Kind Hearts And Martinets Collection

Chapter 15

In what looked like a new shiny suit, Paolo had installed himself in front of the crime wall and arranged the chairs to face him, nervy. The Commander had stayed, and he braced for a confrontation as Jack, and when this did not happen, he was palpably disconcerted.

‘Eh, whattsamattawivyou, why you no makatha starta?’ Mandy said with a chuckle.

Jack loved Mandy’s sense of humour; the Commander was also tickled. Paolo enjoined the exuberance, and his team followed. Confucius was wary. Frankie patted her hand and whispered something; Frankie had moved in, was moving in.

Paolo kicked off, smarmily, ‘I see someone’s got the crime wall going, nice attempt. We’ll sort that, show you how it’s done.’

Mandy interrupted, ‘Commander, d‘you want to stay behind, find out where you went wrong?’ Paolo choked, and it dawned on Mandy, Jack had set this up the previous evening, bringing the Commander together with his son. She stole a glance, Jack was smiling, she liked his smile. Shite teeth, she thought, knocked about he always said, but a lovely smile if you screwed your eyes up. Paolo stammered excuses, Mandy listened and imagined, in the same position Jack would have gone to PP, quoted some extended bastardised text about meeting Wickham in Mereton, he called Worthington, or something equally stupid, and by the time he’d finished, he would have defused the situation; the difference between the two men. Mandy was proud of Jack, although her gut instinct informed her, trouble was brewing on Cherry Tree Lane, but where from? She looked around with her, wary head on.

Paolo restarted, ‘There’s a new drugs outfit in town, which is why I have invited Cyrano to assist...’ Cyrano flinched, but let it go. Paolo unaware. ‘...How is the stuff getting in and where’s it going, Cyrano anything to add?’ Cyrano shrugged, Paolo gathered himself. ‘My team will work strategies, any questions?’

Jack resisted, left it to Mandy. ‘That’s it, is it?’

A ripple of laughter, and Paolo realised what seemed like a punchy and succinct briefing to him when he rehearsed it in front of the bathroom mirror this morning, despite being hurried up by Ting Tong, was in reality, lacking. ‘Well, early days, I expect we will start to build a picture as the investigation gains momentum.’

Mandy pressed, ‘What about Community Policing?’

Paolo responded sheepishly, ‘Ma’am, I expect Jane to organise his team into basic ground research. Intel from the street, any ideas here, Jane, apart from smashing up pubs, Nazis and c****s interruptus, your contribution, I am sure, will be valued.’ Paolo sneered, it came naturally to him; a ripple of laughter confined to the sissies, supporting their man.

You patronising gobshite is what Jack wanted to say, but instead, in a polite and civilised manner, worrying Mandy and everyone else. ‘Ma’am, I would like Alice Springs and Nobby with me this morning. Springs is briefed,’ he looked at Alice, ‘can you bring Nobby up to speed?’ Alice nodded. ‘Jo-Jums, I’d like two squad cars at the ready, then if you could head up a team to look out for Biscuit, please. He didn’t show last night. He was worried about something, what were his enquiries? Biscuit is missing, and I fear for his safety...’ he paused, allowing Paolo to steam, ‘....I’m not convinced this is about drugs, although drugs are certainly involved, maybe funding something. My gut instinct? It’s about power. On the streets? Who knows? The key question will be who and what are they intending to do with this power? So listen up for shifts, anyone uncomfortable, has anyone new surfaced?’ Jack allowed a little time for this to settle while Mandy confirmed he could have all that he wanted. ‘Cyrano, you okay teaming up with Jo?’

‘Sure.’

‘If I might make a suggestion," Jack followed on, "sound out known drug barons, suppliers and street infrastructure because you can be sure they’re looking for these guys just as much as we are. Sit in on the interrogation of the East Cosham gang members, please, although this doesn’t gel, there’s something else there, religion, radical Christians? What the hell?’

‘Okay, Jane,’ Cyrano moved, settled, probably exhausted.

Jack moved on, ‘Frankie and Confucius, money movements. Port Authority, check on ferry traffic, anything odd? I"ve a feeling this is small. If we can c***k this, we might just find out what’s really brewing, but my bet is this will be only the start.’ He called out to the ether, ‘Frankie, can you get me a new i***t proof phone, please. Mine, for some inexplicable reason, gave up the ghost last night.’ Frankie gave Jack a knowing glance, an American rolled salute, and this surprised Mandy; it was familiar?

Paolo grudgingly admired the way Jack had taken control, but needing to get the knife in, swung his arms around to enlist everyone in his question, ‘Jane, enlighten us, what do you think is going on?’

Jack rubbed his stubbly chin, thought he must look like one of those male models. He noticed Mandy giggling and realised he’d spoken his thoughts but ploughed on, ‘Happening? Don’t know, but let’s be clear,’ he panned his one eye, ‘not a word outside this team, something is not right in our State of Denmark. I believe Biscuit found something and has been nobbled before he could tell me last night. So the investigation stays here. Are we right on that?’ A healthy chorus of agreement flattered Jack, but he already knew he was good at rallying the troops. ‘Any questions?’

‘Just one, Jane,’ the Commander, ‘is the wall okay?’

‘Yep, exactly how we want it, thanks, Jamie, and you, of course, Nobby. Oh and, Commander, I don’t want any volunteers in the chain of communication, please.’

