by Mike Pannett
‘That’s the problem with cheap imported toys, Jayne. They don’t always do what it says on the packet. Did you put this up?’
‘Me? No, we just came into work and there it was. Complete mystery. They’re all over town. Haven’t you seen ’em? Sarge reckons they must’ve come in on that spaceship you and Ed saw.’
‘Nice try,’ I said, ‘but it wasn’t a spaceship. If you look at the log it says “UFO”. Unidentified Flying Object. Notice the word “unidentified”.’ I went to my locker, brushing the inflatable alien out of the way. ‘Tell you what,’ I added, ‘why don’t you fetch in some tinsel, and we can incorporate it into our Christmas decorations.’
It didn’t stop there. Of course it didn’t. When I got downstairs, there on the table in the parade room was a flashing blue globe, inside of which stood a little green man with the same eyes. Thommo was standing beside it, grinning from ear to ear. ‘We could only afford the one,’ he said. ‘You and Ed’ll have to scrap over it.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Tae see who gets to put it on top of the car, of course.’ He reached over and pressed down on the thing, setting off a tinny alarm sound. ‘Got it from the Alien Investigation Unit, Scotland Yard,’ he said. ‘If this doesn’t put the fear of God into the criminal fraternity . . .’
‘That’s really thoughtful of you, Thommo.
‘Aye. Thought you’d appreciate it.’
I went to check my tray for any new corries – or correspondence, to use the correct word – and found a copy of UFO Magazine UK. I peeled the bright pink Post-it note off the front cover and read, ‘Mike and Ed – for reference. See article on how to identify UFOs’.
‘Can’t wait for briefing,’ I said. ‘I suppose they’ll be sending out mock alerts, circulars, all sorts.’
Thommo looked at the note and laughed. ‘Very probably, son. But it’s all good clean fun, isn’t it?’
‘No worries, Jock. I can take it. Big broad shoulders, me.’
We went in to briefing and took our seats. Nobody said anything, but Jayne and Fordy had their hands over their faces. Neither of them looked at me.
‘Right.’ Chris Cocks had walked in and was ready to start. ‘You’ve all had a bit of fun, but it ends here. OK? I think there’s been enough banter about the UFO stuff. At the end of the day Mike and Ed saw what they saw. End of.’ There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone was looking at each other, trying to work out if Chris really meant what he was saying, but nobody dared push it. I noticed Thommo with his eyebrows raised questioningly and Jayne stifling a giggle behind her notebook. Ed had been sitting there stony-faced and silent. He leaned forward and said, ‘Thanks very much, Sarge. It was no laughing matter, let me assure you.’
Chris then read out our postings for the shift. Ed was on his own, Jayne was out with Fordy, ‘and finally, if Thommo and Mike could cover the rural UFO patrol . . .’
As we went out I grabbed Ed. ‘Hey, we got off lightly, mate. They could have crucified us.’ I couldn’t tell whether he welcomed my comments, and I decided to let it go.
Out on the road, Thommo and I got off to a quiet start. Not much happening and very few people out and about. We steered clear of Golden Hill, concentrating on the area around Castle Howard. We’d had reports of lampers at work, but after half an hour or so driving around the edges of the woods and fields out there we’d found nothing.
‘Ah well, we may as well enjoy the lull before the storm,’ Thommo said. ‘Another couple of weeks and your season of goodwill kicks off. Christmas parties – and the inevitable fights and domestics. Christmas shopping – and the shoplifters out in force. Christmas presents all stacked up under the tree – and the annual spate of burglaries.’
‘What put you into such a positive, upbeat mood?’
‘I am not a devotee of the festive period. We Scots prefer to save our energies for Hogmanay. Christmas – you can have it.’
‘I look on the bright side, mate. If Christmas brings a little cheer into our drab lives, and draws out the best in people, I’m in favour of it.’
‘You reckon it does that?’
We were dawdling, heading back towards town with no particular purpose in mind.
‘Course it does. Take me,’ I said. ‘In a moment of festive madness I promised to take Ann Christmas shopping.’
‘Och, you sure those little green men didnae brainwash you the other night?’
