by Mike Pannett
We drove slowly up the lane to where we thought the mystery object had been and got out. I can’t deny that I felt nervous now. My mouth was dry and my hands were sweaty. I walked in through a gatehole towards the old stone barn. It was more or less a ruin. No door, hardly any roof, and inside just a pile of rotting boards with the roots of last summer’s nettles poking through the cracks. And there was no sign whatsoever of any security lights.
‘See anything?’ I asked Ed, making his way along the other side of the hedge.
‘No,’ he replied, almost whispering. ‘You?’
‘Not yet.’ I was looking at the ground under my feet now. It was ploughed earth, and where I’d expected at least to see wheel-marks or a set of footprints, there was nothing, no sign of anything having been there.
Just then a car came along the main road from Malton, its headlights making a long, slow sweep to illuminate the entire field. It was completely empty. Nothing but the neat furrows curving away towards the woods on the far side.
‘Well, my friend, whatever it was, it’s gone.’
Ed had finished checking along the hedge and joined me beside the barn entrance. ‘Looks like it.’
I shone my torch over the ploughed earth around us. ‘But why no tracks?’
‘You know – you know what I’m thinking?’ Ed’s voice was unsteady. He sounded well and truly rattled.
‘Don’t even go there,’ I said, flashing my torch into the barn and over the rafters.
‘Well, why not?’ he said. ‘Why couldn’t it be a UFO?’
‘Could be,’ I said. ‘I s’pose it could be, but – you’re surely not suggesting we log it, are you?’
‘Why not?’
I sighed. ‘Because we don’t want to look like a pair of prize prats,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s get back to the car. We need to think this through for a minute.’
‘No, I want to have another look around.’
‘Aye, go on then. But we aren’t going to find anything, trust me.’
We searched all around the outside of the barn, along both sides of the hedge and into the road itself. Apart from our own footprints we found nothing. Whatever we’d seen – or thought we’d seen – had departed without leaving a trace. Neither of us could come up with any reasonable explanation of what we had seen. I didn’t like this one little bit.
We trudged back to the car, casting an occasional glance over our shoulders, half hoping that the mystery object, or its light, would reappear. We even scanned the sky, now clear and star-spangled.
‘What’s that?’ Ed had spotted a winking light, away to the north and moving towards the horizon.
‘Aircraft.’
‘You sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘So, we gonna call in or what?’ Ed had his radio in his hand. ‘I mean, it’s a sighting, isn’t it? We’re supposed to report them.’
I didn’t answer. I was still coming to grips with the fact that I knew – absolutely knew – I’d seen something, something of which there was not a shred of evidence. If I’d been on my own I would’ve tried to shrug it off as an illusion, the result of being tired. Eye strain. The perils of shift work. Anything. But I was left with the uncomfortable realisation that we’d both seen exactly the same thing. Or had we?
‘Hang about, Ed.’
‘What is it?’
‘Just before we go any further, tell me what you saw. I mean, describe it to me.’
‘What you on about? You saw it, same as I did.’
‘No, we both think we saw – something. Just tell me what it looked like to you. You’re going to have to write it up in your report, if you do one.’
Ed exhaled through half-closed lips. ‘Well, it was big. That’s for sure.’
‘OK. And what else?’
‘You writing this down?’
‘I am.’
‘Right. It was big, it was sort of rectangular . . .’
‘How big?’
‘I’d say like a bus, maybe bigger. And it looked metallic. And it was glowing. Or there was bright light, around the whole thing. Very bright.’ He turned to look at me. ‘Sound familiar?’
‘Exactly as I remember it, my friend. So I don’t think you’re going round the twist.’ I closed my notebook. ‘No, the only thing I’d add is the little green figure with huge brown eyes that walked down the ladder and beckoned to us.’
‘Yeah yeah yeah. In a silver jumpsuit. Listen, this ain’t funny.’
‘Sorry. You’re right.’ I got in the car. ‘So, next question. What we gonna do?’
‘Call it in.’
‘You realise everyone’s going to be listening?’
