by Ian Martyn
He turned back to Kirby. The shouting seemed to have restored his confidence a little. He pointed a finger. ‘You better be right, Kirby. Or I’ll… I’ll…’
‘Throw the book at us, sir?’ Shirley suggested.
Both Kirby and Carter glared at her.
‘Sorry, sirs.’
Carter’s pointing finger quivered. ‘Well, I’m just saying, that’s all.’
‘Understood,’ Kirby said as he watched Harold, who appeared to have succeeded in calming the situation and was now shepherding the goblins towards the Metro. He wondered for a second if they all had tickets. Then he groaned. ‘Come on, Constable, we’re not done yet.’
Over his shoulder he heard. ‘Alright, lads, back in the vans. The cocoa’s on me.’
THIRTY
Kirby and Shirley caught up with Harold.
‘At least you persuaded them to stop fighting each other,’ Kirby said to Harold.
‘For now. I told them they didn’t want to see the dungeons and torture chambers you had in this world.’
Kirby tutted. ‘Yes, thanks for that.’
Harold turned to him. ‘You got a better idea? At least that’s something they understand. Your average goblin not having much in the way of imagination.’
‘They’d get on well with Inspector Carter then,’ Shirley said.
Kirby glanced at her.
‘Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.’
Harold smiled. ‘It worked anyway.’
‘Yes,’ Kirby said. ‘And let me guess, we’ve now got to get them back on to the Metro station?’
‘So?’
‘So? Twenty or more little… little goblins, carrying clubs. Hell, Harold, get them to drop those things.’
‘They’re Galgans.’
‘What?’
‘The little clubs, Galgans. They’re the traditional weapon of your goblin, often handed down through the family. Centuries-old some of them with the names of their ancestors carved into them. They’re not going to just leave them here.’
Kirby huffed and grabbed a sleeve forcing Harold to turn to him. ‘You may not have noticed, Harold, that your average Newcastle resident doesn’t walk the streets armed.’
Harold raised his eyebrows.
‘Alright, with the exception of you and maybe some of those who frequent the Bigg Market on a Saturday night. What I’m getting at is that it’s hardly going to go down well when we get to the Metro. Where, given what’s gone on here, there are likely to be more police.’
‘Sir, we need to do something,’ Shirley said as they approached Jesmond Metro station. As predicted, outside were two squad cars with flashing lights. Standing next to them were half a dozen, Kirby imagined, nervous coppers.
The goblins had also noticed them and were casting what Kirby presumed were uncertain glances at Harold as they caught up with them.
Harold said something to them and with some reluctance it seemed their clubs, rather Galgans, were secreted in their clothing.
‘They listen to you?’ Shirley asked.
‘Yes, er… they know me.’
‘Know you, Harold?’ Kirby said. ‘You’ve not mentioned this.’
‘You never asked.’ He sniffed. ‘Anyway, I’ve helped them in the past campaigning for er… goblins’ rights.’
‘There’s a thing,’ Shirley said.
Kirby shook his head. ‘Good for you. However, now we’ve got to get them back to where they came from and that means getting past those coppers and the barriers.’ He looked up at Harold. ‘I don’t suppose they’ve got tickets?’
Harold opened his mouth to speak.
‘No,’ Kirby answered for him. ‘So how did they get through earlier without anyone noticing?’
‘Marianne,’ Harold said.
‘Great.’ Kirby scanned the approach to the station, half expecting to see the woman standing there. ‘So how did she intend getting them back?’
Harold shrugged. ‘Didn’t care. The more they roamed causing problems the more she’d like it.’
‘What, she’d just leave them here?’ Shirley said.
Harold nodded. ‘Oh, they might find their way back eventually, but not before a few more of them were dead.’
‘And God knows what else,’ Kirby finished for him. ‘Listen, get them to let me through.’
The goblins stopped, and from the shuffling of feet Kirby assumed they were nervous. A number of them were pulling their hoods even further forward and staring at the ground in true teenager fashion, trying to hide their features, for which he was grateful.
