Bedfordshire Clanger Calamity

by steve higgs

  ‘What? What’s going on?’ he spun around to look, his eyes amazed to see that his lead was looped through some steel railing.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute, boy,’ his human crouched a little to pat his head. ‘You too, Hans. You stay here.’

  ‘No!’ whined Rex, tugging at his lead to get free. ‘I can smell him. You need to let me get him before he gets you!’

  With a final pat and check on the leads, Albert straightened himself and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. The lockup was ten yards away. He wanted to be sure the dogs saw which one he went into, which, if he had expressed his thoughts to Rex, would have made the dog despair because eyesight isn’t the sense of choice when trying to find someone.

  Francis wanted to jump for joy. The old man had bought every word of his lies. The giant dog was tied up, and he was seconds away from grabbing his second target. In two minutes, he would have two men stuffed into the boot of his stolen taxi and be heading out of town. He would stick to the back roads and country lanes on his way back to the earl, but he was a man who could get the job done and about to be rich.

  Albert could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he walked toward the lockup. His legs felt unsteady, or less steady than normal which could be a little unsteady at times. How would it happen? That was the question pressing at the front of his brain. He was about to get ambushed, but would it be violent? That was the one thing he couldn’t know. If the man hit him over the head, or simply wanted revenge and chose to stab him the moment he opened the door, then Albert was the dumbest detective ever.

  It was too late to back out now and Albert had no idea how right he was to think that because Francis chose that moment to break cover.

  Both dogs went berserk, which drew Albert’s attention in the wrong direction. Rex was barking and bucking, tugging hard on his lead so that it bit into his throat and made him cough. Hans was no different, following Rex’s lead in promising violence would ensue the moment they got free. However, all they could do was watch as the human they wanted to bite ran at Rex’s human from behind.

  Albert sensed him coming far too late to do anything about it, but he was almost at the lockup door by then. He turned just in time to face the man as he grabbed Albert around his neck. One meaty hand gripped hard and pushed him through the door and into the darkness inside.

  Cryptic Secrets

  ‘Whoa, easy, big fella,’ Albert begged. ‘I’m just an old man. I’ll do what you ask.’

  Francis had hold of the old man’s neck and felt confident he could just crush it in his hand if he chose to. His job was to take the old man back alive so the earl could speak to him. Francis had no idea what that was all about, but the old man had no way of knowing his life wasn’t currently in danger.

  With a final check that they hadn’t been spotted, Francis shut the door. The dogs were going nuts but by the time they drew anyone’s attention, he would be in the car and ready to leave.

  ‘Who are you?’ Francis demanded gruffly, shoving the old man away. He knew his name was Albert but that was all he’d been able to get out of Victor no matter what he threatened him with. The baker claimed the old man was just a customer who popped in a couple of days ago and had been snooping around ever since.

  Albert did his best to look terrified, which wasn’t much of a stretch. ‘Me? I’m just a tourist in town to sample the food.’ The man seemed to consider Albert’s answer for a moment. He looked like he might argue, but his surly face merely grunted his disinterest.

  Backing away, Albert said, ‘I came here to meet a friend. Are you the man who tried to snatch him last night?’

  ‘What if I am?’ growled Francis. ‘It’s of no concern to you.’ He looked about for the duct tape and cable ties.

  ‘No concern to me? I should say it is, young man. Where is Victor? Is he here?’

  The brute’s attention was focussed elsewhere; it looked like he was looking for something, so Albert seized the chance to get a little space between them, darting down the side of the red Ford Mondeo taxi. He wasn’t sure what to expect but should have guessed the man would have stolen a taxi since he offered to pick him up in one.

  The boot of the car was open, the lid held in the air under spring tension, and inside was the bound form of Victor. Even stuffed into the dark recesses of the car’s boot and with duct tape wound around his head so it covered his mouth completely, Albert could still see who it was. It came as a relief because it meant the man hadn’t snatched yet another person, but it also told Albert that Victor was still alive, a fact he couldn’t be sure of until now.

  Francis couldn’t find the duct tape and it was beginning to annoy him. He wanted to get going. His plan was to immobilise the old man the same way he had Victor, but if he couldn’t, he would have to settle for knocking him out – carefully, so he didn’t kill him.

  ‘What is this all about?’ Albert asked hoping the man would reveal his master plan. However, speaking let the brute know that he had moved.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ he snarled. The old man was over at the boot now, which suited Francis just fine since he planned to stuff the man into it. That’s where he’d left the supplies, now he remembered. ‘Just stay right there,’ he ordered as he started to advance.

  Albert didn’t stay though, he wanted a little more time and he’d already found the duct tape and cable ties just inside the boot, guessed what they were for, and hid them under the car. As Francis advanced, Albert ducked back along the side of the car.

  It wasn’t a game that would go on indefinitely, but he was desperate to get at least one answer.

  ‘You don’t want to tell me why you are kidnapping Victor? How about me? Why would you want to kidnap me? I’m just an old man on a tour of the country.’

  ‘I told you to stay there,’ growled Francis, beginning to get impatient. ‘If I have to chase you, you won’t like it when I catch you.’

