It took Roberta a few days to come down from the high of cracking, or at least being a very small part of the team that had solved, or was in the process of solving a string of crimes that spread all over Europe, into the Middle East and even the USA. Art is a worldwide business, and art theft is just the same.

The TV news showed raids on properties all over the world this was all based on a document that was found on Antoine de Scudery when he was arrested in London. While it was in code, it took only a few days to break. What that document revealed was a history of art thefts going back over eight years. These were all medium value thefts and importantly, detailed the buyer. Those buyers were soon going to find themselves short of the art and a load of money. That same document detailed a number of illicit arms deals. Those were being dealt with well outside the glare of the media for reasons of security.

Thanks to the insistence of her father, Roberta and he took some time off and away from the media. Going fishing in Lyme Bay was their well proven method of unwinding from the stresses of modern life. Catching a load of Cod and Conger Eel was very therapeutic even if on more than one day, they caught nothing.

When she reported for duty again, Roberta was prepared to fob their inquiries off with 'it will all come out in the trials'. It wasn't the best excuse in the world, but it would have to do.

Her joy/new found fame in the department was short-lived when she found that her desk in the CID Office had been used as a dumping ground for files in her absence. That was entirely to be expected. Places to store case documents in the department were at a premium while the storage room was being refurbished, a job that seemed to be taking forever.

She swiftly moved the boxes off the desk and cleared a space to work before the rest of the officers arrived for the day shift.

Dealing with Leroy James and his crew was a welcome diversion from the world of international art thieves and latterly arms smugglers that her last case had been all about. A few words in the right place and equilibrium, was restored. It got her out of the station before most of the other officers reported for duty.

When she did return, she, as expected found that news of the 'bust' that she'd been involved in was the talk of the department. There was a stream of officers asking her about it and giving her several 'high fives'. That pleased Roberta. As the 'newbie' in the team, they were a sign of acceptance, even though they were unaware of just how critical her part was in the operation. That meant a lot to her. Keeping her head down was very important to her.

The arrival of DCI Barnes put an end to the congratulations. He didn’t look very pleased with life. His first action was to call Roberta into his office and to shut the ‘effing’ door behind her.

“As your immediate commanding Officer, I received a letter from Assistant Commissioner Jackson. She is recommending you for a commendation for your work with the NCA. She wants my thoughts on the matter before making the final decision.”

Roberta managed to suppress a smile.
“Well? What have you to say for yourself? I won’t have a still wet behind the ears, constable getting a commendation. It will upset the morale of the whole station. I have a good mind to send you back to uniform. What have you to say for yourself.”

“Sir…” began Roberta.
“You should do whatever you think is best for the team as a whole. I didn’t ask to be commended. Far from it, I specifically told AC Jackson that I wanted to be kept out of the press and the limelight. As you are aware, all Police commendations are reported in the Police Gazette, which is something that I do not want.”

“Bollocks. You, like everyone your age lusts after your fifteen minutes of fame. Get yourself out of here and report to Inspector Jones wearing your uniform within the hour.”

“Sir. I will send a letter to AC Jackson turning down the recommendation. The last thing I want is to be seen as a little rich girl trying to get to the top. I am not rich. Almost every month, my bank account goes into the red and I’m currently sleeping on the couch at Sergeant Banks’s place after my old landlord sold up and evicted me.”

He looked at Roberta. His beady eyes were trying to outstare hers. She knew that he was never ever going to be on her side.

“I will clear my desk and report to Uniform for the afternoon shift.”

She turned and left the office.

Back at her desk, she began to pack her possessions up. Several of the officers had asked why she was packing up.

“I’m being sent back to uniform. I seems that I have stepped on some important toes in the station for being part of the team who brought down an international art theft and arms smuggling operation.”

"That was you?" asked DS Graves, who sat at the next desk to hers. He'd been at the hospital earlier to see his son, who had just had his appendix removed and had missed all the 'high-fives'.

“Mostly… yes it was.”

