‘Nano, ma’am,’ Calter said. ‘It’s the new micro.’
‘Well I hope you’ve had your flu jab or you’ll catch your death in that.’
‘A rabies jab would be more appropriate,’ Enders said, ‘with the type of animal that’s going to be coming after her dressed like that.’
Calter proceeded to give Enders the once over, starting at his shoes and moving upward, nodding with approval at each item.
‘I’ve seen better looking jackets on a potato, but I am glad you’ve found a use for those Oxfam vouchers at last.’
Savage gazed around at the rest of the people in the room. They numbered around thirty-five in total, the younger members dressed for a night out clubbing, the older detectives wearing clothing more appropriate for dinner in a restaurant.
Hardin bounced about at the far side of the room greeting people, face red from the heat, the handkerchief in his hand in constant use wiping the sweat from his brow. She reckoned it had been a long time since he had walked the streets of Plymouth late at night because he wore a blazer and tie and looked like something from a yacht club do. At least nobody would mistake him for a policeman, just a right prick.
Hardin rapped on a table top and brought the meeting to order.
‘OK boys and girls operation Big Night Out is ready to go.’
A big cheer and a couple of whoops rang out and Hardin continued. He outlined how the operation would work. The bright young things would be inside the pubs and clubs, working in pairs, trying to spot anything suspicious. Some of the older detectives would be walking the streets as if they were going to or coming from the theatre or restaurants, and to back them up there would be four unmarked cars patrolling. Finally Davies and a couple of others would monitor events from the city-centre CCTV control room.
Savage heard Enders mutter something about it being ‘nice and warm in there’ but Hardin didn’t hear.
‘I would really like to end this night with these bastards banged up so let’s be especially vigilant.’
With that Hardin let them go and they trickled from the station in pairs heading out into the damp night air.
Savage found DCI Garrett and confirmed they would be walking a route that would take them down to the Barbican, across to the Theatre Royal and up to the university. From the uni they would return to the station and head out on a new beat.
‘This will be a long night,’ Garrett said.
‘Tell me about it. My feet are killing me already.’
Calter came off the dance floor to find a grumpy looking Enders leaning against a mirrored pillar waiting for her. Behind her a medley of songs was reaching a climax and hands rose into the air, fingertips disrupting a plateau of pale blue laser light that painted a horizontal curtain just above head height. Around the bar a crush of bodies jostled for the attention of the over-worked bar staff and the air smelt of perfume, sweat and beer. Calter grabbed her pint of bitter from Enders, took a gulp and held the glass against her forehead.
‘Hot work,’ she shouted across at Enders.
‘You’re not supposed to be enjoying yourself, Jane, we are on duty,’ replied Enders.
‘Just trying to blend in,’ Calter said, catching Enders take yet another glance down at her legs.
‘Fat chance of that, you’ve got half the guys in here gawping after your every move.’
‘Only half?’
‘Well the rest must be blind or gay.’
‘Or both,’ Calter giggled.
She scanned around the club. It was on several levels with the dance floor up one end, a long bar down one wall and a couple of raised galleries with little cubby holes where all manner of things could go on unseen. If their target chose to do his business up there they would have no chance of spotting him. They had already been here for over an hour and a half and the time was now after one in the morning. So far nothing of interest.
‘Come on, let’s go for another mooch about.’
She took Enders’s hand. His palm felt hot and sticky and she wondered why on earth he hadn’t left his jumper in the cloakroom. In the current situation he looked ridiculous.
A big, muscled guy with the kind of body Calter would have liked to explore in more detail moved across in front of her.
‘Can I buy you a drink, luv?’
‘Thanks, but no thanks.’
‘He with you?’ The guy turned and with an expression of puzzlement he pointed at Enders.
‘Yes, he’s my brother,’ she nodded. ‘Got learning difficulties.’
‘Maybe later then.’
Calter nodded again and the guy backed off. She led Enders along to the steps that went up to the galleries.
‘Learning difficulties?’ Enders said. ‘Thanks a bunch!’
‘I needed a rational explanation as to why your appearance resembles a Ryder Cup entrant. That was the first one I thought of.’
Up top they stood against the railings and Calter made Enders remove his jumper. The shirt underneath didn’t shout style, but at least he might cool down a bit.
The galleries gave a good view of the dance floor and she would also be able to sneak a glance into the cubby holes without appearing too inquisitive.
‘Here,’ Calter pulled Enders towards her and placed his hands on her bottom. ‘Hold me like this and I can take a peek into the booths and you can look down onto the bar and dance floor.’
Enders didn’t seem to be complaining much although he was holding himself away from her body in an odd way. She suspected he had a hard-on. Calter hugged Enders, pulling him close and half-burying her face in his neck, and now she felt his erection pressing against her.
‘Jesus!’
‘Sorry, only natural, like my mother used to say.’
‘Not that, although I have known bigger. No, there’s a guy in the booth who has just dropped something into a vodka and orange.’
‘You are joking!’
‘No. He’s on his own, but there is a phone on the table next to the drink.’
‘So?’
‘It’s a pink phone with glittery bits stuck all over.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Calter risked a glance, but she couldn’t spot any obvious partner for the man. Perhaps the woman had gone to the loo. Last time Calter had been the queue snaked out into the corridor so she might be some time returning. The man appeared to be quite old for the venue, mid-thirties and dressed not unlike Enders. He gazed around, for a moment meeting Calter’s eyes.
‘Hold me tighter, grope me.’
Enders didn’t need much encouragement and one hand went down between her thighs, the other to her left breast. The performance may have convinced the man, but in real life Enders would be going home alone. His hands moved over her body more like a potter fashioning a vase from clay than a lover trying to turn her on, but then having three young kids Enders probably didn’t get much practise at home. After five minutes of the sculpting treatment Calter got bored of the petting and was about to suggest they stopped when she noticed a girl coming toward them.
Girl? The thick makeup couldn’t disguise the lines on a face a bit too old for their usual victim profile. Calter guessed early thirties at the very youngest, but she was dressed to impress with a skirt as short as Calter’s and a top that left nothing whatsoever to the imagination.
The woman staggered to her seat and fumbled with the pink phone, knocking it to the floor. The man retrieved it from under the table and moved over next to her and helped her with her glass, encouraging her to drink up, which she did. Then the man said something and the woman squinted at her phone, maybe reading the time. The two of them got up and walked past Calter and Enders, heading for the exit.
