Night In London (Night Series Book 2)

by Casey Christie

  The night manager finally finished speaking and looked at Sergeant Shaka pleadingly, the man was obviously at his wits’ end.

  “Mike, good cop, bad cop? suggested the Sergeant.

  “Sure, but let’s send Dlamini in first, he’ll work even better.”

  Shaka smiled “Haha, he sure will! They’ll piss themselves!”

  The night manager led the four police officers through the hotel foyer and to the entrance of the bar where a number of the hotel’s staff were huddled around a small window of the bar, peeking in. As the hotel employees noticed the police officers they quickly scuttled off with one of them saying “good luck, officers!” as she passed them. Kalahari caught her eye and gave her a wink to which she smiled before disappearing down the hallway.

  “Is that all you think about, Kal?”

  “Well, what else is there, Mike?”

  Night shook his head in mock disbelief.

  “Are they all guests in your hotel, Jerry?” asked Night.

  “Yes, Captain, they are but our license stipulates that we must not serve alcohol at this time and that all entertainment facilities must now be closed and empty, not to mention the racket they are all making. And they’ve already thrown my security staff out, who now refuse to leave their staff room, and those bloody brutes throw fruit at me each time I enter.”

  Night forced himself not to laugh.

  “Okay, Jerry, best you leave us for the moment, the sight of you will probably further embolden them… no offence meant of course.”

  Jerry simply put his hands up in surrender and stalked off.

  The four officers then looked at the scene playing out inside the club.

  The majority of the rowdy customers were standing in a circle in front of the bar, about a dozen middle aged men, singing loudly while more than a few of the younger men had obviously passed out at their tables. The barman was obviously enjoying himself as he twirled a bottle into the air but failed to catch it as it crashed onto the floor at his feet making him laugh out loud before taking a long swig of a particularly nasty looking concoction probably of his own making.

  “Looks like it was a damn fine party, hey!” said Kalahari.

  “Indeed. Okay, gents, Dlamini and I will go in first, Steven, I want you to take the lead and in your nicest and most polite and professional voice and I want you to announce our arrival and ask the men to leave the bar, got it?”

  “Sure, Cappy!”

  “Then gentleman, when the inevitable happens… well, you know what to do.”

  Shaka grinned as he leaned up against the wall next to Kalahari making sure they were out of sight once Night and Dlamini opened the doors and entered.

  “Okay, Steven. Lets go.”

  Dlamini stepped through the doors first with Night directly behind him. The sound of the door closing behind them caught the attention of one of the men at the bar who without looking at who had just entered turned and picked up an orange that was lying on a table in a fruit bowl directly behind him and pitched it at the two police officers as if he were an outfielder returning the cricket ball to his wicket keeper. The rest of the revelers noticed this and a few of them shouted at him to not throw it after realising who had just entered. It was too late.

  Night instinctively ducked as the orange whizzed through the air directly for his head and was astonished to see Dlamini catch it one handed. The English cricket enthusiasts were stunned into silence at the outstanding catch for only a moment before breaking out into applause at the superb effort.

  Time slowed as Night saw Dlamini reach for his sidearm and then place it up against the orange. Night’s eye’s almost popped out of his head as his jaw hit the floor as he saw the young constable squeeze the trigger and an instant later the juice and guts of the orange sprayed onto the wall beside them as the weapon fired. Night still stunned at his student’s action then stared at him wordlessly as Steven Dlamini spoke. The gunshot had silenced every man in the bar. The barman stood motionless as the drink he was pouring spilled over the rim of the glass and onto the table in front of him. Wide eyed and all ears, they listened.

  “Good morning, British people. We are the South African Police Force, at your service, and this party is now over. Now without another sound I would very kindly request that you all leave the bar and make your way to your rooms. At once… and thank you.”

  Night was still dumbfounded as after hearing the gunshot Shaka and Kalahari had rushed in only to hear the tail end of the young student’s words and to their relief see the cricket fans quickly and quietly stand up and make their way out of the bar and to their rooms.

  “Officers.”

  “Gentlemen.”

  “South African Police Force.”

  The cricket fans said as they made their way between the four police officers.

  “Isn’t Africa exciting” said another.

  Moments later and the hotel bar was empty of all revelers, except for the barman, who as Night locked eyes on the man, saluted and then seemingly passed out, falling to the floor behind the bar.

  “Captain?”

  “Excuse me, Captain? Hello?”

  Night looked to his right towards the voice calling him and noticed Jerry the night manager standing just behind Shaka. The man looked nervous and behind him and standing just outside of the door Night noticed the small group of hotel staff looking quizzically in.

  “Yes, Jerry?”

  “I may of course be mistaken but I am pretty sure I heard a gun shot go off in here?”

  Night took in a deep breath and quickly considered his options. What his student had just done was illegal. He had discharged a firearm in a public place without legal cause and if the hotel manager wanted to make an issue of it a huge issue it would be. Legally speaking Night should place Dlamini under immediate arrest and inform the duty officer and radio control. The hotel could also by law press charges of Malicious Damage to Property against the young student. The whole situation could get very nasty. Without conscious intent Night turned towards Dlamini and glared at him and was at least satisfied to see Dlamini shrink under his gaze. Night returned to look at Jerry.

