The Night Shift (A Short Story): A gripping and realistic police action thriller

by James D Mortain

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  THE NIGHT SHIFT

  A short story

  By

  James D Mortain

  For Tom

  Table of Contents

  TEN YEARS EARLIER

  Excerpt: STORM LOG-0505

  DID YOU ENJOY THIS BOOK?

  ALSO BY JAMES D MORTAIN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  TEN YEARS EARLIER

  PC Ellie Grange waved her proximity card at the small white box on the wall and the secure door unlocked allowing her inside Falcon Road Police Station, Bath. She had parked her car in the rear yard and was preparing herself for what promised to be an interesting night shift – the first of a set before rest days. She had been awake since 3:00 a.m.; excitement levels overwhelming her desire to sleep. The thought of pushing on through until at least 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning was a daunting one, especially on what promised to be a busy August Thursday night in Bath. Her long dark hair was tied up neatly at the back, rather than the simple and convenient ponytail she would normally wear. Also tonight, she had stretched to wearing some eyeliner and blusher.

  21:50 hours

  Ellie grabbed herself a double-scoop cup of coffee and took it through to the briefing room at the back of the station. Each shift began this way, but tonight, Ellie wondered how different briefing might be. PCs Deans and Daniels were already sitting around the two large briefing tables and the energy between them was apparent the moment she walked in.

  ‘Ells-Bells,’ PC Daniels said greeting her with a flash of the eyelids. ‘Looking hot tonight, girl!’ he said. ‘You should dress up more often.’ He nudged Deans’ arm, leaned in and said, ‘I definitely would,’ just loud enough for Ellie to hear.

  ‘Dream on, Daniels. You’ve got no chance,’ Ellie smiled taking a seat opposite them. She had endured several months of banter from the boys on her team since her split from long-term boyfriend, Gareth. She quite enjoyed the attention and she knew in Daniels’ case he was genuinely keen on her, but she harboured a silent interest in Andy Deans. He possessed everything she hoped for in a boyfriend, but he was taken.

  ‘So what’s the betting?’ PC Deans said. ‘Who’s it going to be?’

  ‘Bound to be brown-noser, Dawkins,’ Daniels said. ‘That bloke has his nose so far up the skipper’s arse I’m surprised his snot’s not brown.’ The others laughed and right on cue, PC Dawkins walked in and took his place toward the head of the table, where the bosses would sit.

  ‘Alright, Dawks?’ Daniels asked. He had a deliberate way of making it sound like Dorks.

  ‘Yes,’ Dawkins replied.

  Daniels grinned at the others. ‘I see you’ve polished your Magnums, Dawks,’ he said. ‘Nice bit of bulling, mate.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dawkins said, not looking up from his pocket notebook that he was duly writing inside.

  Sergeant Richard ‘Dickie’ Stanley was next into the room and Daniels was immediately on him. ‘So, Sarge – have you decided who it’s going to be?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Stanley smiled. ‘All will be revealed at ten o’clock.’ He took his seat at the head of the table and turned on the projector equipment as the last of the team members, PC Sasha Grey and PC Shaun Churchill, hurried to their seats, coffee mugs in hand.

  ‘Not like you to cut it fine, Churchy,’ Daniels quipped with PC Churchill.

  ‘Bloody nightmare tonight, mate,’ PC Churchill replied. ‘Georgia has been throwing up all day and her mum was late collecting her.’

  ‘Could have made an effort though… considering,’ Daniels said. ‘Dawks has spent all day polishing his boots.’

  PC Churchill raised his middle finger and both laughed.

  ‘Okay, people, listen up,’ Sergeant Stanley said. ‘We all know what today is all about. Couldn’t have come at a worse time if you ask me, with so many off with holiday season. But I want you all to present the team, this station and this force in a positive and professional light, okay? Okay, Daniels?’

  Daniels slapped his hands down loudly onto the table top, ‘Why does everyone make a point of singling me out?’ he laughed.