As they let him past, one of the six policemen approached. ‘Oh hello, sir. Didn’t expect to see you here.’ He made a point of leaning over, looking behind Kirby at the group of shuffling grey hoods.
Shirley waved and smiled. ‘Evening, Eric. How’s Nancy and the little one?’
Eric half raised his hand as if unsure such familiarity was appropriate in the circumstances. ‘Er, hello, Shirley. And er, yes fine thanks.’
‘Er sorry, sir’ the now uncertain, yet more relaxed, sergeant said to Kirby. ‘I’m taking it this isn’t your normal bag of bother? You being here and all that.’
‘No, Sergeant. This is a bit special, if you get my meaning.’
The sergeant glanced at Harold then across at Shirley, who continued to smile at him. ‘Sir?’ the sergeant said, letting his curiosity get the better of him.
‘Yes, Sergeant?’ Kirby said in the senior officer tone that said even if it sounded like he was inviting the sergeant to ask more questions, really he wasn’t.
The sergeant let his shoulders sag a little. ‘As long as you’re sure, sir’
‘I am, Sergeant.’
The sergeant nodded and turned to the other officers. ‘Alright, you lot, show’s over. No more overtime tonight.’
‘Well done, Constable,’ Kirby said as Shirley joined him, appreciating the deft wrong footing the constable had deployed.
‘Thank you, sir.’
They watched the officers get back in their cars and drive away, still sporting the blues and twos, he noted. He’d have words about that later. He turned back to Harold. ‘Right, any chance you can get them to sort of line up?’
‘I’ll try. I don’t think they’ll be too good at it though.’
Kirby smiled. ‘Perfect. Oh, and keep them doing that.’
‘What?’
‘Behaving like teenagers.’
Kirby led his little band up the front steps of the station. He glanced back to see some pushing and shoving.’
‘That’ll do nicely,’ he said to Shirley as they approached the ticket barrier.
‘As long as they keep those clubs hidden away,’ Shirley said.
‘Thank you for that thought, Constable.’
Before Shirley could reply a Metro official was taking a step towards them. The man’s level of suspicion given away by the pulling down of his cap and the hitching up of his trousers.
‘They’re with us,’ Kirby said, holding out his warrant card. Shirley did the same.
‘They’ll still need a ticket,’ the man said as he stood on his tip toes, head bobbing as he tried to count the group behind Kirby.
‘They’ve lost them,’ Kirby said.
‘What, all of them?’
‘Yes, all of them. You know what teenagers are like.’ Kirby shrugged, then tutted and raised his eyes to the ceiling in what he hoped would translate as a “what can you do?” sort of way. ‘Probably eaten them.’ Which he thought might have been true if they’d had them in the first place. He gave a little laugh to show he was joking. The man didn’t join in.
‘What about the old geezer?’
Kirby narrowed his eyes. ‘Him as well.’
‘And you two?’
Kirby waved his card and said nothing.
‘Well I’m not sure about this.’
Shirley pointed back to the entrance. Their group was blocking the way and other would-be passengers were straining to look
over their heads to see what was going on. ‘Er, I don’t think you want them to miss their train and we have to get this lot back, so…’
‘Exactly,’ Kirby said, putting on his best voice of authority. ‘So why don’t you open that nice little gate?’ He handed the man one of his cards. ‘You can always call the station in the morning. Tell you what, why don’t you come down and we can discuss it?’
The man pursed his lips as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. ‘I’m sure that’s not necessary,’ he said through gritted teeth as the gate swung open.
Kirby and Shirley stood aside as Harold shepherded his flock through with the minimum of fuss. Although at one point, during a bit of pushing and shoving, there was a loud “bong” as a small club hit the ground and bounced. Kirby pushed the offending “teenagers” through the gap before bending down and picking it up. ‘Been playing rounders,’ he said, smiling and hurrying to follow the little group towards the stairs down to the platform.
He caught up with Harold at the door that wasn’t there. ‘Here, take this,’ he said, handing him the club.