DS Graves swore under his breath and shook his head. The station had received a lot of very positive publicity after the wave of arrests became public knowledge. The presence of TV crews outside and a public statement from the Chief Super and two Assistant Commissioners was proof of that.

As Roberta walked out of the CID office, DCI Barnes was grinning from ear to ear. As she got to the door, he let out a visible 'Yesssss'! The rest of the office just shook their heads and went back to their work. He was not a popular officer, and after that very visible episode, his standing, or whatever was left of it, in the station would take a big hit in the station gossip machine.

Thanks to a tip-off from her father, Roberta knew in advance about the letter. She had guessed the probable reaction of DCI Barnes to the possibility of her receiving a commendation. In preparation for his action, she had made sure that she had a clean uniform in her locker at the station. He had not failed to live up to his reputation of every case being about him and only him even if he had nothing much to do with it.

It didn’t matter to her. The DCI did not know that she had already received handwritten letters from the Home Secretary and Commissioner of the Met Police herself, thanking her for her diligence and excellent detective work in solving a murder, exposing an international art theft and smuggling ring, as well as arresting a renowned assassin.

In this age of electronic communication, to receive handwritten letters from people who appreciated her for her work, and not because of who she was related to was, in her eyes, worth more than ten commendations, but not something to brag about. Bragging was just not part of her psyche.

Her father had grinned from ear to ear for hours when she showed him the letter. He insisted that she give it to him so that he could get it framed. It would hang on the wall of his office in Westminster where everyone could see how proud he was of his daughter.

---

When Roberta reported for her shift that afternoon, Inspector McLaren was surprised to see an extra body at roll-call. He was standing in for Inspector Jones who was away giving evidence in court.

“What are you doing here Detective Constable Galbraith?”

"It is just plain Constable Galbraith Sir. I've been kicked out of CID."

A few of the other officers laughed. A glare from Inspector McLaren soon shut them up.

“Why in gods’ name did you do to get kicked out of CID?”

“Sir, I’d rather not say in public.”

“Out with it, Constable or is it such a heinous crime that I can anticipate you being led away in handcuffs within the day?”

Roberta could tell that he was trying to make light of the situation.

After a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, she said,
“Nothing heinous Sir, I was in the line for a commendation for my work with the NCA. The DCI took umbrage at a request for comment from Assistant Commissioner Jackson.”

“Are you trying to pull a fast one on me Constable?”

“No sir. Far from it. Please contact AC Jackson’s office if you doubt my honesty?”

“I will do just that. In the meantime, you are to help Sergeant Collins with his case collation.”

“Thank you, sir.”

---

Gossip travels fast in the almost closed community that is a Police Station. Before the day was out, everyone knew about the commendation and DCI Barnes's reaction. Most of her colleagues had felt the wrath of his voice at one time or another, so she garnered a lot of sympathy for her plight.

Her stock went up even higher when it became widely known that it was her and her slightly unconventional investigation methods that had solved the murder of the wine dealer that had occurred on their patch. For a lowly DC to solve a murder almost on her own was guaranteed to put out the nose of those in charge of the local CID, who had been virtually bypassed by the investigation once the NCA took over. DCI Barnes being de-facto head of CID took it very personally. He tried to play up his involvement in the case until the Detective Chief Super put him in his place.

The arrest of an international assassin after an attempt on her life was just the icing on the cake. Roberta was marked down as an exceptional officer by the people that mattered, despite what DCI Barnes might say to anyone who would listen. By the end of the second day, his stock in the station was at an all-time low, and he started to blame Roberta for spreading lies about him. The truth was exactly the opposite. She'd said very little about the incident, but the other officers in CID had not been reticent in telling the world about his glee at demoting Roberta. Everyone in the station took DCI Barnes’s actions as a silly attempt to deflect from his own very visible shortcomings.

Even with all those positive vibes, the atmosphere in the station had been soured by the event. DCI Barnes made sure that she was explicitly excluded from any case that involved CID. There was only one thing for her to do, she had to request a transfer.

