“Sarge? What are you doing?”
I sighed. Someone up there really has it in for me. Why do I always get the rawest of raw recruits to mentor? Didn’t they learn anything at Hendon?
“Constable, there are times when the rulebook is just not right. That’s when common sense is needed so that the problem can be solved with compassion.”
“Sarge? At the Police College, we were told that common sense has no part in law enforcement in the 21st Century.”
I smiled.
“Well Constable, what does your 'Police Academy' learning tell you about this situation?”
The comic reference went right over his head.
“Sarge?”
I shook my head.
“Constable, how would you deal with this situation?”
My partner stood up straight.
“Well Sir, I’d arrest the vagrant.”
“What would you charge them with?”
“Sir, it is clear that they are in breach of the 1946 Vagrancy Act, Section 3.”
“Indeed Constable. What is the punishment for that offense?”
“Sir, the maximum punishment is a fine of £5 per offense.”
“So, let me get this straight. Here we have someone who is clearly destitute and we, and by we, I mean the various parts of the Criminal Justice System will charge the destitute person a fine that they clearly can’t afford. Does this make sense to you?”
“Sir. At the College, we were told almost every day that we are not to question the wisdom of the law but to only uphold it.”
“And there, Constable is the problem with the Police College in a nutshell.”
“Sarge?”
“In my opinion, the people at Hendon are totally divorced from reality. In this case, the law would dictate a fine that the offender is clearly unable to pay. What happens next?”
“Sarge, a failure to pay a fine could result in a jail sentence being passed.”
“Exactly. And how much does it cost to have someone in jail per week?”
“Sarge, that is not for us to question.”
“Are the prisons overcrowded?”
“Yes, but again that is not our job. That is for the Home Office.”
“And who do we ultimately work for?”
“Err… Ultimately, the Home Office.”
“So, it is our job in the end despite what the people at Hendon say. That means we will exercise a little bit of discretion which god willing, can work wonders. We will not arrest or caution the person we are talking about. The moment we start the official language we lose any possible cooperation from them. Softly-softly is the way to go here. Are we clear?”
“Yes Sarge,” came the reply. I could tell that he wasn’t happy.
Before my new partner could respond I added.
“I suggest that you go and read the book ‘Catch-22’ and perhaps then you will see why applying the Vagrancy act in this case is a total waste of everyone’s time.”
“In the meantime, constable, we need to move this person on. We have had a complaint from the Embassy. Normally, this is a very safe place for people who live on the street to sleep. Why is that Constable?”
My partner looked bewildered.
“Firstly, all the walls of the Ambassadors, residence are covered by CCTV. I happen to know that this system is the very latest and gives excellent night vision.”
The bewilderment look got worse.
“Secondly, the guards at the entrance are armed. They are allowed to be armed as the property beyond those walls is not part of this country. It is a de-facto part of the country whose Ambassador lives there. The same goes for all foreign Embassies, Consulates, High Commissions and the residencies of the Ambassadors and the like. This is the same the world over. We can’t go inside those walls unless we are invited.”
“Come on Constable. Let us move this person on. I guess by the stream of cars parked in the road that there is a function going on inside the Residence. It would create a bad impression if the departing guests saw people sleeping so close to obvious wealth.”
We strode purposefully up to the gates of the Residence and asked for the watch officer.
A minute later an Army Captain appeared and announced himself.
“Captain, I’m Sergeant Pete Dawson and this is Constable Lewis. We are here to move the people sleeping against the wall on as per your request,” I said.
“Carry on Sergeant. Thank you for letting us know,” said the Captain.
I turned away with my constable in hot pursuit.
“Sarge?”
I stopped.
“Yes Constable.”
“Why did you talk to the guard?”
I shook my head.
“Constable, the wall is part of the residence and as I just said, it is technically foreign soil. You saw that the guard was armed. The last thing we need is for a diplomatic incident to happen. By informing the guard they will not think that we are trying to break in to the Residency. Do you want a round from a ‘semi-automatic’ coming your way?”
The Constable looked terrified.
“It is good manners to tell them what we are doing. Common courtesy. Yes, the Embassy and Residence are technically part of their country but outside, they are honoured guests in our country. In order to keep the diplomatic relationship between our two countries, we play ball with them and they play ball with us.”
I ignored him and approached the figure that was huddled up against the wall.
I crouched down and gently shook the figure.
The figure responded, “Fuck off!”
It seemed that the voice belonged to a woman.
“Sorry Luv. You need to move for a few hours.”
“This is my pitch.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and shook it again.
“I don’t want your pitch. I’m the Police.”
A head appeared from under a blanket.
The face was dirty. The hair a mess but I could see that underneath there was a nice face.
I quickly put that out of my mind.
“Come on Luv, it is just for a couple of hours. Then the party inside will be over and you can come back.”
She didn’t answer but started to move.
“Get a move on! We don’t have all night!” said the Constable.
I turned around and glared at him.
“That’s enough of that Constable. The young lady was already moving.”
I looked back and the young woman was standing up. She was shivering. That was understandable. The forecast was for a frost before dawn.
“Come on Luv, let me buy you a drink. There is an all-night café by the tube station down the road.”
My act of kindness went right over the head of the Constable. Firstly, it would get the rough sleeper moved on from the Residency boundary. Secondly, it would get the rough sleeper something hot to drink and with below zero temperatures forecast for later in the night, the last thing we wanted to do is deal with the dead body of said rough sleeper and thirdly, it was time for our mandated break so we could spend at least an hour in the warm of the Café and my trainee would just have to lump his doing things by the rules. The world does not run by following the rules. If it did then there would be no need for a Police Force now would there.
The next time was in a far more difficult situation.
I was once more supervising a rookie Constable. Thankfully this one had a whole lot more ‘gumption’ than most but he was still very raw around the edges.
This time I was driving a marked patrol car on the fringes of London’s West End. We’d just turned onto Park Lane from Knightsbridge when the ANPR system dinged.
“What do I do Sarge?” said the Constable.
This was the Constable’s first shift in a marked car so I excused him being somewhat ignorant of procedure.
“What does it say on the screen?”
“The vehicle is on the system but is currently without Tax, Mot or Insurance.”
“Good. What do we do next?”
“Stop it?”
“In a minute. I can read the screen from here. There is a bigger problem.”
“Sarge?”
“Constable, read the vehicle description on the screen and then look at the car we are following.”
“They are not the same.”
“Good. Now we have another charge to throw at them. What do we do next?”
“Blues and Two’s?”
I smiled.
“Not yet. Firstly, that car can probably outrun us. It has at least two hundred horses under the bonnet while our car has less than one hundred. We will need some backup just to make things a tad more equal if he does floor it. Does this all make sense?”
I didn’t wait for his brain to work.
“Six-Five to Control.”
“Come in Six-Five.”
“ANPR has identified an Audi A6 on false plates. No Tax, MOT or Insurance. The Plates are registered to a VW Golf with an owner on Hackney. I will do a stop but can you get me some backup to run a TPAC?”
“Understood Six-Five. I have your position as Northbound on Park Lane just passing ‘The Dorchester’.”
“That is correct Control.”
“Four-Three is Southbound on Edgware Road.”
“Understood Control. They can take the lead.”
“Control out.”
“Sarge, why did you let another car take the lead?”
“Constable, there are two very experienced pursuit drivers in that car. They are also driving a much more capable car. Their call sign identifies them as a TPAC trained unit. This car can’t out run the car that we are following. I’m also not pursuit trained. That means legally and unless there are lives of people at risk, I can’t do more than a normal traffic stop. As the car has false plates then the rules of engagement mean that I have to get the traffic people to take over. We are there to help out should we be needed. Understand?”
He looked very unhappy.
“That’s life Constable,” I said with quite a sigh on my voice.
“But cheer up, we will go down in the records as the unit that initiated the action.”
We finally cleared the last set of traffic lights before Marble Arch.
“Let’s go. Light her up Constable.”
I switched on the siren and lights. As I’d expected, the car that we were following, took off.
Twenty minutes later, the car was ‘TPAC’d in by three other cars on the Outer Circle of Regents Park almost at the entrance to London Zoo.
We arrived just as the driver was being hauled out of the Audi. As I pulled up, I said to my Constable.
“Constable Johnson, as this is your first incident like this you are to look, listen and understand what is going on. Don’t say anything unless you are asked. Are you perfectly clear with that?”
“Yes Sarge.”
“Good.”
My colleagues had things pretty well under control. The Driver was not a happy bunny. He had just had one answer of ‘No Comment’ to any of the questions being put to him. That was probably a wise decision.
I was about to leave it to the other cars when I felt a tug on my arm. I turned around and it was Constable Simms.
“Constable?”
“Sarge? Has anyone looked in the boot of the Audi?”
He was right. No one had really examined the inside of the car at this point in time.
“Well spotted Constable.”
He stood rooted to the spot.
“What are you waiting for?”
He moved and I followed him.
“Go and release the boot from inside. Don’t forget to put your gloves on.”
I waited for him put some gloves on and then to release the boot lid and come around to the rear of the car. While I was waiting, I also put on some latex gloves.
When the Constable was at my side, I opened the lid of the boot. Boy, did I get a shock.
Inside was a body. At first, I thought that it was a dead body but a quiet groan convinced me otherwise.
The head was covered by a dirty blanket. I pulled it down and got the second shock of the night. I recognised the dirty face.
“Sarge?” said my Constable.
“Shut the fuck up Constable. This is more serious than you can imagine.”
I got onto the radio.
“Six Five to Control.”
“Control to Six Five.”
“Control, we need a female officer, SOCO and the medics at our location. There is a hostage in the boot of the suspect car that was TPAC’d. It seems to be a female hostage.”
“Control to Six Five, Understood. Out.”
