CHAPTER 23
I wish I had known those people years before, or people like them, who could have brought my parents out of the pit along with me. What I was learning, in the end, was that it wasn’t about individuals as such but about a way of thinking. We had English, Welsh and French there, all together and smiling. It sort of flew in the face of so much of my experience of policing, and then another thought struck me, no doubt triggered by the kids in wheelchairs and leg braces we had just shared dinner with.

There had certainly been little love lost a few years previously, as we waited for the right moment to send out our goat. Christmas may have warmed me, but I was left confused, even after coshing my brain so thoroughly on New Year’s Eve. Elaine was back bang on time, as ever, looking refreshed, and she very quickly saw straight through us all. Blake and I had come up with a couple of tricks ready for her, though. We had indeed tied our two known pieces of excrement down to Thursdays and Fridays, and there was absolutely nothing reported over the holidays that fell into our own area od work.

On Tuesday, we picked up a bit of a heated discussion coming from the Dragon’s Den, as Alun called it when he wasn’t saying Gorgon’s Grotto, and Elaine walked into the team area with Chris still hotly disagreeing. She wanted to plot up in response to an ANPR ping telling us the targets were moving towards us, and Chris was disagreeing in a surprisingly non-shrill way.

“Listen, Lainey, all we know is that we’ve put faces to two of them, but they are at least three strong and most probably four or five. What happens if I get clocked going into the trap, eh? They could have one or two watching and only call the others out if they see a possible target. If I’m not there, they might hit someone else, and I couldn’t live with that, girl. They’re getting worse each time”

His face showed how much he meant that one, memories of the occupants of a couple of hospital beds clearly burning him as painfully as they did me. Elaine frowned.

“So what are you saying? You sit there all evening, on the off chance?”

“Yes, basically. I sit there, I make it clear I’m alone, and I trawl the pink pubs. Full-on aging twink, yeah?”

She tried to make it a joke. “You’re not bloody aging, butt!”

Chris gave an absolutely fake laugh. “For a twink I am positively ancient! We don’t have the greatest of shelf lives, do we? Now, we doing this or not?”

I looked round the team, and saw nothing but fixed and intent expressions. He wasn’t finished, though, and flounced down into a chair.

“And I’m not wearing a wire or whatever it’s called!”

“And why the hell not, Chris?” snapped my boss.

“If they get me like they got Omar, they’ll find it. The way they’re going, I’d wind up dead for that. I’d rather not, OK?”

Our own laughter at his performance sounded just as forced to my ears. Enough. I stuck my hand up for attention.

“Aye?”

“Transponder, Ma’am. Tracker device, same as on a car. What you wearing, Chris? Would it involve a belt?”

I brought out the little idea Blake and I had come up with over Christmas dinner, and Chris’ eyebrows shot up in recognition.

“Of course! Super tube!”

The boss glared at me, and I couldn’t help it and corpse like a stupid schoolgirl.

“Not a climber, then, Ma’am?”

Blake reached across and took our little present from me.

“Rock-climbing stuff, Ma’am. Used to make slings for people to tie onto the rocks, comes in big rolls, you buy it by the metre. Buckles are sold as well, just takes a bit of needlework. Tape’s tubular, innit, let us fit a transponder inside. Chris, we thought what with the rainbow colour and that, LGBT shit, aye?”

Her mind suddenly started working, and for about ten seconds she just looked round the team, face by face.

“None of you lot been off at all over Christmas?”

Nobody could answer that one, but we all nodded, one by one, as she tried to pretend she was unhappy. Idiot that I am, I tried to break the silence.

“Sergeant Gould’s boy, Scott, yeah? Sent us a thank-you card for what we’ve done. I mean, I know we haven’t done it yet, but you know what I mean. We sort of agreed to put some er…”

I couldn’t say it, as despite all my training I was continuing to corpse, as were almost all of my mates. I gave up and pointed at Chris.

“You said it, you can tell her!”

He was never, ever camper. “Lainey, you know there’s no paid overtime for this? You told us that”

“Yes, I remember. What’s the joke?”

I knew the punch line was coming, and almost left the room to avoid it. H didn’t disappoint.

“No joke. This lot simply agreed to… do it for the Queen”

The boss snorted again. “Christopher O’Connor, you are a cheeky sod, and bloody childish with it!”

I took the belt we had made (well, Mam had sewed it) back from Blake and held it up.

“Hands free kit is what he suggested. We can’t put a mike on him, so he dials one of us when he goes outside, and just leaves the phone on. Anything happens, we hear it. Nothing suspicious, all normal, nothing to trigger their extras, yeah?”

