by Pete Adams
The ugly sisters were two obese women of a supercilious fat nature, totally obsessed with Pugwash, their officer hero, and from where Jack sat, if he turned his good eye, he could see their arses rolling over the chair sides; they were not comfortable. Playfully, Jack moved some, to see if he could get them to roll over. Now that would lighten his mood.
‘Come and join us at the table, Jack,’ Pugwash smarmed.
Supercilious tart, Jack thought. ‘Thank you, John, but I’ve got shit on me shirt.’
The ugly sisters sniffed the air; no change in visage.
The telephone rang and Pugwash shaped to pick it up, but the Commander beat him, and with crossed eyebrows and a face that looked like someone had stolen his doughnuts, ‘Are you sure one of the patrol cars has not run it over accidentally? Okay, Sid, if I get a chance, I’ll raise it with Jack.’
‘Problem, Sir?’
The Commander looked to the ceiling for his doughnuts. ‘Shall we get on?’
Pugwash was raring to go, ‘You can be under no illusion as to why I have summoned you, Inspector Austin.’
‘Call me, Jane, and I’m completely at a loss, John, perhaps you’d be kind enough to enlighten me, and as fast as you can, there’s a good boy, I’m very busy.’
More eye rolling, and under his breath the Commander tried to get Jack’s attention, ‘Please, Jack, and your shirt is whiffing.’
Pugwash unfolded a copy of the Evening News and made like he was ironing it with the flat of his hand. He pointed to an article, which Jack had not read but surmised the content, ‘I’m still unsure of your drift, Captitano?’ Jack was thinking of his deckachairo.
‘Jack!’
Jack wanted to say to the Commander if the wind changed direction, his eyes would stay like Pugwash’s face, which was showing barely contained rage, jaw sinews taut, teeth gritted.
‘I will read it to you, Inspector.’ And Pugwash read the article after which he sat back, tapped his fingers on the smoothed newspaper, and applied a look meant to convey all should now be completely clear. ‘What have you to say, Inspector?’
Jack engaged the captain’s eyes. Pugwash dodged them and looked down as if to scan the paper again. ‘Well, amateur dramatics are not my thing, but I would say you read that tolerably well.’
‘Jack, pleeeeease,’ the Commander hissed.
Pugwash's cheeks bloomed as he climbed onto an even higher horse, ‘What irritates me most about you, Inspector, is you never learn your lessons. Your arrogance and insolent behaviour a clear indication you have no respect for this committee, and me, as Chairman. You do realise the power I have? It was my recommendation you were demoted from Chief Inspector to Inspector three years ago. The idea of you sitting on this committee, when you grace us with your presence that is, was to enlighten you as to how to conduct yourself in future.’ Pugwash stepped off his horse, looking like it was a job well done.
The Commander squirmed as Jack constructed an inquisitive face, checked with his hand, and approved, ‘Captain, am I correct in assuming you believe it was me who gave the quote to the paper?’
Pugwash leaned forward, hands flat on the desk in front of him, bum off the chair leaning towards Jack, simultaneously raising his voice to a higher register, seething, ‘I know you did, everyone is familiar with your political views.’
Jack felt comfortable he had Pugwash sufficiently riled, twisted his lips, as if to give the impression he was taking the man seriously; he was a good lip twister, practiced in the mirror. ‘Captain, I am a police officer of long standing with a good record, which has been, I admit, varnished since you became Chairman of the Police Committee. I will not insult your intelligence by brandying insults other than to say, if I were to persecute a case with the only proof being a Captain in the Royal Navy, knows so, frankly, I would be laughed out of court. I’m not sure what it’s like in the Navy, although I have inkling, but in Civvy Street, we need proof. I take it you have a signed statement from the journalist to back this up?’
The ugly sisters looked confused, wondering why he would want to persecute a case, but there was hope on the face of the Commander, accustomed to the malacopperisms. Pugwash fixed his grimace. ‘No, but I think everyone around this table knows this is you.’ He rattled the paper as if this proved his point, and the ugly sisters nodded affirmation; their faces wobbled.
The Commander found some courage, ‘Jack makes a fair point, the article does say “anonymous source,” so unless you have proof?’
Pugwash shouted his response, ‘I will not let this go, Sir. I will be recommending the Inspector is further demoted and I will make this happen.’ Pugwash reddened more as the anger flushed through his rusty face.