  ‘Because you are the most juvenile police officer in the station,’ Stanley replied with a deadpan voice. ‘Right, before we crack on with the briefing details, I’m sure you would all like to know your call signs for tonight.’

  Everyone instinctively leaned forward towards Stanley.

  ‘Okay, Echo Six-one will be Ellie and Shaun.’

  Daniels pointed at Ellie and mouthed, You’ve got them.

  ‘Echo Six-two will be Daniels and Dawkins.’

  Daniels slumped back in his seat and held his hands to the sky, his mouth dropped wide in an animated display of displeasure.

  ‘Deano, you will be Six-three and Sash, you are Six-four. Obviously if either of the double-crewed units gets tied up, I may ask you to buddy-up as another double-crewed unit.’

  ‘Sarge,’ the team said in unison, apart from Daniels who was still playing the victim.

  ‘Now, Inspector Castle is with the VIPs, just giving them an overview and when they come in I want you all to behave.’ He looked at Daniels and lowered his brow.

  Daniels chuckled and nodded.

  ‘And the lucky crew are…’ Sergeant Stanley teased, looking around the team.

  Daniels and Simms rapped the table in an impromptu drum-roll.

  ‘…Six-one, you get the documentary crew.’ Sergeant Stanley said.

  Ellie felt her cheeks flush and her neckline prickle as all eyes turned to her and Shaun Churchill who was shaking his gas canister and hurriedly checking the equipment on his stab-vest.

  ‘Shit,’ Churchill said. ‘My notebook isn’t up to date from yesterday.’

  ‘Don’t say that in front of the cameras,’ Stanley said through gritted teeth. ‘Quickly get it up together now.’ But before PC Churchill could do anything else, Inspector Sandra Castle was breezing into the room, followed by a man dressed in black and a middle-aged woman with a shaggy-dog hair-do.

  ‘Good evening team,’ Inspector Castle said. ‘Let me introduce you all to Cathy Emmanuelle and Roger Caruthers who will be filming with us tonight on what I hope will be an interesting episode of British Cops – The Thin Blue Line.’

  There was a stony silence around the table as everyone was probably dreading what was about to come out of Daniels’ mouth.

  The inspector quickly continued, casting Daniels a wary glance. ‘You should all know your call-signs by now—’

  The Airwave radios in the room bleeped and the voice of Comms interrupted the inspector’s speech.

  Any night shift unit, please, the male voice of Comms despatch said. I’m sorry, I need to pull a unit away from briefing.

  Everyone in the room looked to the inspector. Under normal circumstances, briefing would continue, but tonight everything needed to be textbook.

  ‘Echo Four-zero,’ Sergeant Stanley called through on his radio. ‘What’s going on – can it wait?’

  I don’t think so, Four-zero. We are having a number of calls now… sheep on the A46, outbound.

  ‘Six-one,’ Sergeant Stanley chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Can I give you that one? And a nice, gentle way to start the shift for the camera crew.’

  ‘Six-one,’ PC Ch
urchill replied to Comms. ‘Do we have an exact location, please?’

  Thank you, Six-one, Comms said. The latest report is approximately three-hundred yards beyond the overpass in the outbound carriageway.

  PC Churchill and Ellie Grange stood up from their seats and waved the camera crew out with them.

  PC Churchill handed the car keys to Ellie. ‘Do you mind talking the first honours? I’ve got a splitting headache,’ he said.

  Ellie picked up her kit bag and went outside to the row of waiting marked police units. The station had a fleet of Fords, only a few years old, but most had already been twice around the clock.

  ‘How does this work then?’ Ellie asked Cathy Emmanuelle who was helping her cameraman enter the car with all of his kit.

  ‘We’ll sit in the back and follow the action as you go. Unlike other reality police shows, I will be providing a live commentary – we find it adds to the viewer excitement if the action isn’t dubbed over afterwards.’

  ‘Not sure how exciting a sheep on the road will be for you?’ Churchill said as he strapped himself in.

