by Pete Adams
‘The only suggestion I have is Portsmouth has good race relations, no ghettos or lines of tension, unlike Bradford, for instance, which has been targeted, but obviously not had the desired response. I can only think this is the British psyche, “Of course there will be race riots there, there are natural lines of tension”, but here, if you can stir something up, it will be noticed, who knows? Where they go after that is anyone’s guess, and we will not know until we nail the bastard behind it. I want to codename him Norafarty,’ Jack chortled, more to himself. Mandy and the Commander smiled benignly at the juvenile eccentricity, Mandy reassuring the Commander he meant Moriarty. ‘Can you ask uniform to let me have details on these little demos going on against the cutbacks?’
‘I’ll have a look see,’ the Commander replied. ‘Jack, Mandy, I’m impressed,’ and he stood, difficult in the comfy seats, but managed it on the second attempt.
Jack rose to meet the blushing Commander, ‘So that’s where we are, my head hurts, my heart beats with a passion for this woman, but we have to deliver a Polar Bear to the north.’
‘Jack, I will never understand you, but I will fight tooth and nail for you against Pugwash.’
Jack put on his dimwit face, not difficult Mandy thought, ‘Going to be a tribunal then?’
‘Jack, please, Pugwash is a demonic character, he cannot see any side of any argument other than his own, and everything has to run how he wants it to run; he worries me.’
‘A Martinet would you say?’
‘I might if I knew what that meant, but I do know his sort will destroy what we have, and I cannot stand by and watch it happen. I will not let you go without a fight.’ The Commander left, flushed and determined to get home and find his son; Jack could have told him he would be on the naughty step, but didn’t.
Mandy circled her desk to approach Jack, they embraced and immediately returned to the passion that had been interrupted. Jack’s breath was in the back of his throat, the butterflies working overtime. He was so in love, never thought this would happen again, but here it was, felt like he was sixteen, decided not to mention this to Mandy, she might think he’d grown up. However, he did feel he could step-in-time, not the best bit of Mary Poppins but better than the penguins, nobody liked the penguins, shame though, cause he liked a jolly 'oliday with Mary. Mandy took a breath and stepped back a little, ‘What, did I...?’
Jack had that look on his face, the one that had grown on her. She nodded he had spoken his thoughts into the kiss and her mouth. She put her hands on both of his cheeks and pecked small kisses on his dead eye, good eye, his nose and then his mouth. Jack was lost, this was full on real woman, and he felt his heart might burst from his body. Slowly, Mandy released him, let him float back down, and in a tender, husky whisper, ‘And that is how I have felt for a very long time. Take me to the pictures, not Death of the Vampires, something we can talk about. I want to talk to you, I want to know you, and then it will happen. I love you, Jack Austin.’ They both calmed enough to walk out of Mandy’s office, down the stairs through the reception where they picked up the Polar Bear left by Michael.
‘Bravo, you two,’ they waved acknowledgement to Barney.
Outside the air was cool, but heralded summer, dusk, that lovely light Jack liked when walking along the seafront with Martin, and now, he looked forward to walking with Martin and Mandy, maybe even Meesh. He chanced his arm, not thinking straight, ‘I feel like I’m sixteen again Amanda, I have a fluttering stomach, I’m excited, like I’m walking on air, I love…’
Mandy, surprised at his interruption, turned sharply to look at him when he pushed her hard to the ground. She screamed, heard the shot ring out and scrabbled to a crouch behind the Commander’s car. A shot zinged across the bonnet and then another. Jack called out, ‘Stay down,’ she managed a “No kidding, Tonto”.
Barney was behind her, ‘Armed support are on their way. Jack what are you doing?’ Barney saw Jack crouching, backside in the air, a perfect target, a deformed Hyena, scuttling to the far side of the car park; no sun and consequential deep shadow, but it was the darkest part of the frontage. Jack skirted the perimeter and could see the car, two men, a driver, and a passenger with his feet outside the open door, confidently seeking targets, and why would he not be confident, our police are not armed, so what could possibly happen to them; cowardly bastards. Jack felt his bile rise, tried to control his berserking mist, counted to ten, imagined stroking Martin and the image turned to Mandy, and the anger rose again.
