[oom] Fighting The Rot

[lady_bols]

After pouring through the files Gene had brought home with him, Alex found she couldn't sleep.  She was still operating on a sleep deficit from the previous week's case, so she did pass out in front on the couch with the files stacked around her, but only for a few hours.  When she woke up, it was early Sunday morning.

And she thought, what better time to go diving for dirt in the Fenchurch East records room than now?

She wore old jeans, a grey knit blouse (mouse colours for mouse work), boots, and swept her hair up off the back of her neck. She made herself a thermos of tea and stuff a packet of biscuits in her handbag.   The walk to the office took her five minutes, and when she got there, she had to let herself in.  It was eerily quiet without the hum of the fluorescents, and her footsteps rung in the hallways.

She did have to turn on one light in the records room. 

"Please, let today be a good day," she prayed quietly to herself, squeezing down the narrow aisle.  "No roses.  No white clown.  No defibrillator.  Just good -- honest police work."

For some reason, this kind of research felt the absolute opposite of boring.  She knew there was something here they could use to bring SuperMac down.   And before he managed to transfer Gene to Plymouth.  That was really the key, wasn't it?

"Her name is Molly,"  she murmurs, pulling down a box of files and settling on the floor.  "Today is her twelfth birthday."

The mantra doesn't even hold much anger anymore.  Just a quiet resolve.

Comments

[lady_bols]

She hums as he's talking, still staring intently at her notes, nibbling on her sandwich.

She looks up sharply at the last sentiment.

"Softly softly," she says, concern lining her face. "It's impossible to know who we can and can't trust at this point."

[the_gene_genie]

'Yeah, I know.'

It's what makes all this so difficult. He has less than two weeks to get to the bottom of this and can't do anything.

'I've got a mate in the Flyin' Squad. He should be clean; at least, I bloody 'ope he is.'

Even as he's saying it, he knows there's no way to tell for sure. If this whole mess has taught him anything, it's that there's not a damn person out there you can trust.

Except for her.

'...maybe I'll go an' talk t'the staff again first. Informally. See if anythin' turns up.'

[lady_bols]

She sighs, looking across at him.

"It'll get back to him, still. They are everywhere, as they do so like to point out. Just -- be careful." She looks back down at her coffee, swirling it in the bottom of the cup.

"I don't want you to turn up like Kevin Hales for your troubles."

It's said casually enough, but there's still an edge of fear in her voice.

[the_gene_genie]

'What, me? Wouldn' be able t'get me hangin' from a pipe, Bolly. Not without every bastard in the vicinity hearin' me bashing their skulls against the walls.'

Bravado, yes. But he also doesn't believe anyone's going to succeed in making it appear like he'd commit suicide.

'Anyway, Mac still don' know I'm investigatin' him properly. We're alright at the moment. He just thinks I'm not lettin' him sweep Hales's death under the rug.'

He's flicking through the files he brought up with him, sipping from his mug, when he frowns.

'Mac was away when the Ball's Pond road job wen' down, wasn't he? On holiday.'

[lady_bols]

Well, she's glad he's determined to go down fighting, if it has to be that way. (She won't ever let it come to that. She has no idea how to fight it, but she'll never let it come to that.)

Her eyes flit back to her notepad and she has to flip through several pages before finding the right one.

"Yes. Conveniently enough, he was. Why? What are you thinking?"

[the_gene_genie]

He turns the file around so she can read it, taps his finger on a signature.

'The attempted robbery at Heathrow, six month ago. Mac didn' sign the file off, which means he was away. The Chief Super did it.'

Cogs are clicking in his brain, speeding up, starting to whirr.

'I don' think it's a coincidence but tha' isn't the point. He always goes away t'the same place in the West Country; a mate of his owns a hotel an' golf course. He takes the family there a few times a year.'

He sits up straight and opens another file. No luck with this one, or the next. Maybe it is just a coincidence.

'If he was involved, he'd 'ave wanted t'know how it went. He'd 'ave had to have someone phone him, or something, wouldn't he? If we can get the phone records an' check who he spoke to when he was away, we migh' find a trail. A name, somethin' to go on. People t'look into, at least. Someone calling who normally wouldn't when he's not at work.'

It's a long shot, he knows. A really long shot. But if Mac wasn't in London when these jobs went down, then surely another copper, or a criminal...or whoever he's working with...phoning him, would stick out like a sore thumb, in a way that wouldn't when he was back in his office.

[lady_bols]

"Well, it's a start."

A golden needle this perpetual haystack, more like.

"We'll have to put in an inquiry with regards to another case. I can have Shaz do that, easily enough. No one ever need know which phone number we're looking for. A separate inquiry to determine which rooms he was staying in, and we should have something to go on."

She tips her head back, staring at the ceiling, echoing his thoughts back to him.

"It's a long shot, but it's something."

[the_gene_genie]

'Yeah.'

He knows what they need more than anything; bank statements. Bank statements will prove a lot. Unfortunately, they're difficult to get hold of and while he does know a way...he's not sharing it with Alex. She will disapprove, even when it's for something as serious as this. And it's also highly against the rules, what he's going to get someone to do for him; the less anyone knows, the better.

'...come on. We've only got abou' another thousand files to get through by tonight.'

Lunch is, apparantly, over. Even though he hasn't eaten his yet.