I turned to my Constable and pulled the lid of the boot down but didn’t close it.
“Stand guard while I tell the others. There is a lot more going on here than it appears.”
“Sarge?”
“Just do as I say. I will give you the lowdown later.”
He nodded his head.
I went over and found the other Sergeant and pulled him to one side.
“Bill, we have a live body in the boot. Don’t react. Just get that driver out of here and tell the others to keep their traps shut.”
The other Sergeant, Bill Sampson knew me of old. We went through Hendon together.
“I’ve called for a female officer, SOCO and the Medics. You’d better alert CID. I suggest taking that scumbag to Edgware Road.”
Edgware Road Police Station is where the really bad guys, terrorists and the rest are taken. It is highly secure with most of it deep underground.
“That bad eh?”
“The woman in the back is known to me.”
I didn’t need to say anything else. He knew me as a man of few words.
“Gotcha.”
Within a few minutes, the driver had been taken away in a car and two of the other cars had gone off to other calls. That left just the constable and myself.
“Go and get some water from the car,” I said to the rookie.
He didn’t argue and left me alone.
I opened the boot and gently moved some hair that was lying over her face. She groaned and opened her eyes.
“Take it easy. Help is on its way.”
She mumbled something.
“I said take it easy. The driver is in custody. It is just you, me and my Constable. A female officer is on her way.”
She lifted up her hands. I could see that they were taped together.
“The forensic people will be here soon. They’ll get you out of here. Then we will take you somewhere safe. Understand?”
Her lips were cracked and parched.
The Constable handed me a bottle of water. I moistened her lips.
“Don’t talk. Just take a few sips.”
I gently fed her some water. After a little bit, she managed what I thought was a small smile.
A few minutes later, an Ambulance and two other cars arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief as Detective Sergeant Jayne Avis got out of one of the cars. She was a friend and very good at her job.
The other car contained the duty SOCO team.
I turned to the woman in the boot.
“This is Detective Sergeant Jayne Avis. She’s going to be with you when the medics take you to Hospital for a check-up. But first the forensic people need to do their thing. In a few minutes, you will be out of there. Understand?”
She nodded.
“Good. I’ll see you later ok?”
She managed half a smile.
I let the cavalry take charge and stepped away.
“Sarge?” asked my Constable.
“Not a word more, understand? Lets’ get out of here and take our break. My shout.”
He took the hint and we drove away just as the tow truck arrived to take the car away.
“Now Constable, we can talk,” I said as I handed him a cup of hot Coffee and walked a few yards away from the van.
“I know the victim. She has been on the streets for over a year and we have run into each other from time to time. I’ve bought her a meal and some clothes from a charity shop. Before you think that we have more than that between us, you should know that she’s a lesbian. I just like the smile on her face when she gets treated nice.”
“Message understood Sarge.”
“Good. Now I saw that she’d been branded.”
“Branded?”
“Yes. She has a tattoo on her neck. That says that she is the property of an Albanian gang. They traffic women. That driver also had the tat. My guess is that she was probably on her way to being sold into the sex traffic. Do you get my thread here?”
“I think so Sarge,” he replied hesitantly.
“That’s good. Now you have to let the other teams deal with this. As they say on US TV shows, this is beyond your pay grade and mine as well. You will forget what went down tonight once you have written it all up in your logbook.”
“Sarge?”
“No Constable, that is a direct order. If I hear that you have blabbed one word of this then your career in the Met will be over before it starts. The less people who know what went down here the better. Other lives could be put in danger.”
That last bit was a bit of a longshot but given the threat from the various gangs it would not put it beyond belief that we had people undercover inside those gangs.
“This is nothing more than an ANPR related stop. That’s what you will put in your log. For us, that is what it is. Nothing more, nothing less.”
The constable looked terrified.
“No need to look so scared. We can’t dwell on the things we see and do. If we did then we’ll all be needing to spend a lot of time in padded rooms in no time at all. Learn to let things go and move onto the next job. What’s done is done and as long as you did the right thing and that includes using your common sense then you can sign off knowing that you have made a difference and that is what this job is all about.”
“I think I understand.”
I smiled.
“Don’t worry if it all seems a bit different to the picture painted on the TV or at the Police College. A lot of our job is boring and even downright tedious but it needs to be done. Like tonight, I backed off trying to stop that car for good reasons. In time making that sort of judgement becomes second nature.”
He smiled back at me.
“Sort of like not picking a fight that you can’t win?”
“Yes, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. Then you just do your best in order to protect the public.”
He nodded his understanding back to me.
I thought to myself, ‘this one might actually make the grade’.
“Good. It is time for us to get back on patrol. We still have three hours before we are done for the night.”
When we’d finished our shift, I let my Constable disappear before going upstairs and into the CID office.
DS Avis was sitting at her desk. She saw me come into the room and waved me over.
“I was wondering when we’d see you up here.”
“There are some lose ends aren’t there?”
“More like a huge can of worms. That stupid driver had his SatNav recording where he went and when. That is going to be very useful. I guess some thanks are in order for picking up that car in the first place.”
“Just happened to be in the right place at the right time that’s all,” I replied trying to suppress the smile on my face.
She sat back in her chair.
“I hear you refused that Inspector’s slot in Hampstead?”
“Yeah. I prefer being a PLOD on the ground. I’m not really the managerial type.”
She shook her head.
“Never thought of coming over to the ‘dark side’?”
“Nah. Too much paperwork.”
She laughed.
Then the smile disappeared from her face.
“I suppose you want to know how she’s getting on?”
“If you have an update than it would be most welcome.”
“She’s been through the wringer. Three broken ribs and multiple bruises.”
“Poor girl.”
She nodded.
“You know about her downstairs then?”
“Yes. She and I have met a few times before. It is amazing what a meal and something hot to drink does for someone. She told me why she was on the streets.”
Then after a bit of a pause I added,
“I guess that I felt a bit sorry for her. Before you think otherwise, I was never alone with her. I always had my ‘rookie’ with me when I came upon her. I’m also old enough to be her father.”
Jayne smiled. She’d been my first ‘rookie’ when I was made up to Sergeant.
“What’s going to happen to her?”
“Serious Crimes is taking this over. She seems willing enough to give a proper statement if we get that tattoo removed.”
I smiled. That seemed cheap.
“Does she know that she can’t go back on the streets?”
“Yes. I’m trying to get her into protection at least until the trial.”
“You don’t seem too hopeful?”
“With all these budget cuts that the Home Office is handing down there is very little in the pot for someone like her. At the very least, she needs relocating to another town or city after the trial.”
“Thanks for that but until the trial? Always assuming that the CPS charge the driver?”
Jayne smiled.
“Oh, they’ll charge him all right. SOCO found 20kg’s of what looks like almost pure Heroin inside the door lining. Well, to use their phrasing, ‘we opened the door and the panel fell off’”.
Then she added,
“I’m preparing the charge sheet to go to the CPS right now. What with Kidnap, false imprisonment, actual bodily harm, drug trafficking, and the rest, I’d say that he’d be lucky to get less than a twelve stretch.”
“And be out in five. Hardly seems appropriate really.”
“And be out in five and onto a plane to Tirana the next day.”
“Small mercies.”
Then I added,
“Keep me in the loop when it comes to her protection after the trial.”
“You, sly bugger, you are interested in her,” she joked.
“Jayne, you should know me better than that. I don’t want to see her back on the streets particularly not in London. Those Albanians will be out for revenge. The don’t like losing merchandise and they will want it back.”
“I know. Yes, I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Thanks Jayne.”
“Don’t thank me you, old bugger. You trained me too well. I might have moaned and bitched at times but at times like this, I still ask myself, ‘what would the Sarge have done?’”
I left her with both of us smiling. At least a few of the many words of wisdom I’d sent her way in her time with me, had stuck.
She was a real bright spark and destined for high places in the Met or even Chief at another force if she played her cards right.
[to be continued on Part 2 of 4]
[Ten Months later]
“Hi Jayne. I’ve been expecting you call. Good verdict?”
“The judge was certainly harsh but that’s good, isn’t it?”
“A Twenty stretch is fair in my eyes but he’ll appeal, won’t he?”
“Oh! That’s not good. When will they be pulled out?”
“That soon?”
Then I thought for a second.
“Can you swing it so that they are on the job until the weekend?”
“Ha-ha. I might have an idea. That girl needs a few friends in her life.”
“No, real friends. People who will help her find a role in life without wanting to take advantage of her. Before you ask, she can’t go back to Leicester. Her family and community there got rid of her by putting her on a train to London with twenty quid in her pocket.”
“Why? Simply because he didn’t want to marry a woman aged fourteen from Pakistan who has never been out of her village in her life. That’s how arranged or rather ‘forced’ marriages work.”
“I know this because she told me.”
I smiled when I heard the words that Jayne was saying.
“I must have done that. She wasn’t the first to recognise that I was a good listener.”
“Yes Jayne, I am talking about you and you know how your life changed after our little chat.”
“Yeah, and give my love to Natalia.”
I hung up the phone and thought for a few minutes. Then I picked up my phone and made a call.
“Hi Dad.”
“Yes, I’m fine. No, I haven’t killed anyone and the world isn’t about to end. Well, at least I hope so.”
“No, I need a favour. A big one.”
“Not for me. There is someone who has been through the ringer. She was kidnapped and was about to be sold into the sex trade.”
“Yes, Dad, ‘she’. And before you ask, I’m old enough to be her father and no, I’m not romantically involved. She was a key witness at a big trial at the Bailey.”
“Yes, that one.”
“The favour? Normally she’d go into witness protection but with the austerity and all that her security detail will be pulled out tomorrow. I think I may have swung it so that they stay around until the weekend.”
“Can you and Mum provide a bed and the works while she sorts herself out?”
