Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (49/?), dakfinv, blue cortina
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (49/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1354 (this part); (70,952 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none for this part
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 wanted to have this up yesterday, but just wasn't happy with it. I think I've fixed the problems now. 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 Part 41
Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48
The tube ride calmed him. The shock of finding the Guv, the shock of Tyler’s disappearance, it all wore off quickly and Ray steeled himself for the next step, remembering that which was most important - he had answers and he had orders. Having one allowed him to follow the other. The Guv had given him direction and, as always, Ray would follow those directions to the grave.
Although, he certainly hoped that was not where they led. As devoted as he was to Gene, he wasn’t keen on dying.
He listened to the clack of the train as it barreled its way underground, waiting for his stop while not quite paying attention to where he was. Gene had told him to report the drug deal and find Tyler. He’d said nothing about informing the team of his whereabouts.
Would Gene want them to know? Was the Guv planning on telling them the truth to begin with? Was Gene even returning to Manchester once this was all over?
Well, of course he’d be returning to Manchester. Where else would he go? That’s where is life was. His team. His station. His city. His wife. Well, his mistress, anyhow. Ray shook his head. Gene was unaware of Ray’s knowledge regarding that bit of information. He wasn’t keen on dying, Ray reminded himself. That bit of info would remain unknown.
The train stopped, passengers disembarked, and Ray decided to put Manchester out of his mind. None of that would matter tonight and he shouldn’t be making any decisions for the Guv. Gene knew perfectly well how he’d planned his return to Manchester. He just hadn’t informed Ray of those details. No, none of that would matter tonight. Tonight, all that mattered was stopping that deal and finding Tyler.
Shit. Tyler. Ray mentally kicked himself. As always, he’d let his anger get the better of him and had refused to see the real situation - a trait he’d inherited from his old man. He should’ve never left Tyler on his own, the crazy bastard. If he was that angry with him, he should have at least cuffed him to the radiator or the bed or something so that Sam wouldn’t have wondered off.
What had he expected the prat to do? Stay put and be a good boy while Ray ran off to do real detective work? And then there were the pills. Ray hadn’t told Gene about the pills. Ray had intentionally forgot to mention that he had left Sam with a bag of pills - a bag of pills that were now just as missing as Sam. Of course he’d forgotten. Ray wasn’t keen on dying, after all.
Hopefully, neither was Sam.
Ray detrained at the next stop.
*
It only took him a few flashes of his warrant card, several well put threats, and five minutes in a holding cell for Ray to be granted an audience with the DCI of the drugs squad. Ray rubbed his left wrist - where the cuffs had been made especially tight - as he sat in DCI Horace Gillespie’s office.
“You are DS Foster, yes?” Gillespie asked swatting at an errant fly with a rolled of witness statement.
“Detective Sergeant Carling, actually,” Ray huffed.
“Ah. Carling! Yes. I knew it was some sort of brew. Now, DS Carling, you’re down from the Lancashire Constabulary, are you not?”
“Aye.”
“Quite a way out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?” Gillespie whacked the fly again, this time managing to strike it in mid-air. “Late in the year for these bastards,” he grumbled, flicking the crushed body off his desk and onto the floor.
“Aye.”
“Well, no matter,” Gillespie tossed the statement cum fly swatter onto his desk and curled a finger in his busy moustache. Ray was suddenly conscious of his own upper lip and stroked it absentmindedly. It paled in comparison to Gillespie’s. Ray quickly dropped his hand. “Now,” the DCI continued, “They tell me you have some important information, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, go on then lad,” Gillespie laughed, throwing up his arms. “Don’t keep us in suspense. What’s the word?”
“Jameson Hendricks.”
“Ah, Charles’ boy, eh?”
“Friend of yours, sir?” Ray shifted uncomfortably.
“Hm. Hardly. Though...” Gillespie motioned for Ray to move closer, so close his moustache almost brushed Ray’s cheek, and brought his voice down to a whisper. “I can’t say that about every officer here. So, best we keep the lad’s name under wraps, don’t you think, Foster?”
“Carling.”
“Right-o,” Gillespie tapped his nose conspiratorially, then leaned back and folded his hands on his protruding stomach. “Now then, what has the lad done now?”
“Well, if you don’t mind me getting straight to the point...”
“Not at all. Not at all.”
“He’s planning on unloading a load of heroin at the West India Quay and shipping it North. Possibly to Manchester.”
“Ah-ha! Now I see. Want to keep your city clean of the stuff, don’t you? Noble. Very noble. And when is this all supposedly meant to take place?”
“Tonight. Midnight. The...lad and his gang are meeting in Wapping now.”
“Very interesting,” Gillespie studied Ray carefully. “Well, this would be a mighty great haul if we were to stop it, would it not?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Yes, a mighty great collar. Which begs the question - how did you come by such pertinent information, Sergeant Foster?”
