17th June: early morning. Di Worrell was late - very late. She hurried down the corridor, swallowed her last mouthful of toast and opened the door to the parade room, straightening her creased uniform- which she hadn�t had time to iron- with her other hand. She prayed that Sgt. Ackland was taking the briefing today. She put her head around the door. Sgt. Gilmore glared at her. She sighed resignedly to herself. There was no hope for her now - bollocking of the century time. Cass Rickman was trying to attract Di�s attention. Di looked in her friend�s direction. Cass made an axe-wielding motion behind the sergeant�s back and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Di groaned inwardly. Gilmore was on the warpath, and had obviously been giving the PCs in the parade room a hard time before she had arrived. �Glad to see you had time to join us, Di.� Di cringed at the sarcasm in Gilmore�s voice. �I�m sorry, Sarge, I overslept, my alarm�� Gilmore silenced her with a withering look. All three of the Sun Hill Uniform Sergeants were very good at glaring. June Ackland was by far the best at it, but she didn�t use it very often. Gilmore came a close second, but he used it all the time. �You�re late,� he snapped. �I don�t give a toss why you�re late. You�re late. Half an hour late to be exact. Stay behind after I�ve finished the assignments, I want to talk to you,� He turned his attention back to the briefing. �Des, you�re in the area car today with Cass. Tony and Polly are on beat 5�� Di quickly weaved through the officers standing in the room till she was beside Cass. Cass smiled at her sympathetically, but dared not say anything while Gilmore was in such a bad mood. Gilmore finished the assignments and dismissed them with a curt �Get out there�. Under the general hubbub as the officers left, Cass quickly whispered to Di, �Don�t answer him back, just take it. He lost his holiday leave �cause of the staff shortages, Reg told me. Don�t do anything to make him even worse, or he�ll stick anyone else he comes across on duty for the Carnival!� �What carnival?� Di asked in confusion. Cass noticed Gilmore about to look in their direction and quickly headed for the door. �I�ll explain later. Good luck, you�ll need it!� was her parting warning. Di turned to face Gilmore and silently cursed the batteries in her alarm clock for dying on a day like this. Polly Page surveyed the canteen, looking for Di. It didn�t take long to spot her: she was the only one in the canteen. She was sitting at a table in the corner, by herself, staring at her lunch with an unhappy, but resigned, expression on her face. Polly had been stopped by Gilmore in the corridor, and she knew exactly how Di was feeling. She picked her way around the tables to where Di was sitting, and placed her plate of bacon roll in front of the seat opposite her. The cup of tea followed, and Polly slumped onto the chair. Di looked at her and saw a look on her face that she knew mirrored her own. �Carnival duty?� she asked, knowing the answer. Polly nodded and sighed. �S�pose I shoulda seen it coming after he caught me reading the Sun Hill Chronicle at the front desk last week. Telling off wasn�t too bad, was it?� Di picked at her lunch miserably. �Awful. It went on for ages. Now I�m on carnival duty as well. Apparently the first carnival Canley�s had for nearly twenty years, and I won�t even be able to enjoy it! I dunno what I�m gonna tell Josh when he finds out about it and asks to go. He�ll probably find out this afternoon; that�s when they�re putting up the posters for it.� Polly sipped her tea. �Awwwww, that�s a shame. But there isn�t anything you can do when Gilmore�s in a mood. He won�t listen to anyone, not even Sergeant Ackland! I mean, he doesn�t get on very well with people at the best of times, but when he�s in a bad temper you can�t reason with him! He gave everyone a huge bollocking right at the beginning of the briefing, and he kept picking on people: Tony for sneezing, Cass for talking. Stuff like that. Just as well Reg warned us at the start, or it would have been a lot worse!� Di winced. �Maybe I should be glad my alarm clock went bust after all. I think he�d have probably stuck me on carnival duty anyway, whether I came in late or not. So who are the other unfortunates who�ve got stuck with it?� Polly named a string of people, all of whom, Di knew, weren�t going to be impressed when they discovered what they were doing on July the eighth. Most of the people working at Sun Hill now hadn�t even been working there when the last Canley Carnival had been held more than fifteen years ago but they knew what carnival duty meant. No dodging off to find something to eat or get a nice cuppa because there was always a sergeant on the prowl. Being constantly on the lookout for pick-pockets, screaming lost kids, dodgy dealings at the stalls and the interminable flow of people coming up to you, asking for directions to this, that and the other. They knew it was something to be avoided if at all possible. Those lucky enough to find out about the carnival in advance, and secure days off for that period, had kept the information to themselves to cut down the amount of competing for time off. Those people knew they would be unpopular with the rest of the relief for a time, but to them it was worth it to avoid being placed on duty for that day. The unlucky ones, however, were stuck with a day of being surrounded by all forms of entertainment with the knowledge that they couldn�t participate without always looking behind them for the ever-present, eagle-eyed sergeant. �Have they found out yet?