"Morning, you big queer." Gene walked up to Sam's desk, looking him over. "Christ, you look like shit. What's the matter, are you sick again? Samantha's got a delicate constitution. Do you just want a thermometer up your ass so badly? I'm sure we could get someone to do a cavity search on you, might scratch that same urge."
There, he was ready to help. And he slapped a file down on Sam's desk. "We've got work to do, Tyler. Get your bony arse in my office."
"Lovely. You know, misgendering me is something I could just report to HR. Any time." Sam remarked wistfully as he tried to keep himself away. He had some coffee and a 10 minute power nap in his car but he was not really refreshed and ready. Barty had entirely ruined his night and he hadn't managed a wink of sleep.
"What is it?" Sam asked as he got up and grabbed the file, walking after Gene to his office. "I don't think I'm in my best headspace to crack anything today."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know her Highness didn't want anyone to know how she's really a boy yet." Gene leaned against his desk, looking at Sam and gesturing to the file. "Another girl vanished. Sixteen this time. Looked older. Liked to party. Same profile. Someone's daughter and we've got no answers for the parents. I'm not saying I want to find a body, but at least then there's certainty, you know?"
Sucked any way one looked at it. "Beginning to look like a whole operation, not just one sick pervert."
"If it's not one, it's a collective organisation. It's group activity. I suppose it's only a matter of time. They're coming from Birmingham into Manchester these days. We were warned." Sam heaved a sigh and dropped down onto a chair in Gene's office. "Trafficking is happening all over the UK now. It used to be more localised. Not really much we can do. We might have to pass it on to special divisions."
And Gene hated that. Passing on anything to a special task force seemed to enrage him but Sam didn't think they had any way of working out where the group was located or who they worked for. "It's beyond us, guv."
"I'm not doing that, Sam. Those incompetent fuckers are just going to muck about doing nothing. Maybe send a gift basket to the parents if they're feeling useful." No, Gene didn't like the idea of that at all. "I'm not letting that kind of scum activity happen in my city. No way. We've got our perverts the way they are now, the way I like them. I'm not letting this shit fly."
He gestured to the file. "They hit up the same spots, all the victims so far. Clubs we know. We know who owns them, who deals there, all the usual shit. It's fucked, but it works. Can't imagine those fuckers being happy with some new organisation moving in on their turf. With special divisions starting to muck about."
Sam looked at the file and then saw the club name. Ah. That was Gene's fucking angle. It was Barty's club. Something he had only learned in the weeks leading up to his break-up. What a lovely memory. Sam tossed the file onto Gene's desk and held up his hands.
"I'm out. I'm compromised by the case. My ex is involved so I'm not getting involved." He was allowed to request to not be on cases where he'd have a conflict of interest and he was doing it. He would not go back to that smug fuckers club and be around his revolting presence.
"On your conscience be it," Gene said with a shrug, already sure that Sam would do his job. He could never stay away from a case anyway, even when he ought to. "You don't have to do much anyway. Cartwright's going in, she's agreed. Befriending some of the party girls. She cleans up nice enough and she looks younger than she is. But it's dicey, so I want to make sure the club's going to cooperate."
Gene looked at Sam. "Make your ex play ball. Not play with your balls. Not asking so much, is it?"
"No, you are not sending Annie in. I'm not talking to Barty so you can send Annie in there with barely any plan or back up. You don't know what they're doing or where the girls go and you want to risk losing one of our female officers?" It was madness. It wasn't possible, they couldn't risk their friends just to beat out the smugness of a special ops division.
Then again, he was talking to Gene. "I'm not talking to him until you should me an airtight plan. I need a damn good reason to talk to that bastard."
"I'd put on a skirt meself, mate, but I think my legs are a bit too hairy." Gene scoffed. "Annie knows what she's doing. She's good at undercover work. I don't think she'd be a target, I just want her narrowing down who the next targets might be." Easy enough, right? "Gal pals. Easy stuff. Dance around in a circle and go to the loo together."
Female bonding. "We find out who is targeting the girls and then maybe we can just let them resolve it. The gangs. They can sort their own. Still cleaner than any fucking special division."
