The Follow

by Paul Grzegorzek

  As the car drove off once more, Edwards strolled back towards me then took a right into the park. I began to jog, wanting to catch him in the shady area under the trees before you got into the park proper. I tried to be as quiet as possible but as I approached him he turned and looked at me, so I resolutely looked forwards then checked my watch as if late.

  As it had outside the jeweller’s, the ruse worked and he even stepped out of my way as I jogged past. Just as I passed him, I paused as if lost and began looking around in confusion, actually checking that no one else could see us in case he had someone waiting to meet him. Edwards tried to veer round me but I stepped in front of him, grabbing hold of his left arm with mine while waving my warrant card at him with the other. ‘Gordon, police. Don’t try anything stupid.’

  He froze for a moment and a look of sheer terror crossed his face. I just had time to wonder why he was quite so scared when his right arm came up towards me in a blur with something shiny and dangerous-looking clenched in his fist.

  Without thinking I tucked myself back behind his arm, still keeping hold but unable to lock the joints from my current position. Feeling this he pivoted around, trying to stab me with the flick-knife he held in his right hand. I didn’t dare disengage and let him get room to use the blade properly but I still couldn’t get a proper grip on him, so we spun in crazy circles as adrenaline and fear doused me with cold sweat.

  ‘Oi, drop the knife!’ I yelled at him, hoping that I didn’t sound as scared as I felt.

  ‘Piss off and leave me alone!’ he yelled back, sounding terrified.

  I tried to think of something useful to do that wouldn’t mean a knife in the chest and made an attempt to kick his legs out from under him, hoping that he would fall on his knife arm and trap it under his body. I hooked my right leg over his and placed my foot behind his left, shoving hard at the same time with both hands.

  He stumbled forwards but as I threw myself on him he managed to twist round so that he landed on his back with the knife held out towards me. I was out of control now, falling towards the blade. My vision narrowed until all I could see was the sunlight reflecting off the steel clenched in his fist. I lurched sideways, trying to move offline. I thought I’d made it until I felt a sharp sting in my left thigh as if I’d scraped it on barbed wire.

  I landed hard and the breath rushed out of me, leaving me gasping and trying to hold my stomach and my leg at the same time while Edwards scrambled to his feet and ran off towards the tennis courts. Ignoring the pain, I forced myself to my feet and ran after him, refusing to look at the leg that burned like fire with every step. He was running as fast as he could but the constant glances over his shoulder at me were slowing him as he had to swerve to avoid obstacles. After a few seconds it was clear that I was gaining and he began to sob and shout at me, screaming, ‘Just fuck off and leave me alone!’ – over and over.

  I was more than a little puzzled but the pain and exertion were taking their toll on my system. I simply didn’t have the energy to try and work out why he was so scared. He streaked past the tennis courts and towards Somerhill Avenue and just before he reached the road I caught up with him, hurling myself on his back with a lack of finesse that would have had my kung fu instructor screaming at me.

  He toppled, this time with the knife trapped underneath him and I screamed aloud as my injured leg hit the ground. He tried to writhe out from under me and get his arm free but I crawled up his back and slid my right arm under his neck, curling it around until the palm sat in the crook of my left elbow. I sawed my arm back and across, pulling his windpipe out of position and choking him and gasped, ‘Drop the knife and stop fighting me!’

  He struggled for a few seconds more but as the chokehold became more painful he went limp and shot his right arm out sans knife. Unsure what to do next, I looked around and saw that a crowd had gathered, comprised mostly of parents with small children and tennis players, with the odd dog walker here and there.

  ‘Someone dial 999, I’m a police officer!’ I barked out, fighting to keep the pain from my voice. I saw a young father pull out a mobile phone and tap the keypad three times. Why no one had called before now was beyond me, but then I’ve found that generally either everyone thinks that someone else has done it or thirty people call up about the same thing.

