As soon as he entered the room, Dean Fletcher looked up from his desk and thrust the phone he had been speaking into towards him.
“Guv, I’ve got young Dick Jarvis on the blower, said he needs to speak to you urgently.”
Tyler crossed the room, flopped down on Dean’s desk to field the call.
“What is it, Dick?” he asked wearily.
“Guv, we’ve got a bit of a development here. Both Paul and I are confident that the woman who’s just turned up at the squat is our target, Angela Marley. What do you want us to do?”
The news caught Tyler off guard because he really hadn’t expected Marley to return to the squat. “Was she alone?”
“Yes.”
Jack liked that about Jarvis; he was always succinct, like a living advert for the old training school motto: ‘Accuracy; brevity; speed.’
“Did she arrive by car or on foot?”
“Onfoot,” Jarvis confirmed.
“Okay, here’s what I want you to do,” Tyler said, thinking fast. “If she leaves, follow her until she’s away from the squat and then arrest her. In the meantime, I’m going to get a warrant organised. If either Winston or the bogus doctor turns up, I want to know immediately. Do not engage them without armed back up.”
“Okay boss, but we’re parked a fair way back and if she comes out and turns the other way, I’m worried she might disappear before we could catch up to her.”
Jack considered this. “Alright, hang tight and I’ll rustle you up a couple more bodies to come down and cover the road from the other end.” He wasn’t sure where he was going to find the people to do this, but it was important, so even if it meant dragging officers away from another assignment, he would get it done.
At that moment, Tony Dillon and Carol Keating came in, laughing and joking. Jack signalled for them to go straight into his office. “I’ll join you in a minute,” he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.
Dillon gave him a thumbs up and the pair continued walking. As they reached Jack’s office, Dillon did his impression of Sid James’s trademark dirty laugh. Carol responded with her imitation of a Hattie Jacques giggle, clutched her chest romantically and cooed, “Ooh Sid.”
Closing the door behind them, the pair burst into laughter once more.
“Why does everyone feel the need to do Carry On film impressions around her?” Jack asked Dean. To his surprise, the normally taciturn researcher burst out with, “Ooh, Matron,” in his best Kenneth Williams voice.
It was a very surreal moment.
Replacing his reading glasses, Dean turned to his computer and began typing as though nothing unusual had happened.
Tyler shook his head in disbelief. “The world’s gone mad,” he said, standing up.
“Did you know,” Dean suddenly pipped up, “Hattie Jacques appeared in fourteen Carry On films, and played a Matron in five of them?”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You seem very well informed,” he said.
“Can’t beat a good Carry On film,” Dean said emphatically. “I’ve got all of them on tape at home.”
Before Jack could respond to this useless bit of trivia, Susie Sergeant popped her head around the door. “Guv, can I have a word, please?”
“Of course,” Tyler said, walking over to join her. “What can I do for you, Susie?”
“Tom Wilkins tells me you want someone to go around to speak to Sonia Wilcox tonight, is that right?”
“It is,” Jack said. “Why?” He hoped Wilkins hadn’t gone whinging to Susie behind his back, complaining that Tyler was working him too hard.
“Well, the only person I have available is Kevin Murray, and he’s not exactly the most tactful person for something like this.”
Jack grinned. “Murray’s about as tactful as a brick through a window,” he agreed, “but if he’s all we’ve got…” he left the sentence unfinished.
Susie seemed genuinely surprised. “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll get him straight onto it.”
“Just to add to your woes,” he said as she turned to leave, “Angela Marley has turned up at the squat in Vicarage Lane, and I need you to find me two officers to shoot down to the address to cover it from the other end of the street.”
“But everyone else is tied up,” Susie protested.
Jack shrugged. “Then find out who’s doing the least important task and get them to divert.”
Susie nodded reluctantly. “Okay, leave it to me. I’ll get straight on it.”
Jack felt guilty for burdening her like that, but she was the Case Officer and, unfortunately, organising resources to carry out the SIO’s directives was one of the joys that came with the role.
He recalled something that a wizened old DCI had said to him the first time that he’d performed the role of Case Officer, back when he was still a junior DS: ‘Remember, Jack, your job is to find me solutions, not put more obstacles in my path.’ They had been wise words indeed, and he often shared them with his own Case Officers when things got tough.
“Dean,” he shouted across the office, “before I forget, can you have a word with Reggie. I want you to conduct some urgent research on a man in East Sussex who’s mobile has been in contact with the 777 number.”
“Leave it to me,” Dean said. “I’ll get the details from him and get it sorted.”
“Cheers mate,” Jack said, knowing that Dean would get straight on it. When he returned to his own office, he was delighted to see that Carol had used the time to prepare them all a nice cup of coffee.
“White, with two sugars, if I remember correctly,” she said, handing him over a brew.
“Thank you,” Tyler said, returning to his desk.
“How did it go at the SPM?” Tyler asked her.
“Exactly as expected,” Carol
