by J Paton
My heart was thudding uncomfortably against my ribs by the time I stopped in the doorway. The sunlight from the kitchen window provided a halo around Jup. His dark brown hair gleamed with vitality in the light, the curls bobbing while he put the finishing touches to whatever salad he was preparing. He was wearing a plain white, baggy T-shirt with knee-length black cargo shorts. Hidden beneath the clothing was a rail-thin body that many models would have been envious of. Given the nervous energy that Jup exuded, he always struggled to put weight on. His feet were bare, revealing some of the numerous scars his body held.
There was no way Jup didn’t know I was there, so I took the time to shield my emotions. Would Jup understand that I didn’t have any choice in what was about to happen? Logic suggested he would, but I knew that fear cut massive chunks out of his logical mind. My time to prepare was over the second that Jup swung around, his face alight with happiness. It only took a moment for him to lose that joy as his gaze met mine and I realised I’d hidden nothing.
The hand holding the salad bowl trembled, his chin starting to wobble. “What… what happened? Did they find… out?” he whispered in terror.
I crossed the room in two strides, taking hold of the bowl before it ended up on the floor. Placing it down on the countertop, I carefully encircled him in my arms, my touch gentle. Jup buried his face in my chest while I attempted to figure out the best way to explain what had happened before Jup had a breakdown.
“I’ve told you, Jup, you’re safe here. No one knows.” I let that sink in while I worked out how to tell him what was really worrying me, which was leaving Jup alone while I went undercover. My hand brushed against his silky curls, encouraging Jup to look up.
Jup’s glimmering gaze met mine, my stomach twisting painfully. Without any way of making what I was about to say more palatable, I went for being direct. “I’m going to be moved back to special ops.”
The air remained steadfastly stuck in my chest at Jup’s crumpled expression, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Sir… ohhhh… Sir, you promised,” Jup cried, burying his face back in my neck. Sobs wracked his whole body, making it seem like everything I’d worked so hard to achieve over the last two years had been wasted.
“I know, Jup, but I don’t have any way out of this. I would never intentionally break my promises to you.” Didn’t you do that by contravening a direct order? Even as the thought registered, I shoved it to the back of my mind as I tried to say something that would stop the trembling of the man pressed against me. “The Assistant Chief Constable has insisted on my transfer to help with a case. I don’t have any choice, Jup. I’m so sorry, I really am.”
“Who’ll look after me?” Jup’s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper.
Many people would have thought that the question was selfish, but I knew better. “I’m working on that. We’ll figure it out together.” I hoped like hell I wasn’t setting us both up to fail, and that Jup hadn’t registered the lack of confidence in my voice.
“I don’t… I can’t… oh, please, Sir.”
My brow furrowed at Jup not making sense. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Jup. Let’s sit and talk this through.” I slowly led him over to the small table tucked into an alcove on the far side of the kitchen.
Encouraging Jup to sit, I considered what he needed in order to settle. Pulling out a chair next to him, I sat, and took his icy-cold hands in mine. One look at his distressed face had me compelled to ask, “Would you prefer to remain sitting on the chair or on my lap?” I’d never taken the choice away from him. It was always his decision what happened between us. He’d spent far too many years when his choice didn’t count for anything.
When I’d brought him into my home, I’d promised that he’d always have a say in everything. So far, I’d always been able to keep that promise. I hoped I could continue to keep it.
Jup’s tear-drenched eyes met mine briefly before he got up and climbed on my lap. His weight settled against me, and only once his breathing had slowed, did I wrap my arms around him in a loose hold. His shaking lessened as the time passed, neither of us seeming ready to talk.
As the sun outside the window started to dip, I swallowed, licking my lips and then taking a fortifying breath. “Jup, can you explain what’s worrying you?” I could guess the answer, but I needed Jup to spell it out for me so that there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings.
There was another few minutes of silence that I didn’t try to fill while I waited Jup out. Resting my chin on top of his soft, silky curls, I closed my eyes. The scent of the mango shampoo Jup favoured, lingered. For the first time that day, some semblance of peace returned, the warmth of the evening sun coming through the window relaxing me further.
Jup’s quiet voice finally broke the silence. “I won’t be able to stay here alone...”
The sigh that wanted out was swallowed. I opened my eyes to stare out of the window and into the garden. “I know. Do you trust me to sort it?”
A shudder ran through Jup’s body, but he nodded. The breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding gushed out in relief. “Thank you, Jup. I know how hard this is for you. We’ll figure it out together.” I continued to explain what had happened, leaving out the details of how I’d found myself in that position in the first place.
The shirt I wore was drenched with tears, and Jup’s eyes were red and puffy by the time I’d finished talking. I felt like utter crap as I helped him to stand and rinse his face in cold water. The meal was forgotten, given the distress we were both feeling. Jup chose to go to bed early and I didn’t argue, not when I needed some time to figure out how to contain my frustration at the turn of events.
If I was honest, I didn’t have the strength to give Jup any more attention. He was only part of what I was going to have to deal with mentally, and I wasn’t sure the two years separating me from the past were going to be enough to get me through the assignment that would follow.
