Corrupt

by Russell Judd

The excitement rushes through my body as we are dispatched to a suspicious male seen walking onto a property. Slowly more detail comes through as the dispatcher probes the informant for more information.

  Typically, this job comes in not long after Mike decides that it’s time for his daily crap. Seconds later he rushes out of the toilet, his vest half done up and radio bouncing along the ground, “Did it pinch off clean?” I ask half expecting to see toilet paper trailing behind him.

  “What’d I miss?” he asks as we run out of the door to the car. “At this stage all we know is that a male has been seen walking up the drive way of the informants neighbour’s property and has now disappeared out of view”, I reply.

  The description flows effortlessly over the radio, “the informant describes the suspect as a male Maori, 6 foot, black jeans and wearing a yellow high visibility vest”.

  The dispatcher directs us to a cordon and right on cue the duty dog handler begins to dominate the radio. Fortunately he is not far from the go to address. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s the dog or the handler barking over the radio, but I manage to decipher that he’s going straight in.

  We’re coming from the central station so we’ll have to negotiate the afternoon traffic. Unfortunately this always seems to bring the worst out in me. If I’m working with someone new I tend to apologise in advance for the multitude of expletives that they about to bear witness to. It just really pisses me off when drivers fail to understand what is expected of them when red and blue flashing lights accompanied with the varying tones of a siren appear behind them.

  Thankfully Mike is driving so I can focus on the radio along with trying to figure out the best way to our cordon. Strangely enough the department has embraced technology and forked out for a smart phone and Ipad each. Obviously there is a catch…no more money for a pay rise! However I do find punching the street into google maps a shit load easier than trying to read a map book while the car is being thrown in and out of the traffic. On more than one occasion I’ve had to take a moment to let my stomach reposition itself and or re swallow my lunch.

  The radio comes to life again and the dispatcher gives an update.

  “All units we have received a phone call from the go to address. The victim has stated that the male previously described has entered through an open window at the back of the house. The victim disturbed the male who was in the kitchen, as he was trying to leave he has assaulted her. She has possibly been knocked unconscious from the assault and does not know his direction of travel. Ambulance has been called and is on their way to the safe forward point.”

  I let the dispatcher know that we are 10-7 at our cordon point and cheekily ask if she can repeat the description of the offender. It’s not unusual for a dispatcher to be asked several times by attending units to repeat the description or the go to address.

  I can sense the irritation from the tone in her voice when she begins to repeat the description.

  As we begin to assess our cordon point, delta gives us an update. He’s got a track and is heading in a southerly direction, I look at the map on the Ipad and looks like we are in the right spot to intercept the offender, that’s if we haven’t already missed him. By the sounds of it the offender has gone into the property and has started jumping fences.

  We both jump out of the car. I turn the radio down and Mike kills the engine.

  I again bring up our location on the Ipad “Shit, it looks like he could pop out between here and the other end of the street.”

  I look at Mike and I know he is thinking the same.

  “Sweet, I’ll head down to the end of the street in case he comes out there” Mike exclaims as he jumps back into the driver’s seat and takes off down the street.

  I let the dispatcher know that we have split up and that she may need to reshuffle the cordons in an effort to try and pin this guy down.

  I decide to conceal my painfully obvious blue uniform and look for a good position where I can still see the length of the street but remain somewhat hidden. I find a small amount of concealment behind some trees and keep an eye out for this guy.

  It’s at times like these that the radio always seems to go eerily quiet. I reach up to the transmitter and quickly depress the button. A moment later I hear the transmission come through on my ear piece, but it isn’t the sound that I wanted to hear, it’s a long muted deafening tone. Either I’m in a dead spot or the fucken battery is dead.

  As I’m scanning the area a male sheepishly emerges from behind a fence about twenty metres in front of me. He walks out onto the foot path and pauses, he looks left, then looks right. I can tell the exact moment when he sees Mike’s patrol car at the intersection. His entire body freezes for a second. I can see the muscles in his face contort into a look of fear and uncertainty as he contemplates his next move.

  The male matches the description given earlier however he is not wearing the glow vest. As he turns right to walk away from the patrol car I can see what looks to be a small amount yellow material hanging out of his pocket. I can feel the adrenaline being emptied into my system as I realise that this is our boy. I again depress the button on my handset to alert the dispatcher and Mike, but again all I get is that long muted tone. For fuck sake I mutter to myself.

  The male crosses the street and walks into the property adjacent to where I’m hiding,

  I give him a second then walk out from my concealment and try my radio again, as soon as I depress the button I can hear my transmission through my ear piece, thank fuck it’s working I think to myself.

  Trying to hide the excitement and nervousness in my voice I give a quick sit rep “Comms from WNI52, the male has walked onto the street and disappeared up a driveway. I’m going to need some more units here now!”

  Suddenly the male walks out of the property and is standing about three metres in front of me. Frozen we stare at each other as I don’t think he was expecting to see me there.

  With a dominating tone I assertively order the male “Stay where you are, you’re under arrest!”

  He just looks at me with a somewhat confused look on his face, but quickly turns to defiance. He’s taller than me, quite solid build and by that I mean he has a well groomed beer gut. I’d imagine the extent of his physical prowess would be no more than getting up off the couch to get a beer or beat a family member.

  We both anticipate the oncoming physical altercation, if it comes to share fitness I’ll win and he knows it.

  I can hear tyres losing traction on gravel as Mike and the patrol car winds up with Mike launching it towards us.

  He knows it won’t take long before he is outnumbered and I can see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. Suddenly he erupts from our standoff, with each footstep I can feel the concrete shudder under his weight as he runs towards me.

  He’s almost right on top of me in a couple of steps, my left hand goes straight for my pepper spray but I fumble with the clip. Even if I could get it out in time the training manual says he’s too close, but this is real life.

