Stuart Pawson - Some By Fire

"It's Jeff," it said, breathlessly. "The Transit's on the move."

"It can't be," I complained, looking at my watch. "I've an appointment at nine."

"We can manage. I've scrambled the chopper and alerted the ARV. Now I'm just rounding up the troops."

I was going to miss this, and I was annoyed. "OK," I said. "Take everybody you need, plus a few more, but not Sparky and Annette; and alert our neighbours. We can't afford to lose them, so the more the merrier. Lift them whenever it's convenient. In the garden but before they enter the house would be ideal, but on no account let them get in the house. It would be nice, though, to know what their target was.

Nobody hurt, that's the priority, Jeff, unless, of course, it's them.

No, I didn't say that. Anything you want me to do?"

"Not at the moment, boss."

"Get on with it then. I'll be in the control room if you need me."

Dammit, I thought. Dammit. I'd wanted to scramble the chopper. Jeff had decided that the best thing was for him to ring Mr. Nelson at seven o'clock every morning. If the boys were there, he'd say wrong number; if they'd come home and left the house Jeff would tell him to report the van stolen and give him a crime number. Mr. Nelson then had to ring the Tracker people and report it missing. They would double-check with us before activating the transponder in the van, enabling the receivers in our vehicles to pinpoint it. Tracker only acted after a report of theft; we didn't have carte blanche to follow anyone who had the device fitted.

I had a hasty shower and nearly broke the speed limit on the way to the nick. The car park was surprisingly devoid of police cars but Dave's Escort was in its usual place.

He was in the control room, listening to the action. "We could put Melissa back an hour," he suggested, temptingly.

"No," I replied. "They can handle it."

The radios were on talk-through, so we could hear everything. "Target heading south," someone said, which was bad news, because everyone had gone straight to the motorway, which was north. Jeff came on and directed all the unmarked cars in the right direction, sharing them out between the different routes. At this stage they just wanted to be close. The pandas and the ARV were told to take their time.

"Zulu ninety-nine, we have contact with target," came over the airwaves, against a background of the chum-chum-chum of the chopper's blades. "On A616, just beyond Debberton, travelling slowly."

Jeff asked for the positions of his cars, and rerouted where necessary.

We studied the big map and the duty sergeant made a guess about some posh houses between Debberton and Holmfirth. I told him to pass it on to Jeff.

Zulu ninety-nine told us that the van had stopped in a lay-by and they were veering off to avoid being spotted.

"Lima Mike. Just passing target." That was Maggie.

"Ten twenty."

"Lima Oscar, we have target under observation. Zulu ninety-nine stay away until they move again."

"Ten twenty. Do you copy, Zulu ninety-nine?"

"Zulu ninety-nine, ten twenty."

"Lima Mike standing by."

Gilbert came in and asked for an update. I showed him where they were on the map. "Unlike you not to be out there, Charlie," he said.

"Oh, you know how I like to delegate," I replied.

"Lima Oscar, target on the move." We all turned to the control desk, as if looking at the loudspeakers would give us a picture of the scene.

The Transit drove about a quarter of a mile and turned up a gravel track. "They probably stopped to put their masks on," Dave suggested.

"Zulu ninety-nine, we have them. T2 out of vehicle, opening gate to a house. Suggest you go-go-go."

Accelerators were flat to the floor, tyres were squealing, but we could see none of it. "Zulu ninety-nine, T2 has seen us. He's back in the van and they're aborting."

"Lima Mike, I'm turning into the lane, Lima Oscar behind me. We'll block the lane." A silence, then: "Lima Mike, they're out and running.

Giving chase."

We all laughed and relaxed. Gilbert went up to his office and I rang Annette at home, in case she'd forgotten what day it was. Five minutes later a breathless Maggie panted: "Lima Mike to XL."

"Go ahead, Maggie," the controller told her.

"We have a ten twelve. Will bring Tl and T2 to Heckley, out."

Jeff came on, saying: "All units ten three. Thank you and good morning."

"Let's go," I said to Dave. "We can't stand here all day listening to them playing cowboys and Indians. What's all this ten twenty stuff?"

They were half an hour late. Annette brought them in, apologising, and Dave set eyes on Melissa for the first time. She was wearing no make-up, which was a shock, and her cheeks were swollen. I suspected that the dark glasses were to hide black eyes. Nigel's wisdom teeth had been removed, and he said it gave your face quite a hammering. Jade Slade was with her, wearing an embroidered shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, like he was expecting line dancing. The duty solicitor looked a treat, as always, in his blue suit and regimental tie.

"Are you fit enough to answer questions?" I asked, because I was concerned about the quality of her answers, not her health.

"Let's get on with it," she said.

"Okey-do key I set the tape running and did the spiel and asked everyone to introduce themselves. Dave and I were at one side of the table, Melissa and the solicitor at the other, with Slade rocked back against the wall near the video player I'd asked for. He was holding one of our polystyrene beakers, and at first I thought he'd bought a coffee from the machine. When I saw him lift it towards his mouth and spit into it I thought: It's not that bad. When he did it again, a few moments later, I realised he was chewing tobacco.

"Mrs. Slade," I began, 'did you attend Essex University in 1969?"

"Yes."

"And after that did you attend Paris, Edinburgh, Manchester, Los Angeles, Durham and Leeds universities?"

"If you say so."

"What do you say?"

"I say this has fuck-all to do with why I'm here."

"Did you meet a lecturer called Nick Kingston at Essex?"

"I might have done."

"Did you?"

"I don't remember. I met him somewhere."

"But you already knew him when you moved to Leeds?"

"Yes."

"What was the nature of your relationship?"

"Were we fucking, you mean? Of course we were."

Dave shuffled. When he was settled again I said: "Have you contacted Kingston during this visit?"

She looked uneasy and turned to the solicitor. He shrugged, not knowing if this was relevant to anything. Slade said: "Is this part of the deal?"

"What deal?" I asked.

"You know, the fuckin' deal."

I turned to Melissa. "Mrs. Slade, to have it on the record, could you tell us what you are expecting from this meeting."

"I'll tell you what she's expecting," Slade shouted. "She puts the finger on this Kingston, and you give her immunity from prosecution.

That's the fuckin' deal, ain't it?"

I told Slade that we'd make better progress if he let his wife answer the questions. We weren't interested in his comments or opinions. She smiled at him and he spat into the cup and let his chair plop down on to all four legs.

"What are you expecting, Mrs. Slade?" I asked again.

"What he said," she replied. "I tell you about Kingston and you let me go."

"I have no power to grant you immunity from prosecution," I explained.

"Nobody has. However, I can assure you that this force and two others involved with the Kingston case will not actively pursue any charges against you or follow up any evidence relating to these of fences that may implicate you. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Would you like your solicitor to discuss it with you?"

"No."

"Very well, what can you tell us about Nick Kingston?"