You’ll find out soon enough!
Tucker
The email I’d received this morning, when I’d stupidly checked my work phone before having coffee, confirmed that the day before hadn’t just been a bad dream. Stood in the kitchen, I re-read the information that left me no room to escape, glad that Jup was still upstairs as I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to hide my distress. The speed at which things were happening was justifiable. Cases like this were expedited quickly. I got it. What I didn’t get, even after hours of soul-searching, was how I was the only person suitable for the job. There were hundreds of officers working undercover. There had to be someone equally suitable from another force. An officer being placed undercover in the same area where he lived was rarer than a hen having teeth. It was too risky. Had that even been considered?
Was this Assistant Chief Constable Kelly making the point that none of his officers should step out of line? That’s what it seemed like on the surface. Yet, the conversation we’d had once we were alone had hinted at something else. But what?
Dean had been sympathetic the day before, while pointing out that he didn’t have the authority to stick his nose into Met business. Not that I would have asked him to. I’d just wanted someone with who I could talk freely about my past. And Dean was it. After Jup, I hadn’t had anyone because it was safer that way. I blew out a breath, recalling how as Dean had readied to leave, he’d suggested that this new case could be connected to Macintosh, and that maybe there was a bigger picture I wasn’t privy to.
It was entirely possible that there were other teams across the United Kingdom working on cases that could be connected to this one. When I’d tried to pump Dean for information about whether any of his officers were working on anything that was connected, he’d been vague.
At the time, given what had happened with the Assistant Chief Constable, and getting my arse handed to me on a platter for breach of protocol, I hadn’t paid too much attention to Dean’s evasive answers. But, last night, while laid in bed and thinking about the day as a whole,
it had struck me as odd.
The reasons for this could be wide and varied, possibly because he no longer saw me a friend. Who could blame him when I’d cut all contact after leaving Newcastle, changing my phone number after he’d continued to call and message? It had been a shitty move, but at the time I’d been struggling with keeping Jup from freaking out every five minutes. Was that why Dean had avoided answering me?
A wave of bone-deep tiredness didn’t help, and I dropped my phone on the counter to make a pot of coffee, needing a boost. I was at the table, coffee in hand, when Jup appeared. He nodded, but didn’t say anything. Dark circles around his eyes showed that he hadn’t slept any better than I had. He went over to the fridge and pulled out fresh fruit, yogurt and a packet of rolled oats.
His silence continued as he busied himself making breakfast, and I left him to his thoughts, considering the merits of what I’d come up with in the early hours of the morning to protect Jup. I sipped at the dark brew, the caffeine buzzing through me.
Phil Knight’s security company had been assigned to protect Mr. Robertson, and it had proven effective. Was that the answer to my problem? Could a security team stay here with Jup to protect him?
It was a possibility. One I’d need to consider while looking at my finances. Having no mortgage, and having done little to nothing in the last couple of years, a chunk of my wages had consistently gone into a saving account. It was rainy day money, and this had to count as that, surely?
The money wasn’t the only issue as I saw it. Firstly, I didn’t have any clue how long I’d be undercover. The last job had lasted for more than a year. Could Jup cope during the day? That would reduce the cost so I could stretch my money further. That begged the question whether having a stranger sleep under the same roof as Jup could work?
In the beginning when we’d first moved in, he’d got spooked easily. Had he improved enough to cope? I wasn’t sure. But then, I wasn’t sure of fucking much at the moment. There was one major hurdle to overcome before I could even contemplate the next step. How much of Jup’s story could I trust Phil with? I’d been too tired when I’d first come up with the idea of using Phil to do any research into his company. Any hope of doing some this morning had been dashed by the email instructing me to report to my new boss. Would it be better to wait and see what happened at Thursday’s meeting? A meeting I still hadn’t mentioned to Jup, that now seemed fortuitous with everything that was happening.
A bowl placed in front of me pulled me from my thoughts. I smiled at Jup. “Thank you.” One look at his face, and I made a decision to tell him about Phil’s visit. Delaying it wouldn’t do either of us any good. When he sat and started to eat, I took another hit of my coffee before placing my cup down and picking up my spoon. “There’s a guy called Phil coming to the house on Thursday.” Jup’s eyes became watery, the hand holding the spoon trembling. “He runs a security business, and he might be able to help me with the case.” I licked my lips. “He might also be someone we could talk to about protecting you.”
Jup’s whole body shuddered, the spoon plopping into his breakfast. I didn’t say anything else, waiting him out as he started to chew on his lower lip. His gaze stayed on the table, tension rolling off him in waves as he processed what I’d said. Although I’d lost my appetite, I dipped my spoon into the mixed fruit, yogurt and oats, eating mouthful after mouthful while Jup fidgeted in his seat.
Only once I’d finished my breakfast, did I prompt him. “Do you want to talk about what I’ve said or wait until I come home after work?”
His eyes met mine. “Can we talk… later?”
“Of course. If it helps, write down any concerns that you have. Then we can go through them together.” It was a technique I’d found on the internet when I’d searched for things that might help. It wasn’t like we could see a therapist.
