Nonetheless, he gritted his teeth and shook his head defiantly.
There was nothing left to be said for now. Anjali and Toby watched the young man being placed carefully into the ambulance, as they were joined by the manager of the engineering works.
‘Another hero,’ Toby muttered.
The manager piped up in reply. ‘If there was any justice, he should’ve broken his neck.’
Toby noticed Anjali’s reaction.
‘Bit over the top, don’t you think, sir?’ Toby gently chided him. ‘I mean – they missed the money box. And what they stole was a bit of machinery, wasn’t it?’ Of course the manager was upset, but it was time to bring his anxieties back to earth.
‘A very expensive drilling bit, officer,’ the manager explained in a patronizing tone. ‘Only about thirty-five thousand quid. Not that it makes much difference. Fat chance we’ll ever hear of it again …’
The next remark the manager aimed toward Anjali. ‘… especially since ethnics are involved.’
After staring her down, the manager was about to turn away when Anjali spoke.
‘Excuse me, sir. Will you let us try to get your property back before you press charges?’
The manager was immediately suspicious.
‘Why? You know something I don’t?’
Anjali’s response was neither timid nor equivocal. ‘I know one of the offenders. After all, I’m an ethnic myself.’ She wasn’t mincing her words, Toby noted. ‘At least let me make enquiries.’
The last comment startled Toby. The manager gave her a lingering look, which gradually dwindled into a knowing smile.
‘Why not? The head accountant won’t be back for a couple o’ days.’ His smile turned up at one corner, the equivalent of a wink at Anjali, and he moved away.
Toby waited for the manager to get out of earshot before lashing into Special Constable Shah.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he berated her. ‘You can’t make deals!’ The request should have come from Toby, if anyone.
Anjali made no attempt to contradict him. ‘I’m sorry. I had no right to do that.’ Yet this time she did equivocate. ‘But surely it’s just as important to contain crime.’
Her statement implied a question, although Toby was sure she knew the answer as well as he did. ‘That’s not what worries me.’
He had to confront her with the larger question, the underlying issue, although he was almost sure to be misunderstood. He tried to show his concern, rather than his own attitude toward those of Asian extraction.
‘Aren’t you identifying too closely with your own kind?’
The look in her eyes was the same as she had given the manager of the engineering works.
The view of Birmingham from the expansive windows of the ‘Pub on 4th’ – the purpose-built social club on the top floor of the Division ‘S’ headquarters – is transcendent and serene, far from the madding crowd below: one of the few material benefits of volunteering for public service as a Special. Restricted to Police, Specials and their guests, it allowed them to relax from the pressures and travails of their work and meet socially in a secure, private environment with all the comforts of home, including a bar, TV area and snooker room. Yet besides its exclusive, even privileged company the Pub on 4th was the same as any other perhaps, preferable only in its panoramic views and family atmosphere.
Tonight the pub was quite full and alive with shop talk and laughter. Not in the mood, Toby was sitting at a table with Anjali, the centre of attention, surrounded by young bucks, Specials and PC’s alike. Somewhat dispirited, he was just finishing his orange juice and getting up to leave.
‘Ah! Young love,’ one of the Specials remarked, obviously referring to Toby. ‘Bed calls.’
It wasn’t worth a sassy rejoinder, so instead Toby flicked his fingers at the guy’s head, though he missed by a long shot. He mouthed ‘goodnight’ and ‘see you’ to the faces around the table. Finally his gaze stopped, and stayed, on Anjali. He looked at her for what seemed like an eternity without turning away; yet she returned his stare, challenging him with her eyes, unflinching. Beginning to wonder if the others were watching them, Toby eventually decided it was time to leave.
On his way out, Toby watched Viv Smith and Sandra Gibson at another table engaged in serious discussion. Sandra was the Mother of all Midland Specials, the administrative secretary who knew, filed, remembered and took care of all the Specials in the Birmingham area. Toby would have liked to have stopped and say hello, but Viv was immersed in the conversation in a manner that suggested any interruption would not be welcome, so he decided to amble on by, acknowledging Sandra with a quick wave and smile.
Viv took the occasion of Sandra’s momentary distraction to knock back the rest of her vodka and orange. It wasn’t her first. When Sandra returned to their conversation, Viv was ready to continue her diatribe. ‘What really gets up my nose is what kind of a human being could leave kids wandering around a supermarket?’
Sandra nodded and pulled a quizzical face in agreement. Before Viv could continue her litany of complaints about the parentage of the lost children, Bob Loach wandered over to their table showing off the red-and-white badge of courage: his bandaged thumb.
Immediately Loach began to entertain the other PCs sitting at the table with Viv and Sandra. Although they had ceased following or even listening to Viv, they interrupted any semblance of civilized conversation by raising their glasses, voices and laughter in toasts to the valiant Loach. ‘Why didn’t you get Big Jess to kiss it better?’ asked one wag.
‘Been sucking your thumb, Bob?’ simultaneously suggested one of the others.
Loach smiled sourly and silently pleaded with Sandra for some sympathy. But Viv was having none of his interruptions.
‘Now don’t go giving Sandra a hard time with your problems, Bob Loach. She’s off-duty. Having a quiet drink,’ And busy with my problems at present, Viv wanted to add. ‘She’s not interested in discussing compensation tonight.’
The disappointment on his face was that of a disheartened little boy which, as ever, Sandra didn’t have the constitution to resist.
‘What happened?’ she asked innocently, at the same time automatically removing a secretarial pad and pencil from her shoulder bag.
Viv decided that the only way to cut this short was to speak up first. ‘A lady of the night called Big Jess bit it. I’d say Loach got off lightly.’
Loach ignored Viv and concentrated on Sandra. ‘I suppose it’ll mean a court appearance,’ he sighed. ‘As if I didn’t have enough on my plate.’
Just feeling sorry for himself, Viv reflected. ‘He’s a lot on his mind, has our Section Officer,’ she cracked.
Unfortunately Loach took the opportunity to venture off on one of his pet peeves. ‘Damned right. I’ve been Acting SDO for about three months. And doing all skiver SDO Barker’s paper work …’
Viv tried to head him off at the pass. ‘Loach …’
But it was already too late. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind doing the job. But how long am I supposed to act as an Acting?’ Now that he was off and running, there would be virtually no stopping him. ‘I wouldn’t care, if I got a word of thank-you from our invisible SDO for the time I’m putting in.’
Loach’s tirade against SDO Barker was having an unintended effect on Sandra, although he took no