He made a mental note of the car number but knew he would forget it, Oldtimer’s? Paranoia, also a sign. This is where Jack thought he wished he knew a bit more about guns, but he hated them, had as little to do with them as possible, even in his past. He thought about the TV shows where the cops always knew how many bullets would be left, but Jack didn’t have a clue, couldn’t even recall how many shots had been fired. Didn’t know what sort of gun it was, except it was silver and was glinting in the glow from the streetlight at the front of the car. Jack was a cerebral man, not a macho action man. Actually, if he was honest, he wanted to go to bed. He felt tired and a little bit sick, his head hurt and the stars were back, floating in front of his panicky eye; was that heart disease?
All the time he was thinking these jumbled thoughts, he was crawling on his belly towards the car. Sparing a moment to look back, he saw Barney stick his head above the parapet of a planter, another shot, drawing fire. Jack continued to crawl, concealed within the anti-vandal shrubs that were scratching him to buggary, Cairo Pantha, or something, so much for his Church of Egypt; who’d be a vandal? The car was only a few metres away. He pulled his keys out, tried not to let them chink, thought about jingle bells at Christmas; focus for Christ’s sake. He had a small Swiss army knife. The orange streetlight was behind the car and Jack was in the shadow; he didn’t like orange, a colour that didn’t suit him; shut-up and focus.
Barney made a run, ducked behind another brick planter, drew more fire, and under this cover and the intense noise, Jack stabbed one tyre, rolled over and hit the other one. The immediate deflation was felt by the occupants, the reaction astonishing. The gunman in the passenger seat made to get out, whilst the driver thought this his cue to make a getaway. No grip from the back tyres caused the car to slew and it clipped Jacks left hand; he screamed.
‘Jack!’ Mandy’s panic call.
The passenger was caught, one leg in the car, one leg outside, his arm twisted in the seat belt causing him excruciating pain, good, Jack thought, and the gunman fired indiscriminately until his ammunition ran out, by which time he had been dragged a few metres and was now on the floor screaming. Jack heaved himself upright, kicked the gun away then kicked the passenger in the face for luck; Jack was superstitious. The driver revved but Barney was there, pulled the door open and had the man half out as he tried to grab a gun; should have worn a seatbelt Jack thought, and thinking that was lucky, he kicked the passenger's head again; you can never have enough luck. Barney seized the gun and had it pointed at the driver's head. The gunman on the floor was stirring so Jack gave him a pearler and waited for new luck to kick in, so to speak. He felt no remorse, the conversation in his head, ‘I’m doing this, and there’s no mist, so this is what I’ve missed, and that rhymed, maybe I should have been a poet?'
Barney looked to Jack, ‘Poet?’
Jack pointed at the gun in Barney’s hand, ‘You know how to use that?’
There was a click, ‘Safety off, I’m the best shot in my gun club,’ and the driver put his hands up.
‘Sort of wish I’d not campaigned against gun clubs now, but I will get over it, and probably sooner than I should.’ The driver looked confused. ‘PP’, Jack said, but the driver remained nonplussed, and was less plussed when Jack walked around the car and smashed him in the face. ‘Anybody see that? Good, because here’s another one, shoot at my feckin’ woman.’
‘Okay Jane, think I might just see the next one,’ but Jack hit him again. ‘Nope,’ but Ma
ndy had Jack now.
The Commander of the armed support unit called out, ‘Nope, didn’t see anything.’
‘Two sets of cuffs, Cisco,’ Jack called.
Mandy turned, ‘Cisco?’
‘Cisco Kid,’ Jack said as if this was all the explanation needed.
‘He always calls me that,’ Cisco said, ‘a cowboy series from the fifties he says, but now everyone calls me Cisco, and I’ve never seen it.’
‘Welcome to the club,’ Barney said, handing the gun over, ‘bag that, it's evidence. There’s another one around here somewhere.’
The man on the floor groaned, his arm was facing completely the wrong direction. Jack looked, farted, and fainted.
‘Jack, you wuss,’ and Mandy ran to him and squatted beside him, her hand supporting his bandaged head, his left hand appeared broken, and she recalled his scream.
He was coming around as the paramedics and an ambulance arrived. ‘Amanda my hand hurts.’