“Okay Sir. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
I reached slowly over the table and placed a hand over his. “You’re welcome. Hopefully, I’ll be home earlier than usual, now that I won’t be following any kind of shift pattern.” He wrinkled his nose. “Undercover officers keep different hours, remember?”
He nodded, his lower lip between his teeth.
“You didn’t have dinner last night, so maybe you could try and eat a little more,” I encouraged as I took my bowl over to the sink. By the time I’d rinsed it, he was back to eating. Leaving him, I went to shower and dress, my mind already ten steps ahead in working out what came next.
I was out the door half an hour later, and heading into the city centre while reminding myself to only think about the things I had control over. It was easier said than done. But by the time I was nearing the building I’d been told to attend, I felt a little more in control. All I needed now was to find the answers to all the questions I had.
I was directed to Detective Superintendent Elliot Kensington’s office, the man in charge of undercover operations, sweat gathering on my top lip as I made my way there.
A secretary indicated for me to go ahead and knock. I rapped on the door and waited to be invited in. The voice that had called “come in” didn’t match the man I found sat behind the desk. The voice had been soft, whereas this guy looked anything but. He had dark hair, and eyes that were observant as he indicated for me to take a seat.
“Detective Chief Inspector Parks, thank you for fitting in around my busy day. It seems the Assistant Chief Constable is in one hell of a rush.” He chuckled, but the sound lacked humour.
I didn’t make any comment as I sat. I was already in enough trouble without adding to it, and I didn’t have a clue who the fuck to trust any more.
He eyed me over the desk. “A man of few words, I see. I won’t ask you to fill me in on your background. I’ve already accessed your records.”
My hands became clammy, and I squeezed them together where the DS couldn’t see them, working on maintaining a neutral mask of indifference. “Yes, Sir.”
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Why have you decided to return to undercover ops, when it was documented at your last review that you were dead set against this type of work?”
Fuck! How was I supposed to answer that?
“You said you checked my file, so you’re aware that my last job was working undercover in Player’s Kingdom. I’ve got skills that will allow me to easily blend in, and given my previous experience might allow me to assess the situation quicker.” It was the best I could come up with. The DS had a good poker face, but his jaw clenched, a tick at the side of his left eye indicating that he might not have believed me.
The air in my lungs remained where it was while I waited to see if he would push. His job was to make sure that those who went into undercover work were prepared, and weren’t a risk to the general public.
I exhaled as he picked up a file and offered it to me. “In there is a list of all the updates you’ll be required to familiarise yourself with. It includes current protocols, procedures, policies, and the legislation changes that have occurred over the last couple of years.” He was matter of fact as he ran through everything I would need to do before I could go back out in the field.
At the end of the meeting, he handed over a burner phone. “Your handler will be Tegan Jones. I’ll give him that number and you’ll meet once I’ve deemed you ready to return to undercover ops.” He sat back, running a finger over his lower lip, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll be the one to determine when that is, not the Assistant Chief Constable. Understood?”
I nodded slowly, not really getting what the comment was about.
“Speak to my secretary when you leave. She’ll set up another meeting in, say a week. If you finish reading through the material before then, contact her and she’ll bring the appointment forward.” With that, I was dismissed, and back out on the street less than twenty minutes later, swallowing hard as I clutched hold of the file.
A week.
Bollocks to hell!
Tegan
Taking a seat
outside Detective Superintendent Kensington’s office, I crossed one ankle over the other leg, drumming my fingers on my thigh. I’d finally got my reassignment paperwork through two weeks earlier. DS Kensington hadn’t appeared, so far anyway, to be a dick when he’d given me the files of information to familiarise myself with. Over the last two weeks, I’d been given the task of figuring out how to get around London, and working through the reams of paperwork that would deem me fit to take on the responsibility of handler to an undercover officer. In my past role as an undercover officer, I’d worked with both good and bad handlers. I wanted to ensure that I fell into the first category. Today, I was hopefully going to be assigned my first officer.
This wasn’t where I’d seen my career heading. Hell, no. The rage that came was followed by memories of how I’d ended up here.
I squashed down my feelings as I walked into my superior’s office. The Superintendent didn’t bother to lift his head as he pointed at the seat in front of his desk. The plastic chair was far too small for me, its arms making me feel like my arse was trapped in a bucket whenever I was forced to sit in it. I wedged my body into the chair. The shorts and T-shirt I had on were a show of defiance, and the superintendent would know that.
He hated that I, in his words, “looked more like a surfer dude than a copper.” I’d pointed out on more than one occasion that that was the point. I was an undercover officer, and I was supposed to blend in with those I was monitoring. However, the abundance of tattoos that covered my body were a personal choice. But dressing as I had, did put them on display, something else that pissed off the prissy man at the other side of the desk.
Why they’d picked this dude to be in charge was beyond me. He was a bigoted a-hole most of the time. He didn’t seem to care about the officers’ welfare, which was meant to be his main responsibility. I’d put up with this shit for three years, and I’d reached the end of my tether. I was almost certain that he was trying to provoke a response so he could get me kicked out.