‘Where d’you get that?’
‘Never mind,’ he said, shoving Harold through the opening after the goblins. ‘Just make sure they’re all gone… wherever it is they’re going.’
‘Move along, nothing to see,’ Kirby said to a passenger coming down the steps, who gave him a puzzled look. As Kirby glanced behind him, there was nothing to see.
‘Well, I think that went as well as could be expected, sir.’ Shirley said.
‘You mean for containing a potential rioting group of goblins on the streets of Jesmond?’
‘Ah yes, I see what you mean, sir.’
Just then, Harold reappeared through the door. ‘Well I thought that went as well as could be expected.’
Kirby rolled his eyes. Shirley hid her smile with a cough.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ Kirby said. ‘Nothing at all. Listen, are there likely to be any more of them?’
Harold stroked his chin. He looked at Shirley. ‘Anything being reported?’
‘Nope.’
‘If there are then chances are they’re in small groups. They’ll soon lose interest and make their way home.’
‘Well that’s reassuring,’ Kirby said, shaking his head. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ At the top of the stairs the gate was shut again. ‘Would you mind?’ Kirby asked the official who was trying hard to look the other way. The man opened it without saying anything.
‘So kind,’ Shirley said.
Outside the station Harold ran a hand through his hair as he looked around.
‘What?’ Kirby said.
‘I’m just wondering where Marianne’s got to.’
‘Why would she stick around?’
Harold sniffed the air like a bloodhound searching for the scent. ‘The magic, she’ll feed off it. Like caffeine gives you a kick, magic does that for her.’
‘And you can smell it?’
Harold nodded. ‘It’s like a metallic tang in the air. It gets the back of the throat.’
‘Sounds more like hayfever,’ Shirley said. ‘You don’t find there’s some very magical bunches of flowers, do you?’
Harold scowled at her. ‘Just because you can’t see it or touch it or shop on Amazon for it doesn’t mean it don’t exist.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Now now, children,’ Kirby said as he set off up the road back towards his car. ‘I’ve got better things to do than hang around here listening to you two bicker.’
After a hundred yards or so, Harold gave a loud sniff and grabbed Kirby by the arm, turning him round.
‘What?’ Kirby said.
Harold pointed towards the station. ‘Look.’
Approaching the entrance to the Metro was a woman, at least Kirby thought there was. However, every time he tried to focus, it was as if his eyes slid away from her, as if they refused to believe anyone was there.
‘There’s someone else with her, I think,’ Shirley said, squinting as if that might help. ‘I’m not sure. It’s… it’s like I’m seeing a ghost. Not that I’m saying I’ve actually seen a ghost of course.’ She stopped squinting. ‘I’m not, am I?’
‘Well?’ Kirby asked Harold.
‘No,’ Harold said. ‘They don’t appear like that. It’s one of Marianne’s tricks. The only reason we can see her at all is that she might be…’ he paused. ‘Look, yes. She’s distracted. There’s someone with her, a girl maybe.’ Harold turned his head a little. ‘Sometimes it’s easier if you use your peripheral vision, as if you’re trying not to see them, if you get what I mean.’
‘I can’t see anything now,’ Shirley said. ‘Which could of course be because I’m trying not to look.’
‘They’ve gone,’ Harold said. ‘And I’d swear there was a girl with her.’
‘Sarah?’ Kirby asked.
‘Could have been. I’m sure she had red hair.’
‘We could show the staff a photo of her,’ Shirley said.
Harold shook his head. ‘Trust me, they won’t have seen a thing. They’ll have opened the barrier, smiled, said hello, then as soon as they’d passed they would remember nothing.’
‘Hmm,’ Kirby said as they turned and started to walk up the road again. ‘You think it was Sarah?’
‘Couldn’t say for sure, but yes it looked like her.’
Shirley skipped a few steps to catch up. ‘According to her, she’s not seen her mother since she was little.’