  Edwards was muttering quietly to himself and kept tensing his muscles as if he was going to fight, but every time he did I put the hold back on and he would subside after making horrible choking noises that were clearly for show as I was barely putting any pressure on. I wasn’t trying to hurt him but he’d already stabbed me once and I wasn’t about to let it happen again.

  One man actually went so far as to come over and lean down to look at Edwards, saying, ‘Are you all right? I can get this officer’s number if you think that he’s using excessive force?’

  Edwards looked up at the chap as far as my hold would allow him to and thanked him by saying, ‘Fuck off you twat!’ and spitting at him.

  The man huffed, but continued to hover around, clearly wanting to berate uniform when they arrived for my brutality. I shook my head wearily, wishing that I could feel surprised that someone who was clearly intelligent couldn’t see what was really happening, blinded by his prejudice against the establishment.

  What did surprise me was that it took almost half an hour for a unit to make it from Hove police station, two roads away, to where I was still lying on Edwards. I didn’t dare move, as the throbbing in my leg was growing steadily worse and I wasn’t able to recover the knife from under my prisoner. When the marked car finally pulled into the entrance two officers got out and hurried over to me as if running the last twenty yards would make up for the delay.

  ‘I’m sorry we’re late, there was a massive fight between a load of street drinkers and they’ve reassigned the street drinking team to something else. You okay?’ the female officer asked, bending down to take hold of Edwards’ outstretched right arm and lever it up behind his back.

  ‘Not really, he stabbed me in the leg. Be careful, the knife’s still under his body somewhere.’

  She nodded and swung around into a ground pin, kneeling on his shoulder so that he couldn’t squirm free. Her colleague did the same on the other side and I gratefully eased myself backwards, wincing when my injured leg took my weight.

  For the first time I looked down and saw a hole in my jeans, right in the middle of the fleshy part of my thigh. Blood had completely soaked my left trouser leg, having been pumped out of the wound by my exertions as I’d run after Edwards. I couldn’t see the wound underneath but it hurt like hell and I knew that I would need stitches. Trying to ignore the pain, I got my colleagues to raise Edwards slightly so that I could find the knife, sweeping my arm carefully under his chest until I knocked against it with my wrist and pulled it clear.

  ‘So,’ I asked Edwards conversationally as I began to check his pockets, ‘why exactly were you so scared that you felt the need to stab a copper huh? Do you live in some kind of fairyland where it’s okay to go around cutting people up?’

  Edwards refused to speak to me, turning his head to look the other way. I continued to search in silence, to prevent my anger from making me say something stupid in front of a crowd of people who were clearly hanging on every word. It wasn’t every day you saw a police officer get stabbed and catch the guy who did it right in front of you, and I could see a few mobiles raised to immortalise the moment on video.

  Searching his pockets turned up nothing of particular interest, but as I searched the waistline at the front of his jeans I felt a large lump hidden under his jumper. My first thought was that it might be a firearm and I felt myself go cold at the thought, but as I dragged it clear I could hardly believe what I was looking at. In my hand was a clear plastic wrap about the size of two house bricks put together, filled to bursting with a brown powder that I recognised immediately.

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’ the male officer asked, his eyes almost as big as his
face.

  I nodded, a fierce grin breaking through my attempt at studied calm. ‘Yup. What we have here is about fifty grand’s worth of finest heroin. Mr Edwards, I have the greatest pleasure in arresting you for GBH, possession of an offensive weapon and possession with intent to supply a class A drug! It is necessary to arrest you to prevent your disappearance,’ I liked to vary the reason for arrest – we had a list of about eight to choose from, ‘and I’m now going to caution you before I leave you with these fine officers and get my leg seen to.’