  Ellie started the engine and they left the forecourt making their way through the already busy streets of Bath.

  As they waited at lights on the High Street, a rowdy crowd of men took notice of them and began jeering and gesticulating at the police car. One of the men, more worse for drink than the others, was dressed as Superman.

  ‘Here we go,’ Churchill said beneath his breath as one of the males came up to his side of the car and gestured with his hand for the window to go down.

  ‘Taxi,’ the man yelled to the obvious amusement of the others. ‘Taxi,’ he yelled again and stumbled onwards along the pavement to the loud laughter of the remaining group of men.

  ‘Do you get much of that?’ Cathy asked from the back seat.

  Churchill turned to answer and hesitated as the camera pointed directly at him, inches from his face.

  ‘Weekends used to start on Friday – not anymore,’ he said. ‘There are always groups of some kind out and about at night. Stag and hen do’s have become very popular in recent years, but they are mostly at weekends,’ he replied.

  Six-one, update, the voice of Comms said loudly over their radios.

  ‘Six-one, go ahead,’ Ellie replied.

  I’m afraid this is now a priority job. A member of the public is on foot shooing the sheep away. The caller reports this person has been in a near miss with a passing vehicle. Over.

  ‘Six-one noted,’ Ellie said, activating the emergency equipment. Blue strobe light from the roof bar bounced off the shop windows back into their faces. She punched the sirens and moved slowly through the red light before blazing away up Broad Street.

  Further groups of revellers cheered and jeered as the squad car howled beyond stopping motorists at the next set of lights. The A46 was a major route to Bath from the motorway. It was a fast stretch of dual-carriageway and at this time of night it was also extremely dark. Even with the blues and twos, it would take a number of minutes to arrive.

  ‘Here we are responding to a potentially life threatening situation,’ Cathy Emmanuelle commented as Ellie killed the sirens and proceeded with strobe lighting alone. The police car nudged fifty-five on the outer limits of the city as the roads opened out and the speed increased.

  ‘PC Ellie Grange is doing everything she can to reach the subject as quickly as possible,’ the commentary continued. ‘Every second could be the difference between life and death.’

  Ellie noticed Churchill looking at her in her peripheral vision. She kept her eyes on the road ahead and hit the sirens once more as a string of traffic backed up from the main road interchange one hundred metres ahead. She reached the stretch of the last known sighting and carefully slowed the police car to back up the traffic behind her on the faster dual carriageway section.

  PC Churchill turned to the camera crew. ‘PC Grange is creating a safe zone by driving down the centre-line of the carriageways. If a member of the public is up ahead in the road then we should be able to prevent any potential accidents occurring.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Ellie said, illuminating the full beams. A white object was lying across the road in the outer carriageway.

  ‘Shit,’ Churchill cursed and immediately apologised to the camera crew.

  ‘We want real,’ Cathy Emmanuelle said and encouraged her colleague to point the camera between the heads of the two officers and out through the front windscreen.

  Ellie slowed the vehicle to a crawl and then stopped one hundred metres short of the object.

  ‘I’ll pop out,’ Churchill said. He opened the door and ran up the carriageway, his fluorescent overcoat reflecting brightly in the headlamps.

  Ellie stared ahead and saw him crouch down alongside the object.

  Her personal radio started beeping through her earpiece – Churchill was contacting her point-to-point; a private two-way conversation.

  ‘What have we got?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘It’s a sheep,’ Churchill said. ‘It’s fucked. Just keep the traffic there a moment while I look further up the road for the member of public.’

  Ellie turned to Cathy. ‘It’s the sheep. PC Churchill says it’s not in a very good way. He’s just checking further up the hill for any other hazards.’

  ‘These are tense moments for the crew of Echo Six-one.’ Cathy commented with enough tension in her voice to warrant an Oscar.

  Ellie stepped out of the car, walked to the lead vehicles waiting behind and spoke to the drivers.