“Open ended. She is one messed up lady.”
“No dad but there is something that you need to know.”
“I have no idea if she is gay, lesbian or straight. She’s a transsexual.”
“Yes dad, she was born a he. Does it matter?”
“Well? Are you up for it? And don’t say that you need to talk to Mum. I know that. You don’t have to answer now but she will be a target for the gang that she testified about in court. They’ll probably want her dead.”
“No Dad, I’m not exaggerating. These people are not nice even to their own kind. Step out of line and you lose a finger. Step out of line again and it is an arm or a leg or both. Do you get my point?”
“Ok Dad. I’ll wait for your call. If Mum says no, I’ll see if Charlie Hall can put her up for a bit.”
I hung up the phone feeling slightly hopeful that Mum would make Dad see the light.
“Sir, all I’m asking for is enough help to get her out of London. Then I’ll take her to a place of safety. If you just withdraw her security then how long do you think it will be before someone blabs and … well you know what will happen,” I said for the second time.
The Chief Superintendent who runs the witness protection team was being firm.
“Midday Saturday and we are done,” he repeated.
“Sir, how do you think the press will take it when they find out that our star witness was just cast adrift and left to fend for herself when we fish her body out of the river? I am sure that questions will be raised in the Home Office, and in Parliament.” said my divisions Chief Inspector.
The Chief just shook his head.
“And it is them who are telling me to close down the operation.”
“Sir, if I may propose a solution?” I asked.
“On the surface keep the operation alive until midday on Saturday, but give me a pursuit car, a driver and a female officer and we can remove her from the safe house before dawn or earlier. I’m asking that the car take her to a location less than fifty miles from London where she can be handed over to people I can trust. Then, she isn’t the responsibility of the Met any more. But by keeping the operation going officially until Midday, we are keeping up the appearance of someone being in the safe house. It might be opportune to keep the place under observation for a day or so. You never know who might come visiting now do you?”
The Chief Super thought for around ten seconds before answering.
“Sergeant, you are wasted out there. You have made a compelling argument. Very well. One car and two Officers for tonight. Then we can withdraw the visible protection as planned tomorrow. If as you say, those Albanians or someone in their pay might come calling then we will keep the place under observation for a few days. Who knows what sort of rats will fall into the trap?”
“Might I suggest that no one is left inside the house just in case they shove a petrol bomb through the front door,” I added.
“Exactly what I was thinking Sergeant,” said the Chief.
“Are you sure that you don’t want that Inspector’s job at ‘B’ Division?”
“No Sir. We need good people to show those new officers the ropes. I think I have a good record doing that.”
No one could argue with that and the meeting broke up shortly afterwards.
“Which Service Please?” came the voice down the phone.
“There is a fire at No 32 Craven Park Road in Stamford Hill. I think that there might be someone trapped upstairs.”
“Your name please?”
“Just send help now!”
The man that I’d paid £20 to make the call handed me the phone.
“Thanks, now forget that you were ever here.”
The man smiled back at me and snatched the money from my hand and disappeared into the night.
I soon heard sirens in the distance. There was no fire, nor was there anyone trapped but I wanted to create a diversion so that we could get her out of the safe house. I made my way from Tottenham High Road along Rostrevor Road. This ran parallel to Craven Park Road. I turned the corner into Barry Avenue and went toward the back of the first house and stopped at the side gate. Here, I waited in the shadows.
Two Fire Engines and an Ambulance pulled up outside No 32. Two Police cars appeared lights flashing. That was my signal to move.
I went into the back of the house that I was outside. She was waiting for me. The security people were expecting me.
“Ready?” I asked.
She just nodded her head.
“Time to go then.”
I led the way outside to one of the Police Cars that was right there, waiting for us. No one said a word as we climbed into the back of the car.
“Evening Sarge,” said the driver
“Evening Sean. Shall we go?”
“Which way when we get to the High Road?” asked Sean.
“Head for Euston Road.”
“Shall I light her up Sir?”
“No Sean, steady as she goes. Visible but invisible if you get my drift.”
“Sarge, this is Constable Fraser,” said Sean.
The woman in the front of the car turned around smiling.
“Constable. Have we met before?” I asked.
“No Sir,” she said.
“I am based at Bow.”
“Welcome to this little jaunt. I hope that we won’t take up too much of your night.”
The traffic was light as we soon reached the junction of Hampstead Road and Euston Road. The lights from Warren St Tube station were directly opposite us.
“Turn west please. Any sign of a tail?”
“I don’t think so Sir. There was a black Audi on our tail but it turned off in Camden Town.”
“Very well,” I said and tried to relax.
When we were halfway along the ‘A40 Westway’ Sean said,
“Sarge, I think we have a tail. That black Audi is behind us again.”
I resisted the urge to turn around.
“Are you sure?”
“It has wonky headlights. The nearside light is out of adjustment.”
That was good enough for me.
“Light her up Sean. Keep going on the A40 until I say otherwise.”
“With pleasure Sarge. Constable, would you do the honours?”
The police car sped up and with its lights going full pelt the traffic parted in front of us easing our path west.
“The Audi is following Sarge,” reported Sean.
“Very well. There are three sets of lights ahead of us. I wonder if that driver will follow us through them especially if they are red…”
“Sir, are we on an official emergency call?” asked the Constable.
“We are on an official journey sanctioned by a Chief Super. Is that good enough for you?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good.”
Sean was one of the best drivers in the Diplomatic Protection Group. I had every confidence in his skill.
Less than five minutes later we passed the Hanger Lane intersection. The Audi had fallen behind at the second set of Traffic Lights. Even so, I didn’t slow our progress down until we’d passed Junction 4 of the M40.
“Sean, you can dowse the lights as we take the next exit.”
“Sarge.”
“Turn right and right again onto the A40. There is a Bus Stop on the left. Please pull in there.”
“Gotcha Sarge.”
We came to a halt a minute later.
“Thanks Sean and also to you Constable. This is where we get out.”
The constable got out of the front seats and let us out of the back.
“Sean, may I suggest that you take a slow drive back to London avoiding the main roads. Stop for a coffee break on the way. Then your job for the night is done.”
“Sarge?” said Sean.
“Yes Sean.”
“Good luck with wherever it is you are going.”
“Thanks Sean. Keep safe.”
I shut the door and we let the car drive away.
I turned to her and said quietly,
“We are changing cars here. Our next ride will be along in a minute.”
“If we do it this way, the two in the police car won’t know where we are going next and more importantly, how.”
She didn’t respond.
As if by magic, a Land Cruiser appeared out of the darkness from the west. It pulled up right beside us. I saw the smiling face of the driver in the moonlight.
I opened the rear door of the vehicle and let her get in first. Then I followed.
The driver turned around and smiled at us.
“Pritti, meet my Father. Dad, this is Pritti.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Pritti quietly. There was an obvious tremble in her voice.
“Please buckle up and relax. It will be around two and a half hours before we get home,” said Dad.
“Yes Pritti, we are going to my home deep in the countryside and a long way from London.”
She didn’t answer except to close her eyes. I took that as a sign that she’d accepted her lot for the time being.
I was first down to the kitchen. Mum had everything ready for breakfast. As I put the kettle on, I smiled. That was Mum through and through.
Mum came down just after I’d made the tea.
“I can see that you are in control,” she said smiling.
“For the time being. All it will take for me to pass it over to you is for Dad to ask for a Poached Egg,” I said smiling.
“Who said Poached Eggs?” said a voice from the doorway.
Dad was here and obviously in search of some Breakfast.
As we ate some perfectly poached eggs on toast, Dad asked.
“Is there something we should know about between you and Pritti?”
“Me? No Dad. As I’ve said before, I’m almost old enough to be her father. She was living on the streets and I got to know her a bit when our paths crossed. Then she got mixed up with some very bad people. As luck would have it, I was on hand when we rescued her from them. She testified against them at the Bailey and the powers that be decided that witness protection was not for her. So here we are.”
Before he could ask I added,
“If they get her then they’ll probably kill her.”
“Is London that bad these days?” asked Mum.
“Probably no different from most big cities in the world. Most of the time the different factions keep to themselves and don’t go killing each other.”
“What’s the plan then? You weren’t very forthcoming on the phone,” asked Dad.
“Pritti needs a place to get herself together. She’s been on the streets for nearly three years. Her family would not want her back in their life because he besmirched their honour by not having an arranged marriage to a probably illiterate girl from a remote part of Pakistan. Add to that the fact that she is transgendered and… well, I expect you can guess the rest.”
Mum suddenly cottoned on. Obviously Dad hadn’t told her.
I glared at Dad.
“Oh!”
“Yes Mum, Pritti is a transsexual. Dad should have told you. He knew all along.”
“I’d better let your sister know. She’s said that she would come over later to take her shopping.”
I shook my head.
“I think at the moment, Pritti needs somewhere to stay that is safe so that she can keep her head down and get used to living with real people again. But we should let her decide.”
Pritti made an appearance about an hour later.
“I am so sorry to have slept in,” she said as she appeared in the kitchen.
“Don’t let it worry you my dear,” said Mum.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” said Pritti.
“And you aren’t,” said Dad looking up from his reading of the daily newspaper.
I left them to it and checked in with the station. It was a case of no news is good news from London.
Work was difficult. I found myself going through the motions so I let my partner for the week take over.
“Can you take over Joe? My mind is not on the job today.”
He smiled back at me.
“Woman trouble?”
“Yes and no. Nothing romantic at all but I am worried about someone that’s all.”
“And my name is Morgan Freeman!”
We both laughed. It cleared the air quite a bit.
“If there is anything I can do just ask,” said Joe.
“I won’t ask you to help Joe. You have a wife and kids to think of. Don’t even protest. I’m not going to say another word on the subject.”