The yells of joy that originated from DCI Barnes's office when he found out about her request were probably heard as far away as the new, but still under construction, football stadium. Her request was denied on the spot. The Chief Superintendent, who effectively ran the station did not want to lose Roberta. She'd proven to be a diligent, and very valuable asset to the station despite what DCI Barnes had said and had insisted be recorded in her record.

Unknown to the DCI, the Chief Super had added his own note to her record, that said the opposite to his pack of lies. After some thought, he'd also added a record of the incident to DCI Barnes' record. The tone of his comment virtually ensured that DCI was as high as he was going to go in the force.

For the time being, Roberta would just have to live with the visible angst of the DCI. At least by being back in uniform, she was out of his direct firing line. He’d have to go through Chief Inspector McLaren first, who had made it clear to Roberta that he had her back.

While attending an event with her father at the historic Westminster Hall, she had by pure accident, an informal chat with a senior detective who worked for AC-12, the department that brought corrupt officers to book. After that meeting, she began to keep records of his comments and especially the insults that DCI Barnes sent her way.

DCI Barnes would have had a fit if he knew who she’d been talking to. The detective had been cautious about talking to an officer outside his own department, but contact had been made and Roberta’s concerns had been noted even if she didn’t know it. The presence of her father had helped. The Detective had appeared before the House of Lords Committee that he chaired. While her assistance was at that stage, very unofficial, it might turn out to be useful in future. As he said to Roberta, it can’t help to have a source inside the station. Roberta had made it clear that she was only interested in DCI Barnes. She would not be informing on any other officer.

Roberta’s relationship with Leroy James was her ace up the sleeve in Tottenham Nick. No other officer could get anywhere near him yet she had managed to generate a working relationship with him almost immediately upon her arrival in the area. Her openness with him had worked, and while Leroy did not consider her a threat to him or his crew. Both of them had to be careful about being seen together.

It wasn't every day that Leroy let it be known that he wanted a meet with Roberta. The message simply said, 'End of the week at the Chippy at 8'. Roberta knew exactly where he meant. No one else did, but even so, she went to see Chief Inspector McLaren, to give him a heads-up.

“If you are sure that this is not a trap then go ahead but be careful. I expect a full report on my desk first thing Monday.”

“Yes sir. That won’t be a problem. I’m going to visit my father on Saturday as it is the anniversary of the death of my mother, but the report will be on your desk for 08:00 on Monday. Leroy trusts me about as far as he could throw me but so far, I’ve not let him down. He owes us a favour for keeping that last lot of Fentanyl out of Broadwater Farm.”

“Sir,” said Roberta,
“I’m down to be on patrol with Sgt Hill all week. He and I very much don’t see eye to eye about how we work with Leroy James. He would want to go in heavy handed like we did before.”

The Chief nodded his head.
“That’s a good point Constable. Leave it with me. I’ll make sure that you are able to get to the church on time…”
His grin told Roberta that he was joking but the frown lines on his forehead told her that he was just as concerned as she was.

He was concerned about Sgt Hill because, Broadwater Farm was a major problem for the station and the Met Police. Leroy and his gang had managed to keep a lid on it for several years. They controlled the drug trade on the estate. They only allowed the sale of good-quality smack. Deaths from OD's had dropped to very low levels as a result of that policy. That, and a policy of no heavy-handed raids, had kept the peace. While that continued, Leroy was left alone, but he knew that if he strayed then he'd be the first in line to be arrested.

Roberta left his office pleased at being able to do something rather than riding ‘shotgun’ with Sergeant Hall. Sgt Hall was a friend of DCI Barnes, as they drank at the same pub in Highgate. There was no love lost between her and the Sergeant. Roberta was sure that everything she did while with the Sergeant would be reported to the DCI. Every evening, she would spend at least an hour writing down in her journal everything that had gone on that day, including the comments from Sgt Hall about her apparent deficiencies at performing even basic policing operations. Roberta didn't protest as she knew that it would not do any good. She was doing those operations by the book, and she knew that the Sergeant knew that, but he still complained about her work several times a day just to try to put her off her game and make a real mistake or even worse, tell him the facts of life or something like that.