“Carling. And it’s from a source. A reliable source.”
“How reliable?”
“Very.”
“Hm. And how did your very reliable source come about this information?” Gillespie tapped his fingers on his stomach.
“He’s on the inside. Part of the gang.”
“Mm-hm. And how do you know your source isn’t pulling one over, hm?”
“Family, sir.”
“Family? Whose family? Yours?”
“No. Jame....the lad, he’s hurt someone, a child, close to me source.”
“A child? Give us strength. Does that lad have no respect,” Gillespie shook his head solemntly. “So, your source is looking for a bit of revenge then? Well, can’t say I haven’t seen that before and I can’t say I blame the man. No, can’t say that at all.”
The conversation died down and Gillespie remained in his reclined position as he stared at Ray, contemplating the situation. Suddenly he leaned forward, grabbing a pen as he sat up.
“Right. West India Quay, you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Midnight?”
“Aye.”
“That gives us approximately...” Gillespie checked his watch. “Four and a half hours. Smashing,” he grinned broadly. “I’ll set my lads on it. Our department’s been itching for a good raid. Good for morale, you know.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Care to join us, Sergeant Foster? Could be an accommodation in it for you,” he grinned.
Ray remembered Gene’s orders. He also remembered that Gillespie and his team would have no idea who Gene was. Things were bound to go bad during the raid; Ray had certainly been part of enough and that familiar feeling was settling in his gut. If bullets were to start flying, someone would have to make sure the Guv was out of the firing line.
“Yes, sir. I would.”
“Excellent. Quite excellent. Now, while we prepare, I’ll need you to share all the information you have with our DI Flowers. He’s the man sitting just out there. Smells like...”
“Flowers?”
“Onions, actually. Can’t get enough of ‘em, that one.”
“There is one other matter I need to, erm, take care of, ‘fore we head out.”
“Is it urgent?”
“Missing person.”
“And it’s related to this case?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then, it’s not urgent, is it?” Gillespie quickly rose from his chair. “Now, if you’ll be participating in this raid, Sergeant, I’ll be your Guv’nor for the evening. Relay all your information to DI Flowers while I clear this with the men upstairs,” Gillespie strode across the room, flinging upon his office door. Ray remained where he was seated. “Chop, chop, man! Time is not on our side.”
Ray finally left his chair and easily sniffed out DI Flowers. He checked his watch. They wouldn’t be leaving the station for a bit, yet. He’d have time to report Sam’s disappearance before they did, he was sure of it.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1354 (this part); (70,952 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none for this part
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 wanted to have this up yesterday, but just wasn't happy with it. I think I've fixed the problems now. 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 Part 41
Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48
The tube ride calmed him. The shock of finding the Guv, the shock of Tyler’s disappearance, it all wore off quickly and Ray steeled himself for the next step, remembering that which was most important - he had answers and he had orders. Having one allowed him to follow the other. The Guv had given him direction and, as always, Ray would follow those directions to the grave.
Although, he certainly hoped that was not where they led. As devoted as he was to Gene, he wasn’t keen on dying.
He listened to the clack of the train as it barreled its way underground, waiting for his stop while not quite paying attention to where he was. Gene had told him to report the drug deal and find Tyler. He’d said nothing about informing the team of his whereabouts.
Would Gene want them to know? Was the Guv planning on telling them the truth to begin with? Was Gene even returning to Manchester once this was all over?
Well, of course he’d be returning to Manchester. Where else would he go? That’s where is life was. His team. His station. His city. His wife. Well, his mistress, anyhow. Ray shook his head. Gene was unaware of Ray’s knowledge regarding that bit of information. He wasn’t keen on dying, Ray reminded himself. That bit of info would remain unknown.
The train stopped, passengers disembarked, and Ray decided to put Manchester out of his mind. None of that would matter tonight and he shouldn’t be making any decisions for the Guv. Gene knew perfectly well how he’d planned his return to Manchester. He just hadn’t informed Ray of those details. No, none of that would matter tonight. Tonight, all that mattered was stopping that deal and finding Tyler.
Shit. Tyler. Ray mentally kicked himself. As always, he’d let his anger get the better of him and had refused to see the real situation - a trait he’d inherited from his old man. He should’ve never left Tyler on his own, the crazy bastard. If he was that angry with him, he should have at least cuffed him to the radiator or the bed or something so that Sam wouldn’t have wondered off.
What had he expected the prat to do? Stay put and be a good boy while Ray ran off to do real detective work? And then there were the pills. Ray hadn’t told Gene about the pills. Ray had intentionally forgot to mention that he had left Sam with a bag of pills - a bag of pills that were now just as missing as Sam. Of course he’d forgotten. Ray wasn’t keen on dying, after all.
Hopefully, neither was Sam.
Ray detrained at the next stop.
