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