Role Model

Role Model By Becky Black For most people, a phone call at three in the morning would be something to dread. Not for Paul Bradley. He picked up the mobile ringing by his bed. “Get your arse up to the moor road, six miles north of Leyton,” his editor, Henderson, said. “Got a tip from our tame copper.” “On my way.” Paul yanked out the charging cord, grabbed a pair of jeans from the dirty laundry basket, and found a clean T-shirt. Phone. Bag. Car keys. Jacket. He left the house five minutes after waking up. In the inky night, the lights on the moor road were visible for miles. They were powerful arc lights used by Fire and Rescue. The road ahead was blocked and taped off. Paul counted two fire engines, five police cars, and two ambulances. The air ambulance helicopter waited in a field. He saw the focus of all the activity when he got out of his car. A truck, on its side, half on and half off the road and into the ditch. Police and fire officers swarmed it. But Paul doubted Henderson had sent him here for a mere road accident. Something else was going on. “Sorry, mate, going to be closed off for hours,” the copper at the police tape said. “If you go back and take the turn—” He stopped when Paul held up his Press pass. “Christ, can you lot smell the blood?” “Can I get any closer?” “No, you sodding can’t. Stay there.” “Hey, don’t worry,” another voice came. “I’ll fettle him.” Ed Muir, Henderson’s “tame” copper. “Good. I want a brew.” The first officer left Ed to it. “What’s happening?” Paul asked, ducking under the police tape. “Is the driver trapped?” Dead of night rescue. Driver cut from cab. Not bad. “Truck driver’s dead,” Ed said. “You can’t see it from here, but there’s a car underneath that mess, in the ditch. The truck’s resting on it.” “Who’s in the car?” “The driver, dead, and a kid. Alive.” Much better. Kids always made a better story. “Boy or girl? What age?” He had tablet and stylus poised. “Girl, aged six. That’s not all. A paramedic crawled in to help the kid, but the girl’s trapped, and he won’t come out until they get her free.” Paul stared at the activity around the truck. Men worked fast to fix supports to stop the truck sliding further into the ditch and crushing the car. Someone had willingly crawled in there? There’s the story. “Got a name for the paramedic? Age?” “Andrew McGregor. Don’t know his age.” “Who the hell let him crawl in there?” “Sorry, that’s all I know about it.” Ed’s sergeant called to him, and he rushed off. Paul lurked by an ambulance, writing up what he had so far. He’d perfected his lurking skills in his six years as a journalist. He didn’t want to draw attention and get tossed back out behind the tape. On a scene like this, most people were too busy to pay him any attention, but there was always a chance a copper with nothing to do besides stand at the tape and redirect any cars trying to pass might decide to occupy his time by tossing out a journalist. After about twenty minutes of lurking and freezing his arse off, a shout went up from the truck. “She’s free!” A cheer, then a moment of quiet, broken by a child’s cry, thin and muffled by the tons of metal bearing down over her head. Paul’s mouth dried. He pulled out his camera. Those damn arc lights would give him lens flares, but there was a shot coming he had to get. The shot he’d wanted since the second Ed told him about the paramedic. Getting the kid coming out would be great, too, but the paramedic was the story. The roar of the helicopter starting its engine drowned most other noise, but Paul heard someone shout. “They’re coming out!” It was better than he could have hoped. Andrew McGregor came out carrying the kid. She was wrapped around him, holding on tight. A white plastic collar protected her neck. As he crawled out of the opening, another paramedic and a fire officer helped him to stand. He straightened up, the girl still in his arms. Paul had started snapping pictures the moment the guy’s head poked out. McGregor was a handsome young guy in his twenties. The breeze ruffled his thick blonde hair as he blinked into the bright lights a bit dazedly. He looked like Captain bloody America. The perfect hero. And Paul was going to put him on the front page of every news website and national paper in the country.