Somehow, I made it through the week. We operated a shift pattern of six days on, three days off. As soon as my shift was over on the Saturday evening, I was off home.
Only mum was still up by the time I crept in the front door.
“We need to talk!” was all she said before she disappeared back into the sitting room.
I guessed that a severe dressing down was coming so I heading into the kitchen and poured myself a beer. Then I went to face the music.
“Ok mum, I’m here. What have I done wrong this time?”
She turned to face me.
“It isn’t you. It is Pritti. She finally told me everything. You really know how to pick them don’t you?”
I knew what she meant. Most of my dating ended in disaster.
“Well, that’s one thing. She’s never really opened up to anyone to the best of my knowledge.”
“That’s just about the only good thing. She’s been through hell and that is any understatement.”
I waited for Mum to carry on but she didn’t.
“What’s wrong Mum?”
“She needs professional help. We can’t give her the help that she clearly needs.”
I’d never known Mum so down when it came to a challenge.
“That is going to be a problem. Professional help means a paper trail. It also means people get to read that paper trail. People talk and gossip and post on Facebook. Then before you know it, the people who are after her find out and we get a visit from them Believe me, Mum, you don’t want that to happen. These are not nice people.”
“I know,” said Mum softly.
“She told me of an incident where they wanted to make an example of one of their girls. The girl in question had not given her owner all the money a client had paid her. It was only three pounds. They cut off three fingers from her right hand in front of all of them. They took her away and was never seen again.”
I must have gone white in the face.
“What’s wrong son? You look as if you have seen a ghost?”
“We probably found the body of that girl floating in the river. She’d been shot in the back of the head.”
It was Mum’s turn to go into shock.
“We must do what we can then.”
“That’s the spirit Mum.”
“What about that tattoo?”
“I’ve arranged for it to be removed next weekend.”
“Won’t that be a risky thing to do? Given what you just said?”
I smiled.
“The person who will do the work won’t talk. He can’t. His tongue was cut out by a gang much like this lot. They thought he’d been talking to people he should not have been. It turned out later that the person who ratted on him was the one that was giving information to a rival gang. He does this sort of thing for free as a way of getting people out of these gangs.”
Mum took hold of my hand.
“Son, you seem to know a lot of really bad people? Have you ever thought of moving to the force down here?”
I laughed.
“I do that almost every day. Then I realise that I’d probably die of boredom.”
“You need to find a nice woman and settle down.”
“Mum! Who would want someone like me eh?”
“Anyone with their head screwed on. That’s who.”
“Pull the other one Mum.”
We both laughed.
[to be continued in part 3 of 4]
Sarge-03
Pritti came in from outside just in time for lunch. The change in her that one week in the country had done was remarkable.
“Hi there. I saw you arrive. I was out collecting the eggs.”
I smiled.
“We’ll make a country girl of you yet,” I said jokingly.
“Sorry, but the smell of animal poo still makes my stomach turn,” replied Pritti.
After lunch, Mum disappeared leaving Pritti and myself to clear up.
“You are so lucky to have such a nice family,” said Pritti as she dried the plates.
“I think so too. It is only when you see some of the train wrecks that other families are that you can even begin to appreciate your own. I see plenty of those on the ‘job’.”
“Thanks for bringing me here. I know that I’m putting you all at risk and all that.”
“Nonsense. You needed to get out of London and this place was as good as any.”
“Thanks again.”
“Pritti, just get this straight. Yes, you are our guest but you don’t have to keep thanking us for everything. From what Mum has been telling me, you are mucking in and helping around the place. She thinks that you are earning your keep. If Mum thinks that then you are good.”
She smiled back at me.
It was then that I realised that she was really a woman and not a man trying to be one.
I changed the subject.
“Mum said that you’d taken a few walks around the area. See anything you like?”
Pritti grinned.
“It is all so different from being in a town. Back… before we never went into the country. It is so peaceful around here. I went through some woods. It looked like all the trees had been cut down at the roots. Won’t that kill them?”
I laughed.
“You must have taken the footpath through Chambers Copse. It is ok, those trees will grow again. The wood is what we call coppiced. George cuts the trees down and uses it to make charcoal from it. Do you want me to take you to meet him?”
“Can you?”
“Sure. It is a nice afternoon so we can go when we are done here.”
Twenty minutes later, we climbed into the farm Land Rover and I drove us the couple of miles to George’s place. It wasn’t a place as such but a clearing with an old caravan that George lived in and his six charcoal kilns. There was also a huge tarpaulin that covered an area where there were fence stakes and panels being made.
We got out and I heard some whistling coming up the track.
“That must be George now. He always whistles when he’s happy.”
The man called George appeared a minute or so later. He was carrying two rabbits.
“Hello there, Peter. Who’s this with you?”
“Hi George. This is Pritti. She’s staying with us for a while. She saw your coppicing so I’ve brought her over to see what you do with the wood. Pritti is from the City so…”
George smiled.
“I get you. Let me put these in my home. They’ll be supper for a few days,” he said holding up the Rabbits.”
“Did you kill them yourself?”
George smiled.
“Sort of. I put some traps down last evening and got these two. I dug up some wild garlic and sorrel yesterday. They’ll make a great stew.”
I could see that Pritti was intrigued.
“George lives here all year round. How long have you been here now George?”
“Oh, about twelve years. Came down from London and as they say, dropped out.”
“How do you make a living?”
He laughed.
“Everything you see around you, I make. There is the Charcoal and also items from the wood from the forest. All sustainable and renewable. I go to markets in the spring and summer with the Charcoal and sell the fencing bits all year around. It gives me enough to live on. The land gives me the rest.”
“But… You don’t have electricity or anything?”
“True. But I recently received planning permission to build a house off of Squires Lane. That’s about 400 yards in that direction,” he said pointing the way he’d come.
George went to put the Rabbits away.
“George has been trying to get permission for a house for years. The townie who moved into the house near where George wanted to build finally moved away about six months ago. This bloke had always objected to another house being built near his home. With him out of the way, it is no surprise that George got the permission.”
George had returned from his caravan.
“One of the kilns is ready to be unloaded. Do you want to see the results?”
“Please,” said Pritti.
I could tell that George had enthralled her. I guessed that just being able to live a simple life out here was interesting to her.
Fifteen minutes later, we’d taken the covering layer of mud and turf off the kiln.
“There you go. Five hundred pounds worth of Charcoal once I get it bagged up. I store it in a barn near where my house is going to be until the spring when I bag is and start to sell it.”
He pulled out some lumps of the black stuff. He handed one to Pritti.
“Great for Barbies. More and more people are having them and thankfully, more of them are deciding to use locally produced charcoal rather than stuff that has been shipped thousands of miles. There are a couple of hundred people like me in England producing our version of 'black gold'.”
“Wow! I never knew where it came from,” exclaime Pritti.
Later that day, Pritti asked,
“Do you think that George needs some help?”
I laughed.
“I could see that he spiked your interest.”
“Yeah. He lives such a simple life. I like simple.”
“Perfect for keeping out of the limelight perhaps?”
“Yes. I need to do something. I… I can’t stay here forever.”
“George only has that Caravan you know.”
“But he’s got permission to build a house?”
I laughed.
“George will be wanting to make it using as much material from his woods as possible. He will take his time. I would not expect him to move in for at least three years. The man is a perfectionist. You saw that with those fence posts. They were all identical. That takes time and dedication.”
Pritti looked sad.
“I’m not even sure if George wants any help. I would think that he likes his own company but it won’t hurt to ask now will it?”
“Can we go tomorrow?”
I smiled.
“Pritti, why don’t you walk over and ask him yourself? You know the way now. Just go through the copse where the trees were coppiced and you will hit the track that George came up yesterday. Turn right and you will get there. The road between here and there is far from direct.”
She was silent for a while.
“Do you think he’d give someone like me a job?”
I looked her right in the eye and said,
“From what I saw today, he likes you. He sees you as others do, as an intelligent woman. Go and ask him. He can only say no and if he does, it won’t be the end of the world you know.”
She smiled back at me.
“Thanks, Sarge.”
“Hey, I’m not in uniform or in London now you know. Call me Pete. Only Mum calls me Peter.”
She grinned.
“Thanks Peter.”
Pritti had her tattoo removed using a laser the following weekend. When that had healed, she was able to dispense with the scarf that she had to wear to cover it up. With it gone, she seemed to get a sense of freedom.
She carried on walking around the area but always seemed to end up at George’s work site. Without really asking, she began to help him with loading the kilns and even learning how to sharpen an axe.
I didn’t see her for nearly a month because of the work roster so I when I turned up at home, I’d hardly gotten through the front door when she gave me a huge hug.
“I thought you’d forgotten me,” she said with a beaming smile.
“I didn’t forget. Mum’s been keeping me up to date.”
“I made my first hurdle today,” she said proudly.
“Really? So, George has taken you on as an apprentice then?”
Her face dropped.
“Not really.”
“You haven’t asked him, have you?”
She replied with a slight shake of her head.
I sighed.
“Ok, ok. You don’t need to go on about it.”
“Pritti?”
“I get it. I need to ask him properly. But that would mean involving officialdom won’t it?”
I saw where she was coming from.
“It might. I understand your concern.”
Before she could answer, I said.
“I might have an idea about getting rid of that problem. I’ll work on it next week so don’t even ask about it now.”
She replied with a bit of a pout. I laughed.
Then Mum came to the rescue when she shouted from the kitchen,
“Dinner is ready”.
The following Wednesday, I was giving evidence at the Old Bailey in a Murder Trial. The prosecution Barrister was the same one who’d prosecuted the Albanian man. During the Lunch recess, I took him to one side.
“I can’t discuss the case you know,” he said at the outset.
