afraid,” replied the doctor with a wink to the receptionist.
“Well, doc. Can I see him today?”
“Yes, but we must tread carefully as he appears not to remember you.”
“Oh, brother. That’s all we need. How did that happen?”
“It’s quite common when a person goes through life threatening situations like this. The mind blots bad memories out. Does he have any bad memories of you?”
“Well, let us just say we’ve had our moments together,” replied Greg, thinking back to what seemed like another world.
Greg and Harvey hadn’t spent their whole careers together, but had become soul mates after the Bournemouth murders in 1982. Harvey had spent some time working for the Criminal Investigations Department, a prized job for a policeman as there were extra pay benefits. He then moved on to the Drug Squad during the summer of 1987.
At twenty six, Harvey felt he had seen more than his fair share of nasty events. His once thick black hair was already beginning to grey. His medium build had not changed externally, although through years of training he had developed a six pack and what was once puppy fat had been converted into solid muscle. Like many others in the drug squad, he had to learn to be inconspicuous, which inevitably meant letting his appearance go, so as to fit in with the low lives that he would be forced to become acquainted with. He had developed a goatee beard which he had grown fond of. It had converted his facial appearance from being a healthy, handsome young man into a somewhat mean looking tyrant. He was exactly what the department had been looking for.
“Harvey,” called the superintendent. “I need to see you in my office right away.”
“What can I do for you sir?” he asked on entering the office.
“Come in and shut the door, Harvey. You know Greg Bickley I take it?” Greg was sat down by the desk.
“Yes, sir. Hi, Greg,” he said holding out his hand. The situation did not seem appropriate for their usual greeting as good friends.
“Greg’s heading a team in cooperation with the Americans. I want to put an officer in deep cover within the Giordano mob. If you accept this assignment, you’ll need to get your house in order before you go as you could be gone some time.” He stared into Harvey’s eyes. “It is a volunteer assignment, Harvey. Do you think you’re ready for it?”
“Yeah, how long before we go?” asked Harvey his heart going crazy at the thought of this opportunity.
“One week. You leave next Tuesday. Greg can give you the details.” The superintendent felt guilty. He didn’t like sending married personnel on operations such as this, especially overseas. “Okay that is all. Oh, Harv… good luck!” he added.
Greg and Harvey got up and left the office quietly. Once outside, Greg put his arm over Harvey’s shoulder. “How the hell are you doing, Harv?” he said boisterously.
“Top drawer, and you?” he said grinning wildly.
“Banging people behind bars as usual!” he replied.
“How’s Jenny going to take to this new assignment?” Harvey stopped dead in his tracks, having been overwhelmed by this opportunity. “Oh Christ… I never thought.”
“Oh dear,” he muttered in caution. “Looks like roses could be called for. You do realise there’ll be no contact… could be a couple of years!” he added, exaggerating wildly.
“Thanks for making me feel better, Greg,” said Harvey anxiously. “If I make it past Jenny alive, the mob should be a breeze!”
The next week passed painfully slowly. Jenny hadn’t taken well to the idea of Harvey going away on a non-contact detachment. He had encouraged her to speak to other wives who had gone through similar experiences, but underestimated how candid they would be.
“They never think of the people they leave behind. You sit day after day not knowing whether they’re dead or alive,
“Well, doc. Can I see him today?”
“Yes, but we must tread carefully as he appears not to remember you.”
“Oh, brother. That’s all we need. How did that happen?”
“It’s quite common when a person goes through life threatening situations like this. The mind blots bad memories out. Does he have any bad memories of you?”
“Well, let us just say we’ve had our moments together,” replied Greg, thinking back to what seemed like another world.
Greg and Harvey hadn’t spent their whole careers together, but had become soul mates after the Bournemouth murders in 1982. Harvey had spent some time working for the Criminal Investigations Department, a prized job for a policeman as there were extra pay benefits. He then moved on to the Drug Squad during the summer of 1987.
At twenty six, Harvey felt he had seen more than his fair share of nasty events. His once thick black hair was already beginning to grey. His medium build had not changed externally, although through years of training he had developed a six pack and what was once puppy fat had been converted into solid muscle. Like many others in the drug squad, he had to learn to be inconspicuous, which inevitably meant letting his appearance go, so as to fit in with the low lives that he would be forced to become acquainted with. He had developed a goatee beard which he had grown fond of. It had converted his facial appearance from being a healthy, handsome young man into a somewhat mean looking tyrant. He was exactly what the department had been looking for.
“Harvey,” called the superintendent. “I need to see you in my office right away.”
“What can I do for you sir?” he asked on entering the office.
“Come in and shut the door, Harvey. You know Greg Bickley I take it?” Greg was sat down by the desk.
“Yes, sir. Hi, Greg,” he said holding out his hand. The situation did not seem appropriate for their usual greeting as good friends.
“Greg’s heading a team in cooperation with the Americans. I want to put an officer in deep cover within the Giordano mob. If you accept this assignment, you’ll need to get your house in order before you go as you could be gone some time.” He stared into Harvey’s eyes. “It is a volunteer assignment, Harvey. Do you think you’re ready for it?”
“Yeah, how long before we go?” asked Harvey his heart going crazy at the thought of this opportunity.
“One week. You leave next Tuesday. Greg can give you the details.” The superintendent felt guilty. He didn’t like sending married personnel on operations such as this, especially overseas. “Okay that is all. Oh, Harv… good luck!” he added.
Greg and Harvey got up and left the office quietly. Once outside, Greg put his arm over Harvey’s shoulder. “How the hell are you doing, Harv?” he said boisterously.
“Top drawer, and you?” he said grinning wildly.
“Banging people behind bars as usual!” he replied.
“How’s Jenny going to take to this new assignment?” Harvey stopped dead in his tracks, having been overwhelmed by this opportunity. “Oh Christ… I never thought.”
“Oh dear,” he muttered in caution. “Looks like roses could be called for. You do realise there’ll be no contact… could be a couple of years!” he added, exaggerating wildly.
“Thanks for making me feel better, Greg,” said Harvey anxiously. “If I make it past Jenny alive, the mob should be a breeze!”
The next week passed painfully slowly. Jenny hadn’t taken well to the idea of Harvey going away on a non-contact detachment. He had encouraged her to speak to other wives who had gone through similar experiences, but underestimated how candid they would be.
“They never think of the people they leave behind. You sit day after day not knowing whether they’re dead or alive,
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