waited until they were back in Harry's car before he spoke again.
"Who's Johnny Mayer?" he asked. "You recognised the name."
"Small time petty crook," said Harry, smiling once again. "Hardly worth our time, but since we've got the name now."
"Back up?" Gene asked.
"Won't need it, son. You n' me, we'll be fine." The house they pulled up in front of was a lot less luxurious than Carlisle's, but to Gene it had a different feel to it. More... sinister. He had his concerns, but he'd aired them to his senior officer. He couldn't do anymore but support him now.
Once again, Harry led the way up the path. He was slightly more cautious this time, Gene noted, irrationally pleased with himself about how much he'd started taking in. Maybe Woolf was right, and there was a future for him in CID.
Harry knocked on the door. "Look menacing, Hunt," he said curtly. Gene barely had time to draw himself up to his full height before the door opened, and what could only be descibed as a thug stood in the doorway.
"Mr Woolf," the stranger said, smiling. "I've been expecting you." He stood aside a lot more easily than Carlisle had, letting the pair of policemen in. Harry didn't hesitate, and walked in. Gene blinked, then followed closely. No arrest? He was confused.
"Word on the streets has you linked to a series of burglaries, Mayer," Harry said without preamble. He tsked at Mayer. "You know we can't be having that."
"Mr Woolf, what can I say? Word on the streets has it wrong."
"No, I don't think so, Johnny. Stolen jewellery, nonetheless. At times like these, when we are all still recovering from the war... Really, it's a bit much."
Mayer looked at Woolf for a moment, then glanced at Gene and nodded. "We're going to play that dance, are we, Harry?" he hissed.
"Bottom line, Johnny. I really don't want to spend my time doing paperwork when I could be relaxing with a nice pint at the pub. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time as well."
Gene frowned as he watched the play between the two men. What was this? "Sir?" he asked quietly.
"Quiet, Gene. You are about to get an education in how to keep on top of things in this city." Harry looked at Mayer. "Return the goods from the last burglary, and we'll say no more about it."
Mayer nodded. "As usual, Woolf."
"As usual, Johnny. Don't be late, or I'll be forced to come and talk to you again." With that, Harry spun on his heel, and left the house. Gene stood there, stunned for a moment, then hurried out after Harry.
Once again, he waited until they were in the car before speaking. "What the hell was that about?" he exploded.
"The way we deal with criminals in the city, Gene. You have a lot to learn. Come on, we've got one more place to visit before we're done."
They entered another pub, this one about three miles from the first one they had visited. Gene slumped into the seating at one of the tables, while Harry ordered drinks. When Harry came back to sit down, placing a pint in front of Gene, he leant in and whispered angrily, "What the bloody hell was that about?"
"Wait and see, Mr Hunt," Woolf said, that smile firmly back in place.
"Just like that? He gets away with the goods?"
"I said just wait..." Harry looked up as a man approached the table, left a box, and walked away. "Drink up son."
Gene glared at Harry, then the box. "What's in there?"
"Once we've finished, Gene. Let's not waste a good pint."
Gene forced his pint down, even though he was still angry. Immediately after, they headed back to Harry's car in silence. "Right," Gene said. "I want an explanation."
"I think you forget who you are talking to, Constable Hunt," Harry said, but without any rancor. He opened the box. Inside was an envelope, and several pieces of jewellery. "The jewellery from the last raid, which Mayer said he would return. Gene's anger deflated somewhat.
"He did what you asked?"
"Of course he did. It was either that, or I bring him in." Harry pulled out the envelope, and shut the box. "We'll make sure they get back to their rightful owners." He opened the envelope, and smiled slightly.
"What's that?" Gene asked.
Harry smiled at him, and pulled out a few notes, folded them, and put them in Gene's pocket. "Take your wife out tonight. I'll bet you haven't had much spare cash since the wedding."
Gene looked at him, shocked. "You can't do that!" he said. "That's..."
"That's the way it is. Like I said before, Gene, most of the time, it's the only way we get to control the city. Who's it hurting? Mayer? He lost the jewellery he was going to sell. The owners get it back. You get a little extra cash in your pocket? What's the harm?"
"He should be banged up for what he did!"
"We lock him up, someone else takes his place. We don't know who. At least this way, there is some control. Like I said, who is it hurting? It's the way the city runs. Most of the coppers here are taking backhanders."
Gene sat in stunned silence for a moment, then bowed his head. He started to realise how much crime there was in the city, and how they couldn't keep track of it all. Idealism had to give way to realism at some point. And the jewellery was safe. "Dinner out, you think?" he asked Harry quietly.
"She'll love it," Harry agreed.
Author: kirsteena
Fandom: Life on Mars
Spoilers: 2.02
Rating: Green Cortina.