  ‘I dare say that will be true either way, young man. You’re really not going to tell me why you are kidnapping a random old man?’

  Francis got to the boot. The old man was now at the front of the car. He wasn’t bothered about Albert’s silly stalling tactics; he could catch him in seconds. First to grab the duct tape though. ‘Where is it?’ he roared while pulling his machete from its sheath as a display of what would come if the old man didn’t start playing ball.

  ‘Where is what, dear boy? You mean the duct tape? How about a little quid pro quo?’ Albert watched the man’s face crinkle with lack of understanding. ‘Look, I’ll tell you where the duct tape and cable ties are, if you will answer a few questions. I’m just curious is all. It’s not like I can escape. I could never get to the door before you. It’s my first time being kidnapped so I’m sorry if I am not very good at it.’

  ‘You are going to make me rich,’ Francis growled, finally providing an answer even if it was so cryptic as to be no use.

  ‘Make you rich?’ Albert repeated. ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

  Francis started down the side of the car and Albert shuffled up the other side. He didn’t like the look of the machete the man held, especially not how big it still looked in the man’s giant hand.

  Francis grunted, ‘You’re a high value target.’

  Albert screwed up his face in confusion just as Francis had a moment before. A high value target? What on Earth did that mean? It wasn’t pertinent, but as he once again reached the back of the car, he paused when something caught his eye outside. There was a row of windows at the back and they were old, cheap plate glass. What he saw outside surprised him, but at the same time he also realised there was something he could no longer hear.

  There was no more time if he wanted to get his answer. He stopped moving and held up his hands. Turning to face his would-be attacker as he advanced, Albert surrendered. ‘I give in. I can’t outrun you. Please just tell me one thing, and I’ll get in the boot.’

  ‘Where’s the duct tape?’ Francis shouted, pointing
the tip of his machete in Albert’s direction, and manoeuvring it until it was almost touching the old man’s throat.

  ‘Under the car,’ Albert squeaked.

  Francis gave the old man a hard stare. ‘If you move, I’ll cut off one of your hands when I catch you.’ He held the stare for a two count, then got into a press up position to see if the old man was telling the truth.

  With the machete wielding maniac’s eyes off him for a second, Albert turned his head and signalled through the window. He wasn’t sure if what he now planned would work but the police were yet to arrive, and he was starting to get worried they might not be coming.

  Francis reached a long arm under the car, snagging the bits he needed before bouncing back onto his feet.

  ‘Just one question,’ Albert reminded him in a pleading voice as he held out his hands, wrists together, so the man could tape them.

  ‘What is it?’ Francis growled, tearing off a long strip of tape.

  ‘What part did Kate Harris play in any of this?’ Albert held his breath as he waited for the reply.

  With the sticky tape held ready, Francis gave the old man a look that asked if he was suffering from Alzheimer’s. ‘Who the heck is Kate Harris?’

  That was what Albert wanted to hear, but he needed just a little more yet. As Francis came at him with the tape, Albert faked a sneeze, jerking spasmodically and shifting his hands so the tape closed on itself and stuck together helplessly. As Francis growled with rage, and snagged the reel again, Albert pressed him one last time.

  ‘She was the woman the police arrested on Tuesday afternoon. Don’t you remember? You and your friend were sitting at the table by the door. The police think she is your accomplice. How is she involved in the murder of Joel Clement?’

  This time, Francis stopped to look directly into the old man’s eyes. ‘She’s not,’ he stated. ‘She had nothing to do with it. I killed Joel Clement, just like I’m going to kill you if you ask another question. Now hold your hands still.’

  ‘No more questions,’ Albert promised. ‘Just a piece of advice.’

  Francis had been just about to apply the tape to Albert’s hands when he looked up in question. What advice could the old man possibly have to give?

  As their eyes locked, Albert whipped his hands away, took a fast step back to the window and there he curled his right arm in so his elbow went high in front of his face and then extended it fast like he was throwing an invisible frisbee. With a barely contained laugh, he said, ‘Duck.’

  The Power of Dog

  Rex exploded through the glass behind Albert’s head just as he took his own advice and bent from the waist. Using the wall for support, he watched as the dog flew over his head. As a police dog, Rex was trained to do all sorts of things; jumping through a window wasn’t one of them, but there were signals for ‘quiet’ and ‘be ready’ which he signalled through the window when Francis went under the car to retrieve the duct tape.

  The frisbee move was just one they played at the park sometimes. His athletic dog was able to leap many feet into the air, and though Albert didn’t know if it would work, with the police failing to respond to his call, he was out of options.

  Francis had been about to grab for his machete and teach the old man a swift lesson when he saw the dog’s face fill the window. He had no idea how the beast managed to get free and there was no time to find out. If he went for the machete, the dog would get him. If he tried to grab the old man, the dog would get him. If he even tried to close the boot lid, the dog would get him. All he had time to do was throw himself over the top of the car and get inside.

  Rex landed in a skid, disorientated because he’d come from light to dark and because he had no way of knowing what was on the other side. He’d chosen to trust his human largely because he knew the man he wanted to bite was inside and this appeared to be the only way to get to him.