Jack stood, Pugwash flinched, and the Commander jumped up, thinking Jack was going to punch the Captain, but Jack was calm and collected. He relaxed, ever so slightly; with Jack you have to take respite when you can. Jack spoke, ‘Captain, you make a fair point.’ There appeared a slight easing of the Pugwash sinews; clearly he did not know Jack. ‘I do not respect you, but let me tell you a story. I was asked to attend a school prize-giving recently and the main speaker, who should have been me, of course, was an Admiral in your Navy. The point of his talk to the children was he is often asked what it takes to command his battle feet, or something like that, I wasn’t really listening as I had the hump, but the point was, why do men follow him? Was it clearness of strategy? Calmness under pressure? There were a couple of others, but frankly, I was only just getting interested when he answered. “All of these, but you cannot get any of them until you have earned the respect of your spordinates.” The point is Captain Little...man, I do not respect you or your position on this committee because you have not earned it, and as for learning my lessons, the only lesson I have learned from you is that it takes a very little man indeed to feel he has to raise himself up by putting other people down. You abuse your power and your position, and as long as you continue to do this, you will never have my respect as a Chairman, but more importantly, as a man. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m in the middle of a serious investigation.’
Jack spun and strode to the door, but before he could get to the handle, the Captain called after him, ‘Inspector, may we know the nature of this investigation, the urgency of which compels you to feel it necessary to leave this meeting before I have dismissed you?’
Jack turned, looked at the Commander, and raised his working eyebrow to indicate, Commander may I? To which the Commander shrugged his shoulders; what the hell. Jack sauntered back to the table, leaned on it with both hands flat, his arms locked straight, and lowered his head through his shoulders to look Pugwash straight in the eye, a foot from his face, and this meant the ugly sisters had a close up of the gammy eye. They could see every pucker and wrinkle, the white vertical scar that picked up the light, iridescent, the noticeable twitch like the non-existent dead eye was trying to get out and bite them on their snooty noses. Jack swung his good eye to the ladies whilst he allowed his dramatic pause to have the desired effect; they jumped backwards in their seats risking metal fatigue. ‘Okay, but if this is leaked to the press, I will know where it came from...’ paused for more dramatic effect, and let his eye linger, ‘do I have your word on this?’ an elevated voice, forceful and direct.
‘You do, Inspector, we know how this works, but do you?’ Pugwash smarmed, showing he was not intimidated.
‘And you ladies?’
‘Yes, Inspector,’ well-schooled sycophant elephants.
‘Last night, somebody stole my bike.’ The stunned silence was violated as Jack expelled a raucous guffaw into their collective faces, backed towards the door like he was leaving the presence of the Queen, and for his piece of resistance, and in a highly effected, aristocratic, and effeminate voice, ‘I take no leave of you, Sir. I offer no compliments to your family. I am most seriously displeased,’ a lovely bit of Lady Catherine De Burgh, PP, probably his best, and Mandy and Jo had missed it. Back to the table in two big strides, ‘Good
bye, John.’ Jack stuck his hand out, and the Captain, without thinking, shaped to shake, but Jack dodged the hand, laughed at the idiot in front of him, stood to attention, saluted his Benny Hill salute, and left, closing the door gently behind him. He had learned a long time ago, a gently shut door said more than the slammed version.
Jack bounced down the stairs and plunged through the door of the Community Policing room; one step inside, he saw the whole team assembled. They had probably been talking things through, but Jack suspected it was the meeting upstairs first on the agenda if the abrupt silence was anything to go by. Jack’s first move was to go to Nobby, ‘How you doing, sunshine? I was proud of you today.’ Nobby reddened, but his chest grew a couple of inches. ‘Alice Springs, thanks for your back up, and for last night.’ To the team, he waved his arms, ‘I apologise for not informing you all. In mitigation, I was playing a hunch, and as Jo-Jums will tell you, those seldom pan out.’ Looked to Jo, and swinging his gaze to encompass the team, landing finally on Nobby and Alice, was there something between those two, God help Nobby if there is, ‘You see, I get a twitching in my eye, this will not go away, it starts to hurt and then I know...’ pause for effect, ‘...someone is shagging in the back and I can catch ‘em at it, so Nobby and Alice Springs, be warned.’