‘Thommo, you are talking to an old-fashioned romantic, a man who knows how to put a smile on a woman’s face. And it ain’t what you’re thinking. It’s quite simple, really. Just treat ’em to a night out now and again.’
‘But shopping, mon? In York? At Christmas time?’ He shuddered. ‘That is a bridge too far.’
‘Yeah well, you may have a point there. Tell you the truth, I made the offer without thinking it through.’
‘There you go, see! And now the seeds of doubt are starting to grow. Still, we’ve all done things on a tidal wave of passion . . . And there’s no going back, I suppose?’
‘Nope. My word is my bond, matey.’
‘Ah see. Mind, the good thing about York is, there’s always something going on. Music, street theatre, the floodlit walls . . .’
‘Designed to keep the Scots out, Thommo. Along with other marauders and savages.’
‘And a lamentable failure, I might add, if the average Saturday night is anything to go by.’
‘Aye, the place is crawling with your fellow countrymen. They ought to check the statute books if you ask me. They had a law once where it was perfectly legal to kill a Scotsman within the city walls. In fact I’m not sure it’s ever been repealed.’
‘I believe it’s still extant, laddie – so long as it’s with a bow and arrow, am I right?’
Before I could answer Phil was on the radio. ‘Malton CCTV to control and all units. The alarm’s just gone off at Yates’s in Castlegate. I’ve got what looks like two youths – pushing a quad-bike onto a flat-bed trailer. All on CCTV. Stand by for description and direction of travel.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ I said as I put my foot down and headed towards town. ‘Right under the cameras and they have the gall to . . .’ We were already speeding over the bypass. ‘1015 to control, show me and Thommo en route. Just approaching town on the Castle Howard road.’
‘OK, Mike. We have Chris leaving the station now in the van. Malton CCTV to units. The quad-bike’s on the trailer, pulled by – looks like a Cavalier, making its way down towards County Bridge. Both youths wearing dark-coloured hooded tops and dark trousers. Unable to get a vehicle index on either the car or trailer.’
As we raced down the hill towards the red light we had to brake sharply to let Jayne and Fordy out from Wheelgate. We approached Yates’s right on their tail. The window had completely gone and the pavement was covered with broken glass.
‘Malton CCTV to all units. Cavalier and trailer now heading into Commercial Street, towards the motorbike shop. Stand by . . . camera that covers Commercial Street is not responding . . . vehicle is now out of vision.’
‘Typical, just when you need the camera.’ I turned onto County Bridge. ‘D’you know, I told Ed just the other night.’
‘Told him what?’
‘That that quad-bike was a sitting duck.’
We bumped over the railway crossing hard on Fordy’s tail, and swung left past the petrol station.
‘Shit.’ We were arriving at the mini roundabout outside the shuttered-up motorbike shop – and, just as we had been for that earlier job, we were left to guess which direction our friends had taken.
Fordy took the right turn and shouted over the radio. ‘We’re heading down the Beverley road; will you take the A64, over?’
‘All received, Fordy.’
Within a minute or two we’d passed the bacon factory and were on the A64, speeding towards Scarborough looking for any tail-lights in the distance. Nothing. We carried on through Rillington, and sped towards the Heslertons. By n
ow I was calculating the time over distance equation. ‘If they went this way, Jock, we’d have caught them by now.’ I pulled over at West Heslerton crossroads and banged on the steering wheel. ‘Sod it,’ I said.
‘What you doing, laddie?’
‘Thommo,’ I said, ‘times like this I could weep, I really could. I mean, that’s twice this week CCTV’s picked up smash-and-grabs, and twice we’ve lost them. The chances of that happening! It’s not as if we get this sort of thing on a weekly basis, is it? Once a year, if that. And we blow it.’
‘D’you think it’s the same youths?’
‘Don’t know, but two smash-and-grabs in the same week? You’d think so.’
‘So what’s your plan?’
I didn’t answer for a moment or two. I was thinking. Something at the back of my mind was nagging away at me. ‘Thommo,’ I said, ‘have you been following the briefings that Amanda puts out?’
‘I’ve flicked through them. Cannae say I remember anything special.’