� Di asked. Polly grinned as Des Taviner flung open the canteen doors and stomped in. He looked furious. Cass followed just behind, but she was trying not to laugh. Des chose a plate of food at random from the serve-yourself counter, paid for it and thumped it down on the table next to Polly and Di. He noticed Cass trying not to smile and glowered at her. �Will ya stop looking so smug?� he grumbled. �You�re turning into Reg!� Cass winked at the others and left to get her own food. �This is all your fault, Di, d�you realise that? I had plans for carnival day, y�know, and now they�re all completely out the window!� In spite of Des� complaints, Di knew that he didn�t mean it. He was just annoyed, as she and Polly were. �If it makes ya feel any better, me and Di are on carnival duty as well.� Polly told him. �No, it doesn�t.� Des said flatly. �In fact, you�ve just gone an� made it even worse, �cause now I know I have to put up with you two down there as well as being bored outta my skull! An� she�� he jerked a thumb towards Cass, who was standing in the canteen queue grinning at them �has been grinning at me like a Cheshire Cat all the way down here �cause my application for a day off was refused an� hers was accepted �cause hers was put in earlier than mine!� He pronged a chip with his fork savagely. �And d�you know what�s even worse?� he added, pausing the fork halfway to his mouth. The two WPCs gestured for him to continue. He paused for a few seconds more, adding suspense before breaking the news. �Bloody Gilmore�s gonna be the sergeant in attendance at the carnival He chewed in silence while Polly and Di looked at him in horror. �Oh my God.� Di said slowly. �You are joking, aren�t you?� Polly finished. Des shook his head and carried on chewing. �It coulda been worse, though!� Cass pointed out, plunking a plate of egg and chips on the table. �At least Reg Hollis asked for CID people instead of us to go on the Sun Hill float in the parade!� The others looked at her in confusion. �What float?� * * * * 17th June: Afternoon �Guv, you can�t expect us to do this! We�ve got cases to follow up!� Debbie whined. DI Cullen folded his arms and waited for DS MacAllister to finish her protests. When Debbie finally realised that she wasn�t getting any reaction from her inscrutable DI, she stopped. Cullen spoke. �Have you finished, Debbie?� Nonplussed, Debbie nodded. Cullen spoke again. �I�ve said this once, I�ll say it for the last time: You. Are. Going. On. That. Float. And that is final. There are other officers remaining behind who will take on the other cases for the day, and I�ll be very disappointed with anyone who rings in sick on the Carnival day. Very disappointed. Do you understand?� The threat hung in the air. All the others in the room, Debbie included, knew what would happen if Cullen was disappointed: boxes of outstanding paperwork (which DC Webb swore that Cullen conjured up from thin air) would appear by their desks, all to be completed before they were allowed out on any cases. She had no choice. �Yes, Guv.� �Good. I�ll read the list again: Debbie McAllister, Mickey Webb, Paul Riley, Danny Glaze and Duncan Lennox. You�ll be on the front part of the float; half of you dressed as police, the other half in burglar costume. Go and see Reg Hollis tomorrow morning and he�ll explain the rest to you.� The others sighed to themselves and each swore to kill Reg Hollis the next time they saw him. �Why aren�t you on the float, guv?� Mickey asked impudently. Cullen stopped for a minute. Mickey could see that the question had caught him out. Cullen mumbled something about a day off and disappeared into the corridor. Mickey looked at his retreating back and frowned. �He�s hiding something. Don�t ask me how I know, but there�s something that he doesn�t want us to know about.� �Why? What�s he got to hide? We don�t know anything about him anyway!� DC Glaze argued. �We do know a few things. There�s no missus for example, which ain�t really surprising. Who�d marry an android?� Mickey ticked off the facts on his fingers �He�s come from one of the nicks in Theatreland, he knows Superintendent Chandler, he doesn�t like drug dealers and he always goes home as soon as it�s knocking off time, never goes down to the pub with the rest of us. That�s all we know.� �Ye ought tae get Reg Hollis on the case, he�s bound tae find out something!� Duncan joked. Cullen returned to the office then and gradually CID settled down for a normal day. By evening, most of the people in the CID office had little else to do except paperwork. Though jokes had been swapped at the beginning, it was now silence as each officer ploughed through the case files that they had to update and the forms that they had to complete. Danny Glaze was having trouble with a leaky pen, but it was the only one he could find, so he had to make do with it. Mickey Webb was hopelessly lost. He hated paperwork at the best of times, but he had just been sent back a load of forms in triplicate, each one with a different clerical idiocy circled in red pen with a polite request to re-write the whole form. So it was that the ringing of the phone in Cullen�s office was a welcome distraction. And it just so happened that his desk was closest to the DI�s office and he could hear faintly, but clearly, any telephone calls that Cullen happened to receive. He saw Cullen pick up the receiver. �DI Cullen.