‘I know, the ambulance is here.’ She stroked his face, he had a look she recognised, ‘What?’
‘I can nearly see up your skirt.’
She allowed herself a quick sight to the heavens, more out of habit, moved and leaned over a little more to whisper in his ear, ‘How’s that, can you see better now?’ The paramedic was with the gunman on the floor. ‘Leave that bastard and get over to this policeman now,’ Mandy bawled, concerned for Jack.
‘I need to look at this other man, he must have hit the windscreen.’
Jack felt Mandy tense, ‘Leave it love, they’re like London buses, there’ll be another one along in a minute,’ and sure enough another was there and it was Barry. ‘Bazzer,’ and his colleagues shouted, “Oi, oi Bazzer”, he’d been appointed a nickname. Bazzer grinned as he took Jack’s hand and put something around it that was cool, in a temperature way, but Jack thought it looked quite good as well, but could no longer ignore the excruciating pain beyond the throbbing of his hand; he was scratched all over, and his clothes were torn to shreds. ‘Feckin’ Cairo Panther,’ he said, and Bazzer and Mandy laughed, ‘What?’
‘It’s Pyracantha, bozo.’ Mandy answered, loving her dipstick.
The Commander arrived as Jack was getting into the ambulance. ‘Mandy, I know you will want to go with Jack, but I need you here to get the ball rolling.’
She was annoyed, ‘Jamie.’
Jack put his good hand on hers, ‘Mandy you’re needed, come here,’ and under the pretence of a kiss, he whispered, ‘Ring Father Mike, I need him, please.’
‘Jack, it’s just your hand falling off, you’re not dying.’
Bazzer was looking to close the ambulance door, Jack mouthed, ‘Please.’
‘Only because you’re my wuss,’ the doors closed, she took out her mobile and searched for the number he had asked her to store and rang Father Mike O’Brien.
Thirty-Five
‘Fallen off your bike again,’ the same casualty triage nurse.
‘You got no home to go to? Jack replied.
‘Can’t go home, cutbacks, reduced staff, so no cover, and we have to take up the slack with no overtime payment. They take the piss, and we’ve no time to demonstrate, cute strategy, eh?’
‘Do me a flavour, have a kip before you work on my hand, then meet me and my mates at C&A’s for a bit of sedition.’
‘I will not be doing your hand, but will certainly meet you at C&A’s, but wouldn’t it be more convenient to meet here?’ They laughed amicably, mechanically. A doctor looked at the hand and scribbled something. Jack was tipped into a wheelchair and was headed off to X-ray, police officers in reception and by the treatment areas, as he was wheeled along; plaudits, pats on the back as he went by. He could hear nurses asking what it was all about, and no doubt it would be ramped up by the uniforms, so when he returned, he would be better known than Thingy Bob, whatshisname?
‘Mandy’s starting to think you’re going Roman Candle, Jack, you’ll have to come along for a few Sundays.’
‘In your dreams, Mike.’
‘How are you?’
‘Starting to think the Pugwash tribunal might be a blessing in disguise.’
Mike smiled looking down at him, ‘You’ll get over it, how did you get those scratches?’
‘Some Egyptian plant.’
Out of X-ray, they resumed their conversation as Jack was wheeled to a treatment bay, ‘You know Father it’s only his hand and a few scratches, he’s not about to die.’
Mike looked at the nurse, ‘Nurse?’
‘Fazacherly.’
‘Nurse Exactly?’ Jack said.
Father Mike addressed the nurse, ‘Nurse Exactly, this man has a calling, just does not realise it, yet.’
The two old pals looked at each other, ‘I’ve a calling alright, a couple of pints in C&A’s.’
‘Nurse Exactly have the X-rays been sent through?’ it was the Doctor, too busy to get involved with banter, but picked up on the nickname.
‘I’ll check the system, Doctor?’
The Doctor was rubbing his young chin, ‘You have some dislocations...' hemmed, '...we can manipulate, some cracking we can do nothing about, and hefty bruising, Inspector, no lasting damage. It will hurt for a while. Nurse Exactly will put on a moulded removable plastic cast to keep everything in place. When that’s sorted, we can dress all the cuts and scratches, have you got several hours?’ the Doc relaxed momentarily, laughed, ‘What happened Inspector?’