“I know you can’t besides, it is not about this case that I want to talk about. Do you remember that case of the Albanian drug trafficker and kidnapper?”
“Oh yes. We got a good result there.”
“We did. A lot of that was due to the witness. Do you remember her?”
“Yes, yes I do. What happened to her?”
“The Home Office denied her witness protection.”
“Bugger. That bunch of idiots. They really don’t have a clue.”
I thought that it was a bit rich coming from him. He’d been educated at Eton and Oxford before going to Harvard Law. He’d had it easy. I quickly put those thoughts behind me.
“I wondered if you knew of anyone in the Home Office with at least half a brain and some integrity that could help her get a new identity? To me, it is the very least that they could do. It does need to be on the QT. Careless talk and all that.”
“Indeed,” he replied and thought a bit.
“I think I know of someone who can help. I’ll make a call but if they call you, forget all about me. Understand?”
“Got it,” I said trying to supress a smile.
“Good. By the way, thanks for the testimony earlier. You are really good in the box. I wish more Officers were as clear and concise as you in your Testimony.”
“Thanks.”
This time I smiled.
It was nearly two weeks later that I received a note from the station commander when I returned at the end of a shift.
“A Mr Smith called for you. Wouldn’t say what it was about but left a number for you to call.”
He handed me a slip of paper. I recognised that it was a government number.
“Thanks Sir.
“Do I need to know who this ‘Mr Smith’ is?”
I smiled.
“No Sir. Just an old contact. He may have a tip that could lead to something but until I see him I won’t know,” I said winging it.
He smiled.
“Just make sure that the contact is recorded if it seems that it might lead to something.”
“If he has something worthwhile to say then I will do that, Sir.”
I called the ‘Mr Smith’ the following morning. I was on the late shift so I had the time to do it when not in the office or in uniform.
“Mr Smith? This is Peter Dawson.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Yes, I can meet tomorrow.”
“I know where that is. What time?”
“Can we make it an hour later? I’ll be on my break then. I’m working two till ten this week.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
I hung up and thought for a moment.
‘It shouldn’t be that easy…’
I was on shift with a not quite rookie constable. After a little bit of finagling, we were assigned to cover the area around Kings Cross Station. This was perfect because my meeting for my mid shift break was due around then.
Thankfully, it was a quiet evening. We’d only had to deal with a traffic accident Euston Road and a broken down, HGV in a ‘yellow box’ on Pentonville Road.
“Constable, it is time for our break. I have to see someone about a dog outside Mornington Crescent Tube Station. If you drop me off there and go and get us a sandwich and some coffee from the Deli on Camden High Street, I should be done by the time you get back. Understood?”
“What sort of dog Sarge?”
I sighed.
“Seeing someone about a dog is slang for ‘I have to meet someone and you aren’t invited’. It is a former snitch and they get positively anxious if there is anyone but me around. Understand?”
“Sorry Sarge. I get you.”
Ten minutes later, I was watching the patrol car disappear into the darkness. I was beginning to wonder if my meeting was going to happen or not when I heard a cough from behind me.
I turned around and saw someone standing in the shadows.
“Sergeant Dawson, I presume?”
It was the voice on the phone.
“Mr Smith, I presume?”
“I understand you need a new identity for someone who was a witness in a trial?”
“That is correct.”
“As the person was a witness we can do that. It will be off the records. By that I mean that there will be no official record of the request coming into the office. That means there is no paper trail and that the identity is 100% genuine.”
“How much will it cost me?”
He laughed.
“As your request is to do with someone who was refused witness protection then I won’t take any money for it. Someone else is calling in a favour on your behalf.”
He handed me an A4 sized envelope.
“Inside are all the details that we will need. Include four passport photos and send it to the address on the sheet of paper. Ten days later a messenger will deliver the documents.”
“Thanks. May I ask why the secrecy?”
“No paper trail and plausible deniability. This meeting never happened and you don’t know who I am really. What I am going to do for you is borderline illegal but as they helped us out in court, I got the nod from my director to do this but off the books which is what you want isn't it?”
“Ok. Understood and yes it is. The fewer people who know about this the better.”
“And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. If it wasn’t for this austerity thing that HMG is bent upon inflicting on us all, she’d have a new identity and life already.”
Then he turned away and disappeared into the night.
A few minutes later, the Police Car returned with our meal.
“Did you buy the dog?” asked the Constable as he saw the envelope.
“We agreed a price. Delivery will be later.”
I went home after my shift the next night and sat down with Pritti to develop her new identity.
“People here know me as Pritti. Won’t it be suspicious if I change it?”
“That is true, so why not just change your surname? Does anyone here know that? I didn’t until the trial.”
“Pritti Khan. That is pretty generic in Pakistan.”
“Where were you born?”
“Bradford? Begins with a ‘B’ like Birmingham.”
“We need to change your date of birth and the names of your parents, where they were born and what they did for a living.”
Pritti sat back poker faced.
“It all seems so clinical, so final.”
Then she said,
“I suppose you will want to get rid of me when all this is done?”
I saw the fear in her eyes.
“Pritti, if I said that to Mum, she’d probably kill me on the spot. You don’t have to leave unless you want to leave. Besides, Mum likes having you around.”
“She never said so?”
I chuckled.
“Have you seen the way she looks at you?”
“Oh, the look of sorrow?”
“No, it isn’t the look of sorrow. Mum always wanted another baby, another girl.”
There was nothing more to be said on the subject. Pritti understood perfectly.
I sent the details for Pritti’s new identity off two days later and returned to London. The train journey up from East Devon is not the fastest in the world but I realised that I was finding it harder to go back to London every time I went home. Before, I’d gone to London to escape the country. I knew the reason why it was getting harder but would never admit it to myself or anyone for that matter.
Pritti’s new identity was delivered by a courier some twelve days later. When I returned home I saw a young woman happy with the world. She was a totally different person to the one I’d encountered on the streets of London. I was so pleased for her.
“I’ll tell you then,” was all she’d say.
Duly summoned, I went down to East Devon the following Friday. I tried to get her to say something but she put me off.
“We will go for a walk in the morning.”
The next morning, we headed off for a walk. We’d just crossed the first style when she said,
“George has asked me to be his partner.”
“What in the Charcoal Business?”
“Yes, and in his house and everything and more.”
“Are you trying to tell me that he wants to marry you?”
She nodded her head.
“Yes.”
Then the smile disappeared from her face.
“Working in the woods with him, gives us a lot of time to talk. Eventually, I told him about myself. Everything and that includes things that I never told you or your Mum.”
“In doing so, I remembered some things about my time with those Albanians.”
She fished out a slip of paper from her coat pocket.
“You might like to speak to someone about that bank account. From what I heard, a number of important people were paid off using money from it.”
I looked at the piece of paper. It had a UK Bank sort code and an account number on it.
“I remembered seeing a bank statement once. Those are the details of that account.”
I put it in my pocket.
“But that does not explain you and George?”
“He knows all about me and now that I have official documents, he’d like to marry me so that he can pay for my operation and stuff. He calls it making a complete woman out of me.”
“That’s good but I know that there is a lot you aren’t telling me.”
She nodded her head.
“Do you know if George ever told anyone why he came down here?”
“No. Well to the best of my knowledge he didn’t. He just turned up on the doorstep one day and said, ‘I’m George. I’ve bought Hedges Copse and about a hundred acres of woodland.’ Or words to that effect.”
I thought for a second.
“Come to think about it, I don’t even know his surname.”
Pritti smiled.
“It is Carmichael. George Carmichael, or to be absolutely correct, Sir George Carmichael.”
I swore under my breath when I heard that name.
“And he’s making Charcoal?”
“Yes. He left London and came here. When he came here, he was recovering from Cancer. He was and still is in remission. He’s had three lots of Chemo. He’s on borrowed time. It has been seven years since the last time it came back.”
“Wow. I always though George was just a bit eccentric.”
“He and I just get on so well. He’d like to pass on the business to me when the time comes. He knows that the chances are that another round of chemo won’t work. He has a brother and a sister who live in London. When he goes, they’ll just sell the woods and he does not want that to happen. We have actually started building his house. We spent the winter making the timber frame from Oak that he cut down few years ago.”
“I said yes by the way. He’s booked the Church for late May. I’m going to be baptised the week before.”
I knew that Pritti had been talking about becoming a Christian for several months. She’d left the faith of her birth a long way behind. As she put it, ‘on the streets, you eat what you can.’ She’d soon learned that a Bacon sandwich was good food when you are hungry and observing the fasting for Ramadan was really hard when your only food for the day is served at lunchtime at a soup kitchen.
It all sort of made sense.
We walked on a bit more. We stopped to watch a couple of Deer run across a field.
“George wants to talk to you about after… after he dies.”
My stomach was doing somersaults. I was struggling to accept that Pritti was going to marry someone else.
Pritti saw how unhappy I was.
She smiled at me.
“It isn’t so bad.”
“I… I…”
She took my hand and squeezed it.
“I really do love you, you know.”
Those words served to make me even more confused.
[to be continued in part 4 of 4]
For once in my life, I was lost for words.
“The thing with George is just business,” said Pritti in a total expressionless manner.
Those words seemed so cold, so out of place for her.
Pritti reached up and kissed me. Part of me I wanted to break away but I didn’t. I just wanted to savour every second. The woman I loved was going to marry someone else.
When we broke off, I said,
“How can it be just business?”
“It is just that. I get to inherit the woods and everything.”
“But… but isn’t that too much for you to manage on your own?”
Pritti smiled back at me.
Then she took my hand.
“What about coming in with me? Work in the woods and… finish the house and live there together?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Look Pete, I know how you feel about me. Every time you go back to London gets harder and harder for you to leave. I see it in your whole body and especially your eyes. So does everyone else. I know your Mother does because she told me.”