  His paws were a little out of control and he had pain coming from his side and his front left leg. The injuries, if that were what he could feel, would have to wait for later though because he needed to make sure his human was okay and that meant subduing the man whose scent was in his nostrils.

  The sound of the car engine starting told Rex he was already too late, but he got his paws sorted out and leapt for the car just as it sprang forward.

  Francis was in a deep panic. What had been a perfectly crafted, seamlessly executed plan was going completely to pieces. He was going to have to cut his losses and get out of here right now. His door wasn’t even closed when he let the handbrake go and stamped on the accelerator. The roller door to the lockup was down, but he figured he could blast his way through it if he tried. So that was what he did.

  The industrial units were little more than wide garages with an extra pedestrian door at the side. Built back in the eighties, the contractor had taken every short cut he could because his winning bid demanded it. The roller doors were the cheapest things going, but at the time he’d managed to secure a contract to perform repairs at the building owner’s expense and had rejoiced because he made more money from fixing the cheap as chips doors than he did from building the lockups in the first place.

  Hitting it with the front bumper of the car did several things. Firstly, it folded the roller door outwards from the bottom which ripped the lower sections from the channel they ran in. Second, it yanked the whole assembly from the roof, exploding ancient, and cheaply made mortar which came away along with brickwork and the chain which made the door go up and down. Third, it set off both airbags.

  None of these things would have stopped Francis from driving away, but the cop car just pulling to a stop outside did.

  The two uniformed constables had been directed to investigate what dispatch thought to be a hoax call. They were duty bound to check it, but the level of urgency got dropped a peg, not only because it was likely to be nothing, but also because there was no danger to life reported: a break in at a lockup was not an urgent shout.

  Constables Marin and Patterson had been attending to a minor RTA on the other side of town but were nearly finished when the call came in. Like dispatch, they expected it to be nothing but a hoax. Until the garage door exploded right next to them that is. Bricks, a large chunk of a galvanised steel roller door, and a bright red Ford Mondeo slammed into them as yet more pieces of masonry showered down on the roof of their squad car.

  It scared the socks off Constable Marin who was in the passenger seat and took the full brunt of the low speed impact. Some choice words were said, but the time to gather themselves and work out what had happened was snapped away when the driver of the red car bailed out and started running.

  ‘What the heck was that?’ yelled Patterson. Then, when he should have been getting out and giving pursuit, he said, ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Checking on his partner who he’d been secretly admiring since they started riding together six months ago.

  ‘Yes! Yes, I’m fine, just get going! I can’t get out my side,’ Marin despaired of her partner. He was nice enough but seemed far too concerned with making her life easy when he ought to be focused on the job. He was gawping at her now and she had to shove him to get him moving.

  As they were bailing out through the undamaged driver’s door, from the dark interior of the lockup a large shadow was emerging. The dust from the exploded roller door was still filtering out and shrouding the air in a hazy cloud and from that, trailing debris as he ran was a giant dog. It leapt onto the bonnet of the squad car to get around the wreckage of the roller door, and off again as he tore after the driver.

  ‘Go!’ shouted Marin, slapping Patterson on his shoulder to get him moving. Her partner put his head down to start sprinting but just as he did, something close to the ground and moving fast whipped by his feet. Momentarily terrified that there were terrible creatures escaping from the exploded lockup – Patterson watched far too many horror movies – he squealed and fell over. Marin’s centre of gravity was already extended beyond her toes as she tried to get out of the c
ar. Patterson was supposed to be gone, giving her room to stand and now there was none.

  Falling on top of her partner, the pair got to see a pair of feet shuffle up to the boot of the red Mondeo and a second set of feet, these ones tied together in duct tape, appear a moment later. They were looking under the car, bewildered by what they could see and now they became a tangle of limbs and excuse me’s as they tried to extricate themselves and get to their feet without inadvertently touching parts of each other they ought not to.

  Rex knew none of this. He saw his human be grabbed and shoved inside the building but no matter how much he had bucked; he couldn’t get his collar free. It was his new little dachshund friend who came to the rescue.

  ‘I can gnaw through the leather,’ he offered, putting his front two paws on Rex’s neck. ‘The lead is rope, that’s way too hard, but I can get through your collar in seconds.’ So that was what he did, using his tiny teeth to prove that size wasn’t always the biggest factor. Once free, Rex performed the same trick with Han’s collar except in his case, Rex just found the plastic buckle and crushed it in one bite.

  Now free, the two dogs had gone to look for a way in. At precisely that time, Albert, backing away from Francis in the lockup, had suddenly realised he couldn’t hear the dogs barking, howling, and whining any longer. He figured the police had arrived and were moving into position or something, but when a movement outside of the window caught his eye, a whole new plan emerged.

  Less than a minute later, Rex was running for all he was worth. The human had a head start, but that wouldn’t count for much: humans are rubbish at running. Rex suspected that was because they insisted on walking around on just their back legs.

  He barked with joy, chasing the man yet again and feeling certain that this time he was going to get to bite some flesh. The bum was always a good target. It was at just the right height and people tended to be running away.