Pairings: None
Word Count: 3002
Summary: A young PC Hunt gets an important lesson which will affect his whole career
a/n Written for the lifein1973 ficathon 2008. Prompt was 'Young Gene and Young Harry, education, humiliation'. Much love and kisses to the wonderful ladybug218 for her down and dirty beta.
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Young PC Hunt walked into the station, ready to start another shift to the usual stony wall of silence. For the last two weeks this had been the usual situation for him - ever since Harry Althway had hanged himself after being shopped for taking a backhander.
Gene Hunt was the young idealistic copper who turned him in.
He’d walk into the station in silence as every single plod ignored him. He’d find things in his locker - dead birds, excrement, sometimes written threats, but he never let any emotion show on his face. Even his wife, who he’d married a whole six months ago, hadn’t a clue what he was being put through at work. She’d demand he leave the job if she ever found out.
Gene knew that he wouldn’t. He’d done the right thing, of that he was certain. So why did it feel like it wasn’t?
No one knew what he was going through. No one understood him, or so he thought.
A pair of eyes were locked onto Gene through the window as he was tidying up the latest gift left for him in his locker - a dead cat. DI Harry Woolf had heard about what had happened; well, it was hard not to with the gossips in the station. He admitted to a certain degree of curiosity in this young, idealistic PC. He pushed himself away from the wall, seemingly having come to a decision.
Another reasonably uneventful shift had passed for Gene. He’d been paired with a new PC, one who obviously hadn’t heard what had happened yet. The others made sure he had quickly, and Gene had been left walking the streets of Manchester on his own. This time his locker had been decorated with pictures of topless women. He flushed slightly as he ripped them down. How much more would he have to go through?
“PC Hunt,” a voice boomed from behind him. Gene spun, ready to say something to his tormentors, but found himself face to face with the station’s new DI. He knew Woolf had been appointed to Detective Inspector a few weeks ago, brought over from Hyde. He straightened into an ‘attention’ pose as soon as he realised who was talking to him.
“DI Woolf, sir, I...” His eyes flicked to the pictures on his locker.
Harry waved his hand, dismissing his apology. “Oh don’t worry about it, it’s not the worst I’ve seen,” he said, smiling slightly at the flush on Gene’s face. By all accounts, Hunt hadn’t exactly had a sheltered upbringing, but then Harry remembered he was a newlywed. Gene continued to stand at attention.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, curiosity at war with embarrassment on his face.
“You can buy me a drink,” Harry said, with a small smile. “The Fox and Hound, Chapel Street, half an hour. Don’t be late.” At Gene’s frown he said, “Unless the wife expects you home, that is.” The implication was that this was far more important than running home to his wife.
Gene caught on quickly. “She’s out with friends tonight, sir.”
“Good. Mine’s a tan and bitter, when you get there, Hunt.” With that Harry left the room, leaving a stunned Gene in his wake.
Gene was too curious about why Woolf had done this to worry too much about Lizzie, and whether his dinner would grow cold. He headed down to the Fox and Hound as quickly as he could. Buying two rounds - he’d decided on the same as Woolf, even though he wasn’t much of a drinker - he took the drinks and settled at a quiet table, looking around him, taking in everything while waiting on the older man to arrive. The first thing he noticed was that there were no police there. All the police tended to gravitate towards one or two pubs after shift. This one had a smattering of locals, but no one he recognised. His curiosity grew.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and in walked Harry Woolf, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. Everyone looked up at his entrance, then went back to their own private conversations.
“Afternoon Jimmy,” he boomed, waving at the barman who nodded in return. “Aha!” he said, spotting Gene and the requested alcohol. “Good lad.”
Gene tried not to shrink under Woolf’s watchful gaze as he sat down. Woolf immediately toned down his voice after he took a long swig of his pint.
“So, young PC Hunt. I’ll bet you’re wondering why I asked you here today, am I right?” Harry pinned Gene with a piercing look. “So curious that you’d happily risk upsetting the little woman at home by coming to the pub with a stranger?”
Gene looked at Woolf, then ducked his head, taking a drink. “Yes, I’m curious,” he admitted. “Given most people in the station would rather I was somewhere else - and they don’t really care where.”
“What, that Althway business? Don’t beat yourself over the head about it. It was only a matter of time. He’d gotten too greedy, by all accounts.”
“Well, why don’t you tell them that?” Gene growled out. “Dead animals are getting old.” All the frustrations of the last two weeks burst out of Gene and were aimed squarely at the man in front of him. Gene suddenly realised who he was talking to and shut up quickly.
Woolf just smiled at him. “Now that’s what I’m looking for. How long have you been a plod, Gene?” Harry asked, using Gene’s first name deliberately.
“Just short of a year, sir,” Gene replied, having got his temper under control.
“None of that here, son,” Woolf said. “In here, I’m Harry.” This was accompanied by a smile.
“What do you want, Harry?” Gene asked, emphasising the name.