Those few simple words were really hard to hear and to take. I’d thought that I’d hidden my feelings but apparently, I’d failed, miserably.
“I don’t know if I can…”
“George is cool with it. He wants me to have a future, much like you did when you smuggled me down here.”
After a few seconds Pritti said,
“Will you go and talk to George?”
I sighed.
“I suppose so.”
“Hello George, I gather you want a word or three?”
“And Pritti has made herself scarce I see?”
“It appears so.”
I waited for him to speak.
“I guess that she’s told you about me?”
“Yes. I expect that you don’t want that broadcast though?”
“Exactly. My family are very protective. They wanted to virtually smother me after my last lot of Chemo. They were treating me like a five-year old. In the end I’d had enough so I just walked out one day, went to see our family lawyer and bought this place. I’d seen it advertised on the internet. The lawyer made sure that they didn’t send the cavalry but so far I think that they have no idea where I am and long may that last.”
The smile that was on his face disappeared.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“The cancer is back. I went for a scan two weeks ago. Pritti knows. That’s when we cooked up this plan.”
“From your face, I get the impression that you aren’t going to fight it?”
“You are the investigator…”
“What does she say?”
“She understands and that’s why we want to tie the knot ASAP. Then I can go to wherever with a clear heart.”
“But what about your family? Won’t they think that Pritti is a gold digger?”
“Yes, they will, and in many respects, she is but I will make sure that they can’t touch what I have built here and you and Pritti as well.”
I had my doubts about that.
“I can see that you have your doubts.”
“George…”
He smiled back at me.
“I know how both you feel about each other. It is blindingly obvious to everyone so consider my land and business here my wedding present to the two of you.”
“What about your family. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she told me your family name.”
“It sucks does it not?”
“I’ve been grilled in the witness box by your brother several times including the trial that Pritti gave evidence at.”
George’s face dropped.
“Yes George, your brother is… shall we say a bit bent. From what I heard when I was last working on a case with the CPS, it is only the lack of evidence that is stopping him from being arrested and charged with all sorts of stuff. He’ll take one look at Pritti and one phone call later, there will be a contract out on her and me and my family.”
George swore for the first time in the years that I’d known him.
“Fuck!”
“The only way to keep them out of it is for me to buy the wood from you while you are still of a sound mind and body.”
George looked sad.
“How about it George?”
“I need to think about this.”
“No problem George. Pritti must be kept away from your family at all costs.”
“My shithead of a brother is everything you say. We have all known it for years. He was the prime reason I got out of the law. He… Well, let me just say that I didn’t want to be in the same room as him.”
Then after a big sigh he carried on.
“He gets my title by the way. His head will get so big that it won’t fit in London.”
George had just summed up his brother perfectly.
“I’m just surprised that he’s not inside. He’s been on the take since he became a Barrister. His Chambers is not exactly clean either and the dirt starts at the top.”
“George, do you know what you are saying?”
“I do and I am fully… compos mentis. I want Pritti to be safe. If it means dishing some dirt on my brother to take him out of the picture then so be it.”
“Do you have actual hard evidence on your Brother?”
George shook his head.
“I don’t but I know some people who do.”
“Will they be willing to… dish that dirt in public?”
George smiled.
“They should. I was head of that chambers before I got my first encounter with cancer. I was fully aware of what was going on. No evidence. A lot of ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil’. But with feeling unwell, I didn’t do my job as head of chambers most of the time. Standards dropped and… well he became defacto head boy. Getting the Cancer diagnosis was a heck of a wakeup call to me as it is to many people. I got out and dropped out of sight. Now some years later and three bouts of Chemo, three operations later, I have this place. Love at first sight would not describe how I felt and still feel living here. I still do and I want to share it with Pritti while I have time.”
Before I could respond, George put his hand on mine.
“As I said, I know how she feels about you. I am under no illusion that she loves anyone but you. Marrying me will give her, and you a place and business of your own when the time comes.”
“But…”
“Yes, my brother. Let me deal with him. Pete, I know that you’d love to collar him but there… Let me say that his corruption goes well beyond your pay grade. I’ll go up to London tomorrow and see a few people. Call in a few favours. My Brother… He’s always been a bully and willing to do anything to get ahead. I still feel bad at leaving him in a position of power when I left the chambers. I was all messed up after getting told that I had the big ‘C’, but I should have known that he’d take the chambers right over to the dark side. There are a few people who’d like nothing more than seeing his downfall. Believe me, it is nothing less than he deserves.”
He smiled at me,
“I might not have electricity in my Caravan or a TV or a Radio but I use the Library every time I go into town. I have kept abreast of what was happening but… I turned a blind eye until you… You put me straight. I never connected Pritti to my Brother. Her name was never mentioned in the court reports for very good reason. I will make this right. I have to do this for Pritti and for you, for your future together.”
Going home after meeting George was difficult. I wasn’t in the mood to do anything other than go back to London. There was no way I could even begin to explain to Pritti or my family for that matter, what I’d discussed with George. They would not be able to understand.
Back in London, I threw myself into my work. It was all I could do, to keep my mind off of Pritti and what might happen to her. All I could think of was that I could not let anything happen to her.
“Sarge?” said my Constable.
“Eh? Oh, sorry constable. I was miles away.”
We were on patrol in an unmarked car. He was driving and we’d just turned off of Marylebone High St and into New Cavendish St.
“Sarge, I thought I saw Anna Stuart coming out of a Café.”
Anna Stuart was the name of a ‘person of Interest’ to us and was given to us at our start of shift briefing.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“North or South?”
“Eh?”
“Did she turn north out of the Café or did she turn south?”
“North… I think.”
“Good then turn here and we will do a loop up onto Marylebone Road and back down the High Street.”
“Gotcha Sarge.”
“Slow and normal Constable.”
“Understood,” said the constable.
There was no sign of Anna Stuart when we drove back down Marylebone High Street, but it served as a wakeup call to me. It was hard to put Pritti and everything to the back of my mind but for the rest of the week I seemed to manage it.
I had the Constable directing traffic while I sorted out the possible pugilists. We’d arrived just as they were squaring up to each other. The one who was clearly to blame refused to accept this and he also refused to give a name, address or details of his Insurance Company. That led me to believe that he either had no Licence, Insurance or the car was ‘hot’ or all three.
“Sir, unless you provide those details which you are required to by law. If you fail to do so, then I will be forced to take you down to the Police Station for interview. What is it…”
As I was about to say, ‘What is it to be?’ he turned tail and ran.
“Constable!” I shouted.
He was for once right on the ball and took off in pursuit of the man.
The suspect had no chance against this particular Constable. He could run a 100m in 10.7 seconds.
The suspect legged it down the ramp into the Station. Normally, we’d have to call the Transport Police whose responsibility the Station, the Railway and Canals were. But if we were in pursuit we could follow. The suspect reached the bottom of the ramp and ran right into a Cyclist who was coming the other way and pushing his bike.
The Constable pulled the suspect upright after handcuffing him.
Less than a minute had passed before the suspect was back in front of me. It was then that I saw it. He had the same tattoo that Pritti had been given by the Albanians.
“Six Five to Control,” I said into my Radio.
“Control, go ahead Six Five.”
“Can you send SOCO and the CID to Praed St, opposite the Station entrance. Operation Medway.”
I’d added the code-word for the investigation into the Albanian gang.
“Control to Six Five, understood out.”
I drove us back to the Station and went for a well-earned tea with the Constable.
“Constable, you need to write up everything that happened today. I mean everything and every little detail from the time we were called to the traffic accident. Is that Understood?”
“Sarge? May I ask a question?”
“Go ahead Constable. If it is reasonable, I won’t bite.”
“Sarge, how… how did you know that this was a person of interest?”
“He had a tattoo on his neck. Before he legged it, it was covered up. When you brought him back, it was clearly visible to me. I have seen the tattoo before. That’s why I called in the troops.”
“Thanks, Sarge.”
“No, thank you Constable. He legged it and you caught him. If he had gotten away, we would have called the local council who would have removed the car. We may never have gotten to see inside the car until it was too late. I shall mention it in my report. You did good.”
She greeted me with a smile.
“I wondered when we’d see you.”
“You know me, a bad penny that keeps coming back.”
She laughed.
“Well Pete, you are certainly not a bad penny in our eyes. You have given us a literal goldmine. We found all sorts of evidence in that car.”
“What about the man we arrested.”
She smiled again.
“He’s saying nothing but he does not need to. He’s already been deported twice so he’s going away for ten years even if he does nothing but say his name.”
Then she looked at me.
“I don’t have your reports yet so how did you know he was Albanian?”
I grinned.
“He legged it when I mentioned taking him to the station. He was refusing to give us any details. My constable went after him and when they returned, I saw the Tattoo on his neck. I’d seen it before so I put the call in.”
“That was just luck then?”
“I guess so. Very few of us ‘uniforms’ would have recognised it.”
“Did he lawyer up?”
“Yes. They arrived about ten minutes ago. His brief was there as well. Someone called Carmichael.”
The smile disappeared from my face in a flash.
“I’d better make myself scarce then. I know his elder brother. They don’t see eye to eye over a lot of things. But… watch out for him. Apparently, his chambers are a bit iffy but don’t tell anyone I said that or that I know his brother. More than a few lives depend on it.”
“Lives?”
“Yes Lives. Mine for starters, then my family and a few others that I won’t name.”
Her face went very pale.
“Iffy? In what way?”
“No real evidence but I have it from a very reputable source that they are not afraid to go over to the dark side. Money and Criminals and all that…”
The D.I. nodded her head. She’d been around criminals long enough to know what I was talking about.
“Drop by anytime.”
I started to walk away but turned back.
“Jayne, I was never here ok?”
“Who?” she said grinning.