� Cullen said shortly. Then his whole facial expression changed, from one of boredom and irritation at the interruption, to a much softer, though worried expression. �Ellie�what�s wrong?� he said gently. Mickey pushed his wheelie-chair closer to the partition separating his desk from the DI�s office. The others hadn�t noticed, neither had Cullen, whose eyes went wide and mouth opened in dismay at the torrent of explanation coming from the phone. He shook his head slowly. �Oh�no. How�how far gone?� Another silence as Cullen listened to the voice on the phone. Mickey saw Cullen rub the bridge of his nose; an act that he always did when he was unhappy. �Have you rung Jo yet?� Cullen covered his eyes with one hand and grimaced at the reply �Ohhh, I don�t believe it! Okay, I�m leaving now. Tell her to keep up the walking, I�ll be there soon.� Cullen thunked the phone back onto the handset, got up and grabbed his jacket. He strode towards the door. Caught in the act, Mickey quickly pushed his chair back to where he was originally sitting. Unfortunately he pushed too hard. The chair shot back, caught a wheel on the side of the desk and tipped Mickey off it. Mickey sprawled out on the floor, and was covered in an avalanche of forms as the back of the chair swept all his paperwork off the desk on top of him. The others in the office looked up for the first time, saw the scene before them and laughed uncontrollably. Cullen, now out of his office, and putting on his jacket as he moved, had not even noticed. �I have to leave early, I�ll see you all tomorrow,� he said, moving towards the door without looking back. �Guv, where are you going?� Debbie called after him in between fits of laughter. Cullen turned and noticed Mickey on the floor trying to pick up all the forms. �I think you�d be better doing paperwork at your desk, Mickey, that�s what it�s there for,� he said dryly, and then hurried out without answering Debbie�s question. Debbie looked at his retreating back curiously. �What�s bitten him?� Mickey, now installed on his chair once more, leaned back and looked smug. �See, I told youse he was hiding something!� The others looked at him suspiciously. �Hang on a minute, d�ye know something that we don�t?� Duncan looked at him accusingly. Mickey looked even more smug but didn�t say anything. Danny Glaze looked at him slyly. He picked up his leaky pen and walked over to Mickey�s desk, dangling it over the pile of painstakingly written forms. A large blob of ink formed at the base of the nib, ready to splatter on the pristine paper should the pen be moved too fast. Mickey watched the ink-drop nervously. Danny grinned at him. �Spill.� Mickey rattled off the phone conversation word for word. The others listened in amazement. Meanwhile, Cullen was driving through the deserted streets of Sun Hill like a maniac, hoping, and praying that he would get there in time. * * * * 18th June: morning Mickey was the only person in the office when Cullen arrived. He was late - for the first time since his posting to Sun Hill. Mickey looked up when the door opened and gave a low whistle. �Bad night, guv? You look shattered!� Cullen looked at him and gave a half smile. His baggy eyes had big, dark smudges beneath them and he hadn�t shaved properly. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked only half open and were red with tiredness. However, he looked oddly triumphant. �Do I look that bad?� Mickey decided to be painfully honest and nodded. Cullen rubbed his eyes and blinked. �Better neaten myself up a bit.� He stifled a yawn. Mickey looked at him, seemed to concentrate on his paperwork, but then finally asked. �Guv, sorry for asking, but what time did you hit the sack las� night?� Cullen smiled wryly. �Seven am.� Mickey looked at him, agog. Then he turned around on his chair to look at the clock. When he turned back, Cullen had disappeared out the door. Mickey looked at the clock again in amazement. Duncan came in. �Ye turned intae a goldfish or summat, Mickey? What�s so interesting about the clock?� Mickey turned to face Duncan. �Know how the DI went home early las� night?� Duncan nodded. �He came in just now.� Duncan paused to consider this. �So he�s late? So what?� �He�s never been late before.� �So? There�s a first time f�r everything, isn�t there?� �Yeah, but he looked absolutely shattered!� �Maybe he went down to the pub with Ellie or whatever her name is and got smashed till two am or summat?� �He doesn�t seem the type, though, Dunc. He said he�d crashed at about seven in the morning! That means he only got about an hours sleep, two at the most! Anyone else�d just throw a sickie, yet here he is in the nick.� �Where�s this leadin� tae, Mickey?� �I think it�s summink more than just a late night with a bird�I know!� Mickey�s eyes were alight with inspiration. Duncan groaned as he realised that Mickey was in an exaggerating mood, but gestured for him to continue. �He�s got a daughter,� Mickey said eagerly �who�s got really bad asthma, and she got really ill last night and that�s why he had to leave early!� Duncan laughed. �Dream on! Whassis? Mickey Webb, private investigator or summat? Ye should leave the DI to his own little secrets!� Duncan grinned and went to his desk. DI Cullen, looking a bit more presentable, though the smudgy eyes were still present, returned and went into his office. A short time later, DS Vik Singh entered the office with a bundle of papers under each arm, walked over to the DI�s door and managed to nudge it open. Cullen was slumped motionless over the desk, elbows on top of a load of papers, fast asleep. Vik frowned, managed to place the papers on a chair and gently tapped the slumbering DI on the shoulder. No response. Vik tapped harder until finally he poked Cullen on the shoulder. �Guv?