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It had been far more than just strange; the move to SIB had upended her world. One day she'd been patrolling in town and checking on her constables, quite content in her dark blue uniform and proud of her three stripes. At the end of shift she'd been called in by her inspector and told she was being seconded to a unit she'd never heard of before.

'They're very new,' Inspector Harding told her. 'You'll only be there for a few weeks. You seem ideally suited for what they want.' She smiled. 'No uniform, either.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Cathy replied. The next morning she'd turned up at the Special Investigation Branch office in plain clothes to do... she didn't know what.

'The Branch was formed to go after big crimes that involve the army,' Adam Faulkner had explained. He was full of enthusiasm. A true believer. 'Most of the work we do is overseas. The Middle East, places like that. But there are plenty of deserters here who've been trying to put together criminal empires. They're organized. You name it: lorry loads of goods nicked to order from NAAFI warehouses and railway depots; army quartermasters' clerks on the take who let them make off with supplies in exchange for a backhander; raids on government offices to steal coupons for petrol and food; rings working with doctors to forge exemption certificates from conscription. Some even make their own hooch and pass it off as proper booze. This isn't the local butcher fiddling the ration. It's rackets, lots of them, an industry, and some of them are making fortunes from it. SIB set up offices like this to see if we can stop some of the crime. Not a chance of halting it all.'

Cathy was an experienced copper. She believed she knew the city and its crime, that she'd seen it all. But she'd never heard a whisper of anything like this. Was she so naive?

'How much of it is there in Leeds?'

'More than you can imagine,' he told her. You know there are barracks up here. Sometimes I think half the people in the forces have rackets going. We get involved when deserters skip out on the army and start looking to crime to make real money. I'll tell you now, you won't have time to be bored.'

'What about the police? Isn't this what they do?'

'The force is stretched. Come on, you must have seen that for yourself. It's full of war reservists and special constables. We know, we were all in CID. Racked up plenty of service between us. The police and the military police are good, but they can only do so much. The men we're going up against are dangerous. They think making fortunes is more important than fighting the Jerries.' He nodded at the four other men in the room. Cathy had noticed them, quietly inspecting and assessing her. 'This isn't what any of us expected when we signed up to fight the Germans, but it's turned out... interesting.'

'It sounds as if you're doing something important,' she said.

'I think we are.' He gave her a broad, eager grin. 'The best bit is that these squads are still brand, spanking new. No one's quite certain of how far we can go, so we get to make it up as we go along.' The sergeant looked more thoughtful. 'The problem is, none of us come from around here. We've been floundering a bit. No local knowledge and we haven't had time to develop many real contacts. If we're really going to work effectively, we need someone who knows Leeds inside and out.'

This was a world away from anything she'd done. Policewomen dealt with women and girls. Lost children, not gangsters. Would she be able to cope with it? But...

'Well,' she told him, 'I'm born and bred here. I know it through and through.' Cathy watched his face. 'What I don't understand, though, is why you want a woman?' The question that had nagged at her since she'd been given her orders. Women on the force never had chances like this. There were no female detectives in Leeds City Police, and never would be, if most of the men at the top had their way. 'Why me?'

 

He laughed. 'You can blame my wife for that. She thought a woman's perspective might be useful. You look at things differently.'

'Sensible lass. Sounds like she has the right idea.'

'When I talked to our HQ, they agreed I could give it a shot. I asked around, and your inspector praised you to the heavens.' Cathy blinked in astonishment. Inspector Harding had always been very spare with her compliments. 'She thinks you're quick and resourceful. You've spent enough time as a copper to know how the system works.' A chuckle. 'And once you open your mouth, nobody will ever doubt where you're from.'

Cathy laughed too. She knew her accent was broad. Common as muck, someone had said once. Leeds through and through.

That had all happened last September, three days after the first air raid on the city. The three-week secondment had been extended once, then again and again. Five months later and she was still here, officially a police sergeant, but now with the Special Investigation Branch for the duration. She'd proved herself; most of them had come to accept her as part of the squad. Adam Faulkner had never been a problem. He'd treated her as an equal from the start, even taught her to drive the battered, rickety Humber they used. Three other members of the squad had been fine too, especially after she was able to dig up information that helped them crack a few cases. But she'd never won over Bob Hartley. He strode around with a permanent scowl, the type who wore his resentment like an overcoat. He ignored her, undermined her whenever the opportunity arrived. Nothing was going to change his mind.

Fine. She'd learned to live with it.