‘All right, say we don’t report it. What then? I mean, what if it turns out there was something?’
‘Ed, there’s an old saying. I think it’s some Chinese philosopher. If a tree falls in the forest and nobody sees it . . .’
‘Yeah, I know. Has it really fallen?’ Ed sat there for a moment, then banged his fist on the dashboard. ‘Look, I’m going to report it, OK? And if you don’t want your best buddy to look like a total plonker you’re gonna back me up.’
‘Can’t we just say it was sommat to do with the base? Out at Fylingdales?’ I was referring to the early-warning station out on the moors. UFO spotters are always prowling about in that neck of the woods, hoping to see something weird and wonderful.
‘How would we know they had anything to do with this?’
‘Fair enough.’ I groaned. ‘Go on, then, but you do realise that they’ll take the proverbial out of us for the rest of our service,’ I went on. ‘You and I could end up getting referred to welfare.’
‘Listen, Mike.’ He spoke very slowly and very deliberately. ‘I know what I saw, OK? Now, if you’re not up to a bit of mickey-taking, then all I can say is it’s a poor do.’
‘Go on then.’ He was right, and I knew it. ‘No, give me the radio . . .’ I took a deep breath. Here goes, I thought. ‘1015 to control, over.’
‘Go ahead Mike.’ Damn. It was Brian in the control room, our most experienced hand. I wished it could’ve been Julie.
‘Yeah, we’re at the bottom of Golden Hill. We’ve had a sighting of a large, unidentified object in a field. Showing bright lights . . . very bright.’ It was hard to know how much else to give him. Sometimes you hear yourself speaking and you just know the listener’s going to think you’ve lost the plot. Brian was saying nothing – yet. I decided I’d better keep it short. ‘We’ve investigated. We’re satisfied there’s nothing there now.’
‘Was it moving or stationary?’
‘Stationary. Well, no, it was sort of . . . hovering, a few feet off the ground I’d say.’
‘Hovering?’
‘That’s correct, over.’
‘So where is it now? Where’d this thing go to?’
‘It didn’t go. Look, I know this sounds far-fetched, but it just . . . vanished.’
‘Vanished, as in “disappeared”?’
‘That’s a yes. Listen, there was definitely something out there. We both saw it. We’ve searched the area thoroughly. All I can tell you is there’s nothing there now.’
‘Some kind of helicopter, Mike?’
‘That’s a negative, Brian. More like a double-decker bus job.’
‘That’s received.’ There was a short, but pregnant, pause. Then Brian said, ‘Mike, you do realise I am about to create an incident. Once I’ve done that it can’t be deleted. Do you understand, over?’
I looked at Ed and he nodded, then closed his eyes. ‘Yes, Brian I understand, but Ed and I confirm the sighting, over.’
‘Er, received Mike.’ I was sure I could hear the tittering of the control-room staff in the background. I turned to Ed.
‘You see, Ed. It’s bloody started already. We could end up getting sectioned before hometime at this rate.’
It was no surprise when Chris Cocks rang me on my mobile phone. ‘Mike, what the hell’s going on out there?’
; ‘Sarge, I’m simply telling you what we saw. And what we did, and what happened.’
‘This had better not be a wind-up, Mike. You’re not in the Met now, you know.’
‘Chris, when an ex-Met officer wants to wind everybody up, trust me, he doesn’t start a UFO rumour. We were a bit more sophisticated than that.’
There was a long silence. Maybe he was wondering whether this was a double bluff. Then he said, ‘So you’ll be writing it up fully on the computer then?’
‘Yes. Both of us.’
‘OK. On your own head be it, mate. You do realise the bosses will see it, if you’re after promotion, you know . . .’
Christ, I thought. I turned to Ed. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do. Dropped me right in the . . . mire.’
Ed shook his head. ‘We know what we saw, Mike. They weren’t here to see it.’
We knew what to expect when we got back to the station at the end of the shift – and we weren’t disappointed.
‘Mike! You made it.’
‘Yes, Jayne, I made it.’
‘That’s such a relief. There’s all sorts of rumours flying about. I heard you’d been abducted by aliens.’