I walked away knowing that she’d keep her mouth shut and that I’d trained her well even though she now outranked me.
I hurried home trying not to think about the day. The question ‘why me?’ came up several times despite my attempts to block such thoughts out.
Why had I been the one to encounter people from this particular gang not once but twice? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it was time to move on from Central London. I’d been at West End Central for twelve years. That was long enough, more than long enough.
The thought of me jacking it all in and moving home was very tempting but ‘home’ had its own problems. Problems that I didn’t want to face at this point in time. I’d wimped out of several relationships in the past. Apart from being a Police Officer, I’d never really committed to anything much since I’d left school and passed on going to University.
I knew that very soon all that was going to have to change.
I was just dropping off to sleep when my phone bleeped. Someone had sent me a text.
“Suspect charged with drug trafficking. 37kg of H in car. Thanks, Jayne.”
I went to sleep happy that one person was off the streets at least temporarily.
“Control to Six Eight.”
“Six Eight receiving.”
“Control to Six Eight, message from someone who calls himself Charcoal George. He says that he has the information you need. Wants to meet ASAP’”.
“Six Eight Understood. Does he suggest a meet?”
“Control to Six Eight. He says ‘where snakes come out to play when the sun goes down’.”
I tried but failed to suppress a laugh.
“Six Eight to Control. Understood out.”
I sat back in my seat with a smile on my face. I hadn’t expected George to come up with anything so soon.
“Sarge?” asked my Constable.
“Don’t worry Constable Jones, I’ve set up a meet with an old informant for this evening. There is nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“Sarge, we were warned about the risks of meeting informants at strange places. From what I heard it seems that you are going to do just that?”
I chuckled.
“If you mean that the Reptile House at London Zoo an hour before closing, a strange place then yes but in reality, it isn’t.”
My Constable didn’t reply.
“Hello George. I wasn’t expecting to have a meet with you,” I said when we came face to face in the Reptile House.
“Hi Pete. I wasn’t planning on it either but needs must eh?”
“What do you have for me and what do you want me to do with it?”
George smiled.
“That arrest that was made a few days ago, of the drug trafficker has put the cat amongst the pigeons.”
I grinned.
“That was you wasn’t it?”
“I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Well done. As they say in the Westerns, they are circling the wagons. Anyone not in the core clique are being jettisoned and pronto. A lot are going home for a long holiday. Even some of the girls are being let go for good.”
That was a surprise to me. The strings of Prostitutes and their Drug dealing were their core businesses. The words ‘for good’ sent a chill down my spine. George did not have to elaborate any further to know what he meant.
“The stash that your lot found in that car was their latest shipment. That driver is as good as dead. Once he gets remanded, a contract will be put out.”
“Your Brother was at Edgware Road ‘nick’ again yesterday. That's three days in a row. What you just said confirms my suspicions.”
George nodded.
“I know, I was watching from a shop nearby when he arrived. Don’t worry, he didn’t see me. That’s how I know that things are bad for them. He prefers to keep at arms-length from them. But to go to the Station three days in a row sends a clear message to the driver and to those of you who are on the take. Yes, there are even one or two at Edgware Road Nick.”
I didn’t react with the news that there were some fellow officers on the take. That is just par for the course. There would always be a few bad eggs in a force the size of the Met Police.
George smiled as he handed me a supermarket shopping bag.
“Take care of that information. I had to call in a lot of very old favours to get what I’ve just given you but you would be surprised how many people want to see the back of those Albanians. They have no scruples at all. Even the Russians have some honour codes. That lot? Fat chance.”
“Thanks George. I’ll make sure that the right people get this.”
“Pete, be careful. I have copies of everything in that file. If something happens to either of us then those copies will be sent to the media. I’m sure you know that those guys don’t take prisoners.”
“Message understood George. What are you going to do now? Are you going home?”
George shook his head.
“No. Too risky. I’m off abroad for a few days. Pritti can handle things with the kilns.”
He paused for a second.
“Think of it as laying a false trail. I’m going abroad and not hiding the fact. That should take… take any threat to Pritti away. If those Albanians want me then they’ll come after me while I’m sunning myself in Mauritius.”
He looked at his watch.
“My car will be waiting for me. A trip to the airport and a thirteen-hour flight awaits.”
He made to leave but I took hold of his arm.
“George, what if they do… do catch up with you?”
George looked me right in the eye.
“Don’t worry, I’ve made sure that Pritti is cared for. She gets the woods and as my nearest relative is likely to be facing some considerable jail time, I don’t think that he will be in a position to contest my will now do you?”
I had to agree with him.
At home that evening, I read the folder that George had supplied. It was pure dynamite. There were pages and pages of names, facts, figures and a few photos of… of people they’d disposed of. I knew some of the faces from missing persons reports that we’d received in recent months.
It made hard reading, very hard reading. Some of the people named were known to me. There was one name that made me really sad. It was a DCI from Hounslow. He’d been my ‘Sarge’ when I was fresh out of Hendon.
The details of George’s brother’s involvement were just astounding. I could not sit on this a moment longer.
Despite it being close to Eleven at night, I made a call to someone I could trust after I’d photographed each and every page of the file. I sent the lot to my Father along with a note. I was just unable to trust anyone at the moment.
“I’m expected,” I said to security as I showed my warrant card.
The guard saw my name on his list and two minutes later I was being escorted to the Office of the Home Secretary.
“Come,” came a voice from inside when I knocked on his office door.
I entered and saw the Home Secretary. He wasn’t alone. The Commissioner of the Met Police was also with him as was a man I sort of recognised but could not put a face to.
“Come in Sergeant,” said the Home Secretary.
“It is nice to see you again. How long has it been? Four years I think?”
“Yes Sir. Four years is about right.”
It had been him that I’d called some ninety minutes earlier.
“From what you told me on the phone I took the trouble of asking the Commissioner to join us. He needed to hear this at first hand.”
“Sir,” I said as a way of greeting.
“This is Marcus Everett,” he said introducing the other man.
That was it. I knew that he was from MI5. It made sense.
All three of them looked at me. I took my cue and began to tell my tale.
“Sir, as I said on the phone, I have come into possession of some information relating to the operation of two Albanian Gangs in London. The documents put the finger on a good number of Police Officers as well as at least a dozen pretty senior members of the Legal Profession. Most of the latter are being blackmailed. Then there are politicians that range from local councillors all over London and I’m sorry to say it, three senior civil servants who work right here at the Home Office.”
There was silence in the room so I continued.
“The information also contains details of payments to offshore accounts and shipments of drugs and sadly people being trafficked in and out of the country. These people are possibly the most organised crime syndicate that I’ve ever heard of. My reason for wanting a meeting tonight is that there is a shipment of trafficked women coming in through Dover in less than three hours’ time. I wondered if it might be prudent to track that shipment?”
I passed the dossier over to the Home Secretary.
He didn’t open it but asked.
“How good is this intelligence?”
“Sir, the source is impeccable. It came from a good friend of mine. He even implicates his younger brother in the dossier.”
“We need to know a name,” asked the man from MI5 a little sharply.
I knew that George was well away from the country or at least I hoped he was.
“Sir George Carmichael. That’s the name you want. He also knows that he may well be targeted as a result of providing this information. Please don’t ask how he obtained it as I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.”
All three of them were visibly shocked by the name I gave.
The Home Secretary opened the folder and then looked up at me.
“Where are the details of the shipment?”
“Three or four pages from the back Sir!”
He turned to the back of the file and read the relevant section. His face remained expressionless.
Then he said,
“Gentlemen, we have a problem. I… I think we need to come down on these people and hard. But first the people being trafficked need our support.”
The Home Secretary picked up his phone and made a call to the head of the ‘Border Force’. He was direct and unambiguous in his orders. The shipment would be tracked and action taken. Human lives were the priority. Taking down everyone else could wait.
Then he said,
“Sergeant, I assume that safe copies of all this data have been made?”
“Yes Sir, they have. If anything happens to Sir George then it goes to the media.”
There was a stony silence in the room for several seconds.
“Do you know where he is at the moment?” asked the commissioner.
“Sir, all I know is what he told me and that was he was leaving the country.”
For the first time, my boss, the Commissioner said,
“Don’t say anything else Sergeant. We don’t need to know do we Gentlemen?”
None of the others commented.
“Sir, may I say something?” I asked.
“Sergeant, please go ahead,” said the Commissioner.
“Sir, reading this file earlier this evening made me sick to the stomach. Please throw the book at them. They deserve everything the people named here get. This was my last action as a Police Officer. Some of the Officers I have worked with and even respected are named in that folder. I can’t do this job any longer. I can’t trust anyone anymore. Then there is someone waiting for me at home that I need to be with at this time in my life.”
I pulled out my warrant card and handed it to the Commissioner.
Then I said,
“I there is nothing else Gentlemen, then I’ll take my leave. Goodnight.”
I left them alone to go whatever it was that they were going to do. I wanted no part of it. I was done with the force and this time for good.
It was strange walking the short distance from the home Office to Parliament Square and then seeing the statue of Churchill glinting in the streetlights after the rain that had threatened all evening was falling steadily. I felt… felt a freedom that I had not felt for an awful long time.
I looked up at the clock on top of ‘Big Ben’. It said 02:34. Despite being the middle of the night I didn’t feel tired. As I was no longer a Police Officer, I was at a bit of a loss about what to do next.
I started walking. Up Whitehall, over Trafalgar Square and up Charing Cross Road. I stopped at an all-night café for a tea and to get warm. The wind was from the north and had a distinct chill to it.
Once warmed up, I took the night bus home and started to pack. There was no sense in staying in London any longer that I had too. I was more certain than ever that my future lay more than a hundred miles to the southwest of the capital.
I was just about to leave my home when my phone rang. I recognised the number.