� Cullen mumbled something and lifted his head from the desk. He blinked a few times, then finally realised where he was. He turned to Vik. �I fell asleep?� Vik grinned and nodded. Cullen groaned and rubbed his eyes. �I�m sorry about that, Vik, was there something you wanted?� �Ummm�no, it�s ok, it can wait.� �Might as well tell me now. I�ll probably go home in a minute. Shouldn�t have been here in the first place,� Cullen rubbed his eyes again. �A lot of good I�ll do snoring away here, I�d have been better off calling in sick. Go on, Vik, you didn�t bring in all those papers sitting on that chair for nothing.� �Oh, okay, if you say so, Guv. I need permission to do a raid�� Vik emerged with a triumphant grin on his face. He�d been waiting for a chance to get Hargreaves for months. But there was something else bothering him, something he�d seen on Cullen�s desk. He hadn�t been able to read it, but he knew that it was out of place. �Fluorescent yellow�� he muttered. Then he dismissed the thought and got on with his other work. * * * * 18th June: morning �It�s gonna be a good carnival, that�s for sure!� Jim Carver said, burying his nose into the bright carnival flyer once more. He scanned the list of events. �Canley Borough council must�ve put a lotta money into this, they�ve got all sorts on as well as the Grand Parade�they�ve got a horse show, helicopter rides, oooh, a firework display, bungee trampolining�what�s that?� He looked up at the others in the locker room getting changed for an answer. �They put you in a harness with bungee ropes attached, and you jump up and down on a trampoline thing and do somersaults and stuff. Definitely not your style, Jim!� Nick Klein teased. �And how do you know?� Jim said indignantly �For all you know I might be an outdoor sports enthusiast!� �More like an indoor sports enthusiast, i.e. watching the telly and yelling �C�mon Liverpool!�� Des chipped in. Jim glared at him. �Not a hope, mate, I wouldn�t support them if they were the last team on the planet!� �And what�s wrong with Liverpool, eh?� �They�re useless! Not a hope against Spurs!� �Bull!� �Liverpool�s the bull in the china shop! Only they break their own bones an� not other people�s china!� �Hah, only the wimps support Spurs!� �Who you calling a wimp?� Des poked him in the chest. �You! Twenty quid says you wouldn�t be able to last out on the bungee trampoline at the carnival!� Jim rose to the challenge. �Alright, deal! Tony, you�ll witness that, won�t ya?� Tony nodded, but there was worry in his eyes. �How ya gonna watch it, Des? You�re on duty, remember!� Nick pointed out. Des groaned. �How can I forget? Don�t worry, I�ll be there somehow!� When Des and all the others had gone, Tony tried to talk Jim out of it. �Jim, you�re insane. Those things make the best of people queasy!� But Jim�s mind was made up. �I�ll show him what Spurs supporters are made of!� Tony gave up. * * * * 1st July: afternoon 6:25pm Vik Singh peered through the binoculars at the warehouse opposite the deserted shop that he was in. There was still no sign of Timmy Hargreaves, though the actual pick up of stolen TVs and radios wasn�t due to start till half past six. He could just see the �Grierson�s Windscreen Repairs� Transit van parked down the road, containing nine police officers instead of equipment, and just out of sight he knew that the DI�s car with Cullen and MacAllister in the front was sitting on the kerb with the engine switched off. There was also an IRV parked in the side road behind the shop waiting for the signal to rush in. He checked his watch. It was twenty-five past six. �Sarge, can I have the binoculars?� Vik handed them to Duncan. Duncan held them to his eyes and slowly turned his head so that he could see the whole street. Time passed. �Sarge, d�ye think this pick-up�s gonna happen? It�s gone twenty to, now.� �It�d better, or I�m gonna crucify Allan Mason for giving me dud leads!� �Sarge!� Duncan quickly handed the binoculars to Vik, pointed to the warehouse yard and seized the camera, which he focused on the small, weasel-like figure of Timmy Hargreaves, who had appeared out of nowhere and was directing two men with dolly trollies laden with boxes out into the yard. The men bustled to and fro like ants. Duncan whistled. �There must be tons of the stuff!� he said in disbelief, taking photo after photo of the activity. Another van came slowly down the street and turned into the yard. Vik noted down the registration, but stopped as a clicking sound invaded his hearing. It wasn�t Duncan�s camera. * * * * 6:51pm The PCs sat on the special seats installed inside the van, bored, but ready to go as soon as the signal came. Then the radio crackled and they heard Vik�s voice. �Go, go, go!� Sam Harker reached for the door handle. Cass Rickman�s sharp ears picked up a faint sound. �Whassat?� Des Taviner turned around and looked out of the tinted window. There was a shrieking noise. �GEDDOWN!