  Despite the hole in my leg, I felt like laughing out loud. If the gear that I’d found belonged to Davey he was royally screwed. No way could his empire survive the loss of this much product, the system of payment and sale was too fine a line. Not only that, but if Edwards was as close to Davey as this shipment implied, that would also be a major blow. This much heroin found in front of this many witnesses would mean at least ten years inside and suddenly I understood why Edwards had been so scared. Even in prison he wouldn’t be safe from Davey and I sobered suddenly as I realised that wherever he went, Edwards was more than likely going to end up hanging from a rope, thanks to me stopping him today.

  ‘Any chance of some more units and an ambulance?’ I asked the officers who were now busily cuffing the prisoner.

  ‘We’ve called for another car, but almost half our section is on holiday or sick and they haven’t got an overtime budget to cover it. We’re down to four officers for Hove for the whole late shift.’ He sounded a little disgruntled, as well he should be. The budget cuts seemed to be affecting everyone, despite the assurances that it wouldn’t affect front-line policing and I felt sorry for the poor bastards who had to try and keep control of everything from Boundary Passage to the far side of Portslade with only four officers and a few PCSOs.

  I nodded at him. ‘Ambulance?’ I asked again.

  ‘Already on its way: Sharon called for one as soon as she saw you bleeding.’

  I nodded my thanks at the female officer who smiled back as she and her colleague got Edwards carefully to his feet. ‘Have you got any exhibit bags in the car?’ I asked, not wanting to be left standing in the street holding a knife and a lifetime supply of heroin once they got the prisoner away to custody.

  I was handed a knife tube, several exhibit bags and a pen and I sat in the front of the car, careful after my recent court experience to get both officers to countersign the label once it was sealed. The paramedics arrived just as I was finishing and took one look at my leg before bustling me into the back of the ambulance and whizzing me up to the hospital to get stitched up.

  Not looking forward to the earbashing I was about to receive, I took the opportunity to pull out my phone and call Kev, making sure to tell him about the drugs before I explained how I’d let myself get stabbed while I was supposed to be off duty.

  19

  THE HOSPITAL was quick and efficient, giving me a tetanus shot just in case and then stitching me up in surprisingly short time. Kev arrived before they had finished and stood there cracking jokes and generally being a pain until a somewhat snooty doctor asked him to shut up or leave. As the doctor turned back to me to finish dressing my wound, I shared a smirk with Kev over his bent head.

  ‘So I’m not getting stuck on for getting injured then?’ I asked.

  Kev shook his head. ‘No Ding, you’re probably going to get a commendation for being an idiot and surviving, although you should have called it in rather than jumping him yourself. Whatever possessed you to start a follow on your own?’

  I shrugged. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time and, besides, I tried to phone you but you weren’t picking up.’

  ‘Ah. The lovely Mrs Sands was dragging me around Comet looking at washing machines. Had I known it was urgent, I would have answered.’

  ‘If you’d answered, you would have known it was urgent!’

  We both smiled and the doctor looked up. ‘Right, all done. Try and keep your weight off it for a few days. It’s not particularly deep, but if it reopens then you’ll have a nasty scar once it finally heals.’ He smiled and stepped back, clearly eager for me to get off the bed and give it to the next patient.

  I thanked him and we left, Kev walking slowly beside me as I limped through the waiting room and towards the A&E car park. ‘I’ll give you a lift home,’ he said, watching sympathetically as I winced with every step. ‘But you’ll have to do a quick statement back at the Nick first.’

  I groaned. ‘No rest for the wicked huh?’

  ‘Nope. Serves you right for trying to be a hero.’

  The trip back to the Nick took about five minutes, with Kev parking in the back yard to minimise the number of stairs I had to climb. Unfortunately the lift was out of order, so I still had to go up two flights to get to the office, but eventually I was tapping away merrily while Kev went to make tea. Occasionally officers would drift in to congratulate me or offer sympathy, depending on how much they had heard – and I have to admit that I basked in the glow of a job well done, if you ignored the injury.

  Kev bustled around the office doing bits and bobs that were unnecessary but gave him an excuse to wait for me. He was one of those people who would give you the shirt off his own back but didn’t like you to catch him doing it, so I hurried as much as I could and finished shortly before eight.