She looked down at her hands, shaking her head gently, then looked round the team again. Her face set, cords standing out on her forearms.

“Boys and girls, you make me very proud indeed. It’s go then for Thursday evening. Those who’ve drawn Taser authority know the drill; the rest of you make sure you’ve got fresh sprays and full restraint kits including the straps. This is it, this is where it stops for people like Omar, aye?”

Blake pointed across the room. “For people like our mate there, you mean?”

Our leader gave one sharp nod of affirmation.

“Aye, for people like Chris it is. Clear the decks as much as you can, and I’ll go and set up the ANPR”

I worked as best as I could over the next day and a half, going home to Mam and Dad rather than sitting fretting in my digs. All I could see each time I closed my eyes was the lad’s face, and in one nightmare I found myself next to an autopsy slab, drains and hoses ready to sluice away the detritus but nothing on top apart from a rainbow belt.

I felt like shit on Thursday morning, though I managed to get through our preparations, as did the rest of the team. We worked in silence, checking our kit over and over again and making sure we all had our personal numbers loaded into our phones. This was it, we hoped, as various vehicles left the nick in ones and twos to find spots to lurk around the city. We had Traffic well out of the way of the expected routes into town so as not to spook our targets, and I was pleased to see Bryn and Barry in the second row of the mass briefing Elaine held.

“Afternoon, all. Some of you may have worked out what we are about here, but I ask---I demand---I beg. No discussions about this, please. We get one bite at this, two if we don’t show out. This will hopefully end what has been going on here and in Abertawe, Swansea for the language blind. It does not matter right here and now what your views are on Nancy boys, shirtlifters, poofs, queers, whatever: they are people. They are victims. They include some of our own, like Dai Gould’s boy, and I know full well what you all feel about that!

“If we do nothing, or cock this up, one of those boys, one or more, will end up on a slab. We have a chance to sort it. We stop it, we stop it now, we stop it for good. No radio use apart from routine calls. No radio use concerning this operation until you hear me break silence, and even then, THINK about what you say, what it might reveal. Not all coppers are honest, I am sorry to say. Automatic Number Plate Recognition is now on, watching for our target vehicles, and each of your vehicles has a sealed briefing to read when you are on plot. This lad here—stand up, Chris---is ours. Do not lose him. Do not bring him back broken. And good luck”

The lads and lasses walked out, muttering among themselves, and as the evening darkness closed on us, she sent our goat on his way, with a hug from each of us before she added her own.

“Away you go, lad. And, well, stay safe, aye?”

Chris set off to get something to eat before the pub crawl he was due to start, and Blake and I headed off to our own plot, not far from the pink pubs. Elaine kept us up to speed with texts, and we got the message just after eight that our boy was in the Red lion. Twenty minutes later:

Hansen 4232 by Trvldge

Twenty minutes later

Evans van Tredegar St CCTV

My own phone rang immediately after that, and it was Elaine, clearly doing the rounds to keep us all on track. Only ten minutes later, she called again.

“Diane, got both vehicles parked up on Tredegar Street. Range Rover with them. Can somebody sneak the licence plate number for Control? Find out who the hell the others might be? Don’t show out, though”

I looked at Blake, and he shrugged. “Not the sneaksy one, am I?”

I bundled up, scarf over my mouth and coat good up in the cold weather, honest guv, and strolled up Mary Ann Street before ambling in all innocence down Tredegar and taking another left back down to my starting point, where we were plotted up in the bays just off Bute Terrace. God, they were close. On a hunch, I looked up at the pole holding the camera, and saw the box nod, just once. The operator clearly had me.

I didn’t dare look at it as I passed, but I recognised the fucking car as soon as I saw it, memorising the plate just to be sure. The corner of my eye caught at least three shapes inside. Bryn and Barry had been absolutely right in their opinion. I got back to our vehicle, slamming the door a bit too loudly. Blake gave me the stare.

“What’s up, girl?”

“Fucking bad taste in my mouth, mate. Hang on while I call this in”

I pulled out my mobile, swearing quietly but steadily. Calm down, DC Owens.

“Ma’am, well, I don’t need to run this one. I know it”

“What the fuck? Sorry, what do you mean?”

“Elaine, it’s Dai Pritchard’s car. And it’s three up”

“Got any faces, butt?”

“Not yet. Don’t want to spook them”

"Dead right. Pull back; we have them on the CCTV”

Blake listened impassively, and as I hung up I looked at him. Another flat stare.

“Di, I won’t ask. Not yet, yeah? But when this is done, we go, and we sit down, and we talk”