The office erupted into a roar of laughter, which Jack hoped would be audible in the Commander’s office, and he was further rewarded to see Paolo enjoying the jest. Nobby blushed and Alice looked at him with affection in her eyes, bless that girl; watch out, Nobby lad, she has her eye on you. Jack remained on his feet and, as the laughter subsided, ‘We have serious work to do, but I think a moment’s silence to remember Biscuit and his family, God love ‘em.’
There was total silence, heads bowed in reflection and respect; this could have been anyone of them.
Pugwash rammed the door open, and it slammed against the wall, he’d come to assert his power. ‘Austin, I’m going to have you,’ and he straight-arm pointed his finger at Jack as if to explain to everyone who he was talking to, ‘you’ll be a constable before the week is out,’ and he stood rigid in the ensuing silence, not respect, but of dread.
Mandy made to move to Jack, Jo-Jums close behind, the mist had clouded in Jack; the familiar signs recognised, but too late as he spun and lunged, grabbed the lapels of the Captain’s jacket and pushed him all of ten feet to the wall. Pugwash back peddling, trying to keep his balance, was slammed against the wall. Jack was spitting bullets and seething hot breath through clenched teeth, drilling invective into the Captain’s face, ‘You filthy, dirty, cowardly, bollocky, knob-head, wanker of a scumbag, we lost an officer today, murdered, shot on duty, wife and two young kids, a dad, colleague, friend, so stick that in your ship’s funnel, and if you ever come into my room mouthing off like you’re on a fucking poop deck again, so help me God, I will throw you out of that window. Now Fuck-off.’ He released the jacket and pointed to the door, his eye never leaving Pugwash’s eyes, sensed his energy dissipating as he turned to the cowering ugly sisters, vigour sapped, and quietly, he said, ‘You two, go and orchestrate your Fat-Wah.’
The laughter erupted as Pugwash and the two wobbly women exited.
As the hilarity subsided, Mandy put her arm around Jack’s waist, well as far as it would go. ‘How’re the anger management classes going?’ she asked, eliciting another notch of laughter. ‘Call me old-fashioned but you may have made an enemy there, and if you want me to tell you where that enmity was made, I think it was, “bollocky, knob-head wanker.” ’ More raucous laughter that Jack hoped was heard by the terrible trio as they headed off.
The Commander was standing at the door, unruffled. ‘Jack, I will do everything in my power to save you. The man is definitely a “bollocky knob-head wanker.” Now, can I ask you to get on with the serious stuff and I’ll watch your back.’
Nobby’s chest grew a little more as the Commander was applauded, remembering Jack had said his dad had been a good copper before he became a twat.
Nineteen
Jack, subdued in voice and manner, addressed the team now seated, ‘I can be a tad difficult at times, but I thank you for your support.’ Stifled laughter, short lived, Jack had his serious head on. ‘We have a hill to climb, and I may have to ask you to jump off a cliff for me, along with other metaphors,’ a ripple, ‘what we do now, we do for Biscuit, for the women and children. I will not ask you to do anything I would not do myself, it will be dangerous, but know this,’ and he looked around, emotion scrawled on his already ravaged face, ‘I’m going after the bastards.’
He expects to be able to do what he asks others to do, Mandy thought. Despite his age and being the clumsiest idiot she had ever known, and she feared for him. Jack carried on, ‘Paolo, I want to bury the hatchet, and not in your head,’ muted laughter, ‘this is no time for grudges. We owe it to Biscuit, we owe it to the little girl I carried out this morning, the woman stabbed to death, to get our act together. Paolo, comments please?’
Paolo stood, thinking Jack was alright, took in the faces turning to him now. ‘My team will focus on Biscuit, what was he working on? Question vice, they will be expecting us, they will cooperate, but, well, you know, eyes and ears, and I’m happy to defer the ground to you, Jane, but keep us in the loop, please.’
He sat and Mandy rose. ‘I propose we skip the group hug,’ a stifled reaction, ‘team briefings first and last thing unless something comes up. Paolo, Cyrano, and Jane, you report to me, I will keep the Commander and Chief up to speed. If you think you’re out of the loop, tell me, do not stew.’ She looked to Jack, ‘Lay out your thoughts, Jack.’