‘I can. And I’m remembering something that just might help us out here.’ I put the car in gear and set off on the road towards the wold tops.
‘Well? Don’t keep me guessing.’
‘OK, last week, or maybe the week before, she reported a very active criminal from Leeds; does burglaries, vehicle theft, that sort of thing. Apparently he’s travelling across quite regularly to see his ex-wife in Duggleby. Information has it that she doesn’t want owt to do with him, but she still lets him stay over now and then to see his kids.’
‘Go on.’
‘It’s a bit of a shot in the dark. But you think. Those lads – they’ve set off this way after both jobs.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Probably. Anyway, they could’ve gone anywhere: this way, or to York, or Humberside, but they chose this way – we think. So why not Duggleby? I mean, if it is this fellow from Amanda’s report, it’d be the perfect place for him to hide out.’
Thommo exhaled loudly. ‘It’s a hell of a long shot. But worth a look. There can’t be more than a couple of dozen houses at Duggleby.’
‘You exaggerate. But in any case, shouldn’t take long to check them out.’
‘Aye – but for what?’
‘For a Cavalier, my friend, for a Cavalier.’
Thommo got on the radio and established that Fordy and Jayne had drawn a blank. Then he let them and control know we were heading out towards Duggleby and the Luttons area. Fordy and Jayne would back us up.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You need to be lucky in this game, and I was born lucky. I cut across the wold tops towards West Lutton. The road is narrow and there are a couple of right-angle bends, but at that time of night it was deserted, and I was making good speed when Thommo turned around and shouted, ‘Whoa! What was that? Back up, laddie, back up.’
I stood on the brakes.
‘Something in the field back there.’
‘What was it?’ I was reversing at speed. Thommo had the window down and was sweeping the beam of his Dragon Light across a field of winter barley.
‘How did we miss those?’ The planting was scarred by two dark, parallel gouges.
‘Look! Right there. See the reflector?’
We were out of the car now. The hedge along the roadside was sparse and low and we were able to step right into the field.
‘Well, well, well.’
There was a trailer and, several yards away, on its side, the shiny new quad-bike.
‘1015 to control, we’ve found the trailer and quad-bike overturned in a field. It’s on the back road about a mile and a half out of West Lutton. No sign of any vehicle. Looks like they’ve lost it on the bend.’ Thommo was training the Dragon Light on the trailer so that I could read out the registration number.
‘They can’t be too far ahead,’ I said. We’d left the trailer and quad and were speeding towards the Luttons. We’d gone less than a mile when Brian in control came on. ‘The trailer was reported as stolen from just outside Leeds two weeks ago. I’ve got the double-crewed Eastfield car in the area just approaching Foxholes on the back roads. No sightings past them.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Can you send them towards us via Butterwick and get them to hold there and keep obs?’
‘All received.’
It took us no more than three or four minutes to get to Duggleby and start checking in driveways, looking for any sign of life – or of an old Cavalier. But the village was dead, just the odd security light coming on as we cruised by. And no sign of the car. Once we’d located the ex-wife’s place I parked out of sight and we crept around the back to see if there were any lights on or any signs of life. But there was nothing, and the garage was empty. We returned to the car, pretty dejected. Should we wake up the occupants? It seemed pointless. There were no obvious signs that the youth from Leeds was about, and it was still a long shot that it was him we were looking for anyway.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Sod this. Let’s try West Lutton.’
‘Why West Lutton, laddie? Am I missing something here?’
‘Well Thommo, this is my beat, we’re in the middle of nowhere and there’s only one other person that I know near here who might be involved. He’s a young lad, not the sort to go out and do it on his own, but he’s easily led. If he’s got involved with this lad from Leeds then he’s daft enough to go along with this sort of job.’
‘Bloody hell Pannett, ye don’t half like going out on a limb.’
‘Thommo, what do you think I do all day? When I’m out and about supping tea, matey, I’m absorbing intelligence. All day, every day. Taking it in, drip-feeding the memory-bank.’
We came into West Lutton nice and slowly, lights dipped, and made our way towards a row of cottages. The one I wanted was one of a pair, ex-council.