� he shouted, scrambling off the seat. He was the only one who had time. There was a loud crash, thump, tearing of metal, smashing of glass. The van rocked, lurched violently and tilted to one side, balancing on two wheels for several seconds before thudding down onto all four again. The van reverberated with shouting. The officers inside where bounced around like ping pong balls: thrown against the walls, then to the side, then onto the floor in a heap, moaning. * * * * 6:51pm Vik Singh watched the whole scene unfold before him, powerless to stop it. A red Vauxhall Cavalier had been cruising down the street. The clicking noise had gotten louder, and faster. The Vauxhall had been just about to level with the unmarked police van when Vik gave the signal to start the raid. Then Vik saw a horse explode out into the road in front of it. The Vauxhall�s tires screamed as the driver frantically spun the wheel to avoid hitting the horse, then the brakes took over the noise as the driver tried to prevent himself crashing into the van. Vik didn�t see the car skid into the van. He was already pounding down the stairs; heading towards the door with Duncan close behind. But he heard the grinding, metal on metal noise that made him cringe when he thought of the officers inside. He thrust the search warrant into Duncan�s hands, pointed to the warehouse and pelted towards the van. Duncan hurried across the road towards the warehouse. DI Cullen ran across his path. �The IRV�s already in there, keep going!� he shouted. �Guv, ye�re goin� the wrong way!� Duncan yelled after him. Debbie went past him a few seconds later, following Cullen, but Duncan couldn�t get any explanation for the DI�s behaviour out of her, either. He charged through the gates and started shouting the official statements for searching a premises as the Uniform officers flooded into the yard. * * * * 6:54pm Cullen�s eyes followed the horse as it cantered down the street, oblivious to the chaos it had just caused. A car came towards it and slammed its brakes on. The horse reared in fright, squealing, and turned away from it, speeding back the way it had come. Debbie MacAllister came running behind him, but stopped as soon as she saw the horse. Cullen stood, shifting from foot to foot as the horse galloped toward him. �Guv, what are you doing, you�ll get hit!� Debbie yelled. The horse was unstoppable, its hooves drumming on the road surface in a steady tattoo. Cullen didn�t look behind him. �Shut it, you�ll wreck my concen�� The horse sped past. Cullen�s arms shot out and grabbed hold of one side of the trailing reins. He yanked them hard, moving forward as he did so. The horse turned in a circle, neighing in protest, then slowed down, rearing and pawing the air with its hooves. It landed on the ground with a thud, and then reared again. Cullen pulled the horse down, but it was too strong for him, in spite of the surprising strength in his arms, to keep it there. He commenced a tricky sequence of ducking, dodging, moving and weaving to avoid the lethal, flashing hooves of the rearing horse, all the time keeping a tight hold on the reins, though the muscles in his arms were screaming at the abuse they were being given. �Help me, Debbie!� he shouted, ducking a flailing leg and moving back at the same time. Debbie stood, paralysed. She was scared stiff of horses, and didn�t know what to do with this rearing, shrieking creature. Cullen misjudged his timing and a metal shoed hoof came down hard on his foot. His piercing yell of pain spurred Debbie into action, and she made a grab for one of the leather straps on the horse�s bridle. �NOT THE THROATLASH, YOU�LL BREAK YOUR FINGERS! GET THE OTHER SIDE OF THE REIN!� Pain gave Cullen�s voice extra volume. Instinctively following instructions, Debbie managed to catch hold of the left rein and pulled on it with all her weight, hoping she was doing the right thing. The horse put front feet on the ground, but couldn�t rear again because of the two people holding it down. It bucked and plunged while McAllister and Cullen hung doggedly onto the reins. A few minutes later it stopped and stood, trembling, eyes wide and staring with fright. Splashes of foam from the horse�s mouth dropped onto the pavement and it was breathing hard. Cullen slowly stroked its nose, whispering to it with no words while Debbie watched in amazement. The horse calmed down and stood quietly, though it was still panting after its exertions. Cullen moved and gasped as his foot creaked and pain shot through it. He bit his lip, balanced carefully on one foot and turned to Debbie. �Car�glove compartment�should�� he paused and breathed slowly, waiting for the pain in his foot to subside, and thinking at the same time ��should be a halter in there�� Debbie looked at him uncertainly. �A what? Are you sure you�re ok, guv?� �Did I say I was?� Cullen said sarcastically, wincing. �I can�t exactly walk down there myself, can I? I�ll be all right holding her; she�s quiet now. Just go in the glove compartment and get out the thing that isn�t a box of tissues or a packet of Polos�ouch!� he overbalanced and unthinkingly used his injured foot to steady himself. He pushed Debbie�s hands aside. �I�ll live, just go and get that halter. And find out if the Uniform in that van are okay.� Debbie scuttled off. Cullen watched the raid going on in the distance and put an arm around the horse�s neck to keep himself balanced. * * * * 6:54pm Vik pulled the door release handle on the dented van again. Something had gone wrong with the mechanism and he couldn�t get it open. Other officers were running towards him. He pounded on the door. �Can anyone hear me in there? Hello?