“Blunt and to the point, aren’t you?” Harry laughed suddenly. “I like that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. Putting one in his mouth, he noticed Gene’s bemused expression and offered him one. “Go on son, it won’t kill you.”
Gene paused, then took the cigarette. Luckily it wasn’t the first time he’d tried it - his brother had encouraged him - so at least he didn’t choke on it. “Good lad. I’ll make a detective of you yet.”
That caused Gene to splutter. “What?” he said eventually.
Harry looked at him and laughed. It seemed to be a common response with him, Gene noted. “I’m new in the job, but I can recognise a good copper when I see one,” he said.
“And you are one of them. I know you need to do at least another year on the beat, but I want you working more with CID. Then, when it’s time, I’ll make you a detective. What do you say, Gene?”
Gene looked at Harry in astonishment for a moment. Detective! It was as if all his dreams had come true. He’d joined the force with the hope that one day, maybe, he could join CID, but to be trained up to it! He clamped down hard on his excitement. “Why me?” he asked. “I mean, I’m the one who shopped Althway. No one wants to bother with me.”
Harry looked at him for a moment, taking a long draw of his cigarette. “You’ve got integrity, son,” he said finally. “And you don’t give up. That’s the qualities I’m looking for in my detectives.”
Gene looked at him, and nodded. He’d be a fool not to take the opportunity. “I’m interested.”
****
He’d endured Lizzie’s annoyance when he got him. She recognised the opportunity immediately, and encouraged him.
The next day, Gene went in for his shift, expecting to have to clear out his locker again of whatever the rest of the station had decided to leave in there, but there was nothing. The same happened the next day. Word obviously travelled fast.
A few days later, Gene was discussing an arrest with his sergeant when Harry Woolf popped his head around the door. “Thomas, can I borrow your young PC?” The request was innocent enough, but the implication was of ‘he’s coming with me, like it or not.’ The sergeant nodded, ignoring Gene.
Gene followed Harry out of the station, to the waiting car. “What do you need me for, sir?” he asked, curious and excited at the same time.
“Need to talk to an informant. Time to get your face known out there, son,” Woolf said with the oily smile of his.
I can do this, thought Gene. “Yes, sir.” No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn’t break Gene of that habit. Harry just chuckled and went to the driver’s seat of the car.
They talked to the informant, got the information they needed - the name of someone who was fencing stolen jewellery. Gene had kept silent, sticking to Harry’s side, and taking it all in. Lesson 101 in how to deal with informants. It would be useful to know, he supposed.
“Going to see the fence, sir?” he asked, after they’d driven for a few moments. He couldn’t work out why he was there instead of one of the other detectives in CID.
“Mmmm hmmm,” Woolf hummed. “I think he needs a little talking to, don’t you?”
Talking to? “I suppose that’s one way to do it, sir,” Gene said, not sure what his role was to be.
“Oh come on Gene, I don’t fancy doing the paperwork. Talking to, and a little persuasion will do for now. Anything else, we can decide later. If you don’t like it, say so, and we’ll do something about it. Does that sound reasonable?” Harry asked, lighting up another cigarette, again offering one to Gene.
Gene took the cigarette without any hesitation this time. Lizzie wouldn’t be pleased if he came home smelling of smoke, but he didn’t want to let Woolf down. “That sounds fair, sir,” he replied.
“Good lad,” Harry smiled at Gene, driving off.
The house where they pulled up outside was far more luxurious than Gene expected a fence to be living in, but then, he reasoned, he didn’t know what kind of place to expect. Gene followed Harry out of the car, staring up at the house.
“Not exactly a small place is it?” Harry noted. “The man we’re here to see is a Thomas Carlisle. He’s a notorious fence, I suspect he knows where the jewellery is.”
“It makes sense, I suppose. Are you hoping he’ll lead you back to whoever did this?”
“Something like that,” Harry said, with a small smile, as he led the way up the path towards the house. He knocked on the door, and turned to Gene. "Let me talk to him, son," he said.
Gene nodded. He'd no wish to make things difficult for Harry, and affect his own chances of becoming a detective. Instead, he stood back, and watched, learning how to interact.
A small man opened the door. He took one look at Harry, then flicked a glance at Gene. "Mr Woolf?" he began.
Harry held a hand up to stop him. "Inside, I think, Carlisle," he said, before pushing his way past the man. Gene looked between the two of them, then followed Harry in. Harry had gone into the lounge, and had sprawled in a chair.
Carlisle looked at him and scowled. "I know why you're here, Mr Woolf. I'm out of that game now."
"Of course you are. Which is why all the fingers point straight to you every single time."
"Mr Woolf!"
Harry stood up. He wasn't the tallest man in the world, but he towered over Carlisle. "Who turned over the Harris', Thomas?" he asked quietly. "Tell me, and we can just go away." Carlisle stared at Woolf for a moment, then slumped and nodded.
