by Mike Pannett
I approached the master of hounds again and told him, ‘You’ve made your protest, you’ve got your PR, your photos and videos. It’s time to disperse.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Will do.’ He put his horn to his lips and blew, and the whole lot of them – twenty riders plus all the hounds – set off towards the marketplace. That’s great, I thought, just what we need in the town centre on a Saturday afternoon – although I have to say they looked quite a sight. The last thing I heard was one of them laughing as he called out, ‘And now for our lap of honour, eh?’ The crowd that had been watching, and the demonstrators on foot, all applauded and followed them down the road, some running, some cheering, some snapping away with their cameras.
I sent Fordy and Ed to follow them to make sure everything was OK. I didn’t think they were likely to cause any further problems. Most of them were local people. In fact, when Ed came on the radio a few minutes later he reported that the hunt was receiving a round of applause from the shoppers as they paraded through town.
We’d identified only one huntsman as actually stepping outside the law, and he would be arrested later in the week. Although for a short while there it had looked like a proper demonstration, edgy, with every chance that some spark could set it off, now everything was sweetness and light and the whole thing seemed to have turned into a kind of parade.
So, no harm done – other than to Acting Sergeant Pannett’s shoulder.
As I left the railway station and headed back towards the car I got on the radio and thanked all of the officers involved. I was just climbing into the car when I was collared by the Yorkshire Post reporter. ‘Well officer, how did you lot manage to get away with that then?’
I looked him up and down, my shoulder throbbing. He looked about twenty-three. ‘Let’s say we used diversionary tactics,’ I said. ‘Anyway, can’t talk now. Sorry, I need to get off.’
We’d got away with it. That was my feeling as I drove back to Malton. We’d been told a couple of dozen protesters were at the station. It probably added up to a hundred or more, plus horses, plus hounds, by the time we’d finished. If things had gone wrong – and they could easily have done so if the saboteurs, for example, had got wind of what was happening – we would’ve been woefully undermanned, and left waiting for backup from across the force. Me, Ed, Fordy and Brenda the PCSO. We’d never have held the line. We would’ve been well and truly caught with our pants down. Having said that, I’d never known anything quite like it in North Yorkshire. I couldn’t help wondering what the photographs would look like when the papers came out. Still, I thought, as I drove into Malton, desperate for a cup of tea and a couple of painkillers, Ann and I had agreed that some frontline experience before my exam would do me good . . .
There were thirty or more of us, filing into the room in silence. PCs from all over North Yorkshire, all in plain clothes. We took our seats, one at each desk, and sat down. From across the room I saw Jayne giving me the thumbs-up as the door was locked behind us. Once we were all settled in our allotted places, the adjudicator started to speak. ‘No talking, switch your mobile phones off, nothing on your desk other than two pencils and a sharpener . . .’ Well, I thought, we’re under starter’s orders. I was so nervous I could hardly concentrate on what she was saying. It was like being back at school, only this time much, much more depended on the outcome. The desks, I noticed, were set just the right distance apart, and just at the right angle, to prevent you being able to see the next person’s exam papers. ‘You have one and a half hours to complete the paper. Please turn over your papers and begin.’
I took a deep breath. Right, Pannett lad. You’ve read the books and you’re battle-hardened. So why’s your stomach churning eh?
I turned over the first page. Question one. ‘You’re out on patrol, at night, and you see a strange illuminated object in the sky. You’re sure it’s not a plane or a helicopter. What steps would you take to identify it?’
I sighed. Here we go, lad.
Acknowledgements
A special thank you to: Phil Pelham for his dedication to the cause and to everyone at Welcome to Yorkshire for their continued support.
Finally, thanks to the great characters of North Yorkshire, without whom this book could never have been written.
And a little bit extra . . .
Readers from all over the world – and people I meet when I do my talks and other events – often ask me about Yorkshire, so here are some helpful websites:
www.yorkshire.com
www.visityork.org
www.yorkshiretea.co.uk
www.yorkshirerainforestproject.co.uk
And to find out about the train that inspired the cover illustration for this book, have a look at the North Yorkshire Moors Railway at www.nymr.co.uk
Finally, if you want to help a deserving cause – and people who you might need one day – the local Mountain and Cave Rescue teams all do a great job. They’re volunteers who go out in all weathers and the service depends on donations, so if you could support them it would be just the job:
Scarborough and Ryedale Mountain Rescue Team:
www.srmt.org.uk
Swaledale Mountain Rescue Team:
www.swaledalemrt.org.uk
Cleveland Search and Rescue Team:
www.csrt.co.uk
Cave Rescue Organisation:
www.cro.org.uk
Upper Wharfedale Fell Rescue Association:
www.uwfra.org.uk
Mike Pannett
Not On My Patch, Lad
Mike Pannett used to work the beat in Central London and when he moved back to Yorkshire he was hoping for a quieter life. But it seems the moors and villages of his native county aren’t as sleepy as he once thought . . .
A casual remark about a barn with blacked-out windows leads him to an isolated farmhouse where skunk cannabis is being cultivated on an industrial scale, and at the height of the holiday season a young girl is attacked at a local theme park. As well as handling these serious crimes, Mike is still trying to identify and bring to justice the ‘Sunset Gang’ who are systematically targeting isolated warehouses and shops on his patch.
On the home front, Ann has moved into Keeper’s Cottage and taken a Sergeant’s post in York – and people are asking Mike what it’s like to be a kept man.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Duty Calls
Chapter 2 Sting in the Tail
Chapter 3 Snout and About
Chapter 4 Going Dutch
Chapter 5 Occupational Hazards
Chapter 6 Night Rider
Chapter 7 Good Cop, Bad Cop
Chapter 8 Testing Times
Chapter 9 As Sly as a Fox
Chapter 10 Par for the Course
Chapter 11 A Strange Encounter
Chapter 12 Penny
Chapter 13 Ghost Busters
Chapter 14 Full-steam Ahead
Acknowledgements