‘Well, here I am, Jayne. The living proof that you heard wrong.’
‘Oh, they took Ed instead, did they?’
‘No, Jayne, they did not take Ed.’
‘So there were aliens, that what you’re saying?’
‘Jayne, we are police officers. We go out at all hours, and we report what we see. We are not responsible for what we see. Sometimes, as you well know, you see strange and mysterious things. Or unlikely things. And we report them, OK?’
I knew we hadn’t heard the last of it. Despite my misgivings, Ed logged it on the computer in big bold letters for all to see: ‘UFO sighting.’ And we both put our names to it. Did I regret it? Not entirely. Not yet, at any rate.
I was disappointed not to see Ann when I got in that morning. I was anxious to run the thing by her, get her take on the subject. But she was on an early turn and had already left the house. Maybe we’d talk it through later, over a glass of wine.
But word had spread around the North Yorkshire police quicker than even I expected. As I took Henry for his walk, my phone beeped, and there was a text from Ann.
‘Now what u gone and done?!’ I fired one back immediately. ‘Not as bad as it seems. Ed was w me.’ Ann’s reply was brief and to the point. ‘York nick buzzing w it. Story is two country cops have lost the plot.’
I didn’t reply. I took Henry home, put him in his kennel and took myself off to bed. By the time I pulled the duvet over my head it was gone half past eight.
Somehow I managed to sleep right through. I awoke to the smell of smoked bacon which, mingled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee, drew me straight down to the kitchen in my dressing gown.
‘What time is it?’ I yawned.
‘Three thirty. Thought you’d appreciate a calorie-fuelled start to the day. Before we have a little chat.’
‘Too right,’ I said. ‘I’m starving.’ Then I told her what had happened with Ed, out on the York road. She didn’t say anything at first. Just pushed the plunger on the cafetière and fetched a couple of mugs out of the cupboard.
‘So d’you think me and Ed did the right thing?’ I asked. ‘You know, logging it. Or should we have kept schtum?’
‘Course you did,’ she said. ‘I mean, who knows what’s out there? It could be anything. Keep an open mind, I say.’ She poured a cup of the fresh brew and handed it to me.
‘So, as a sergeant, if someone rang in to say they’d seen a UFO, what would you think?’
‘Doesn’t matter what I’d think. But if an officer started seeing them regularly, well, then I might start to wonder. Here, pass me those eggs. I mean, we’ve all seen weird stuff before. Haven’t you?’
I handed her the box. ‘Weird things? Oh hell yes. One night coming through the woods near Sand Hutton. Middle of winter, it was. There was this red glow, right across the sky, sort of a veil. Remember those big long curtains they used to have in the flicks before the film started, with lights behind them? Like those, it was. Very eerie.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I called it in, of course. Far as I was concerned it could’ve been anything. A fire, an illegal rave; God knows what. Turned out it was the northern lights – which had crossed my mind, to be honest. Got back to the station and they’d had dozens of calls. People thought we were being invaded. I mean, that’s why you log things, isn’t it? Give you a reference point when the calls come in. And reassure the public.’
Ann laughed. ‘I saw something once. I was on duty in the middle of Wandsworth Common, and this bright light shot across the sky. Too fast for a plane, way too bright for a firework. Turned out to be an asteroid. Want them flipped?’
‘Eh?’
‘Your eggs. Shall I flip them?’
‘Aye, go on. So how could you tell it was an asteroid?’
‘It’s all to do with the trajectory, the speed, the luminosity, that sort of thing.’
‘You what?’
Ann laughed. ‘No, I saw it in the papers next day. Turned out the scientists had been tracking it. Even managed to locate the spot it landed, in a field out by the coast.’
She served the food out of the frying pan and onto our plates, grabbed a pile of sliced bread, then shoo’d me through to the sitting room. ‘Anyway,’ she said, as I stuck my fork into a rasher of bacon, ‘while you were sleeping . . .’
‘What? Something from Algy?’ I said.
‘Better than that,’ she answered. ‘Something from Soapy. He’s coming round later in the week to talk about his bill.’