“Hello?” I said with a good deal of resignation.
“Sorry Inspector, I resigned from the service as of around zero one twenty today.”
“Who knows? Well, the Home Secretary and the Commissioner. That good enough for you?”
“No Sir, I was with them at the Home Office at their request. At the end of the session, I resigned from the force and handed over my warrant card to the Commissioner.”
“No Sir, I will not say who, why or what the reason for my visit was. May I humbly suggest that you ask the Commissioner those questions.”
“No Sir, I can’t come into the Station as I am leaving London as soon as I can.”
He was clearly trying to keep tabs on me so I decided to tell a fib. His name was mentioned several times in the Dossier.
“Sorry Sir, I have a plane to catch. I need to get out of the country for a few days.”
I hung up and all my euphoria of a few hours ago had gone with just one phone call. I’d tried to be as circumspect as possible. One of the names in the dossier was that of my Inspector. My guess that he was either doing a runner or sitting nervously in his office and waiting for the inevitable knock on the door. It wasn’t my responsibility any longer and for the first time, I really didn’t care.
I took the first through train of the day from Waterloo to Axminster. As I watched London recede behind me I felt relieved and even though I was feeling tired, I was excited about going home.
As the spire of Salisbury Cathedral came into view, I made a call home.
“Hello Mum.”
“I’m on the train. We are just arriving at Salisbury. Can you or dad pick me up at the station just after ten?”
“Ok, thanks. See you soon.”
My mother was waiting for me as I got off the train at Axminster Station. She had a look of ‘what on earth are you doing here in the middle of the week?’ on her face.
“Thanks Mum,” I said as I got in her car.
She gave me the ‘stare’.
We’d gone about half a mile when she stopped the car and asked.
“Ok Peter, out with it.”
“It is a long story and involves George.”
I saw a look of ‘ah ha’ on her face.
“I wondered why he came by earlier today and went off with Pritti.”
“Eh? He was supposed to be on his way to Mauritius?”
“Well, he’s here. Well, over in the wood, at least that was the direction they went in.”
As soon as we’d arrived at the farm and I’d changed into some old non-city clothes, I headed off towards George’s camp.
When I arrived, it was a scene of normality. George was stacking a kiln and Pritti was bagging Charcoal.
“Hi Pete, I wondered how long it would be before you found us,” said George.
“Why aren’t you on a beach somewhere a long way away?”
George grinned.
“That’s what I wanted everyone to think. The cab took me to Heathrow but instead of checking in for my flight, I hopped on the Railair bus to Woking and got a later train home.”
“I can see that you are here but why the change of plan?”
“It wasn’t until we were on the M4 heading for the airport that I changed my mind. I needed to talk to you and Pritti and this was the best place to do it. As far as I know, everyone in London assumes that I’m in Mauritius. I want to keep it that way at least until my business here is done.”
That sounded very fatalistic but it was… well, not that unexpected.
“Well George, we are all here.”
“We are indeed. Why don’t we all go into the Caravan and have some tea?”
Before I could answer, Pritti came up to us. She was wiping her rather dirty hands on an equally dirty rag.
“Hi Pete. You weren’t due down here until the weekend? What gives?”
“Long story but the short version is that I’ve resigned from the force effective as of zero one hundred today.”
The look of surprise on Pritti’s face was priceless.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” said George smiling.
There was an awkward silence between Pritti and myself.
In the end, I said,
“Oh shit! Pritti, I can’t let you marry George.”
Pritti laughed.
“That’s sort of what George said about an hour ago!”
That really confused the hell out of me.
“Come on, I’m parched,” said Pritti as she took my hand and led me into the Caravan.
“Here you are,” said George a few minutes later as he placed three large mugs of tea on the table.
No one said anything until Pritti broke the silence.
“For heaven’s sake people, say something.”
George responded.
“Did you give that information I passed to you yesterday to the right people?”
“Y… Yes, I did. Very late last night I passed it to the Home Secretary at the Home Office.”
“How the heck did you get to see someone like that?” asked Pritti.
“A few years back, I was part of his security detail when he was Northern Ireland Secretary. A couple of phone calls and it was all setup.”
“I told Pritti all about the dossier earlier,” added George.
“That’s all done and dusted unless… unless nothing happens about it,” I said.
“What do we do next?”
George looked at his tea and said calmly,
“I went for another scan when I went up to London. The bad news is that the cancer is spreading rapidly. Basically, I have two months tops. That’s what changed my mind about getting on the plane last night.”
Neither of us said anything.
“Good. Don’t say I’m sorry or other crap like that. I’ve had a good innings and I spent some time with my lawyer in London as they say, putting my affairs in order. I only just made our meeting as it took a bit longer than I expected.”
George reached behind him and took a buff folder from a shelf.
“There are a few documents that need your signatures.”
“What?” I said.
“Pete, I’m making the two of you joint owners of this woodland. Well, for the princely sum of one pound each. Then you are buying it from me. As I am still sound of mind and body, and my revised will was signed and witnessed yesterday by some people with impeccable characters…”
Then he took a deep breath.
“And as it is more than likely that my brother will be banged up pretty soon, I think my plans are good.”
“George…” I said,
“What plans?”
He smiled.
“I want you two to get married before I pop my clogs but there is one thing that needs to be done first.”
Pritti went red in the face. No one needed to explain what that one thing was.
“Pritti, my gift to you is for you to allow me to pay for the operation. You came here and… and made my life worth living again. But this bloody cancer has come back and well, I want to be able to give you away when you two get married.”
Then he turned to me.
“I heard what you said about quitting the force. I know how much that job meant to you but this wonderful lady has affected both of our lives.”
Then he took our hands in his.
“My wish is that the two of you make a life here in the woods. Finish the house and be yourselves but never stop thinking of your friend George. Understood?”
I looked at Pritti with watery eyes.
“I promise,” I said quietly.
George’s brother was charged as an accessory and also as keeping two Bosnian women in slavery. Those were described as ‘placeholder’ charges. That meant that many, many more would be following as the investigation proceeded. He was finished in the legal profession even if he managed to get off of some the charges. Keeping two Bosnian women as sex slaves was according to George, a slam dunk. This pleased George very much.
Pritti and I went to a private hospital on the outskirts of London where she had her operation to finally make her a woman.
Pritti arrived with George. She looked radiant all in white. When I saw her for the first time, my heart went all fluttery.
There were smiles on all our faces when we trooped into the room for the marriage.
The actual ceremony was a bit of a blur but half an hour later, we emerged out into the sunlight. I felt on top of the world.
What I wasn’t expecting was the sheer number of former colleagues who’d made the journey down from London. Almost all of the rookies I’d taken under my wing over the years were there to give us an honour guard. It had even stopped the traffic in the road outside.
The rest of the day was also very much a blur. I just went with along with it. All the time, Pritti was at my side. I was so happy.
Our Honeymoon was brilliant. We went to the Cape Verde Islands and went whale watching. It was different to any place I’d ever been before. My life was now totally different to anything I’d ever envisaged.
That time was a little over a week after we returned from our Honeymoon.
Pritti and I walked over to his Caravan one morning. As we approached the site, I had a feeling. There was no wisp of smoke rising from the chimney that poked out of the roof of the caravan. Lighting the fire was always George’s first task of the day. I looked at Pritti.
I could tell that she just as was worried as I was.
As we reached the door, I said to her,
“Ready for this?”
“I’ve seen dead people before from when I was on the streets.”
“But… George…?”
She gripped my hand tightly as I opened the door and went inside.
George was laying there in his bed. He looked so peaceful. I stepped forward and checked his pulse. The temperature of his hand told me that he was dead but I checked it all the same.
“He’s gone,” I said softly.
I looked at Pritti. There was a single tear running down each cheek.
“I’ll miss him the old goat.”
“Me too,” I said.
“I owe him a lot. He allowed me to help out and get my mind straight. I was in a really dark place when you brought me here. He never said very much but he gave me purpose in life again.”
I took her hand in mine.
“He was really happy to have you in his life. As he said only a few days ago, it gave him purpose again," I commented.
"George was a good man. It is hard to think of him as a crack Barrister making life difficult for witnesses at the Old Bailey. His brother was nowhere as good as him even on a good day. But… he just seemed so happy here and you were the icing on his cake.”
“He was happy living here again. He told me that almost every day especially, when he managed to trap a Rabbit or two.”
We stood there for several minutes saying nothing. Eventually, I said,
“We’d better call in his death. He’s made all the arrangements.”
“It will seem strange without him here with me,” said Pritti.
I managed a smile.
“You’ve got me instead…”
She squeezed my hand and looked me lovingly in the eye.
“I know but you aren’t as ugly or as stubborn as him.”
We both managed a laugh. Which was what George wanted. He'd told us many times not to cry at his passing away. He just wanted us to remember him as he was, happy in his little world.
His last words to me had been,
“Don’t cry when I’m gone, just laugh, smile or do anything but don’t cry for me. I’ve had a good innings and I’ll die happy and so should you be.”
I fully intended to fulfil that promise.
George was buried in copse at the top of the wood. The trees in that part of the wood were no good for charcoal or for timber so had been left almost untouched for almost a century. It was very peaceful and a fitting place for him to be laid to rest. We planted some of his favourite woodland plants including wood sorrel and wild garlic on the grave in his honour. George had made his headstone out of a fallen Oak Tree. It read, 'Here lies Charcoal George and you can be sure that I will rest in peace!'. That was George all over.
Pritti and I put all our energies into finishing the house that George had designed. Almost a year after he died, we moved in. We toasted him as we named it ‘St George’s Castle’. We would not forget him, ever.
George’s Brother got twenty years. He never said a word once he was arrested apart from his name and ‘No Comment’. He knew better than to talk to anyone even his legal representatives.
[the end]