‘Before we can use you as a decoy, you need to get up to speed on exactly how we work, Tennison. I hope there’ll be plenty of opportunities in the future for us to use your feminine attributes…
‘We’ve got this guy in our sights and he’s been nicking gear left, right and centre. Yesterday, Stanley was able to confirm that it’s a three-man unit. So, we’re going to use all our tactics to nab the lot of them. First up, we need to find today’s victim. The thieves seem to work around midday at Oxford Street underground station or during evening rush hour. That means access to shoppers with money… you got that big exclusive store, Liberty, on the corner, and tourists shelling out big money all along Regent Street.’
‘Do you have any surveillance pictures or mugshots of the suspects I can have?’ Jane asked.
Again, there was laughter amongst the team.
‘That’s not how the Dip Squad works, Tennison! There’re loads of mugshots in that big album on the desk, far too many to carry round with us. It takes time, but we memorise photographs and descriptions, then go by eyeball on the street. You’ve got to understand that these guys work in a team. You can see them stalling or distracting a victim… they could have a newspaper concealing their hands, or you can have one of them acting like a helpful stranger whilst their mate is nicking gear out of the victim’s handbag. They can get a watch off your wrist and you wouldn’t feel a thing. Give her description of the bloke you got a look at, Stanley.’
‘I’d say he could be Spanish or Italian. He had dark, greasy hair, with shifty eyes and bad acne. He wears a big double-breasted overcoat and thick crêpe-soled shoes. He can move like lightening.’
Church clapped his hands. ‘OK, Stanley, take our new girl out with you and your guys and meet up back here when you’ve got them bang to rights.’
Accompanied by Stanley, Maynard and two other officers, Jane left the squalid office. She thought they would be using a patrol car to drive to their destination but instead they caught a bus. She was now beginning to have severe doubts about what she had got herself into. The Dip Squad acted like day trippers. They laughed and joked with each other at the bus stop, and when they got on board and herded up the stairs to sit on the top deck, Stanley squashed into a seat beside her. He had overpowering BO and looked so scruffy that Jane had a moment of horror that someone she knew might get on to the bus and wonder what on earth she was doing sitting beside a tramp.
‘You seen anything of Spencer Gibbs since his Hackney days?’ Stanley asked, rolling a cigarette.
‘Not for a while. He was at Bow Street, we worked together on a murder, but he was transferred whilst I was on my CID course.’
‘I heard he was getting pissed every night.’
‘No, he wasn’t. I mean, you were there… you know the terrible events at Hackney hit him badly. He was very close to DCI Bradfield.’
‘Yeah, that was a bad time — and as for that lovely Kath Morgan… At least we got the bastards. Clifford Bentley went down for thirty years. He’ll die inside. Good riddance.’
Jane nodded as Stanley licked his cigarette paper.
‘So, what brings you to the Dip Squad? What fuck-up got you foisted on us?’
She straightened in her seat.
‘No fuck-up, actually… I asked to be transferred. I was told that it could be a way in to the Flying Squad.’
Stanley laughed. ‘Yeah, and pigs might fly, sweetheart! You’re only with us because we need a good-looking stooge to attract dippers. Added to that, the blokes on this unit are ahead of you in the pecking order. Well, most of them. Some got moved to the Dip Squad from the Sweeney because of one screw-up after another…’ He saw the disappointment on her face and added in a gentler tone, ‘We get better overtime in the Dip Squad, anyway.’
Stanley lit his roll-up, then stuck it in the side of his mouth as he checked his radio’s speaker and told Jane to double-check hers.
‘A lot of our equipment is bloody useless and outdated. Flying Squad gets the new gear and we get their hand-me-downs.’
Jane glanced at him. ‘How come you’re with the Dip Squad?’
‘Rapped over the knuckles, darlin’, for being a naughty boy. Besides, I like Jimmy Church — I rate him. But a word of warning: don’t get on the wrong side of him… and his sidekick, DS George Maynard, is also a piece of work. You think it’s his duffel coat makes him look well built, but he’s solid muscle underneath it, and he can throw one hell of a punch.’
Jane was desperately trying to take it all on board, and wasn’t sure how to respond. Stanley turned away from her as if he didn’t want to talk anymore, his roll-up cigarette still stuck between his lips, getting damper and smaller. Why on earth had she left the relative comforts of Bow Street?
After half an hour they piled off the bus in Regent Street and made their way towards Oxford Circus underground station. Jane thought they could have walked there faster. The four of them kept their distance from one another as they looked up and down the street for any suspects. Stanley was next to Jane when he spoke over his radio.
‘Looks like a male suspect from our mugshots heading down into the Underground. Early twenties, tanned face, dark-haired, unshaven, wearing a leather coat.’
Jane pressed her radio earpiece further into her left ear, and checked the mouthpiece was securely attached to her wrist — the wires were hidden along her jacket sleeve and attached to the radio in her pocket.
Stanley nudged her. ‘Radios are bloody useless in the Underground, we go by hand signals, just stick close to me, OK?’
Jane nodded as she followed Stanley down into the Underground. They flashed their warrant cards to the ticket guard, who let them through, and moved on to the escalator, with the other two officers close behind. The southbound Central line platform was crowded with passengers waiting for the next train, it was hard to see through the throng of people as they moved along the platform, keeping their distance from the suspect.
Jane glanced around cautiously and saw the suspect moving in behind a well-dressed man in an unbuttoned camel coat, carrying a briefcase. The man had just taken out a thick wallet and checked something before replacing it inside his coat pocket. Stanley looked at his colleagues, nodded, then touched his eye with his index finger and discreetly pointed to the suspect.
One of the other officers repeated the same signals to Stanley and Jane as a young, tanned, dark-haired man with acne wearing a leather coat slipped in casually to stand beside the target. Jane spotted him glance almost imperceptibly to his right, where an older, grey-haired man in an expensive-looking black raincoat was also moving slowly towards the target. Each undercover officer discreetly confirmed they had eyeballed these three men as possible dippers.
Even though she was watching for it, Jane almost didn’t see the dip. As the unshaven man in the leather coat jostled the victim and lifted his wallet, his two sidekicks moved in, ready to palm it. Stanley and his team stepped in to collar them. The victim, surprised by their sudden appearance, dropped his briefcase. An approaching train screeched in the tunnel, and Jane found herself being pushed backwards by the crowd towards the tracks. She teetered on the edge of the platform as a train thundered towards her. Stanley saw her at the last minute and dragged her to safety.
As the train came to a halt and passengers began to stream onto the platform, it became clear that the pincer move had gone astray. The other officers chased after the two younger suspects but the grey-haired man in the black raincoat managed to get onto the train. The doors closed behind him before Stanley or Jane could fight free of the crowd.
Stanley turned to the badly shaken Jane.
‘What the hell do you think you were doing? Haven’t you got any bloody sense? You should never stand with your back to the tracks!’