  “We have solved your problem, Jerry, yes?”

  Jerry nodded his head and walked towards the wall that was now covered in orange guts. He wiped away enough of the dirt to expose a fresh wound to the wall and pulled out a bottle opener from his pocket and used it to carefully remove the bullet neatly lodged inside the wall. He held up the bullet to the light and turned, enjoying all the officers’ eyes on him, to face the police Captain.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Captain… Night, is it or is that an all too common SAPS administration error of spelling?”

  “It is Night, no K.”

  “Unusual name, of English origin?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Very rare surname as far as I am aware, only a few thousand Nights in all of England and I should know, I study names, in my spare time of course. Well my new most loyal Captain of Norwood Police Station. Since you have been so helpful and professional and have done everything by the letter of the… law, I hope you wouldn’t mind me asking for your direct mobile telephone number, you know that I may be able to call on you at any time of the day or night for any further problems I may face here? That way I won’t have to bother going through 10111 and having to wait for hours on end for a response vehicle?”

  Outwardly Night showed anger, inwardly he was hugely relieved.

  “Sure, Jerry. My student here will give you my contact number and will help you clean this mess up.”

  “Ah, how kind of you.”

  Jerry then began to put the spent round in his breast pocket but before he could complete the action Night caught his hand and gave his scrawny wrist just enough of a squeeze for the man’s hand to open. Night caught the falling round in his other outstretched hand.

  “I’ll hold on to this, for investigation purposes, of course.”

  Jerry opened his mouth to say som
ething but Night cut him off quickly, taking back the initiative.

  “Now, Jerry, the Warrant Officer over there will be led by one of your staff to your security control room where he will be taking control of any surveillance video you may have…”

  Night stopped midsentence as his phone rang, not his private phone, but the encrypted cellular given to him by General Arosi.

  Night answered the phone, asking the General to give him a moment, while gesturing for Jerry to wait and quietly walked over and tasked Sergeant Shaka to take over ‘clearing up the boy’s mess’ as he waved goodbye to Jerry and made his way through the hotel and to the vehicle to take the General’s call in private.

  “Mike, how are you my friend?”

  “Good thank you, Amos. Just dealing with a silly complaint. Little early for you isn’t it?”

  “Very early.. but needs must. I’ve just arrived back in Johannesburg and need to see you, can you come to my home after shift tonight?”

  “Sure, I’ll come straight after we knock off.’

  “By the way, did you get the funds?”

  “I did, thank you, as did Shaka and Kal.”

  “Good, good. I’ll see you tonight then.”

  Night tucked the phone away and closed his eyes as he waited for his crew to return to the vehicle.

  Ten minutes later and the car door opened and Shaka jumped into the driver’s seat. Kalahari and Dlamini followed shortly after, taking their seats in the rear of the vehicle.

  “Well, that was entertaining!” said the Warrant Officer.

  Night looked at Shaka thoughtfully.

  “It’s all sorted, Mike. The manager was understanding enough and just happy to have his bar back. Apparently he was stressed out as they’re expecting a site visit from some hot shot hotel inspector in the next hour or so..”

  “So he’s more relieved than anything just to have them out and in bed.”

  “Exactly.”

  Shaka started the car and pulled off.

  “Where to next, boss?”

  “Let’s patrol this area and move through the sectors slowly making our way to the station. Dirty Harry behind me will spend the rest of the day in the Client Service Area thinking about how much action he’ll be missing while we’re out on the road doing real police work.”

  After ten minutes of total silence while slowly patrolling, except for the sound of Kalahari playing Game of War on his mobile phone, the young student couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

  “But, Captain, I got those guys out in seconds and I was polite..”

  “You fired your weapon in a public space, inside no less, you stupid little shit!”

  “I knew the wall was behind the orange and I knew you wanted to make me look like a square head so that they would laugh at me and then take the big tree and the senior General seriously as they entered so that they could save the day!”

  Night shot Kalahari and Shaka a warning glare as both men began to laugh.

  “Save the day!? Are you on crack, man? We basically put drunk adults to bed, no one saved any day. And dealing with shit like that is a policeman’s bread and bloody butter. Not every call is an action packed shoot out, Dlamini.”

  “Ja, well Captain, that’s how they do it in the shebeens in the townships, I’ve seen it done twice already in Alexandra.”

  “That wasn’t a shebeen in a township and have you thought about what would’ve happened if the bullet ricocheted off the wall and hit one of those civilians or worse, one of us?”

  “But it didn’t, Cappy.”

  “You’re lucky, this time. By law I should have your weapon confiscated and open a docket against you on a number of charges.”

  The vehicle went quiet as Night fumed in the front seat.