"Johnny Mayer," he said quietly. "Just get out of my house." Woolf turned on his heel, and left the house quickly, Gene hurrying in his wake. He wisely waited until they were back in Harry's car before he spoke again.
"Who's Johnny Mayer?" he asked. "You recognised the name."
"Small time petty crook," said Harry, smiling once again. "Hardly worth our time, but since we've got the name now."
"Back up?" Gene asked.
"Won't need it, son. You n' me, we'll be fine." The house they pulled up in front of was a lot less luxurious than Carlisle's, but to Gene it had a different feel to it. More... sinister. He had his concerns, but he'd aired them to his senior officer. He couldn't do anymore but support him now.
Once again, Harry led the way up the path. He was slightly more cautious this time, Gene noted, irrationally pleased with himself about how much he'd started taking in. Maybe Woolf was right, and there was a future for him in CID.
Harry knocked on the door. "Look menacing, Hunt," he said curtly. Gene barely had time to draw himself up to his full height before the door opened, and what could only be descibed as a thug stood in the doorway.
"Mr Woolf," the stranger said, smiling. "I've been expecting you." He stood aside a lot more easily than Carlisle had, letting the pair of policemen in. Harry didn't hesitate, and walked in. Gene blinked, then followed closely. No arrest? He was confused.
"Word on the streets has you linked to a series of burglaries, Mayer," Harry said without preamble. He tsked at Mayer. "You know we can't be having that."
"Mr Woolf, what can I say? Word on the streets has it wrong."
"No, I don't think so, Johnny. Stolen jewellery, nonetheless. At times like these, when we are all still recovering from the war... Really, it's a bit much."
Mayer looked at Woolf for a moment, then glanced at Gene and nodded. "We're going to play that dance, are we, Harry?" he hissed.
"Bottom line, Johnny. I really don't want to spend my time doing paperwork when I could be relaxing with a nice pint at the pub. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time as well."
Gene frowned as he watched the play between the two men. What was this? "Sir?" he asked quietly.
"Quiet, Gene. You are about to get an education in how to keep on top of things in this city." Harry looked at Mayer. "Return the goods from the last burglary, and we'll say no more about it."
Mayer nodded. "As usual, Woolf."
"As usual, Johnny. Don't be late, or I'll be forced to come and talk to you again." With that, Harry spun on his heel, and left the house. Gene stood there, stunned for a moment, then hurried out after Harry.
Once again, he waited until they were in the car before speaking. "What the hell was that about?" he exploded.
"The way we deal with criminals in the city, Gene. You have a lot to learn. Come on, we've got one more place to visit before we're done."
They entered another pub, this one about three miles from the first one they had visited. Gene slumped into the seating at one of the tables, while Harry ordered drinks. When Harry came back to sit down, placing a pint in front of Gene, he leant in and whispered angrily, "What the bloody hell was that about?"
"Wait and see, Mr Hunt," Woolf said, that smile firmly back in place.
"Just like that? He gets away with the goods?"
"I said just wait..." Harry looked up as a man approached the table, left a box, and walked away. "Drink up son."
Gene glared at Harry, then the box. "What's in there?"
"Once we've finished, Gene. Let's not waste a good pint."
Gene forced his pint down, even though he was still angry. Immediately after, they headed back to Harry's car in silence. "Right," Gene said. "I want an explanation."
"I think you forget who you are talking to, Constable Hunt," Harry said, but without any rancor. He opened the box. Inside was an envelope, and several pieces of jewellery. "The jewellery from the last raid, which Mayer said he would return. Gene's anger deflated somewhat.
"He did what you asked?"
"Of course he did. It was either that, or I bring him in." Harry pulled out the envelope, and shut the box. "We'll make sure they get back to their rightful owners." He opened the envelope, and smiled slightly.
"What's that?" Gene asked.
Harry smiled at him, and pulled out a few notes, folded them, and put them in Gene's pocket. "Take your wife out tonight. I'll bet you haven't had much spare cash since the wedding."
Gene looked at him, shocked. "You can't do that!" he said. "That's..."
"That's the way it is. Like I said before, Gene, most of the time, it's the only way we get to control the city. Who's it hurting? Mayer? He lost the jewellery he was going to sell. The owners get it back. You get a little extra cash in your pocket? What's the harm?"
"He should be banged up for what he did!"
"We lock him up, someone else takes his place. We don't know who. At least this way, there is some control. Like I said, who is it hurting? It's the way the city runs. Most of the coppers here are taking backhanders."
Gene sat in stunned silence for a moment, then bowed his head. He started to realise how much crime there was in the city, and how they couldn't keep track of it all. Idealism had to give way to realism at some point. And the jewellery was safe. "Dinner out, you think?" he asked Harry quietly.
"She'll love it," Harry agreed.