  With his arms outstretched he attempts to push me out of his way. I manage to grab one of his arms and slightly pull him off balance. He stumbles and we both fall to the ground.

  I quickly get back to my feet. “I told you, you are under arrest, do not move and stay on the ground!”

  By this time I’ve got my pepper spray, as his right hand dives into his pocket.

  “I told you not to fucken move!” he removes his hand from his pocket and places his right hand in his left. It’s obvious he’s trying to hide something. A quick movement of his hands reveals that he has opened a pocket knife and I find a cold steel blade pointing at me.

  Not needing any more encouragement, I depress the button on the spray, the stream shoots out and hits him in the side of the face. It’s not the best of aimed shots but it’s a start.

  He tries to block the spray by bringing his hands up to cover his face and in the process almost embeds the knife into hi
s cheek. Luckily he didn’t stab himself, this would have made my job a little easier but the blade misses his face. He rolls to his right and pushes himself up off the ground. I take the opportunity to keep him off balance and with a stiff kick I thrust my boot into his left rib cage. This sends him over on to his side and the momentum carries him onto his arse. He looks up at me in protest, what did he really expect? He’s got a knife.

  He sits forward again and attempts to get up, he’s still holding the knife in his hand and for his incompliance he gets the rest of the canister of pepper spray emptied in his face. But this doesn’t have the desired effect, it’s very likely he’s built up a resistance to the spray. It’s not uncommon as it sounds, all it really confirms is the type of pedigree this piece of shit is.

  Again, with the knife in hand, he leans forward, gets onto his knees and awkwardly stands up. I move to the right and get out of his line of sight. Quickly I run through my tactical options, no spray left, got a shitty asp and a set of cuffs. Shit a taser would be good right about now, but Mike has it. A single 9mm glock round would end this quick enough but that’s neatly secured in the patrol car.

  With an explosion of energy he thrusts his arm out and lunges towards me. I can feel the anger and hate he is channelling through his menacing knife. This all feels as if it’s happening in slow motion. I try to avoid his attack but it slices through the left hand side of my vest. A little lower and it would have found its soft fleshy target and become embedded deep in my hip.

  He looks up at me, sweat is beading on his forehead, as our eyes meet I wonder if he really knows what he’s just done?

  Knowing that I need to end this quickly, I grab his wrist with my left hand and grip as tight as I can. I twist my torso round to the right while raising my right arm back and with a closed fist come crashing down on the left side of his jaw. As my fist impacts with his jaw, a nauseating cracking sound fills the air. His eyes widen under the pressure and his body goes limp and he drops to the ground.

  Pain shoots through my right wrist and into my elbow. The words of an old Senior Sergeant once told to me, come to mind “always use an open palm, that way you can just say you fell and you won’t risk breaking your wrist on the offenders face.”

  Shit, I wonder if my wrist is broken I think to myself.

  The male is slumped on the ground, his unconscious body is still griping the knife intently. I place my boot on his hand and twist as if I’m putting out a cigarette. The knife finally comes free from his steely grip and I kick it away.

  In a moment of rage I give him another kick to the ribs, air exits his body as his lungs are compressed by my boot.

  I look up to see Mike running towards me, he drops down onto the back of the offender and begins grinding his knee into him. He grabs an arm and places a cuff on one wrist and then grabs the other arm and does the same.

  The male is still out cold, he doesn’t even flinch as the cuffs go on or when he had Mike’s knee cap buried in his back. Mike rolls him onto his side in an attempt to put him in the recovery position, to clear his airway and ensure he still has a pulse. We can both hear shallow breathes and we give each other a look of relief. The silence is broken by Mike’s voice on the radio asking for an ambulance. I didn’t do that much damage did I? I look at the guys face and he is still out to it.

  I decide to sit on the ground, the adrenaline begins to wear off and is soon replaced with a feeling of nausea. I look down at my hand and its shaking like a leaf. I feel an unusual coldness as the breeze picks up. My hand is guided by this feeling, when my fingers reach for the area of coldness, this feeling is quickly replaced by a sharp stinging sensation as I discover an open wound. I look down to wear the knife defiantly penetrated my vest and find my blood soaked fingers. I can feel the shock beginning to overcome the nausea. It’s not often that I get to see my blood, it’s normally someone else who inconsiderately bleeds on me.

  I can feel my face turning white, my mouth begins to fill with saliva, and my body temperature has just increased. Shit, I know what’s coming next. I lie down on the soft cool grass. I should be helping Mike but I figure I’m helping by not vomiting all over him and the offender.

  I try and focus on something else when my heart sinks a little as it dawns on me, shit this ass hole has caused me quite a bit of paper work and he’s ruined my fucken vest.

  I shut my eyes momentarily enjoying this somewhat calmness after the storm.

  I can hear Mike’s muffled voice yelling out my name when suddenly I’m violently shaken back into reality. All I can see are bright lights glaring down on me. It takes a moment for me to realise that I’m in the back of an ambulance with a couple of paramedics feverishly cutting off my vest and top. My brain is telling me someone is putting a shit load of pressure on the wound and it’s hurting like hell. My whole body tenses which only intensifies the pain. An unfamiliar voice keeps telling me to relax. “You fucken relax” I spurt out, I know this doesn’t help the situation, but have they just been stabbed!

  Suddenly I can feel a cool tingling sensation enter my arm as one of the paramedics administers something. It’s not long before the pain starts to dull and my body relaxes. It’s now that I know it must be quite serious, I haven’t even dared to look at the damage the knife has inflicted. I couldn’t watch my tattoo being done and that was consensual, I think I’ll wait for the scar.

  Chapter Six