Sonny was right, it’s not a lack of brains that has landed you in here, is it?’
He didn’t know what to say to that. Tommy let him off the hook with a friendly pat on the shoulder.
‘See you in a couple of days son - stay well. Get your arse off to school then.’
For the rest of the week he managed both the Centre andschool much to M’s scorn when the three of them had finally met up at M’s house on the Friday. He riposted with giving M a good arse kicking on the Xbox. Usually he held back a little bit, letting him think he was better at it than was the case. But this time he gave it to him. After a couple of hours of getting smashed M threw his console at the wall and had given him a look, which caused Junior and himself to dissolve into laughter. That shut the fucker up for a while, good and proper. M went off and sulked for a spell but soon came back to the game. He couldn’t bear to be alone for more than five minutes. As they played, M gave both Pasquale and Junior some initially half-hearted and then full bore exhortations, all the ill feeling well and truly gone. That was one good thing about M, he never held on to it for too long.
Although he won again, he gave it up to let Junior take the next game. M hopped back on, giving him a half-smile in recognition of his gesture. That was cool, he’d made his point and, what the hell, he thought, as he stretched out on the sofa and lit up a rasper. They were his mates.
It was a flat week at work after the high of the Sammy and Dean case. Darrin had been assigned foot patrol with Johno. That with a bit of desk duty interspersed with some rigorous workouts at the old man’s sweat-box gym made up the rhythm of his week.
A DI Bowden from the Drug Squad had come to the station from the city headquarters and had prepped the crew about the upsurge in the manufacture and use of ice. It was a drug that had swamped the conurbation over the last few months; massively addictive, cheap and easy to produce, twelve times the high of sex and six times the high of cocaine.
‘In my case that would be twenty times the high of sex,’ said Mozzer, which had them all rolling in the aisles for a good while until an amused Sarge Thomas benignly cracked the whip.
DI Bowden dived back in. Darrin noted that he’d barely cracked a smile at the crew’s reaction to Mozzer’s funny. Then Bowden went on, about the downward spiral for the users, the ‘inevitable law of diminishing returns,’ ie more and more of the shit needed for the same effect - a drug dealer’s wet dream. Increasing addiction, till the brain was fried to the point of being null and void. It was like shooting fish in a barrel for the pushers and they always had fresh meat to prey on; the young, the impressionable and the disaffected.
Word was that some of the old firm who had bossed the city for the last thirty years or so had started moving it around and they wouldn’t be bothering to do that without a very good yield for both their investment and risk. The Drug Squad was operating towards the top end of the pyramid and they, the foot soldiers, would keep their eye on the bottom feeders in the industry, principally the dealers and their customer base up on the estates.
‘It’s a crisis waiting to happen,’ said the Inspector, ‘this drug ripped the heart out of loads of communities in the States.’
He looked around the room with a gravity that pre-empted any more glib funnies.
‘Let’s get the breaks on it, nice and early lads and lasses.’
At the break he chatted about it with Mozzer and a few of the other plods whilst they were hanging out in the canteen. The young end was fired up at the prospect of the battle. Mozzer had raised a sceptical eyebrow at him as Darrinenthused about getting stuck into it.
‘Lopping off a few branches won’t get rid of the tree.’ Mozzer stated with a flat firmness.
Johno asked him what he meant and Moz snorted at him.
‘War on drugs - it’s about as
He didn’t know what to say to that. Tommy let him off the hook with a friendly pat on the shoulder.
‘See you in a couple of days son - stay well. Get your arse off to school then.’
For the rest of the week he managed both the Centre andschool much to M’s scorn when the three of them had finally met up at M’s house on the Friday. He riposted with giving M a good arse kicking on the Xbox. Usually he held back a little bit, letting him think he was better at it than was the case. But this time he gave it to him. After a couple of hours of getting smashed M threw his console at the wall and had given him a look, which caused Junior and himself to dissolve into laughter. That shut the fucker up for a while, good and proper. M went off and sulked for a spell but soon came back to the game. He couldn’t bear to be alone for more than five minutes. As they played, M gave both Pasquale and Junior some initially half-hearted and then full bore exhortations, all the ill feeling well and truly gone. That was one good thing about M, he never held on to it for too long.
Although he won again, he gave it up to let Junior take the next game. M hopped back on, giving him a half-smile in recognition of his gesture. That was cool, he’d made his point and, what the hell, he thought, as he stretched out on the sofa and lit up a rasper. They were his mates.
It was a flat week at work after the high of the Sammy and Dean case. Darrin had been assigned foot patrol with Johno. That with a bit of desk duty interspersed with some rigorous workouts at the old man’s sweat-box gym made up the rhythm of his week.
A DI Bowden from the Drug Squad had come to the station from the city headquarters and had prepped the crew about the upsurge in the manufacture and use of ice. It was a drug that had swamped the conurbation over the last few months; massively addictive, cheap and easy to produce, twelve times the high of sex and six times the high of cocaine.
‘In my case that would be twenty times the high of sex,’ said Mozzer, which had them all rolling in the aisles for a good while until an amused Sarge Thomas benignly cracked the whip.
DI Bowden dived back in. Darrin noted that he’d barely cracked a smile at the crew’s reaction to Mozzer’s funny. Then Bowden went on, about the downward spiral for the users, the ‘inevitable law of diminishing returns,’ ie more and more of the shit needed for the same effect - a drug dealer’s wet dream. Increasing addiction, till the brain was fried to the point of being null and void. It was like shooting fish in a barrel for the pushers and they always had fresh meat to prey on; the young, the impressionable and the disaffected.
Word was that some of the old firm who had bossed the city for the last thirty years or so had started moving it around and they wouldn’t be bothering to do that without a very good yield for both their investment and risk. The Drug Squad was operating towards the top end of the pyramid and they, the foot soldiers, would keep their eye on the bottom feeders in the industry, principally the dealers and their customer base up on the estates.
‘It’s a crisis waiting to happen,’ said the Inspector, ‘this drug ripped the heart out of loads of communities in the States.’
He looked around the room with a gravity that pre-empted any more glib funnies.
‘Let’s get the breaks on it, nice and early lads and lasses.’
At the break he chatted about it with Mozzer and a few of the other plods whilst they were hanging out in the canteen. The young end was fired up at the prospect of the battle. Mozzer had raised a sceptical eyebrow at him as Darrinenthused about getting stuck into it.
‘Lopping off a few branches won’t get rid of the tree.’ Mozzer stated with a flat firmness.
Johno asked him what he meant and Moz snorted at him.
‘War on drugs - it’s about as
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