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“Undercover? Why me? Why can't Ray do it?”
“Let's just say Ray has...contacts there. Which means they'll know his hairy face. And more disturbingly, his hairy arse. Anyway, I'm not doin' it, my reputation as the king of this city precedes me. Chris couldn't do it. He 'asn't got what I like to call the 'popped-cherry' status to cope with this assignment. I'm not sendin' a plonk to do a man's job either, so don't bother askin'.”
“Really? You think Chris is still a vir– hang on! Don't try and distract me with minutiae, Gene. You haven't even told me where or what the operation is.”
“Fuck me. Operation? Minu- min – whatever the bloody word was?! Get you, Doctor Kildare and your foreign diseases. I'll get the file for you in a minute, Dorothy, don't get yer knickers stuck up yer arse. All you need to do for now is say yes to the job, and we can get on with catching some scum. Which, I do believe, is what we're paid to do.”
Gene fumbled through the carnage on his desk. Sam dodged out of the way as a crisp packet and empty beer can sailed past his head; rolling his eyes in despair, he slumped into the chair opposite Gene's desk and waited, arms folded. Gene glanced over as he continued his search.
“I know it's 'ere somewhere, Gladys, so don't pout at me like that. That's what women were invented for. Ah! See? Knew where it was all along.” He extracted a crumpled folder from a random pile, completely unabashed when a copy of Big and Bouncy fell out of the middle and landed on the floor at Sam's feet. Sam kicked the magazine under Gene's desk and concentrated on the file being proffered in his general direction. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“What's that?” He pointed at a white smear across the front of the folder. Gene sniffed it and then stuck out the tip of his tongue. “Mint custard.”
“Oh for fuck's sake.” Sam snatched the paperwork from his DCI and flicked through it. His eyes scanned across the pages. “This is a joke, right?”
“There's no joke, Sammy. This kind of gambling ring is very hard to infiltrate. We need to nail this bastard.”
“No. No no no no no no no. You're all in on this, aren't you? You're trying to stitch me up, you're taking the piss.” He looked up at Gene, only to realise in horror that the expression on his face was deadly serious. Even the Guv's poker face would never be that good.
“Tyler. Stop pissin' about and get all the details sorted in that pointy little head of yours. Yer expected to start your new position there tomorrow mornin'. It's a live-in job, so I'll 'ave to come and visit you for updates on your progress. Obviously, the legend of the Gene Genie means I'll 'ave to visit yer in the evenings. I can't be seen on the premises in the daytime or it'll arouse suspicion. Fuck me. I've been workin' with you too long, Sammy boy. I'm beginnin' to sound like you. Usually when I use the word arouse I've got me cock in one 'and and the other down the front of some bird's knickers.”
Sam winced at the image. “Are you absolutely sure this information is correct? And when you say position, what exactly am I going to be doing?”
“All I know is this place is runnin' a gamblin' ring of some sorts. We think that 'Arry bloke is the ringleader, but we need you to confirm 'is involvement before we can pick 'im up. We've got nothing else to go on. You're the new Sports teacher.”
Sam rubbed his eyes in a weary gesture. His brain was in a worse state than even the Doctors knew if he was coming up with this kind of crap. He sighed and looked at Gene.
“So let me get this straight. I am going undercover as a Sports teacher at a girl's school called St Trinian's, and I'm to monitor the activities of a man who is commonly known in the area as Flash Harry, who you believe to be operating some kind of illegal gambling ring. Tell me, does the Headmistress look like a man in drag by any chance?”
“The 'eadmistress? 'Ow the 'ell should I know?!”
“Forget it, it doesn't matter.” Sam shook his head in despair. This was really happening. All he could do was go along for the ride.
“Fine. I'll do it.”
“Good lad.” Gene walked over to Sam and slapped him on the shoulder. “Just try not to spend too much time lookin' at those sixth-formers in their tight tops when you've got 'em doin' star-jumps.”
Sam snorted. For a decent detective, Gene was utterly oblivious to what was right in front of his face. “Trust me, Guv. It won't be a problem. I'll read through the rest of this file and work out my strategy.”
“I'll let you settle in for a couple of days, then come and see 'ow yer doin'.” His hand still rested lightly on Sam's shoulder. “Be careful. Well. You know. Alert.” Gene cleared his throat and moved away, missing Sam absent-mindedly tracing his own hand across the still-warm patch on his shoulder as he left the room.