  ‘We won’t be long,’ she said. ‘Just clearing some debris from the carriageway.’ One of the drivers thanked her, the other stared ahead and grunted his response.

  Churchill was up ahead, dragging the sheep to the side of the road. He ran back towards the police car and waved thanks to the motorists behind before sitting back inside.

  ‘Just carry on slowly up the middle,’ he said, ‘something’s not right. There are what look like fresh tyre marks beyond the sheep carcass and towards the edge of the road.’

  Ellie did as requested and slowly moved forward. Their location was towards the top of the hill, and it had a steep drop off the side into the black void of the valley.

  ‘Just there,’ Churchill said.

  ‘Yep, I see them,’ Ellie replied.

  ‘Do they look fresh to you?’ Churchill asked.

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Impossible to say if they were laid tonight, but they certainly look recent.’

  The tyre marks angled toward the road side and continued over the edge, but there was no trace of a vehicle or, more telling, obvious disturbance in the foliage at the roadside.

  Six-one, the voice of Comms bellowed through Churchill’s radio. He refused to wear the earpiece, saying he didn’t want ear cancer.

  I have to divert you, Six-one. We have a burglary in progress close to your location. I’ll try to find you back-up.

  ‘Roger,’ PC Churchill responded.

  ‘What about this?’ Ellie said. ‘What if there’s a car over the edge?’

  Make your way to number Seven Harptree Court - reports of smashing glass and a male climbing in through a rear ground floor window, Comms continued.

  ‘Burglary in progress, Ellie. We’ll have to come back later,’ Churchill said.

  Ellie pulled a concerned face, but nodded.

  ‘Roger,’ Churchill transmitted. ‘Six-one, en-route.’

  ‘Take the next left,’ he said to Ellie. ‘It’s just down the hill opposite the play park.’

  ‘Yep, got it,’ Ellie said and accelerated hard away from the stationery traffic behind them. She kept the sirens silent and killed the strobes as she followed the winding road towards the location. The last thing they wanted to do was to disturb and spook the intruder.

  As Ellie flung the car around the corners, Cathy Emmanuelle did her best to remain calm as she bumped and shunted into her camera operator, while providing an animated explanation of their next job.

 
Ellie braked heavily and rounded the corner with a screech of tyres and Churchill unclipped his belt.

  ‘Do your best to keep up,’ Churchill said to the rear seats passengers and leapt out of the rapidly slowing police car before it had come to a complete halt.

  Ellie unhooked herself and opened the rear door behind her seat before running after Churchill, who was now out of view. Playing up to the bloody cameras, Ellie thought as she did her best to catch him up.

  She reached the back of the flats and found Churchill crouching beside a broken window.

  ‘He’s inside,’ Churchill whispered, his eyes wide and intense.

  The documentary crew appeared at the corner of the building and Churchill held a hand up to stop them coming any further.

  Ellie crept closer and slowly peered around the window frame until she could see inside the flat. The light was on. Suddenly, she darted back.

  He’s coming, she mouthed at Churchill. She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. Her heart was pounding against her body armour. This was why she joined the police, for jobs like this and despite her tiredness, she felt as alive as at any time before. She caught Churchill’s eye and made an exaggerated point of looking at her watch. Where is the back-up? she thought.

  Churchill squatted lower and walked like a Cossack dancer beneath the window line – all knees and poor balance – until he was beside Ellie.

  ‘Let’s go in. We can’t hang around for the others,’ he whispered. ‘They may be ages yet.’

  ‘We can’t. What if he’s tooled up?’ Ellie said.

  Churchill tapped the bright yellow taser gun attached to his belt holster. He was one of the first officers in the station and the only one on their team to be issued the new piece of equipment. ‘I’ll red dot him and see where it takes us,’ he said.

  Ellie frowned and looked at her watch again. ‘We should wait,’ she whispered more purposefully on becoming aware of the camera, pointing directly at their faces. She gestured to Churchill who also noticed them and it seemed to rein him in.