*
It only took him a few flashes of his warrant card, several well put threats, and five minutes in a holding cell for Ray to be granted an audience with the DCI of the drugs squad. Ray rubbed his left wrist - where the cuffs had been made especially tight - as he sat in DCI Horace Gillespie’s office.
“You are DS Foster, yes?” Gillespie asked swatting at an errant fly with a rolled of witness statement.
“Detective Sergeant Carling, actually,” Ray huffed.
“Ah. Carling! Yes. I knew it was some sort of brew. Now, DS Carling, you’re down from the Lancashire Constabulary, are you not?”
“Aye.”
“Quite a way out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?” Gillespie whacked the fly again, this time managing to strike it in mid-air. “Late in the year for these bastards,” he grumbled, flicking the crushed body off his desk and onto the floor.
“Aye.”
“Well, no matter,” Gillespie tossed the statement cum fly swatter onto his desk and curled a finger in his busy moustache. Ray was suddenly conscious of his own upper lip and stroked it absentmindedly. It paled in comparison to Gillespie’s. Ray quickly dropped his hand. “Now,” the DCI continued, “They tell me you have some important information, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, go on then lad,” Gillespie laughed, throwing up his arms. “Don’t keep us in suspense. What’s the word?”
“Jameson Hendricks.”
“Ah, Charles’ boy, eh?”
“Friend of yours, sir?” Ray shifted uncomfortably.
“Hm. Hardly. Though...” Gillespie motioned for Ray to move closer, so close his moustache almost brushed Ray’s cheek, and brought his voice down to a whisper. “I can’t say that about every officer here. So, best we keep the lad’s name under wraps, don’t you think, Foster?”
“Carling.”
“Right-o,” Gillespie tapped his nose conspiratorially, then leaned back and folded his hands on his protruding stomach. “Now then, what has the lad done now?”
“Well, if you don’t mind me getting straight to the point...”
“Not at all. Not at all.”
“He’s planning on unloading a load of heroin at the West India Quay and shipping it North. Possibly to Manchester.”
“Ah-ha! Now I see. Want to keep your city clean of the stuff, don’t you? Noble. Very noble. And when is this all supposedly meant to take place?”
“Tonight. Midnight. The...lad and his gang are meeting in Wapping now.”
“Very interesting,” Gillespie studied Ray carefully. “Well, this would be a mighty great haul if we were to stop it, would it not?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Yes, a mighty great collar. Which begs the question - how did you come by such pertinent information, Sergeant Foster?”
“Carling. And it’s from a source. A reliable source.”
“How reliable?”
“Very.”
“Hm. And how did your very reliable source come about this information?” Gillespie tapped his fingers on his stomach.
“He’s on the inside. Part of the gang.”
“Mm-hm. And how do you know your source isn’t pulling one over, hm?”
“Family, sir.”
“Family? Whose family? Yours?”
“No. Jame....the lad, he’s hurt someone, a child, close to me source.”
“A child? Give us strength. Does that lad have no respect,” Gillespie shook his head solemntly. “So, your source is looking for a bit of revenge then? Well, can’t say I haven’t seen that before and I can’t say I blame the man. No, can’t say that at all.”
The conversation died down and Gillespie remained in his reclined position as he stared at Ray, contemplating the situation. Suddenly he leaned forward, grabbing a pen as he sat up.
“Right. West India Quay, you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Midnight?”
“Aye.”
“That gives us approximately...” Gillespie checked his watch. “Four and a half hours. Smashing,” he grinned broadly. “I’ll set my lads on it. Our department’s been itching for a good raid. Good for morale, you know.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Care to join us, Sergeant Foster? Could be an accommodation in it for you,” he grinned.
Ray remembered Gene’s orders. He also remembered that Gillespie and his team would have no idea who Gene was. Things were bound to go bad during the raid; Ray had certainly been part of enough and that familiar feeling was settling in his gut. If bullets were to start flying, someone would have to make sure the Guv was out of the firing line.
“Yes, sir. I would.”
“Excellent. Quite excellent. Now, while we prepare, I’ll need you to share all the information you have with our DI Flowers. He’s the man sitting just out there. Smells like...”
“Flowers?”
“Onions, actually. Can’t get enough of ‘em, that one.”
“There is one other matter I need to, erm, take care of, ‘fore we head out.”
“Is it urgent?”
“Missing person.”
“And it’s related to this case?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then, it’s not urgent, is it?” Gillespie quickly rose from his chair. “Now, if you’ll be participating in this raid, Sergeant, I’ll be your Guv’nor for the evening. Relay all your information to DI Flowers while I clear this with the men upstairs,” Gillespie strode across the room, flinging upon his office door. Ray remained where he was seated. “Chop, chop, man! Time is not on our side.”
Ray finally left his chair and easily sniffed out DI Flowers. He checked his watch. They wouldn’t be leaving the station for a bit, yet. He’d have time to report Sam’s disappearance before they did, he was sure of it.