A Touch of Frost

by R D Wingfield

  “Collier to Base. In position. Over.”

  “Burton to Base. In position. Over.”

  “Webster. In position. Over.”

  Then, suddenly. “Burton to base. Someone’s coming along the path. Too dark to see yet.”

  A pause. Burton’s breathing over the speaker. Then, “I can see him. A man middle-aged, receding hair. He’s got a dog with him.”

  Jordan’s voice. “There was a bloke with a dog lurking about last night.”

  Frost couldn’t imagine a rapist bringing a dog along with him but wasn’t going to take chances. “Which direction is he heading?”

  “He’s gone on to the north path,” reported Burton. “I think he’s heading for the main road.”

  “Let’s give him a chance to go, then,” said Frost. He struck a match against the bark of the tree and cupped the flare with his hands as he lit up and settled himself down to wait.

  The smell of cigarette smoke wafted across to Webster, who was crouching in wet grass, peering through bramble bushes to the narrow, overgrown path. “I don’t think it’s safe to smoke,” he whispered into his radio.

  “You’re a bastard, Webster, but you’re absolutely right,” replied Frost, pinching out the Rothman’s King Size and returning it to the packet. He changed position from one foot to the other. It was boring and tiring just standing still in the dark, keeping dead quiet and waiting. The forest creaked, groaned, and murmured. The wind scuffled leaves, making them sound like stealthy, shuffling footsteps. Twigs snapped for no reason.

  Frost found he was lusting for a cigarette. He would have sold his soul for just one puff. He took the packet from his pocket and sniffed the heady tobacco smell, which only made his longing worse. Waiting was hell. He looked at his watch. 11.12. The hands didn’t seem to be moving. Then Jordan called from the van, “Van to Base.”

  “Frost. Over.”

  “Bait ready to enter woods. Over.”

  “Has the bloke with the dog emerged yet?”

  “Two minutes ago, sir.”

  “Then bloody tell me,” snapped Frost. “I’m not a mind reader. Give us a sound check, Sue.”

  “Mary had a little lamb,” whispered Susan into her lapel badge.

  “Loud and clear,” confirmed Frost. He did a final check on all the radios, then gave the signal for the girl.

  Time: 11.15; very dark, the moon hidden by clouds. Ideal conditions for a rape.

  From the van, Simms was able to watch Susan through night glasses right to the point where the main, path veered around to the right. Then she was completely out of sight to the two men in the van.

  She walked slowly, trying to appear unconcerned. From time to time she flashed the torch on the path as Frost had suggested. Once she was positive there was someone right behind her, almost touching her. She could hear his footsteps, feel his breath ruffling the hair on the back of her neck. She swung around. The path was empty.

  The earpiece emitted occasional bursts of static. “Walking down the main north-south path,” she said very quietly into her lapel badge. “So far, so good.”

  “Say again?” queried the earpiece. “We lost you then.”

  “So far, so good,” she repeated.

  “Roger,” acknowledged the earpiece.

  It should have been reassuring to hear a friendly voice, but she was beginning to realize how astronauts must feel, thousands of miles up in space. They could talk to Houston. Houston could talk to them. But if anything went wrong, no matter how many voices were in contact, you were up there on your own. And she felt very much on her own. There was no-one else on the main path. Her feet scuffed through fallen leaves as she walked. At least the crackle of dry leaves should give her warning if anyone tried to sneak up behind her. She flashed her torch down on the path as she walked, beginning to feel more confident. But this was the easy bit. The rapist wouldn’t make his move until she left me comparative security of this main pathway. And she would have to leave it very soon.

  “Frost to bait. All OK?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “We keep losing you. To stop us peeing ourselves with worry, Sue, report in a position check every five minutes unless you’re raped beforehand, of course.”

  “Acknowledged.” She clicked off the transmit switch. She was now at the safest point of her route, the section where the path hugged the ring road and was warmly splashed with yellow from the sodium lamps. Then the path veered toward the centre of the woods, where the black mass of trees and bushes squeezed out the light and muffled the reassuring sounds of traffic and people.

  She was now off the main path, following a smaller side route. Bushes on each side clutched and pulled. Halfway down, she stopped. This wasn’t the route Frost had mapped out for her. She had turned off too soon. She was walking away from the stakeout, not toward it.

  She turned. And there was a man, crouching.

  She backed away, one hand on the transmit button, the other bringing up the torch. Under the beam of the torch the crouching man changed into a small straggling bush. She started to breathe again and slowly made her way to the main path.

  From a long way off, a diesel train bleated as it dragged itself away from Denton Station, a lonely, mournful sound that made her feel more isolated than ever. She quickened her pace. Then stopped.

  Footsteps. Slow. Shuffling.

  Someone was coming up the path toward her!

  Her thumb hit the transmit button. “Bait to Base. I can hear someone.”

  Frost’s voice, urgent, worried. “Where are you?”

  She didn’t know where she was. That damn wrong turning. Frantically she looked all around, trying to locate some landmark that would pinpoint her position. “Not sure,” she whispered. “About a mile away from you one of the turnings off the main path. I’m not sure which.”