"I'm not letting gangsters resolve it. We resolve it or we pass it on. I'm not letting criminals handle crime in our city." He was not giving Barty any of that power. If anyone shut down these people, it would be them or Sam was going over Gene's head to the special division. "I'm not letting those people feel powerful and like they're doing good for this city. It feeds into the wrong sort of mindset."
This city was theirs, not the criminal. "I don't think I should be on this case. Annie can go in without talking to the owner, it's undercover and you just stay out of the club to avoid suspicion. Simple."
"And I think you're being a sissy little coward. I don't want to resolve the case using gangsters and more than you do. But if I send Annie in there and we don't have their cooperation, we're gonna hit that wall. Can't operate without them knowing." It was the same old game, but of course Sam was never up for playing it.
"Best case scenario is you getting him to give us free reign. Then we won't have to work with them, they just have to let us do our job."
He didn't care if it made him soft or a coward or a fairy. Whatever it made him, he didn't care. He just didn't want to give Barty any power, any leverage, any way of being in his life and he hated Gene so deeply for making him having to do that. Moving on and living well was good revenge, sure, but like that would happen for him. He wanted avoidance, not reconciliation. "I bloody hate you."
"Aw. Breaks my heart." Gene held his chest for a moment before rolling his eyes and scoffing. "Tell me a better way and we can consider it. Maybe we can get someone else to talk to your ex for you. You can pass on letters. I do that with my ex-wife, can't be any more bitter than that."
Clearly they had a lot in common there. "At least tell me what you think. Does he know about this happening in his club? Does he bloody work with them?"
"You know, you may be right there." Barty may have completely betrayed him and broke his heart but whatever the fuck was going on between Gene and his wife was wild. Screaming, fighting, waving guns around and constant PA texts. It was an experience he was happy was dying down.
"Nah, Barty wouldn't be involved... I hope. I just find it hard to believe." He didn't know how much Barty was truly lying but he didn't seem the type to go that far. Or, at least, he hoped not. "My gut says no but apparently I have poor judgement with him."
"It's not really the type of shit they do, is it? Drugs, weapons, bribes, that's more like it. Risky business, trafficking. Your gut may be right on that one. If that was their gig, we'd have started having trouble with it way back." And this was new to the city, at least in this form. Gene assumed the established groups wouldn't like it. "If anyone of our local assholes involved, I'd put my money on the gyppos."
Which he knew he wasn't supposed to say, but still.
"They prefer travellers, guv. You can't say that word or HR will be down your back. Roma, travellers, all acceptable but don't say that word or I'll report you myself." He knew that it didn't help that the O'Shea family used it and all but they could, Gene could not. He was certainly not allowing it.
"We can't just go in and interview them because it 'seems' like the travellers would do it. The biggest rings in Britain don't usually come from travellers, they come from either home grown or --" Well, did he want to say Pakistani and risk more slurs? No. "Far flung foreign elements." Safer.
"Still worth looking into, especially if you are pussyfooting around the ex. I know they got at least three sons in the business now, don't they, Jonathan and his two brothers." He knew one of them supposedly wanted out or whatever, but that stuff never stuck. Especially not since he figured Jonathan would want to keep the business in the family.
"Anyway, you tell me what's best to do first. Annie's going in. Do you want to talk to the ex about it? Or shake down the... travellers?"
"I want to do the one that is based on fact and not prejudice. There's evidence of trafficking in the club so we go to the club. We don't just randomly go after the Irish travellers because they seem dodgy." As much as he hated to contact Barty, that was the lesser of two evils. He wondered how best to do it but unfortunately, in person was probably more professional.
"I guess we can go to the club after lunch. They'll be there, that's where they do their business." And it was not an office, like he had told Sam. Lying bastard.
"Good, good. You want to have a few beers for lunch, pick up the old courage?" He was just wondering. "If not, I've got the flask here any time you need it." Sometimes it was a life saver.