� Vik�s insistent voice finally got through to Des. He moved, wincing as the bruises all over his body started to ache. He thumped on the floor of the van with his fist. He could see the door handle rattle again. He tried to reach up to push it open, but the bright red, heavy Enforcer that had been balanced on Sam Harker�s knees was pinning his leg down. �Yeah, yeah, I�cn hear ya, whoever�s out there. I can�t get to the door. Wait a minute.� He twisted around to look behind him, squinting into the gloom inside the van. He called. �Is there anyone actually alive in here?� he heard a few groans in reply. �Who�s that?� �Sam. There�s blood. Dunno where from. Ow!� The floor of the van vibrated slightly as Sam moved. �Blood�s frob byd dose. Id hurds. Who was�ad shouding before?� Des identified Cass Rickman�s voice. �Dunno, someone outside. Sam can you reach the enforcer?� There was a scrabbling. �Yeah, just. The seat�s collapsed on top of my arm. I can�t move much, but I think I can lift it up enough for you to move out of the way. D�you want me to try that?� �Ummm...yep, if ya can. Cass, where are you?� �I�b od de oder side od de vad!� �What?� �Des, she�s on the other side of the van. You�re closest to the door I think. Other people are starting to move around, I c�n hear �em. Sooner you open the door, sooner we c�n get out. I�ll try lifting the enforcer.� Des felt the weight on his leg disappear with a loud clunking as Sam managed to drag the enforcer off it. Des got up on his hands and knees, ignoring the bruises he had received. He reached for the handle and managed to pull it. The door clicked and someone on the outside opened it. Sergeant Boyden stood in front of him with a crowbar, concern all over his face. �Oh good! We were just about to lever the door open! Can you walk?� Des moved out of the van and tested his legs gingerly. He stood, winced, wobbled, but stayed standing as a paramedic checked him over. Jim Carver led Cass out of the van. She grinned at Des, and then headed for the waiting ambulance. Debbie MacAllister appeared, talked to Boyden for a bit, then walked back up the road again. * * * * Cullen saw Debbie making her way down the street towards him. She carried a length of thick rope with a clip at one end. She held it up. �Is this what you wanted?� she asked. Cullen nodded and held up a hand. Debbie threw the rope to him. Cullen caught it neatly and clipped it onto the horse�s bridle. �The Uniform in the van are okay, a few injuries and the van�s gonna be out of action, and the raid was a success! What happens now?� �Someone�s bound to be looking for this horse eventually. The rider fell off.� �How do you know they fell off, guv?� Cullen pointed. �Stirrup�s broken off. I�ll lead her a bit closer to the junction, that�s probably the way they�ll come down.� Debbie looked at him incredulously. �Can you walk?� �I�ll have to.� �Well�I could�� Cullen smiled. He could see that Debbie wasn�t too enthusiastic about the idea. �S�ok. I haven�t broken my foot or anything; I can walk. Just at the beginning it was painful because I�ve had that foot stomped on before.� He tugged on the lead rope and made a clicking noise with his tongue. �Walk on.� Clopping echoed around the deserted road as the horse began to plod down the street. Cullen limped beside it, holding onto the rope. Debbie followed behind, a puzzled look on her face. * * * * Mickey Webb watched the ambulance drive off in the direction of St. Hugh�s hospital. Considering the state of the van, the officers inside had been lucky to escape with only a broken wrist (Sam), a broken nose (Cass) and numerous cuts and bruises. The officers given the all-clear by the paramedics stood dazedly watching Duncan and the IRV crew load up boxes of stolen electrical goods. Timmy Hargreaves was fuming in a Panda and a triumphant Duncan had arrested his cronies as well. Somebody tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see a young man, red in the face and puffing. The man was dressed in a loose shirt and trousers and had a riding helmet in one hand and a bucket in the other. The bucket rattled and Mickey could see oats piled in the bottom of it. �Ex�excuse�me,� the man panted �Have�have you seen a horse�come this way?� �Yeah, it went up�� A piercing whistle interrupted Mickey. He turned. �Are you looking for this girl?� Cullen stood holding the lead rope. The man�s face lit up. He rushed forward. �Lori!� He patted the horse�s nose. �Is she alright? What happened here? Thank you so much for catching her, I thought she would get killed!� Cullen grinned. Mickey watched in confusion. �She�s fine, as far as I know. She caused an accident, I�m afraid.� The man�s face fell and he looked behind him to see the wrecked van and the police swarming everywhere. �Oh no. Will I be arrested?� �Why? You weren�t there. There weren�t any major injuries, the van�s insured, your horse seems to be fine. I can�t see any problems.� �Oh, thank goodness for that! Is it alright for me to take her now?