CHAPTER 42
We spent a long time in bed that night as a family, Rhod deciding that he wanted a cuddle in the night, which limited the conversation a little, though Blake did steer us through it with some artful use of euphemism and long words. I wanted our little boy to sleep soundly that night, even if I couldn’t. My sleep wasn’t encouraged by the fact that Rhod’s entry had allowed a small furry buzz-machine into the room, so our bed was rather full.

Pig terrified me, to be truthful. The rally photo archives had brought home to me what a divide there was in so much of the world that lay outside what we saw as society. As a police officer, I saw Things and Stuff, of course, and the interviews and trials Jon and I had suffered through were fine examples of that, even though ‘fine’ wasn’t a word that sat easily on the tongue in such matters. This was different, however, and I remembered a book where two cities sat within each other, two utterly disparate cultures occupying the same spaces with each of them somehow remaining invisible to the other.

The Pink scene had been a little like that, but the biker world was, in many ways, utterly disconnected from the one my boys and I inhabited. Invisible, but still lethal to us if it exploded.

No, I didn’t sleep that well.

The next week and a half were busy ones, as legwork that was sometimes patient, and more often less so, brought us more pieces to our jigsaw, including a number of associated vehicles whose licence plates were entered onto the ANPR system, with particular attention being paid to the two main Severn crossings and the Wye bridge at Chepstow. We had to pull back from watching the Culhwch clubhouse, though. Despite the circumstances, Rob’s explanation had the team in stitches.

“So the club house, aye? That farm out to Flemingston? Jonny Boy and me, we’re plotted up by the big bend, where the woods stop. Little pull-in to a field gate, car sits tidy out of site, so we’re all cwtched up---”

Candice snorted.

“Thought that was Ellen’s job, Robat?”

“Oh piss off, Blondie! Anyway, Jon’s been off down the lane, all sneaky like, clocking a few numbers and counting the CCTV posts. Gets back in the car, and we’re just talking it through and writing up the log when there’s a tap on the car window, and bugger me if it’s not two of Pig’s boys. Come the long way over the field and past the horses, even had a key to the lock on the five-bar gate. I thought I was going to shit myself!!

He paused for a sip of his coffee, looking over at Jon, who was blushing.

“Look, I’m new to this, aren’t I? I was watching the road, not some bloody horse paddock!”

Rob reached across to pat his shoulder.

“Two of us in that car, butt, not just you. So, where was I?”

Candice held up her hand.

“Please sir, I know! Sitting in a steaming pile of… Did you book the car in for valet service, Rob?”

“Sod off. Anyway, there we are, engine off, sitting down, and they’ve got the tactical position we should have had. If they’d been carrying, we’d be dog meat now. So, he taps on the window, and I wind it down just a bit, and he says ‘Good morning, Ossifer’, just like that, and he’s all innocent face and wide eyes, and tells us the kettle’s on in the clubhouse if we’re out of coffee, and they can’t offer us doughnuts, sorry and all that, but the bar’s open if we fancy a pint instead”

He took another mouthful of his brew, shaking his head almost in admiration.

“Got to give it to them, mates, they have balls, as well as knowing their business. I was looking at some of their profiles, and there’s at least a couple of members with serious military background. They know we’re watching them---yeah, Candice, no shit Sherlock is right--- so we are going to have the job from hell setting up obs on that field. I really don’t think we will be able to have anyone front and centre. Certainly not a couple of vanloads of uniform sitting round a convenient corner”

Sammy sat silently for a moment before looking around the room.

“Thoughts, mates? Brad will be keeping his distance, but I do believe he may be able to task us an observation team that might be a little less conspicuous. It may come down to asking some serious favours of our own, from up Sennybridge way, though I suspect Brad may be looking to Hereford”

Rhys was next to raise a hand.

“I have some people I know up there, if you’d like me to sound them out. Um, Senny rather than Hereford. We may have some options outside the usual”

Sammy nodded.

“Yeah, it might be a help if you are thinking what I think you are, so go to it. I will have to ask, though: anyone here have any issues with helicopters?”

Candice muttered something, and Sammy asked her to say it a little more clearly, for the benefit of the team, if not the tape. Our laughter was a little less strained at that joke than it had been with Rob’s account of his and Jon’s ambush. Office Blonde looked round the room, and for once she was serious.

“Just thinking, isn’t it? Rob, Rhys, friends up at Sennybridge, that Brad bloke bringing his own? I was just wondering how well some of the opposition know the place. I know I laugh and take the piss, but I will tell you the truth here, just this once”

She looked round the team again, and grimaces.

