The swoop

Having spent the day rifling through the latest list from intelligence on suspicious members of the community at large, the only vaguely incriminating information that Detective Inspector Portal could come up with was an entry made by one of the suspects, Gerald Booker.

Booker’s emails had presented nothing of importance, just a few unrequited love letters to an estranged girlfriend and some cringeworthy requests for work, but when he hacked into his phone records, one entry in Booker’s diary screamed at the ambitious officer. It read, on the 19^th January - ‘Collect pot from Ben Veltino 10.30am.’

Portal turned to Sam, the office dogsbody.

‘What do you make of this?’ he asked, reading out the entry to her.

Sam thought for a brief moment as she wiped down a surface. ‘Sounds like a drug deal to me.’

Portal asked his superior to take a look.

‘Sounds ominous, I suppose,’ said the superior. ‘What do you want him for?’

‘Local scumbag, puts political crap on facebook, unemployed, mental health issues,’ said Portal.

After careful consideration, it was decided that Portal could take a car and a man to the scene, primarily for surveillance purposes. If Portal saw anything suspicious, he could nick him. Portal was happy. He hardly ever got to go out these days.

Waiting for the day to come, Portal dreamt of how he’d blast the lid off a huge drugs cartel that supplied the entire county. Once he’d put the whole gang behind bars, he’d be inundated with calls from crime reporters across the country. His pensive face would appear in national newspapers and he’d be offered promotion, humbly accepting invitations to talk on drug policy at police conferences.

On the 19^th of January, Gerry parked directly outside Ben Veltino, a high class clothes shop in town, at precisely 10.27am.

Sat in an unmarked police car close by were Portal and Prenton, carefully watching the scene unfold. The town’s closed circuit surveillance team had been placed on alert, eagerly awaiting instructions from Portal.

Gerry walked into the shop and was greeted by Penelope, the Brazilian owner.

‘Here it is,’ she said, shaking the collection pot. ‘almost full!’

‘Thanks, Penelope. Would you like to count it up with me now?’ asked Gerry.

‘No, I trust you to do the right thing, Gerry,’ replied Penelope.

‘OK, I’ll count it up and put it in the bank this afternoon. You’ll get an email from the charity to confirm the amount and to thank you personally.’

Penelope pecked him on the cheek and he went on his way.

Portal and Prenton leant forward in their seats as they watched him stroll towards his car.

Gerry set the pot on the roof of the car so he could fish out his keys.

Prenton sniggered quietly. ‘Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot with this one, mate.’