‘What’s there to talk about?’
‘The size of it, mostly.’
‘What are you saying, that he’s willing to negotiate?’
‘I don’t know about willing, but he knows he’s going to have to argue his corner. By the time we’re done with him, he’ll be begging for mercy. Ready to agree to a reasonable and honest settlement.’
‘Strewth.’
‘Indeed. Listen, have you any idea what he actually spent on materials for that roof?’
‘Must have been a fair bit.’
‘No, not at all. Think about it. He re-used the old tiles, replaced three or four timbers – which I’m willing to bet he half-inched from Algy’s outbuildings – and bought a few bags of sand and cement to reassemble the chimney.’
‘Plus a few bits of guttering,’ I mumbled, my mouth full of egg.
‘Right, and some lead flashing. A roll or two of felt. And what’s the betting he ran them up to Algy’s account?’
‘Hmm – but they’d still be ours to pay for.’
‘True. But even so, most of his costs would be for his time. Large chunks of which were spent supping tea and sitting on that log in the sunshine.’
‘What about his hired hand? That youth with the tea-cosy on his head?’
‘Hired hand? Don’t make me laugh. That was his nephew. One of his nephews. There’s dozens of them. They work for the price of a pint. If you call it work. What did he do? Run up and down the ladder with a bucket of cement every now and then?’
‘So come on, Ann, give us the final reckoning.’
‘I’m hoping he’ll settle for about half his original bill. In fact, if you offer to pay him cash he’ll bite your hand off. Mike, the man’s desperate.’
‘Because of the wedding?’
‘Precisely.’
‘So long as we aren’t shafting him. I mean, don’t forget I look on Soapy as a mate. We’ve been fishing together and that.’
‘True, we need to be fair about it. But there’s fair and then there’s paying way over the odds. He’s slippery as an eel, mate or no mate.’ She refilled our coffee cups. ‘Yes, slape as a fox, as my old uncle from Lincolnshire used to say.’
‘Right then. When d’you say he’s calling by?’
‘This week. That’s as far as he
’d commit himself. You know what he’s like. A man of impulse.’
‘OK, then. I reckon we’ll be ready for him.’ I grabbed a slice of bread and mopped up the last of the bacon grease and squashed tomato from my plate. ‘Cheers, love, that was excellent. Now then,’ I said.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve been thinking. It’s been a while since we managed a night out together.’
‘Too right it is. Must be about six weeks, I’d say. Have you got something in mind?’
‘I have, as a matter of fact. I was thinking about a night out in York. Maybe pick you up from work, take a tour round town, do a bit of Christmas shopping, then go for a meal.’
‘Are you offering to treat me?’
‘I am.’
Ann looked at me, a shadow of suspicion on her face. ‘This doesn’t end up with us going to watch that shower at Bootham Crescent, does it?’
‘If you mean my favourite football team that I’ve supported man and boy for I don’t know how many years – no. We’re going shopping, having a meal, and I’ll drive you home so you can have a glass of wine with your dinner. How’s that for an offer?’
‘You’re on. And no changing your mind.’ She got up from the table and started gathering the plates together. ‘Just wait till they hear this at work. A man, offering to take me shopping.’
All that talk about the possible house purchase put the work situation out of mind for a while, but as I drove in that night I started to think about what I might be in for. As a copper, when you do something that your colleagues think is out of order – something odd or weird – you can expect what they politely call ‘a bit of banter’. Or, if you want it put more bluntly, you can expect to have the piss taken, mercilessly.
The first thing I saw when I walked into the locker room was a giant inflatable alien, all in grey plastic except for its eyes, which were a nice shade of green. Its head was huge, its arms and legs long and thin, and it was dangling from the ceiling, right above my locker, spinning slowly around as the draught caught it.
‘Good, innit?’ Jayne had followed me into the men’s locker room. She was reaching up and prodding it. ‘And look, if you wiggle it the eyes move.’ She grabbed one of its spindly legs and tugged at it, then scowled. ‘Oh. Well, it’s s’posed to, anyway.’