by Bob Bidecant
*****
‘I’m sorry Mr Mikael but I can’t get any closer, there seems to be some sort of disturbance.’ Called the carriage driver. The carriage could not progress further into Jubilee Street and it had to stop several yards away.
‘It’s alright I will walk from here, move the carriage to the next street until I come back.’ Mikael shouted above the noise as he stepped into the street.
A huge mob had congregated around Sinclair’s house, some out of sympathy but most came out of morbid curiosity. Mikael pushed his way through the crowd towards the address he had been given.
‘What’s the crowd for?’ Mikael asked a young man.
‘The old copper Sinclair is dead, they reckon he got murdered.’ Mikael was shocked at the statement. He pushed closer to the house until he was stopped by a policeman.
‘What happened?’ Mikael asked.
‘Who are you Sir?’ asked the constable.
‘My name is Mikael Buitekant. I am a friend of Bill Sinclair’s, I got a note to meet him here.’ He held the paper up, the policeman glanced briefly at it and then explained.
‘His neighbour heard a commotion last night, she went inside when it quietened down, she found him lying on the floor and called the police. Are you willing to go to the station and fill in a statement?’
‘Yes of course.’ Mikael replied.
‘Williams, escort this gentleman to the station.’
The young constable held his arm and guided Mikael through the crowd towards the police station.
‘That’s him. That’s the man I saw come here last night.’ Mrs Rosen, Sinclair’s neighbour shouted as she saw Mikael. The man standing next to her saw the policeman holding Mikael’s arm and shouted excitedly.
‘He’s got him, look the copper has got him already.’
‘That’s the one he called Mikael. I heard him say his name.’ Mrs Rosen cried hysterically. Williams turned and looked at Mikael, both were shocked. Suddenly bursting into movement he twisted Mikael’s arm up behind his back.
‘What are you doing?’ Mikael shouted above the screaming of the crowd. He felt something hard and cold tighten around his wrist as the constable expertly locked one handcuff on Mikael and the other on himself. This young constable was not going to lose Mikael in this crowd. He knew what was coming next, he had been in a similar situation before.
‘Move yourself,’ shouted Williams. ‘We’re about to get a bloody good kicking.’
Mikael felt a blow on the side of his head as a man stepped forward and punched him. The constable blew his whistle over and again to attract attention from his colleagues. The sound ringing in Mikael’s ears as Williams helmet got knocked off and hit him in the face. Two more constables arrived and stood either side of Mikael forcing people out of the way with their batons as they pushed through the crowd. Blows rained down on his head as the four men struggled to get through. The crowd was screaming as young men fought each other to get near him and land a blow. Several kicks deliberately made contact with the police officers too, a cheer went up each time one of the police got their helmet knocked off. The crowd didn’t care about Sinclair, it was a good excuse for violence. After all it wasn’t every day they got a chance to thump a copper and get away with it. Whistles rang out everywhere as more constables ran into the crowd using leather truncheons to carve a route through to their colleagues. As more people fell from the blows the mob grew even angrier. Young boys had been sent to fetch anything that could be thrown. They arrived breathless and handed over heavy objects to the older youths who attacked the police. Bricks, bottles and dustbin lids, anything they could pick up and throw. It became a battle. A large house brick hit Williams on the back of the head and he collapsed to the floor as the crowd rained kicks into his defenceless body. Mikael tried to pull him to his feet but felt himself forced towards the floor as more bodies crushed him. Mikael looked up and flinched as a truncheon came in his direction. He held up his hand to protect his face, but the truncheon was not aimed at him and the man behind him caught it full in the face. He fell backwards as Mikael twisted his head around and saw the man hit the floor, a small sharp knife fell from the man’s hand.
‘You were going to stab me? You piece of scum.’ Mikael felt a rage overcome him and kicked the man on the ground twice in the testicles even though punches were raining down on him from others in the crowd. A large policeman grabbed Mikael and pulled him away from the man. Four more police constables arrived and lifted the unconscious Williams up. They carried him through the endless crowd, Mikael staggered along behind them struggling to keep his feet going, exhausted. His body fuelled only by adrenalin.
Mikael tripped as he was pulled up the steps to the station. The officers did not stop and dragged him into the police station and onto the stone floor before the reception desk. One constable unlocked his handcuff and two more lifted him off the floor. They carried him into a cell and dropped him onto the bed then locked the door and left him there alone and bleeding and returned to Williams.
The station Sergeant looked at Williams laying on the ceramic tiles bleeding profusely in front of his desk in the police station reception hall. He had been a policeman since he left the Army and nothing shocked him. He sighed once as he placed his spectacles on the large incident book on his desk and winced as his knee made a loud crack to reminded him how old he was and why he sat behind a desk and not on the beat. He rubbed his knee twice as he walked slowly towards the constable then knelt and placed his hand behind Williams head with one hand and with the other held smelling salts under his nose.
‘What happened Geordie?’ He asked the older constable who had helped carry Williams in. Geordie tapped an old man on the shoulder and motioned him to move up the wooden bench. The old man, happily watching the scene in front of him didn’t move so Geordie tapped him again, this time a bit harder.
‘Move up the bench you old fart and let me sit down, I’m knackered,’ he ordered. ‘And get a bath when you go home you stink…., go on move up further.’ He added as his nose took in the old tramps unique street bouquet.
The old man reluctantly gave up the best viewing position and Geordie sat down still panting. He watched Williams slowly regaining conscious as the smelling salts took their effect on him. Geordie explained what had happened.
‘The young un done well, there was huge crowd in minutes, you know what bloody cockneys are like. He took a right hiding but he didn’t lose him.’
The sergeant smiled as the young man slowly regained consciousness.
‘Don’t tell him that or it will go to his head.’ He said grinning, then to Williams, ‘You all right now?’
‘I’ve got a bit of a headache.’ Williams said shakily.
‘You know what you need son. A cup of tea. Do you fancy a cup of tea boy?’
‘Yes Sergeant, I could strangle a cat for one. I’m spitting feathers after all that.’
‘Good boy, you go and make yourself one and while you’re there, make me one as well I’m bloody parched.’ He winked at the older constable.
‘Yeah I could do with one as well,’ Geordie added. Anyone else fancy a cup?’ he called after him.
‘I’ll have a cup,’ Said the old tramp.
‘You can fuck off.’ Said Williams to the tramp, holding his head as he walked towards the kitchen to make the others tea.
