Live Fire by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

last visit.
    ‘A puff of wind and he’d blow away,’ said Sharpe, dismissively. ‘Can you imagine him at an Old Firm game, trying to keep Rangers fans and Celtic fans from killing each other?’
    ‘He’s intelligence, Razor. He doesn’t need muscle.’
    ‘A cop is a cop,’ said Sharpe. ‘And cops used to be cops. Big guys you could depend on. Guys that could run a couple of hundred yards without gasping for breath. Guys you could depend on if punches started to fly. Now they’ve dropped pretty much all the physical requirements. They’ve got short cops, overweight cops, short-sighted cops. I bet before long they’ll have cops in wheelchairs. The world’s gone mad.’
    Shepherd grinned at him. ‘Have you looked in a mirror lately?’
    ‘I’ve put on a few pounds, I’m not denying that,’ said Sharpe, ‘but I’m middle-aged and I’ve been doing the job for almost twenty years. Back in the day, I was a fit bastard and you had to be, walking the beat in Possilpark. These days, most of the bobbies on the beat couldn’t chase after a villain, never mind wrestle them to the ground.’
    ‘Just be glad you’re in SOCA,’ said Shepherd.
    ‘SOCA’s worse, and you know it,’ said Sharpe. ‘SOCA’s full of civil servants and pencil-pushers. Guys like you and me, we’re the exceptions. You think Charlotte Button could go up against a guy with a knife?’
    Shepherd ran his finger around the rim of his coffee mug. ‘Actually, Razor, I do. And she runs marathons. She’s fit.’ He glanced around the canteen and had to admit that none of the men and women there seemed to be tucking into salads and most were overweight. A uniformed sergeant walked in who was barely five and a half feet tall. Shepherd knew that height alone was no guide to fitness, but when it came to controlling unruly crowds or subduing violent criminals, every inch helped.
    Sharpe sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs. ‘You know what I don’t understand about SOCA?’
    Shepherd sighed. ‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ he said.
    ‘Where’s the other A? There should be another A in there.’
    ‘What the hell are you talking about, Razor?’
    ‘We work for SOCA, right? The Serious Organised Crime Agency. Shouldn’t it be the Serious And Organised Crime Agency? So it should be SAOCA.’
    Shepherd frowned, not understanding what Sharpe was talking about. ‘It’s SOCA,’ he said. ‘The agency was created by the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005. Went through the House of Commons in November 2004 and given Royal Assent in April the following year.’
    ‘I wish I had your trick memory,’ said Razor.
    ‘It’s not a trick. I just remember pretty much everything I see and hear.’
    ‘I can’t even remember my wedding anniversary,’ said Sharpe. ‘But here’s my point. There’s no “and” in there, right? It really is the Serious Organised Crime Agency.’
    ‘I already said that. You really do have a problem with your memory, don’t you?’
    Sharpe ignored the question and continued his train of thought. ‘Organised crime by definition has to be serious, doesn’t it? Or do they mean that there’s serious organised crime and pretend organised crime? The way I see it, crime can be serious and it can be organised so it should be the Serious And Organised Crime Agency. SAOCA.’
    Shepherd closed his eyes. He was getting a headache. ‘Whatever you say, Razor.’
    ‘So, here’s my point. Did someone screw up? Do you think someone just forgot to put the “and” in there? Some idiot civil servant made a mistake, and by the time they realised it was too late?’
    ‘I don’t know, Razor. And, truth be told, I don’t care.’
    ‘We should raise it with Charlie next time she gives us a case that doesn’t involve a serious organised crime. Say a crime that’s serious but not organised. Or organised but not very serious. See if she thinks the missing “and” is important.’
    ‘I can