‘Here we go.’ At the side of the house was a Cavalier, eight or nine years old, parked nose first to reveal a towbar. I glanced up at the house. There was one light on, bathroom or landing by the look of it. We drove on twenty or thirty yards before pulling up. I got on the radio to control and explained the situation to them, then we got out and walked up the short drive. I squeezed my way along the side of the car to place my hand on the bonnet.
‘Re-sult!’ I whispered. It was warm. Hot, in fact.
‘Are ye wanting to go in?’ Thommo was there beside me, looking at the house.
‘Let’s wait for backup, shall we?’
‘Looks like they’re here already.’
It wasn’t the Eastfield unit, but Jayne and Fordy. ‘Right,’ I said, keeping my voice low, ‘you two watch the rear and side of the house in case me-laddo decides to make a run for it. We’re going to knock on the door and find out what’s what.’
While Thommo updated control I walked up to the door, lifted the metal knocker and gave it a sharp rat-a-tat. Nothing. I banged on it with my fist, really hammered it. A light went on in an upstairs window. I saw the curtain being tugged to one side, and a head appeared. A woman, maybe fifty, opened the window. ‘What’s going on? What do you want?’
‘North Yorkshire police, madam. I’d like you to come down and have a word. Is Sam in?’
‘He’s asleep. What you want him for?’
‘Who are you, his mother?’
‘Aye, what you want him for? What’s he been up to?’
‘Just want to clear something up, that’s all.’
‘Hang about. I’ll go and wake him.’
A moment or two later she appeared at the door with the lad, red-faced and stretching as he forced a yawn.
‘Got you out of bed, did we?’ I said.
‘Aye, been asleep for hours, like. What’s the problem?’
I glanced down at his legs. ‘You always sleep in your jeans?’
‘Nah – I just fell asleep, like.’
‘Been out, have you?’
‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘No.’
‘’Cos this car’s been used. The engine’s still hot, lad.’
Befo
re he could answer his mother turned on him. ‘You been tekkin’ our car again? ’Cos if you have, you tell ’em, right now.’
As I waited for an answer the lad’s father appeared from upstairs. ‘What’s all this, then? Why’re we being woken up this time of night?’
‘We’re wanting to know who took your car out, and brought it back not many minutes ago.’
‘Well, it ain’t me and ain’t her . . . we bin in bed since eleven.’ He turned to look at the lad, who shuffled awkwardly on his bare feet.
‘Well, aye, I did tek it out for a ride, like, but—’
His Dad cut in. ‘Officers, can you tell us exactly what’s going on?’
‘I can, sir. A vehicle matching the one on your drive has been involved in the theft of a quad-bike in Malton. We’ve found the bike and trailer just down the road.’
‘Bloody hell.’ He moved to one side to make room and said, ‘I think you’d better come in.’ Then he turned to the lad Sam and said, ‘What the bloody hell have you been doing now?’
‘Nowt Dad, honest.’
His mother erupted. ‘Haven’t I been telling him and telling him?’ she said. ‘And tried to keep him in? It’s that’ – she raised her hand to point in the general direction of Duggleby – ‘that other lad – him from over yonder. He’ll be behind this. They’ve been meddling with each other for long enough.’ She turned to her son. ‘You daft . . .’ and then dried up as suddenly as she’d started, her hand over her eyes.
Thommo had been back to the car for some evidence bags. ‘Right,’ I said, addressing the father and mother, ‘I’d like to search your son’s room. Is that all right?’
‘Yes, go on, go right up.’ The mother was fighting back tears. ‘We try our best, you know. But he’s just so stupid at times.’
‘Right Sam, lead the way,’ I said.
I followed Thommo and Sam up the stairs, almost tripping over the family cat in the process. ‘This it?’ I asked, as the lad’s father followed us onto the landing.
‘Aye, on yer left there.’
On the bedroom floor was a dark hooded fleece lying in a heap, and a jacket. I held the fleece up and nudged Thommo. ‘See that?’ I whispered. Little bits of broken glass were sparkling in the light. I put some into one of the evidence bags. There was no point beating about the bush. ‘Right Sam, you’re under arrest on suspicion of burglary.’