� Cullen nodded. The man pointed at the halter. "S'at yours?" Cullen shook his head and offered him the end of the rope. The man looked at him curiously. "Don�t I know you from somewhere? Sure I saw somebody who looked like you at Collingdon a few months ago." "Don't recall." Cullen said shortly, glaring at him. The man took no notice. "Sure I've seen you somewhere before. Are you certain you weren't at Collingdon, sir? With the pretty lass who scooped the grand prize for show jumping? Never forget a face when it comes to riding, especially a face as pretty as that young lassie! Lovely horse too and all." "I. Have. Never. Been. Anywhere. Near. Collingdon." Cullen said slowly and deliberately. The man took the hint. "Oh, must have been somebody else then. I'm sorry for troubling you. Thanks for catching Lori for me, and a good day to you, sir!" The man led the horse away up the street and out of sight. Mickey, who had heard the whole conversation, frowned and looked at his DI. "Guv�is there something we ought to know about?" "No." Cullen said flatly. Then he hobbled off in the direction of his car. Debbie MacAllister tapped Mickey on the shoulder. "That halter or whatever it�s called was his, I took it from his car! He's hiding something. I know it!" she said. "How long has it taken you to realise that, Sarge?" "Shut up. The question is: what is he hiding? Does he have a girlfriend who's a horse-lover, and doesn't want us to know about it?" "I reckon that's it, y'know. That bloke said about a pretty girl. And isn't Collingdon all the way down in Devon or summat?" "Mickey, did you ever do GCSE Geography?" "Yeah." "Collingdon is a town in Herts, they have a big county show every year." "Well I bunked off half the time, it bored me stupid anyway." "Obviously." "So, he's apparently been seen at this Collingdon thing, with a pretty bird who scooped a prize in the show jumping." "But he said he'd never been there!" "Well of course he's gonna say that, Sarge! He's not gonna want the rest of CID ribbing him about it, is he?" �I want to know. I�m going to find out!� "But, if we find out what he's hiding, and tell CID, he�ll know where it came from and we'll be drowning in so much paperwork we won't get it done by the end of the next millennium!" "Mickey, you don't want to be on the float, do you?" Debbie said patiently. Mickey cottoned on. "But that's blackmail!" "So?" �No way, I�m not tossing my career down the khazi for the sake of avoiding going on the carnival float! Soon as it�s over you�d get done!� �But there�s no harm in finding out, is there?� Mickey thought about this. He wanted to know, but at the same time he didn�t want to get into trouble for knowing. Debbie could see that this was what was holding him back. �We wouldn�t be trailing him for goodness sake! We�ve got a right to know!� �No we haven�t, that�s breach of privacy!� �He has access to every blot and smear in our record, Mickey. Isn�t it fair that we ought to know what�s in his?� Mickey pondered some more. Debbie was right. And surely it wouldn�t do any harm? After all, when Deakin was DI they knew everything about him. Deakin operated on the basis that if you didn�t know your colleague, then you wouldn�t work with them as efficiently. He nodded. �But just talking to people, no following him around or anything.� Debbie grinned, satisfied that she had an accomplice. Cullen didn�t go with them to the pub to celebrate the success of the raid. Only Mickey and Debbie didn�t believe that his sister was ill. The next day, Debbie rang a friend who was a DC in Herts and asked her to make inquiries. The phone on Debbie�s desk rang an hour later. She pounced on the phone. �MacAllister?� �Heya, MacDebs, it�s Jess.� �Oh hi! What�ve you got for me then?� She wrote a few lines on a notepad she fished out of the drawer, thanked the DC and rang off. Mickey walked into the office. Debbie tore off the sheet and waved it at Mickey. �Take a look at that.� Mickey took the paper and read the information Debbie had scribbled down. He raised an eyebrow, nodded and handed it back to her. �So now what?� �You go and visit, dumbo!� �What? Go all the way up to Borehamwood to talk to the winner of the show-jumping category of the Collingdon country show, just on the off-chance that he might have been with her?� �Yes.� �And petrol? Can�t we just ring her up or something?� �No, he might be there when you ring! He�s got the day off today, remember?� �Sarge!� �Do you want to find out or not? I�ve found the information; it�s up to you to check it out! Take a sickie in a few days time, pretend you�ve got a stomach-ache or something and go up there.� Mickey grumbled and moaned, but grudgingly agreed. * * * * 7th July: Afternoon After getting lost several times, Mickey finally ended up in Borehamwood, getting lost again in its twisty streets. In truth, he�d enjoyed the trip up in spite of his frequent loss of direction. The scenery made a welcome change from the grubby streets of London. He studied Debbie�s information again. He was supposed to look for Hawkmead Farm, and ask for one Eleanor-Jean Mackenzie, who had won the show-jumping at Collingdon according to Debbie�s source. Then he had to make up some story about a routine inquiry, though he had no idea what excuse to think of that would give him a reason for being here all the way from London. He leaned out of the window and called to a plump, smiling woman bustling past his car. ��Scuse me, missus, but do you know where Hawkmead farm is?� The woman stopped and looked at him curiously. �You�re not from around here, are you? Who�s asking?� she enquired, her Herts accent clearly contrasting his Londoner�s speech. �Mickey Webb�ster. Mickey Webster, that�s me.� The woman frowned. �Can�t say I�ve heard of you. But then Jean gets so many people coming in and out. Breeds wonderful horses she does�are you a buyer?� Mickey seized the opportunity for a cover story, making up a profile for himself as he went along. �Uh�yeah, I�d heard about them. I had a mate who bought one that�s just won�� �Oh? Which horse was it? I�m sure she�d love to know which �uns have done well. For breeding y�see, she has to find the good �uns.