Harold frowned as he turned to stare at the station entrance. ‘She wouldn’t remember if Marianne didn’t want her to. Or if she’s anything like Marianne and Marianne’s been teaching her a few things, she could tell you black was white and you’d believe her.’
‘I wonder if she could teach me that trick,’ Shirley said, glancing at Kirby.
thirty-one
As Kirby walked into the station, the desk sergeant had already adopted his bored, “I’ve heard it all before” expression towards the irate, well-dressed man on the other side of the desk who was jabbing a finger in the sergeant’s direction, telling him just how ridiculous it was as he’d only parked there for a few minutes. Kirby walked past at the ‘And I’ll tell you another thing’ moment.’ He muttered ‘mistake’ when he heard the words ‘to think I pay my taxes…’ If you wanted to annoy a desk sergeant, that was one of the best. Kirby took the stairs two at a time in an effort not to hear the reply. At the top he was breathing a little heavily when Shirley walked past.
‘You alright, sir?’
Kirby straightened up and tried to breathe through his nose, which just produced a suppressed wheeze. ‘I like to run up the stairs that’s all, Constable.’ He paused trying to catch his breath and patted his stomach. ‘Exercise and all that.’
‘Hmm,’ Shirley said. ‘Couldn’t help noticing last night that you were a little out of breath.’ She smiled at him. ‘Might I suggest a gym?’
Kirby frowned, wondering when things had changed so much that constables felt safe in making such comments. ‘No you might not.’
‘Sir.’
Kirby headed towards his desk.
‘Oh, sir!’
He turned. ‘Yes, Shirley.’ He said smiling and using her name to indicate that he wasn’t holding her comment against her.
‘The chief wants to see you.’
The frown returned.
‘Is he in, Jane?’
‘Yes, he’s expecting you, go straight in. Oh and Jonah.’
‘Yes?’
‘Try not to upset him.’
Kirby smiled back as he knocked on the door then walked in.
‘Ah, Jonah, have a seat.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Kirby sat and waited for the chief to start the conversation. Nervous, less-experienced officers would often start volunteering information on a matter that the super had had no idea about. The chief frowned and Kirby tried to look innocent, as if he didn’t know the game they were playing.
/> The chief shuffled in his seat. ‘I’m told you were on the scene of last night’s riot?’
‘I’d hardly call it a riot, sir. More of a series of minor scuffles.’
The chief drummed on his desk. ‘Yes, good good.’
Kirby waited.
‘But you were there?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘So was this something to do with your current… er, investigation?’
‘It could have been that I just happened to be in the vicinity, sir.’
‘Could it?’ The chief asked, his frown lines smoothing a little.
Kirby tried a small smile. ‘If you would prefer it that way, sir?’
The chief studied Kirby for a second, gave a little shudder and shook his head. He gripped the edge of the desk, the frown lines returning. ‘No, no…’
‘In that case, sir, yes, I did have reason to believe it had something to do with my current investigation.’
The chief found a small pile of papers and started to straighten them. Kirby recognised the signs. ‘Shall I keep you informed, sir?’ The chief looked across at him. ‘On the grounds that if I think you need to know?’
The chief nodded slowly, as if to himself, while staring at a line of pens which he now began to rearrange. ‘If you think I need to know.’ Again he looked up. ‘Yes, yes. Perhaps that would be the best way to handle it.’ He started nodding again and casting his eyes around the other pieces of desk paraphernalia in front of him.
‘Is that all, sir?’
‘Yes, yes. Thank you, Jonah.’
‘Sir.’
Kirby closed the door behind him and Jane looked up.
‘Well?’
‘Tea and Hobnobs?’
‘I’ll get them,’ Jane said as she pushed her chair back.
Kirby wandered into the main office and stared at his desk and the blank screen.
‘You have turn it on, sir,’ Shirley said as she wandered behind him on her way to the printer.
‘So I hear,’ Kirby said, gazing down at a brown envelope with his name on it. He’d learnt that rarely was anything he wanted to see delivered in a brown envelope. ‘Come on, Constable, let’s go and have chat with Harold.’