ONE POLICE SERGEANT FRANCEY LANG looked down the deserted but brightly lit length of King Street Public Hall, approved the way gay banners and poster-covered display stands hid grimy walls and a cracked ceiling, and told himself he d done a good iob. It was ahnost midnight and even the hall caretaker had given up, retiring to his cubby-hole of an office to brew an- other pot of tea. But tomorrow at ten a.m. the Proiect Com- munity exhibition would come to life, Francey Lang s idea from the beginning, his first major accomplishment as com- munity relations officer for Glasgow s Millside Division. A tall, thin man with a raw-boned face slightly marred by an old razor-slash, he had been a beat cop for fifteen years before this new job had come his way. Wandering down the length of the hall, glancing at the display stands as he passed, he decided the change had been a good one. Community re- lations officers were new animals in every Scottish police force. A government-inspired innovation, they were shaping to be more useful than most of the notions that came from that direction. Community relations came down to a mixture of grass-roots crime prevention, social welfare and spreading the word that cops were people like everyone else. Francey Lang certainly reckoned the last part was overdue. A busy squeaking from a road safety stand stopped him briefly. Rustling around inside their cage, a cluster of trained
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