The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 466 - 466 255 In Future Years If Revenge Is Sought Blood Will Stain the Mouth of the Thames River 5K

466: Chapter 255: In Future Years, If Revenge Is Sought, Blood Will Stain the Mouth of the Thames River (5K) 466: Chapter 255: In Future Years, If Revenge Is Sought, Blood Will Stain the Mouth of the Thames River (5K) Outside the Astley Circular Theatre, Tony, who had been a police sergeant for a year, scanned the passersby back and forth.

After ensuring everything was all right, Tony’s footsteps suddenly turned, and he walked into a small alley by the roadside.

A few officers, leaning against the red walls of the alley, were chatting and smoking with laughter.

Faced with such a scene, Tony neither put on airs with his senior rank nor cited the bloody regulations from Scotland Yard, after all, he had started out the same way.

Tony simply took out his pipe from his pocket, skillfully filled it with tobacco, and then snapped his fingers at them, calling out, “Lend me a light.”

Seeing their superior had arrived, the officers cheerfully took out matches from their pockets and handed them over, “Boss, you out for a bit of fun too?”

Tony lit up, took a strong puff, and exhaled a cloud of smoke, “Keep your eyes peeled, lads.

Astley Theatre’s got quite the crowd of bigwigs today.

If any incident crops up, we’ll all be in for it, every single one of us.”

“Boss, the Astley Theatre’s just this big, and we’ve got 500 officers on the beat; it’s enough to turn the place inside out.

Rest assured, nothing’s going to happen tonight,” replied an officer confidently.

Tony gave them a sharp look, “It’s easy to say that when there’s no trouble.

But when it hits, pack your bags and walk.

I know that Scotland Yard’s pay isn’t enough to risk our necks, but let’s give these easy tasks our due diligence.”

Besides, if you do the math, the conditions now are much better than before.

An ordinary constable alone can make 39 pounds a year in basic pay, and with all the extra allowances, pulling in 45 pounds isn’t out of reach.

Though it’s no great shakes in London, it’s at least a secure job, so take it seriously, will you?”

After hearing this, some of the officers started talking to Tony about other matters.

“Boss, I heard our pay used to be even lower before?”

“Lower than 39 pounds?

I might as well have been a doorman at some rich house; at least they provide room and board.

Everything in London is good, except for the rent and the cost of clothes and food – scandalously pricey.”

“You two young’uns have it good.

When I first got to Scotland Yard, the basic pay was just over 30 pounds.

Back then, indeed, there were quite a few folks who quit to become doormen.

Not only did they get room and board, but their pay was nearly the same as working at Scotland Yard.”

“That’s right, if it weren’t for Inspector Hastings fighting the Home Office for our pay raise of three shillings a week last year, I might’ve left myself.”

The two new officers, hearing this, were naturally curious.

Ever since they had joined Scotland Yard, they often heard the name Arthur Hastings.

In the mouths of veteran beat cops, Inspector Hastings had become something of a legend; after all, it took him merely two years to climb from the rank of a second-class constable to an inspector, a feat that could be touted as an urban legend anywhere.

Even the police community spawned various conspiracy theories to make sense of it.

Some said Inspector Hastings was from a cadet branch of the Hastings family, others whispered he was Sir Peel’s illegitimate son, and there were those who claimed he was a clandestine lover kept by a woman of unmentionable high ranking.

But no matter what backstory the officers concocted for Arthur, his undeniable achievements spoke for themselves, and since he actually secured a pay raise for Scotland Yard, every senior officer would give a thumbs up at the mention of Arthur Hastings’s name.

The younger officers, meanwhile, were more intrigued by the Special Operations Department headed by Inspector Hastings—the Criminal Investigation Department of the Greater London Police Department.

Almost everyone knew that officers working there, besides their rank pay, could also pocket an extra ten pounds a year in special department allowances.

The mere difference in wages was enough to elevate members of the Criminal Investigation Department to the upper echelons of Scotland Yard.

Not to mention, the department had recently acquired a police secretary by the name of Bonaparte.

The opportunity to serve in the same organization as royalty and nobility filled the officers with immense pride and commanded their utmost respect for the Criminal Investigation Department, boosting its status a notch higher in their esteem.

The Criminal Investigation Department was no longer just among the upper crust of Scotland Yard; it was the nobility of police officers, and some even bestowed upon the head of the department, Arthur, the nickname “Duke Hastings.”

The young officers, looking at the CID acronym pinned on Tony’s chest, could barely contain their envy.

They cautiously inquired,

“Boss, if I may be so bold to ask, what does it take to get into the Criminal Investigation Department?

I heard it’s quite strict about recruitment?

Is there some sort of examination?”

“An examination?

Well…

yes, there’s an exam now,” confirmed Tony.

Scratching his fiery hot cheek, Tony began, “Originally, Inspector Hastings wanted to recruit straight from the University of London, but the pay of the Criminal Investigation Department was a bit undistinguished to those graduates.

Moreover, with business being good lately, railway and shipping companies are hiring, and those folks can easily land a decent salary at a respectable job elsewhere.

Why would they want to struggle with criminals at Scotland Yard?”