The Commander looked shamefaced. ‘Noted, heard about last night. God save us from do-gooders.’

‘It’s not the do-gooders, Jamie, it’s the government cutting costs and at the same time passing responsibility to the people, and making us feel grateful for the opportunity; don’t play cards with Mackeroon or Blogg. Okay, let’s get to it. Jo-Jums my back up; Alice, brief Nobby; and stab vests.’ The Commander blanched, ‘I’ll look after him,’ and patted the Commander on his shoulder.

‘I know you will, Jack, I know.’

Jack mouthed a thank you to Mandy, touched her shoulder, and got a warm smile in return as he telephoned the vet.

‘Martin is pretty knocked about, but thankfully he may not have anything seriously wrong internally. We operated last night to manipulate his ribs and dislocated jaw, stitched the knife wound on his back leg. I will keep him for about a week, let me have your mobile number, and I will call if anything changes,’ the vet said.

Jack gave the vet Mandy’s number. ‘When can I see him?’

‘I believe the gentleman who arranged for Martin’s care arranged flexible visiting. I will give you the out of hours number.’ Jack noted this down, thanked the vet. ‘Mr Austin, I would like to say you should not take a pet on a police operation.’

Miffed, Jack replied, ‘Martin is a police officer, and if you would tell him I"ve bought some PAL, please, it’ll brighten him up.’

The vet was unfazed, ‘I do not think tin food is good for Martin. We recommend the Science diet; it is a dry pellet food that will give Martin all the nutrients he needs.’

‘Yeah, Doc, don’t mention that,’ and Jack hung up, did a wheelie on his imaginary motorbike, screeched the tyres, and went out to meet Keanu’s mum. He stopped in reception, kept his engine idling as partial reality dawned, his bike had been nicked, how could he have forgotten that? Revved and carried on into the rear car park, trusting in fate, looked around and there was a beat bike used by cycling patrol coppers, that’ll do. The beat bike was fantastic, working gears, oiled, so no squeaking. Jack pedalled and felt okay.

Portsea was flat, and cycling was easy, but as you left the island, so the land rose sharply, but what was the odd incline to Olympic cyclist, Bradley Biggins? Up the hill, not bad, Jack thought as he pushed the bike. Nobody watching is the most important bit, did you ever see Biggins pushing his bike up a hill? Of course not. Some flat bits that were the approach to Keanu’s house, one among many in this council house estate. A spurt of speed and a sharp braking manoeuvre outside the Splif residence, just to show anyone watching he was not to be messed with. He dismounted, realised he had no lock and this was bandit territory; they probably had his old bike. He walked the bike to the front door, rang the bell, it didn’t work, tried the knocker, it fell off in his hands, and he was about to bash the door with his fist when Gail appeared. ‘Hallo, Gail,’ she took the knocker from him, ‘stone me, you’re gigantic.’

BigginsGail filled the doorway and, with an equally wide smile, invited him and his bike in. ‘I ‘ope it’s not twins, that’ll be difficult.’

Shunting his bike into the hall. ‘Shut-up, Gail, you wouldn’t notice them amongst the ten you already have. Give up the Catholic Church and join me, Church of Egypt.’

Jack laughed but responded to a pronounced, Ahem!

Gail directed Jack"s gaze with a nod. ‘D’you know Father O’Brien?’

‘Christ’s t**s, Jesus, sorry, bollocks, feck, did I just say that?’

‘You did, Jack, feck is okay, not sure about the Church of Egypt, or even the breasts of our Lord, but it could mean he will embrace and succour you and your camel,’ the Father smiled warmly; they knew each other.

‘Always the smart arse, Mike, but I’m glad you"re here,’ his serious head on.

‘Martin?’

‘He’s right poorly.’

The Father nodded, ‘I’ll say a prayer and light a candle, he’s in Wickham, isn’t he?’

‘How’d you know?’

‘Alfie Herring. Ah Jeeez, Jack, everyone knows Martin’s a Catholic. Alfie has asked for him to be mentioned in a mass.’

Keanu lumbered in, teenage Neanderthal. ‘Huh, Mr Austin.’

‘Keanu,’ Jack acknowledged the lad, ‘not at school?’

‘Half term,’ grunted, Jack understood, was partial to frontier gibberish himself.

Gail berated her son"s manners, ‘Cup of tea, Mr Austin?’ Father Mike gave Jack the knowing glance; now that’s how to do it.

‘No, ta, darlin", Alfie said you fancied a chin-wag.’

She cracked her cup on its saucer like it was a lead weight and smacked her lips. ‘I wanta fank yer personal like, getting my Keanu off, Saturday job as well, diamond.’

‘No fanks needed, hold that job down, Keanu, and do what I asked.’

‘Will, promise,’ excellent gibberish.

Gail sat opposite Jack, legs wide awake, tucking into pineapple chunks and Mumbai mix, and spectator Jack felt nauseated. Keanu noticed, ‘Alfie...show yer houses...community centre; d’you...go?’

Jack grabbed at gibberish salvation, ‘Better "ad, sorry to pebbledash, good to meet you again, Father.’

‘God go with you.’

But Jack was already backing his bike out and bumping into everything, including God as he went with him. ‘Keanu, where am I going?’