Friday came along and Sergeant Hall cornered Roberta before they went out for their afternoon patrol.
“I’ve been told by the Chief Inspector, to let you go at four. That is not going to happen. We will be watching the commuters at Edmonton Green. There has been a tip off about some drug dealing going on out in the open.”

Roberta bit her lip and kept silent. She had other orders in writing directly from the Chief Superintendent. Sergeant Hall could go 'f' himself.

Just after 4 pm, Sergeant Hall parked the car near the station.
“Now we watch and wait. You can take first shift. I’m going to take a nap.”

Roberta smiled.
"Sorry Sarge. You should read this."
Roberta handed him a sheet of paper, and began to get out of the car.

“What the fuck are you doing. Get back in here this instant!”

“Read the letter. It is from the Chief Super. I have authorisation from a senior officer to go to a meet with Leroy James. He wants something and none of the normal informants are talking. The Chief Super and the Chief Inspector are aware of my meeting and they want a report on their desks by 08:00 Monday.”

Roberta got out of the car and walked towards the Taxi rank at the station. She turned to look at the sergeant. He was banging his fist on the dash in anger. She didn’t smile until her cab had left the station.

Feeling a lot better after a frankly awful day with the Sergeant, she returned to the station and changed into civilian clothes. Then, after signing out, she walked the relatively short distance to Seven Sisters Victoria Line station. For this part of her journey, she didn’t mind if someone was tailing her. She had enough time in hand to lead anyone tailing her on a wild goose chase.

Normally, she would have used the Seven Sisters Victoria Line and taken the tube to Waterloo, changing at Oxford Circus to the Bakerloo line. Today, she went in the other direction for just one stop, to Tottenham Hale. It was a short walk to the nearby Overground Station and a train to Liverpool St. The Overground station platform for trains going towards the Capital was quiet and allowed her to see if there was a tail. There wasn’t but Roberta was not taking any chances.

She got off the train at the busy Stratford Station in East London. From there, she took a Jubilee Line train to Waterloo. She had already bought a ticket online to the station nearest her home in Dorset. At Waterloo, she boarded the Exeter train and found a seat. Anyone watching her at Waterloo, would assume that she was going home.

Thanks to online timetables, she'd worked out that there was enough time for her to get off the train at its first stop, Woking. Then, she'd take a train back towards London, getting off at Weybridge. Then she'd take the service to Waterloo that went via Staines. That train stopped at Richmond, which was one stop from Kew Gardens on the tube, where she would be in time to meet Leroy James.

She made it with ten minutes to spare. After buying a ‘fish supper’ and a can of lemonade, Roberta sat down to wait for Leroy.

He appeared five minutes after the hour. She was sure that he’d been watching her for some time.

“Do you want some Chips?” asked Roberta.

“I’m good. There will be some sweet potato ones waiting for me later.”

“That’s good. I tried to make them once, but they were a disaster.”

“That’s because you don’t know the secret of how to make them crispy. I’ll bet that they were a soggy mess?”

“Yes, they were. One day, I’ll get them right and you will have to thank me.”

“That, copper, is not going to happen.”
His smile told Roberta that they were good.

There was a bit of silence between them. Roberta was waiting for Leroy.

Eventually, he got the courage to say,
“I hear that you and DCI Barnes are not the best of friends?”

“Bad news travels a long way,” replied Roberta.

“I’ll take that as a yes. From what I also heard; you got kicked out of CID for doing your job?”

“That is true, but in an organisation like the Met, you have to respect boundaries. Much like your lot does with the gang that operates out of Finsbury Park.”

“Yeah. But I heard that you took down a paid assassin. That is the stuff for the prima donnas in the NCA, not an outpost like Tottenham.”

“Leroy, you do have your ear to the ground, but this is still small talk. I can’t sit here all evening. I have some trains to catch before I can rest easy tonight.”

“Ok, ok.’

Leroy, took a deep breath before speaking.
“The real reason the DCI kicked you out of CID, was that he was in on the art smuggling racket. He was the inside man who would tip the gang off about any investigation from the Fine Art Squad. Sergeant Hill is his number 2. Both of them have some nice works of art on the walls in their home.”