Jack walked to the crime wall, ‘Nobby, you’re responsible for this wall, liaise with Sissies on updates.’ Nobby nodded to Paulo. ‘Cyrano, a small team of bandits, and if I read it correctly, they don’t want to get big?’ The head of drugs swayed his head. ‘Whoever this is does not want to irritate the established criminal cognersentry,’ a titter, ‘we have several trails to follow,’ and Jack signed for Nobby to write on the wall:
‘One, Vice, Biscuit picked up something and it got him killed; prostitution, women and children? I’m not convinced this is sex trade, maybe child porn? Talk with crimes against minors. Is this revenue? If so, funding what?
‘Two, East Cosham,’ Jack shook his head, ‘not convinced. Something not right about the
Christian house nearby? The guys this morning, Right Wing organisations?
‘Three, Frankie and Confucius, a lot to do, and if you need more kit, Frankie?’ Mandy
noticed another familiar exchange. ‘Websites, European, local women and children, keep an open mind, missing persons slipped under Social Services radar? Computers records can be manipulated, and Social Services are stretched, even more so these days. Tread carefully, they drop the ball occasionally, but social workers care, it’s not fame and fortune, but there may be a rogue? About five years ago there was a stink around the head of Social Services, he sits on the poncey police committee, so I could be prejudiced... it faded to nothing. Find out what it was. If it was something, how did it go away?’ Mandy noticed he handed Frankie the piece of paper from the phone conversation this morning, ‘Some suggestions.’
‘Four, Political, who printed the fliers, who’s the organisation behind the rhetoric, are
they targeting something specific? Who are the guys we’ve arrested, their affiliations? Do they have an end goal, apart from the obvious?’ Jack removed another piece of paper from the breast pocket of his rank shirt, and again handed it to Frankie. ‘Follow this up, Franks, sweet’art.’
Mandy had to ask, ‘Another piece of paper?’
‘Don’t interrupt my juices, Babes.’
Mandy muttered, ‘Farted, have you?’ Jack nodded his touché.
‘Five, Street, Jo-Jums, any murmurings, discontent? Liaise with Cyrano.’
‘Six, Drugs, Cyrano and you, Jo, streets, dealers, users, big wigs, is there word on someone funding civil unrest, minority groups, activists?
Just a thought, we have Nazis, is there something left wing?’
Jack checked his fingers, forgot what number he was on, so mumbled, ‘S’vnnnnate? ‘Lateral thinking, no idea too small, get out of jail free cards, especially if you have any ideas on what this thing is all about.’ He pointed to the centre of the chaos table, picked up a sheet of paper and took the marker pen from Nobby’s hand, scribbled “any ideas,” chucked it into the centre of the table. 'Ideas, write them out and put them here, anyone can pick and sift, anything has merit, Nobby put it on the wall. Aye-than-yow.’ It was his bus conductor’s sign-off, the team stunned, meeting over as Jack began sifting his multitude of post-it notes, scraps of paper with lists, his personal form of the chaos table. Ordinarily Jack was neat, but his notes and lists were allowed to pile and scatter. Jack had previously explained about chaos theory, but nobody understood. Frankie stood alert, thinking another slip of paper was coming, but it didn’t. Jack waved a note. ‘Anyone, apart from Alice Springs, I need a lift to Bazaar Bikes?’
‘Fat chance me driving you, but I’m still offended. Consider yourself off the kissing list,’ Alice said, a wry grin. Mandy stopped in her tracks and looked at Alice. Jack thought, daggers or confusion? Nope it was daggers. Nobby looked jealous.
‘Take it up with my cardiganologist, the driving and the kissing, Spanner,’ and to Mandy, glibly, ‘Still waters, sweet’art.’ The hubbub told Jack two things, one, they were working, good, and two, nobody gave a toss about giving him a lift to get a new bike; not so good. ‘Right, I’ll get a bluebottle cab.’
Jack, waiting for his patrol car taxi, warily planted his elbows on Sid’s counter and rested his chin in his hands. Sid mimicked him and mumbled through his fingers, recognising the advantage of his position and the vulnerability of Jack’s. ‘While you’re waiting, perhaps you’d like to watch some CCTV footage? You’ll like this, an old bloke rides off on a bike, and later, that same man is seen carrying a lump of scrap metal.’ Sid spread his fingers so Jack could glimpse his victory grin, eyebrows arched.
