Blitz

Автор: Бруен Кен
Серия: Inspector Brant #4
Год: 2002
Язык: английский
Год: The Do-Not Press
ISBN: 978-1-904316-00-8
Жанр: Полицейские детективы

Электронная книга - «Blitz». Краткое содержание книги:

The South East London police squad are suffering collective burn out: Detective Sergeant Brant is hitting the blues and physically assaulting the police shrink. Chief Inspector Roberts’ wife has died in a horrific road accident and he takes solace in gut-rot red wine. Black WPC Falls becomes lethally involved with a junior member of the British National Party and the Super’s golden boy, PC McDonald, is investigating the death of a man he accidentally killed. Only Porter Nash’s star appears to be in the ascendancy. The team never had it so bad and when a serial killer takes his show on the road, things get worse. Nicknamed ‘The Blitz’, a vicious murderer is aiming for tabloid glory by killing cops. Harold Dunphy, ace crime reporter believes he’s on to the story of the decade and the police have never had more incentive to catch a serial killer.

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Then went to the window, looked out, came back to Falls, whispered:

‘I’ve got us a surprise.’

‘You do?’

Produced a bar of chocolate, said,

‘I’m going to split it with you.’

‘Thank you.’

With concentrated precision, she broke the bar evenly, handed over a wedge, said,

‘This is as good as an orgasm.’

Falls didn’t have a reply to this, who did? Emily was examining her, said,

‘I don’t know any black people.’

Falls considered a variety of hard-ass replies — but hey, the girl was sharing — so,

‘Well, us black folk, we sure do like our chocolate, so you’ve learnt one thing.’

Emily smiled, her teeth awash in chocolate, said,

‘You’ll be the only coloured person. We had an Asian guy but I don’t think that’s the same. What are you here for?’

‘Dope.’

‘Me too, and shoplifting, that’s my favourite thing.’

Falls debated mentioning her profession, decided to wait, asked,

‘How does it work here?’

Emily rolled her eyes, then:

‘They like to break you down, get you to admit being worthless, then they rebuild you with all sorts of positive shit. The guy to watch out for is Alan: he specialises in confrontation, getting you broken, weeping and purging. I hate him, he’s about five-foot nothing and looks like he never saw the sun in his life.’

Falls had finished the chocolate, felt the tiny hit from the sugar rush, went,

‘Wait a sec, you’re telling me some white midget is going to bust my balls?’

Emily was delighted, clapped her hands, asked,

‘You ever do “vike”?’

‘Vike?’

‘Vicodin, a massive painkiller, it covers you in a cloud of bliss. Oh, it’s like you’ll never hurt again.’

Falls felt a wave of affection for this awkward, pasty-faced white girl, asked,

‘That’s your gig, getting away from hurt?’

Emily’s eyes widened, she answered,

‘Isn’t everybody?’

‘Not with Vicodin and most of them out there, they like to cause the pain.’

Emily was nodding as if she’d never heard of such a notion, said,

‘You’re smart, aren’t you?’

‘If I’m so smart, how come I’m in here, faking an orgasm on chocolate?’

She said, ‘Did he suffer?’

I thought for a minute. ‘He experienced terror.’

‘No, I mean, did it hurt him?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Too bad.’

Mary-Ann Tirone Smith

An American Killing

As Barry Weiss was being released, an air of doom pervaded the station. The cops had lined up, in silent rows, to watch him leave. Barry’s lawyer glanced at them nervously, said,

‘The sooner we get you out of here, the better.’

Barry, completely relaxed, asked,

‘Are the Press waiting?’

‘Reams of them. You want to cut out the back?’

Barry looked at him in astonishment.

‘Are you nuts?’

He smiled at the officer who handed over his possessions, including the money, said,

‘Hope it’s all there.’

He didn’t get an answer so Barry said to the lawyer,

‘Count it.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘Christ, can’t it wait?’

‘Count it.’

He did and, nervous, missed the tally, had to restart. Barry said,

‘You’re too tense, need to lighten up.’

Finally it was done and the lawyer said,

‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Not yet?’

‘I’ve a few words for the troops.’

‘Jesus, you want to be lynched? Let’s go.’

Barry turned to the line of cops, said,

‘I’m going to miss you guys. Despite the circumstances surrounding my stay — and I do appreciate it was difficult for you lot — I want to say there are no hard feelings. I’m not the type to harbour a grudge...’ — here, he allowed himself a small chuckle and the line of cops stirred — ‘So, when I sue your collective asses, I want you to remember, it’s nothing personal. I’m not one of those—’

The lawyer grabbed his arm and pulled hard. Barry said,

‘Hey, I’m not finished.’

‘Yes, you are.’

And hustled him to the door. The front was reinforced plate glass and they could see the crowd of reporters.

Brant and Porter were standing at the threshold. Barry said,

‘See you, dudes.’

Brant looked at him, smiled. Barry said,

‘What are you smiling at, cocksucker? You screwed up.’

Brant winked and the lawyer manoeuvred Barry outside. The pack moved forward, microphones and questions storming in their faces. A man brushed his way to the front, said,

‘Barry, I’m Harold Dunphy from The Tabloid. We’ll give you an exclusive deal, put you up in a hotel, reward you handsomely.’

Barry smiled, looked to his lawyer who shrugged. Dunphy, seizing the moment went on:

‘We have a car waiting. Why give it away for free to... these...?’

Barry was tripping, said,

‘You’ve got a deal.’

Dunphy gave a signal and two burly minders appeared, carved a way through the crowd towards a car. The Press were frustrated, cries of:

‘Give us a quote, Barry.’

‘Did you kill those policemen?’

Barry paused at the door of the car, turned to face them, grinned, said,

‘No comment.’

Falls was readying herself for the therapy session. Emily, agitated, said,

‘Alan will be gunning for you.’

‘Thanks for warning me.’

‘He’ll do it in this session, when it’s your first group. He likes to let you know from the off, take you down straight away. He makes people cry, degrades them in any way he can. He calls it levelling, to get you focused.’

‘Don’t worry, Emily, it’ll be okay.’

The woman seemed unconvinced, almost close to tears, said,

‘I’d hate to see him belittle you and I just know it’s going to be bad.’

‘Bad?’

“Cos you’re pretty. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but it’s true. And he gets rabid when the women have looks, as if he’s punishing them. My first time, he didn’t bother too much, just did the basic humiliation. That’s ’cos I’m plain... No, don’t say anything, I don’t mind.’

Falls put her hand out, said,

‘You’ve nice eyes.’

And laughing, they headed for therapy.

The group were already gathered, armchairs in a circle. Two were vacant. Emily moved to one, Falls stood as the group assessed her. She clocked Alan immediately, his chair a little back from the others. The chair beside him was vacant, he was glancing through a file, didn’t look up, said,

‘Sit down.’

The tone was brisk, it conveyed ‘don’t fuck with me’.

She took the chair and was assailed by his aftershave. A thick, cloying scent, it made her want to gag.

He still hadn’t looked at her. He was wearing combat pants, sweatshirt and trainers. The uniform of the relaxed therapist, a small stud earring in his left ear. There wasn’t a sound in the room. The group was evenly divided between the sexes, ages ranging from late teens to over-sixties. What they shared was a cowed look. Alan cleared his throat, said,

‘All right, people?’

The group responded:

‘All right, Alan.’

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