  The footsteps, slower now, came closer.

  Webster’s voice cut across the transmission. “Let me go and find her.”

  “You stay bloody put,” snapped Frost, ‘and keep off the air.” His mind raced. It would be quicker if Jordan and Simms in the van sped round by road to her approximate position and got to her that way. The others could follow. He barked out orders to that effect.

  Sue gripped the torch for use as a weapon and waited. It would be a couple of minutes at least before Simms and Jordan could get anywhere near. The bushes ahead shook and rustled, and the shuffling, slow and deliberate now, because he knew he had her, was coming closer .. . closer.. .

  An old man, small and frail, pushing a pedal bike, gave her a nod as he squeezed past and continued on his way.

  She spoke into the mike, hoping they wouldn’t notice how much her voice was shaking. “False alarm. An old man with a bike. Panic over.”

  Sighs of relief all round. The van was instructed to return to its

  previous position

  She felt ashamed of herself for panicking. What she had to do now was return to where she had turned off and find the correct path, the one that Frost had marked out for her on the map, report her position, and continue from there.

  A small, fairly well-defined, side path veered off to her left. She wondered whether to take it. It should bring her back to the correct route. She moved toward it, then hesitated. Frost had stressed that she must keep to the allotted route or they might not be able to find her.

  It was while she was hesitating that the man struck.

  * * *

  A noise. From far off. Webster’s head jerked up. Was it a scream? He radioed to Frost.

  “Did anyone else hear it?” the inspector asked. All replies were negative. “You’re out-voted, son,” said Frost, wishing he had never included Webster in the operation. The man was too involved with the decoy. He shifted his position from foot to foot and stretched. Every limb was aching from standing still. He was almost ready to defy Webster and have a surreptitious smoke when the radio clicked, and there was the bearded wonder bleating again.

  “Shouldn’t Sue
have radioed in by now?”

  Frost brought his wrist up to his eyes and squinted at his watch. “How long since she last called in?”

  “Five minutes,” replied Webster. “Shall I give her a call to see if she’s all right?”

  “Give her another half minute. She’s not staring at her digital, counting the seconds.”

  “She knows she’s supposed to call in every five minutes,” hissed Webster. “What’s the point of having check calls if we ignore it when they’re not made.”

  Frost snorted with exasperation. Webster was really getting on his nerves. He flicked the transmit switch. “Base to Bait, come in please.” He released the transmit, returning the set to receive. A rush of empty static. “Hello, Sue. Frost here. Come in please.” He violently thumbed the switch over to receive as if the set could be bullied into answering. No answer. Back to transmit. “Frost to all units. She should be near the main path, somewhere. Let’s go and find her.”

  Webster charged ahead, not caring how much noise he made. Frost, hard on his heels, getting the backlash of branches forced aside by Webster.

  On each side of them,

  Burton and Collier smashed their way through the undergrowth. A stitch in Frost’s side almost made him cry out, but he gritted his teeth and forced his legs to keep going.

  They reached the main path. Webster looked to right and left. “Which way?”

  “Right!” panted Frost.

  They hammered along, sobbing for air. The first turnoff. Burton was sent to investigate. On to the second. Webster’s torch slashed the dark. On the pathway, a CND badge. “Here!” he screamed.

  Ahead something white. Then a crashing as someone broke from cover. A man. Zigzagging. A naked man. And there was Sue, on the ground, her clothing torn, her face bleeding.

  In the dark distance bushes shook, marking the path of someone running.

  “After him, son. I’ll see to Sue.”

  Webster charged on. Frost radioed for the van to try and head the man off, then homed in Burton and Collier to join the pursuit. That done, he knelt beside the girl. “Sue?”

  She eased herself up into a sitting position, wincing as she did so.

  “I’m all right, sir.” She gingerly touched her face.

  “You’re not all right. It looks as if he gave your face a real right bashing. Take it easy, I’m going to send for an ambulance.” He raised the radio to his mouth, but she tugged his arm down.

  “I don’t want an ambulance, sir, honest. I’m fine. I just want to get home.”

  “We’ll take you to Casualty. If they say you can go home .. .”

  “No .. . please. I’m all right.” There was blood on her face from a split lip. She found a tissue in her bag and cleaned it up.

  Frost was relieved but couldn’t help feeling that her wish not to go to hospital was for his benefit. An injured officer needing hospital treatment meant a special inquiry to ascertain blame. And how Mullett would love that, especially as this failed, botched-up operation was put into effect without his authority.

  She made an attempt to get up, but he restrained her. “I can stand,” she insisted.

  “So can I,” said Frost, flopping down on the path beside her, ‘but I’m so bloody nackered I’m going to have a rest. So what happened?”

  “I wasn’t expecting him. Suddenly there was something black over my face. It felt like plastic’ She paused. “It had buttons I felt buttons.”

  “You mean, like a plastic mac?” asked Frost.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s what it was. A plastic mac. He threw it over my head, then started hitting me, punching my face. His hands moved down to my neck and he started to squeeze.” She touched her neck and flinched. “I managed to pull his hands off, but he started punching again. I couldn’t see. I’m sorry.”