Mike answered for him, ‘Egyptians,’ and the doctor drifted off to cure people, seemingly satisfied with the response.
‘Given him the last rites yet?’
‘Depends on how angry you are with him Mandy.’
Mandy looked on and smiled benignly, Jack pleased he was wounded; it was like a get out of jail free card. ‘All set at the nick, babes?’
Excitedly she responded, ‘It is Jack, and you wouldn’t believe it, we have spooks camped in the CP room and the only people pleased to see them is Connie and Frankie, and I quote, “They’re downloading some cosmic programmes”, and this has got them so excited they forgot where they were and Frankie kissed Connie, so I think that’s out of the bag now.’
‘I know,’ Jack said.
‘I know you know about Frankie and Connie.’
‘No, I know about the spooks.’
‘How?’
She looked at Mike, he shrugged, ‘Was that Gallic or New York Jew?’
‘Gallic.’ Mike nodded; good, that cleared that up.
‘Mandy sweet’art, look around you.’
She poked her head out of the curtains; ‘Oh, Feckin’ spooks, inveigle their way in everywhere. I thought they were Doctors,’ and she chuckled.
‘You can tell Doctors darlin’, they’re only marginally less stressed than the nurses, that right Exactly?’
Before Exactly could answer Mandy was in, Jack thought she’s a bit hyper, but then again, she’d just been shot at, ‘Exactly, eh? Please, don’t explain, I’m processing enough as it is, not least my man is a tosspot.’ Jack looked at Mandy warming at the expressive look on her face, but mainly because she said he was her man; she already knew he was a tosspot.
Amazingly the Doctors did not want to keep Jack in, seemed pleased to be rid of him. He emerged from casualty with a moulded pink, plastic, oversized glove on his left hand, so many little stitches, plasters and tapes, he walked like he’d soiled his underpants. At the exit Jack stopped to talk to one of the spooks who reported they had face recognition on the gunmen, ‘Part of a white pride cell; lowlife. The gunman has a smashed arm, they’ll have a job to save it, but they’re trying. The other bloke will not be as good looking as before. Swears blind he did not hit the windscreen but everyone says he did, so he did. Well done Jane, and Mandy, isn’t it? Today, this evening, good job.’
‘Thanks, Jimbo, think we have someone rattled?’
They moved off, Mandy started to reply, ‘How did you know...?’
Jimbo called after them, ‘Del-Boy said you was a b
anker, think that’s what he said.’ Jack thought we must all be tired because nobody laughed.
As they left, Exactly handed Mandy Jack's meds, said he thought Jack was a lucky man.
‘I know, I could have been shot.’
‘No, Jack, you have so many friends, and thanks a lot for “Exactly.” How will I explain that to my boyfriend?’
‘You won’t need to,’ Mandy answered.
Thirty-Six
Jack waddled to Mandy’s car; she held the door for him. There was a section of cardboard box left on the dashboard, large letters in thick black felt pen, POLICE if you clamp this I will rip your balls off.
‘Seems to have done the trick, love,’ and she smiled as he ooohed and aaahed, winced and complained, into the passenger seat.
‘My little wuss,’ she whispered in his ear and closed the door gently. All settled, she started the car and took his right hand and put it on her leg, slightly higher than had previously been permitted.
‘Lucky I didn’t hurt my right hand.’
‘Very lucky indeed, Jack.’
They drove to his house in another of those companionable silences Jack thought would come in handy in C&A’s. Wondering if he dare move his hand took his mind off the pain. She pulled up behind Jack’s garage, ‘Not dropping me at the front, Mands?’
She looked at him as she took her keys from the ignition, ‘I’ve been shot at and God knows what else is out there wanting to take a pop, and before you say anything, nothing will happen tonight, and will not, until we have our serious talk, and I’ve at least been to the pictures with you. Got it?’ She looked at his face, curious to see how he took the news.
‘Understood, a relief.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Amanda darlin’, I can’t move, I’m going to need you to undress me.’
‘Okay, but if you give me any lip, I will do it roughly.’
‘Oooh err matron,’ he squeezed out, trying to ease himself out of the seat.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, give me your hand and not the pink one.’ He groaned, accepting Mandy had limited caring genes, which went along with her patience.