  Just as we were leaving, Eddie, Tate and Ralphy came up the stairs and into the office, stopping in surprise as they saw us. Ralphy glanced down at my leg and shifted his bulk carefully so that he could bend down and have a closer look. ‘What the bloody hell have you done to yourself now?’

  ‘Long story. What are you doing here this late? I thought you’d be watching the Bravo channel with a beer and a box of Kleenex by now.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not tonight, we’ve got a job on with that sex offender by St Nick’s.’

  ‘Yeah, Ralphy’s going to put on a dress and strap his moobs into a bra and try and get attacked!’ Eddie interjected.

  ‘I paid good money for these!’ Ralphy exclaimed, cupping his chest with both hands and jiggling it in a manner that made me feel slightly queasy.

  ‘Come on now,’ Kev said, trying not to smile, ‘leave poor Ding alone, he’s been playing hero and getting stabbed and he needs to get home to bed.’

  All three officers stopped and looked at me in horror. ‘You’ve been stabbed?’ Tate asked, his face a mask of concern.

  ‘Yeah, I got stabbed chasing down Gordon Edwards, one of Davey’s boys. I got about fifty grand’s worth of heroin off him though, and all on my own!’

  Tate’s serious expression didn’t waver. ‘Yeah, but you got stabbed. You know the rule. If it’s too dangerous, hang back and wait until you’ve got backup or let them go and catch them another day. You and your bloody hero complex.’

  He pushed past me shaking his head in disgust. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Kev who shook his head and pointed down the stairs. I waved at the others and limped down the steps, waiting until they were out of earshot before turning to Kev. ‘What the hell was that about?’

  ‘He still blames himself for what happened to Jimmy. He thinks that it was his fault as he was in charge the day it happened. He talked to me about it the other day, but don’t tell him I told you, okay?’

  I nodded, feeling chastened. I hadn’t realised that it had hit Tate so hard, and the more I thought about what I had done tonight, the more I realised how stupid and dangerous it had been. One slip and I could have been in a bed next to Jimmy, or worse still in the morgue. Maybe this was exactly what I needed to wake up to the fact that I wasn’t invincible, to take a little more care of myself. I thought about it as we made our way out to the car park, and Kev gave me a little bit of time to myself before the bollocking that I knew was coming began. He waited until we were nearly back at my house before he spoke. ‘I know that I’m not going to say anything to you that you’re not already saying to yourself, but why didn’t you ring in on the nines when you couldn’t get hold of me?
’

  I looked out of the window at the passing traffic as I replied. ‘To be honest with you I didn’t even think about it. Everything about him shouted that he was carrying, his body language was screaming at me, so I jumped him. I didn’t think about him having a blade.’

  I could almost feel Kev’s disappointment even before he spoke. ‘You get paid to think, Gareth. You’re an intelligence officer. You tell me where exactly intelligence figured in what you did today?’

  I didn’t have an answer for him, so I just shrugged. He looked over at me and I met his gaze to see a deep concern there that touched and worried me at the same time. ‘Is there anything that you need to talk about?’

  I thought about it, pushing away the memories of the fight with the Budds and the heroin hidden in next door’s garden. ‘I don’t think so Kev, I think I just got carried away.’

  ‘You nearly got carried away on a bloody stretcher! I can’t have someone working for me who I can’t trust to do the right thing in a tight spot, and what you did was foolish, stupid and dangerous. Now I assume from your miserable face that you get it, so I won’t say any more about this, but I just want you to know that there won’t be a next time. Not on my unit, okay?’

  ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I know I was stupid and it won’t happen again, I promise.’

  I knew how hard it was for Kev to dress anyone down, particularly someone he liked, and that, more than anything else, made me truly sorry for getting carried away. He nodded, considering me properly bollocked as he dropped me off outside my front door with a cheery wave and a beep that made half my neighbours twitch their curtains.