  Frost poked a cigarette between her bruised lips, stuck one in his own mouth, then lit them both. “No, love, I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I sodded it up. We were too far away from you, and I should have called it off when your radio packed in.”

  She drew on the cigarette. “I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. He kept hitting ...”

  He took her hand and patted it. “I know, love. I know.”

  Webster staggered back and leaned against a tree, his legs sagging, his mouth open as he tried to satisfy the demand of his lungs for air.

  “Any luck, son?”

  Between gasps, Webster shook his head. “I thought I’d got him, but he must have doubled back and suddenly shot away behind me. Chased after him, but he was too far ahead. Heard a car drive off.”

  “Are you sure it was our man?”

  “Positive. The bugger was stark naked. How’s Sue?”

  “Beaten up, but not too bad. Take her to Casualty, then drive her home.”

  She pushed herself up to her feet and began brushing leaves and pieces of dead grass from her clothes. “I don’t want to go to Casualty, I just want to go home.” She picked up her shoulder bag, then looked around for her torch.

  “Well, drive her home anyway,” Frost told Webster. He then radioed all units requesting they stop and search all cars driving away from the vicinity of Denton Woods. They were helping Susan back to the car when the radio blurted out.

  “Kenny to Mr. Frost. Come in, please.”

  “Frost here.”

  Kenny’s voice was triumphant. “I’ve got him, sir. I’ve got him!”

  Thursday night shift

  An almost liquid surge of warm relief flooded over Frost. He could hardly take in what Kenny was saying. Kenny had spotted the man charging out of the woods, stark naked. The man had jumped into a car and roared off, but the police constable had managed to swing the patrol car across his path and bring him to a halt. “Where are you?” asked Frost.

  “In the slip road, about four hundred yards southwest of you.”

  They cut across until they could see the sodium lamps and the flashing blue of Kenny’s patrol car, which was sprawled across the road, hemming in a metallic silver D-registered Mercedes. The windows of the Mercedes were misted with streaming condensation.

  Kenny had a man in an arm-lock, bent across the bonnet. The man was not quite naked. He wore red socks and black shoes.

  “You dirty bastard!” snarled Webster.

  Frost moved to block Webster, who seemed ready to lunge at the man. “Put the cuffs on him,” he said. Kenny spun the man round, then snapped handcuffs on his wrists.

  “Well, well, well,” commented Frost, running his eye over their captive, who was about thirty-five, short, plumpish, and looking absolutely terrified. “Is this him, Sue?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see him at all.”

  “Would you mind telling me what this is all about,” squeaked the man, bringing down his handcuffed wrists to cover himself.

  “Don’t you know, sir?” asked Frost, mockingly. Then his eye caught a movement inside the Mercedes. “Who’ve you got in there?” The misted windows blocked his view. He yanked open the rear door. “Flaming heck!”

  In the back seat, frantically trying to get into a dress, was a young woman, naked except for a pair of briefs. The heater had been going full pelt and the interior was overpoweringly hot and thick with the lingering cloy of cheap perfume and sweat. The woman snatched up the dress and bundled it to cover her breasts. “Shut that bloody door,” she hissed.

  Frost slammed shut the door. The first doubts crept in. “Who is your passenger, sir?”

  “None of your business, officer. Would you please allow me to get dressed. I’ll end up with pneumonia.”

  Frost risked the passenger’s wrath and opened the rear door again.

  “You’re not being raped by any chance, are you, madam?”

  “No, I bloody-well am not,” she snapped. “Now piss off, all of you!”

  The inspector closed the door yet again. “Your friend has a charming way with words, sir. Would you care to explain what you are doing here?”

&nbs
p; The man raised his eyes to the dark, moonless sky. “Are you sure you’re a detective? We’re in the car. I’m stripped. She’s stripped. What do you think we were doing, playing bingo? What I’d like to know is what the hell you are doing here?”

  “Attempted rape, sir. About five minutes ago.”

  “Well it certainly wasn’t attempted by me, Inspector. It’s taking me all my time trying to keep up with that nymphomaniac in the back seat. Now, can I please get dressed?”

  Frost shook his head. “You weren’t in the car when my officer first saw you, sir. You were running, stark naked, from the area where the attempted rape took place.”

  The man snorted with exasperation. “All right. If we have to go into detail then I’ll go into detail. I left the car because I felt the need to relieve myself. I also felt the need for a bit of a break. It’s like working a treadmill trying to satisfy her in there. I’m having a nice, quiet restful pee under the stars when suddenly there’s someone charging up on me. I think it’s her husband so I race back to the car to get the hell out of there. Next thing I know I’m in a scene from “Starsky and Hutch” sirens .. . skids .. .

  police. I pull over and I’m yanked out of the motor and spreadeagled all over the bonnet. I’ve committed no offence and I don’t see why I should be treated like this.”

  Frost signalled for Kenny to unlock the handcuffs. The man rubbed his wrists, then snatched up his clothes from the front seat and started dressing as quickly as he could.

  “Who is the lady, sir?”

  The man looked to left and to right, then lowered his voice. “She’s my secretary. We’re both married so, for God’s sake, be discreet.”