� Mickey was stuck. He didn�t know anything about horses, and especially not the bloodline and record of a horse that didn�t exist. He quickly changed tack. �My mate told me to see a Mr. Cullen about it.� The woman stopped and studied him more closely. She paused. �Cullen? Can�t say I�ve heard of him either! Now if you�ll excuse me, I must go, I�ve got the kids� friends to drop off.� The woman hurried away. Mickey watched her go in confusion. Then he realised that she hadn�t told him where Hawkmead farm was either. He drove aimlessly around the streets, asking people where he could, but now he was met with a stony wall of silence. Nobody would tell him the location of Hawkmead farm, nobody would talk to him. Then two children walked up to the car. One of them tapped on the window. Mickey wound it down. The two were identical twins, with identical cheery brown eyes, fiery-red hair and cheeky grins. �Are you Webster?� one said. Mickey nodded. The other girl whipped out a notepad and biro and started scribbling something down, looking at him every now and then. Mickey sat there stupidly, watching them. �What are you doing?� he asked. �Writing� said the twin with the pen. �The directions to Hawkmead farm.� The other twin finished. The twin with the pen scribbled a few more lines, then tore off the bottom part of the page and handed it to him. They grinned twin impish smiles, waved and ran down the road. �Cheers!� Mickey called after them. An hour later, Mickey smelt a rat - a huge, very dead, very smelly rat. He�d just passed the sign pointing to Cambridge for the third time, and there were still more directions scribbled on the sheet. He stopped the car in a lay-by and studied them, squinting in the fast fading daylight. He knew he was being led on a wild goose chase. But now he was thoroughly lost. These directions were all that he had. Maybe, if he carried on following them, he would end up back in Borehamwood, where at least he could find his way home again. He hoped. He noticed a small collection of buildings up ahead of him. The sheet said he was supposed to turn left at the next road, but he didn�t trust it any more. He drove past the turnoff towards the buildings, in the hope that he could ask for directions. As he drove past the wall separating them and the road, he saw the small wooden board drilled into the wall. In painted white letters, the sign read �Hawkmead Farm� The sign next to it, in black lettering hard to see in the dark, notified passing drivers that there was foot and mouth within a five mile radius from this farm. It asked any visitors in cars to please drive over the disinfectant mats placed at the front gate, and could any visitors on foot please stick the soles of their shoes in the disinfectant trough beside the gate, thank you very much and apologies for any inconvenience caused. At that particular moment, the car coughed, choked, spluttered, shuddered and, as he moved it onto the verge, died. Mickey decided to make the best of a bad job. He�d made it to Hawkmead Farm, and now�he squinted at the petrol gauge. The red warning light blinked back at him. Now at least he had an excuse to go and visit. He got out of the car and made his way towards the front gate. It was rusty, but the hinges had been oiled and one of the bars had been recently replaced. It hadn�t been locked, and, by the rusty padlock and chain hanging from it, hadn�t been for a long time. He closed the gate behind him, paused to sluice disinfectant over his trainers (he regretted doing it as soon as he felt the dampness seeping into his socks, but he didn�t want to be held responsible for the massacre of every animal in the place) and walked towards what looked like the main farmhouse. However, when he got closer, he realised that the door was ajar. Mickey did have a legitimate reason for being at the farm, but he hesitated. He didn�t want to get nicked for breaking and entering, and the lights were off, so maybe nobody was inside. He considered knocking, or calling out, but was embarrassed by the idea of calling to somebody who wasn�t there. The darkness was descending and soon it would be too dark for him to see. He needed petrol. He couldn�t go anywhere without it. He heard a sound inside. Maybe there was someone after all. He dithered, then pushed the door open wider and eased inside. The smell of leather hit him, making him feel almost sick until his nose got used to it. The whole inside was in darkness, save for the small shaft of lighter darkness that came from the gap in the door. He could faintly discern loops of rope and a saddle on the wall next to him, and he could smell another smell. He couldn�t quite figure out what it was. He heard something. Then, before he could react, something clamped onto the back of his jacket. His feet left the ground as he was hoisted into the air, his t-shirt closing around his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. He gave a half-strangled squeak and tried to struggle free from the thing keeping him in the air, trying to turn so that he could see his capturer, but moving constricted his throat even more. There was a crash behind him and his body was bashed against a hard surface, knocking out of him what little breath he had left. The crash was followed by loud shrieking and more crashing of metal. The din was deafening. Mickey was choking and thrashing wildly, but still he was unable to escape� To be continued... in Carnival Part Two |
| Carnival Part One By BH |
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