  “Dlamini, the Captain is right. You’re lucky for a number of reasons. The hotel could have just made your life very miserable indeed if they had wanted to. I know up until now you’ve been enjoying yourself as a trainee but there is a much darker side to ‘protecting and serving’… just wait until members of the public start to make up bullshit allegations against you and all of sudden you have cases pending against you. Or even worse when some dickhead detective doesn’t like you for whatever reason and pursues those charges, hauling you in front of some magistrate looking to nail a dirty cop and set an example. You’re young and dumb enough to have just got away with that, mainly because your Captain has now just become the personal bodyguard and go-to-guy for Jerry the night manager. You should learn from this and think about what could have happened when you discharged your weapon and if you’re intelligent enough you’ll probably lose some sleep over it. And what you did was illegal. Remember, Steven, once you squeeze that trigger, that’s it. There’s no apologising or cracking some joke to make up for bad words said in the heat of the moment. To tell you the truth, what worries me the most is that now I, and more importantly, your Captain and Sergeant, know that you don’t respect that weapon of yours. You don’t fully comprehend it’s power…”

  “November Whisky Fifty, come in for control?”

  Night picked up the mic and responded to control.

  “Send for November Whisky Fifty, control.”

  “Is that Captain Night?”

  “Affirmative, control.”

  “Captain, when you have a moment, like now, I would strongly suggest you call your station and when you’ve finished… talking about what you are about to talk about, please give me your zero eight on the last complaint.”

  Night understood exactly what control was saying to him and turned in his seat and glared at Dlamini. The young trainee visibly sank in his seat.

  “Sure, control. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Night got on his mobile and phoned Norwood police station. After a long conversation Night ended the call.

  “See, Dlamini. There are repercussions to all of our actions. That was the station commander and she’s just dealt with two very upset wives of men that were just in that bar and they want blood.”

  “Blood, but I’m very skinny, Captain, I need all my blood.”

  “Jesus Christ, Dlamini, when I get out of this car I am going to rip your skinny arms off!”

  “What has she ordered Mike, is she throwing him under the bus or…” said Shaka.

  “Or is she going to do what any good station commander would do?” said Kalahari.

  “Seems she’s full of surprises. She’s ordered us not to show our faces at the station for at least another hour while she calms the women down and tries to defuse the situation. She’s pleased to hear that the hotel manager is okay though, as that could have been a real headache for her as apparently the owner sits on the local CPF (Community Policing Forum).”

  “But we better get a story together just in case. Kal, give Dlamini one of your state issues so that his count is correct.”

  “Um, sorry Mike, but I don’t have any.”

  Kalahari then ejected his magazine from his sidearm and showed Night the heads of his rounds, all hollow points, much more effective against criminals and much less chance of them travelling through an intended target and causing a civilian casualty. Most police forces around the world have now adopted the round while South Africa still uses Full Metal Jackets which are much more likely to ricochet off hard objects or go straight through a suspect’s soft flesh and possibly injure or kill an innocent bystander.

  “And you, Zulu?”

  “Same, Mike.”

  “Ah well, looks like you’ll just have to claim an AD (Accidental Discharge) if it comes to it, Dlamini.”

  “Hey, where can I get some of those?”

  Kalahari was about to answer the student’s question and Night was about to give the young upstart another ear-bashing when the Warrant Officer’s phone rang.

  “Ah, I’ve been waiting for this call, it’s the boys!”

  Kalahari took the call as Night told Shaka to take them into the Linksfield area at the opposite far end of thei
r station’s jurisdiction. Well away from HQ.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thirty minutes later and the four man crew of November Whisky Fifty were sitting at the petrol station of Balfour Park shopping centre. A jet black Subaru Impreza WRX with tinted windows pulled up next to the marked police vehicle.

  “Ah, here they are” said Kalahari as he jumped out of the police car.

  Night and Shaka both shook their heads and whistled while looking at the impressive vehicle.

  “Looks like you bloody Taakies get all the nice toys, hey!” said Night.

  Kalahari turned to him and smiled: “Wait until you visit our base, you two will cry yourselves a river when you see what’ve we’ve got to play with!”

  All four doors of the Impreza opened at once as though part of some drill and four police officers all dressed in the distinct and highly regarded Special Task Force camouflaged uniform, like the one Kalahari currently wore, began to emerge. Each man wore his sidearm on thigh holsters. And Night noticed three R1 7.62MM fully automatic assault rifles on the floor next to where each operator sat.

  Dlamini’s eyes widened as each man stood to his full height, all comfortably over six foot and athletically built with just the right amount of muscle and the man exiting the rear passenger seat closest to Dlamini’s seemingly didn’t stop standing before reaching his full height. Night quickly sized the man up with his professional eye putting the Taakie at six foot four or six foot five inches and perhaps 125kg of pure muscle. He wasn’t quite as tall or as broad as Shaka but he was big enough to make Shaka straighten his back to make sure there wasn’t any doubt. Night laughed inwardly and knew this would be an interesting interlude. Kalahari’s eye’s smiled at Night obviously sharing in the thought.