Those words threw Roberta completely.

Leroy pulled out five photos from a pocket inside his hoodie and handed them to Roberta.
“These are from a source that for obvious reasons wants to stay anonymous.”

Roberta took one look at them, and saw what Leroy had been hinting at.

She went through them again, this time slowly.

“Whoever took these did a good job. To take a photo of the credit card bill was very sensible. It provides authenticity of the location.”

“I’ll pass on your compliments to my source.”

After separating two photos from the others, Roberta said,
"If those sketches are the real deal, were stolen and not good copies, then this information is very valuable. I have it on good authority that they were stolen a few years ago from South-West France. It goes without saying that genuine Leonardo da Vinci sketches that are signed by the man himself are worth good money and are not the sort of thing that you would expect to find hanging on a Police Officers wall."

Roberta’s brain was working overtime. The handywork of Antoine de Scudery was right there in front of her. Only he would have known about the da Vinci sketches and stealing them would be one way of him getting his own back on the people he once lived amongst in S.W. France.

Leroy managed a smile.
“I take it that the person who took these was committing an illegal act at the time,”
asked Roberta.

“Er… are you asking if they had broken in to the house then, yes they had.”

“If these prove genuine then we’d like them to appear in court to testify against the DCI. Naturally, that would need an appropriate deal to be setup first. I’ll send them to a contact of mine but can I make a suggestion Leroy?”

“You are going to say, ‘make this person who shall remain anonymous get a lawyer’?”

Roberta smiled.
“Exactly. Then you will be 100% in the clear apart from one thing. Why? You aren’t doing this out of the goodness of your heart. What’s in it for you?”

Leroy didn’t say anything but pulled out another photo from his hoodie.
“I’m not saying anything, but this photo says a lot. That crap this guy has been peddling has been cut with almost pure Fentanyl and Ketamine. It is fucking lethal. One hit with this crap and you are dead, it is that bad. That’s what the person who took the other piccies was after. That fire down by the canal last Sunday night had ten kilos of this crap in it. We intercepted it as it was being unloaded and made the courier watch while we torched it. It didn’t make much difference as the rumour is that more is arriving next Wednesday at the same place. Spurs are playing at Wembley so the borough will be quiet. Half of you lot will be over at Wembley so it is the perfect time to bring in a load of death.

Roberta smiled. If that was 'Leroy not saying anything', then she'd better watch out when he did eventually decide to talk.

To complete the circle, Leroy produced another photo. This time it had the man who had been selling the dodgy smack talking with DCI Barnes. Roberta knew the location where the meeting was happening. It was the car park of the ‘Swedish’ store just off the North Circular Road.

“These are very, very good Leroy. If your guy can keep this up and not put himself in danger then I am sure that my friends would like to have more like this. The important thing is not to put himself or herself in danger. Ok?”

Then she added,
“The information about the prints is between us for the time being. The last thing we want are for them to go walkabout just before the place is searched by AC-12. Got it?”
Leroy smiled.
“You really do care about people don’t you? That’s why we can work together. You are not in this for personal glory unlike some in your nick that I could name.”

With that, he stood up and walked away. His job was done. He was protecting his patch, his crew and importantly, his customers.

His words about not being after personal glory pleased Roberta. She did wonder if his reaction would be the same if he knew about who she really was. All she could hope for was that he’d never find out.

Roberta sat where she was for another fifteen minutes. At that time, an Overground train bound for Stratford and a District Line tube train going to Upminster had come and gone, on their way into the darkening night. Two other trains had gone in the opposite direction. That should have given Leroy plenty of time to leave the area. It was time for Roberta to move.

Her journey down to Dorset was not the relaxing one that she’d hoped for. It looked like that once again, she was going to be rocking the boat at Tottenham Nick. She did manage a smile, as she envisioned the words that her father was going to say to her.

“This is getting to be something of a habit, isn’t it?”

[to be continued]