"I'll come with you, we can keep it strictly professional. Place is boring anyway, your lover boy has his paperwork in order. Ridiculous. Remember that raid?" It had turned up nothing, presumably because they had gotten a heads up in time, but it had also just been entirely too organised. All on top of their taxes too. Eerie, honestly. "No wonder you were into him."
"I remember the raid, yes." How could he forget raiding his own boyfriend. There was so much pointless anger and hate but all he could do now is push it away and focus on his job. He was good at that, putting feelings into compartments. Besides, he was moving forward. He had a pint with Maya on Wednesday and he was feeling pretty good - apart from the lack of sleep and the interrupt yesterday.
Every time they spoke, it got worse. "I'll be fine. No booze needed. Trust me. I have no issue being professional."
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There, he was ready to help. And he slapped a file down on Sam's desk. "We've got work to do, Tyler. Get your bony arse in my office."
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"What is it?" Sam asked as he got up and grabbed the file, walking after Gene to his office. "I don't think I'm in my best headspace to crack anything today."
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Sucked any way one looked at it. "Beginning to look like a whole operation, not just one sick pervert."
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And Gene hated that. Passing on anything to a special task force seemed to enrage him but Sam didn't think they had any way of working out where the group was located or who they worked for. "It's beyond us, guv."
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He gestured to the file. "They hit up the same spots, all the victims so far. Clubs we know. We know who owns them, who deals there, all the usual shit. It's fucked, but it works. Can't imagine those fuckers being happy with some new organisation moving in on their turf. With special divisions starting to muck about."
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"I'm out. I'm compromised by the case. My ex is involved so I'm not getting involved." He was allowed to request to not be on cases where he'd have a conflict of interest and he was doing it. He would not go back to that smug fuckers club and be around his revolting presence.
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Gene looked at Sam. "Make your ex play ball. Not play with your balls. Not asking so much, is it?"
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Then again, he was talking to Gene. "I'm not talking to him until you should me an airtight plan. I need a damn good reason to talk to that bastard."
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Female bonding. "We find out who is targeting the girls and then maybe we can just let them resolve it. The gangs. They can sort their own. Still cleaner than any fucking special division."
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This city was theirs, not the criminal. "I don't think I should be on this case. Annie can go in without talking to the owner, it's undercover and you just stay out of the club to avoid suspicion. Simple."
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"Best case scenario is you getting him to give us free reign. Then we won't have to work with them, they just have to let us do our job."
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He didn't care if it made him soft or a coward or a fairy. Whatever it made him, he didn't care. He just didn't want to give Barty any power, any leverage, any way of being in his life and he hated Gene so deeply for making him having to do that. Moving on and living well was good revenge, sure, but like that would happen for him. He wanted avoidance, not reconciliation. "I bloody hate you."
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Clearly they had a lot in common there. "At least tell me what you think. Does he know about this happening in his club? Does he bloody work with them?"
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"Nah, Barty wouldn't be involved... I hope. I just find it hard to believe." He didn't know how much Barty was truly lying but he didn't seem the type to go that far. Or, at least, he hoped not. "My gut says no but apparently I have poor judgement with him."
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Which he knew he wasn't supposed to say, but still.
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"We can't just go in and interview them because it 'seems' like the travellers would do it. The biggest rings in Britain don't usually come from travellers, they come from either home grown or --" Well, did he want to say Pakistani and risk more slurs? No. "Far flung foreign elements." Safer.
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"Anyway, you tell me what's best to do first. Annie's going in. Do you want to talk to the ex about it? Or shake down the... travellers?"
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"I guess we can go to the club after lunch. They'll be there, that's where they do their business." And it was not an office, like he had told Sam. Lying bastard.
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"I'll come with you, we can keep it strictly professional. Place is boring anyway, your lover boy has his paperwork in order. Ridiculous. Remember that raid?" It had turned up nothing, presumably because they had gotten a heads up in time, but it had also just been entirely too organised. All on top of their taxes too. Eerie, honestly. "No wonder you were into him."
Same of the perfectly arranged pens on his desk.
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Every time they spoke, it got worse. "I'll be fine. No booze needed. Trust me. I have no issue being professional."