“Rob isn’t the only one shitting himself right now. Can we please make plans to go and get absolutely pissed once we get this job put to bed? Please?”

Feral Sammy faded into fatherly, and he nodded.

“Pink or plain, mate?”

“Oh, pink, of course. I think we will need as different a scene as we can manage!”

I thought back to my musings through that sleepless night, and she was right. Swap one sort of in-group with another, less psychotic one. I held up my own hand.

“Please sir, we’ll need Chris!”

Nem con, as ever. Three days later, we had a visitor in the office, Rob making the introductions on behalf of a solidly-built man in what looked like his early forties. After working his way through the team he turned to Mister Blazer and Slacks.

“Mates, this is Major Fergus Lockhart of the Royal Welsh. I served with him when I was with the Fusiliers, before all this merging and renaming stuff. Sir?”

“Afternoon all!”

He had an accent, which certainly wasn’t Welsh, and I assumed that, like his name, came from rather further north than the rest of us. I suspected a complicated bit of history hiding there, but not now, DC Sutton. He continued with his introduction, the accent rather sing-song, but not like a Valleys one.

“I believe you have some interesting access problems to solve. I will cut right to the chase, and say that while I may be with the Welsh, I have actually been working at Boscombe Down with the ETPS. Um, Empire Test Pilot School. They are involved in pilot training, evidently, but they use different aircraft to the Air Corps. More seats, for a start, without getting into large helicopter territory”

Blake gave him an appraising stare, as the rest of the team descended into a rhubarb chorus.

“What are you offering us, Major? Air taxis?”

Lockhart grinned.

“Well done, that man. Air taxi, that is, rather than taxis plural. There will be other aircraft in the area, but I do believe that Corporal Williams here---”

Rob looked up with a grin of his own.

“Detective Constable, sir!”

“Detective Constable, aye. DC Williams here has managed to retain the right contacts, as well as having had the sense to prepare for his current employment outwith his regiment by amassing the correct style of favour owed to him. I believe Marine Perkin---DC Perkin--- has a similar collection. Yes, DC Perkin?”

Rhys looked sideways at his partner before turning back to Lockhart.

“I wasn’t exactly advertising my history, sir”

Lockhart’s own gaze flicked over Jon’s lowered head, and his mouth twisted slightly.

“Ah. I see. My apologies. This will be the reason you left the Corps? No matter. DC Perkin has called in his own favours, as has your colleague Chief Inspector Cobner. We will need to discuss both leaguer positions and traffic control, just for starters. DC Williams will be adequate for basic rotorcraft awareness sessions, but I would be grateful for a tour of the area at ground level. Power lines, trees, all need assessment. Inspector?”

Sammy jerked back into life.

“Er, yeah. Alun, Lexie? Could you do the honours. Get a car out, and drive the Major for a look-see? Rob has a map prepared with suggested sites. While we have daylight?”

The two of them were away ten minutes later, Major Lockhart in tow, and as the office door shut behind them, Sammy turned a beady eye onto Rob.

“Dear god, boy! Is he always such a knob?”

Rob turned again to look over at Jon, who had raised his head and brought a glare with it, directed at his other half. Sammy coughed, theatrically.

“Over here, mate. Leave Mr and Mr Perkin alone for now. Answer to my question?”

Rob shrugged, and then nodded.

“Yup. He comes from Stornoway, in the Hebrides. Fuck knows why he ended up in a Welsh regiment, He’s a Wee Wee Wee Wee Absolutely Free or whatever they call themselves, and he takes a lot of that stuff VERY seriously. No telly on Sundays, that sort of stuff. Got a sense of humour, but it’s profoundly twisted. I let him know Rhys’s history, for planning reasons only, and I said, aye? Do NOT let it out, not without his say-so, but no. Sorry, mates”

Rhys had taken Jon’s hand, so at least that storm seemed to be receding, and the scarred man found his own grin, which was profoundly sheepish.

“Well, that’s my old life trotted out for lolz, the Jock twat. He was right, though, about my buying myself out of the Corps. Lots of talk about diversity and pride, aye, but it’s not the same on the front line. Sorry, love. Enough. Boys and other boys and girls…”

He waited for the slightly strained laughter to finish,

“Rob and I will talk you through basic chopper safety. The plan is tied up with Brad, and he is working with the scary nutters from Hereford as well as his own lot. Here’s what we are looking at doing…”