Brian Degas - Specials - Based on the BBC TV Drama Series - The complete novels in one volume

A moment before Toby got there, Anjali had reached the elderly security guard outside the Byron-Newman building and quickly elicited the information they needed.

‘The noise came from round the back,’ Anjali briefed Toby.

‘Wait here,’ Toby told the old guard. ‘We should have some back-up pretty soon. Okay?’

Toby didn’t wait for the guard’s answer before signalling Anjali that they proceed with their own investigation, and they set off in hot pursuit around the corner of the building.

It wasn’t long until the pair raced into an area crowded with an obstacle course of tall waste-bins. On the other side of the congested area they spotted two figures who suddenly bolted from the deep shadows and made a run for the perimeter fence.

In the semi-darkness, the suspects appeared to be two boys or young men.

Caught on the wrong side of the obstacle course, Toby and Anjali tried to hurry through the clutter of bins that were slowing them down and facilitating the escape of the fugitives.

Being afraid didn’t paralyze Anjali; fear made her run faster. She had never been able to overcome her inner panic in the face of danger, and she had no idea what would happen if she caught up with these bandits, or quite what she would do if they suddenly turned to attack her. Rather, she was driven by a sense of urgency, a blind compulsion to force her legs to keep churning. She made herself do what she instinctively knew had to be done, suppressing any thought of the possible consequences.

As Toby and Anjali got closer, the young men were legging it to the high fence. One was clearly older than the other, and both appeared to be of Asian extraction. An inopportune thought flashed through Toby’s mind, wondering what Anjali’s reaction to them might be.

The fugitives started to claw their way up the perimeter fence. The older one was lugging a heavy metal box and trying to heave it over the top. Yet, despite being weighed down by the box, the older lad was making better progress, and had nearly reached his goal.

Unable to gain secure toeholds, the younger boy was panicking. Desperate, he grabbed ahold of the older one’s jeans, trying to keep his grip, his only chance to escape again to freedom. The older fugitive was almost over the fence, and the outcome seemed to be in doubt: whether the older one would shake loose and boost himself over the top or the younger one would drag them both down.

Sensing his dilemma, the older one kicked out at the younger boy below, who lost his balance and fell to the ground, landing awkwardly with an anguished cry just as Anjali reached him.

She looked through the mesh of the fence as the older one slithered down the other side, tightened his grip on the metal box and vanished into the darkness beyond.

A moment later Toby caught up with Anjali. They heard a motorbike revving hard on the other side of the perimeter fence, ready for the getaway.

‘He’s gone,’ Toby stated, accepting the obvious and resigning himself to capturing only one of the pair.

They turned to the younger boy trapped at their feet. Their prisoner was obviously in considerable pain.

‘I think his leg’s busted,’ Toby surmised from the queer angle of the boy’s lower left limb. The kid couldn’t be more than 14 or 15 years old, he thought, shaking his head.

He unclipped his radio, as Anjali tended to the boy. Looking up at her, the kid was squeezing his eyes, wincing in pain.

‘Hold on, lad. The ambulance is on its way,’ Toby said.

There was a hint of recognition in Anjali’s gaze at the lad.

‘D’you know him?’

‘He’s Raj Patel. I know his family.’

Unsure of quite what to do with this bit of information, Toby asked the next logical question.

‘What about the other one?’

‘I don’t know him,’ Anjali acknowledged, looking out through the fence. Her eyes narrowed, without looking back at Toby, yet still peering into the black hole into which the other fugitive had disappeared.

‘But I’ll recognize him the next time.’

It took a superhuman effort for Andy McAllister, Bob Loach, Viv Smith, two PC’s and the arresting officer to force the struggling mass of a miserable prostitute by the name of Big Jess into a nearby cell.

While the weird wrestling continued, suddenly Loach let out a yell of intense pain. Big Jess had Loach’s thumb between her teeth as if she were chomping on a sausage.

Loach made a fist with his other hand and threw it into the exposed face of Big Jess.

The impact moved her entire head away from Loach’s thumb, and she slumped to the floor. The others managed to get a firm grasp on the mass of flesh, raise her off the hard floor and dump her on the bunk-bed in the cell with a great sigh of relief. Big Jess just snored and snuffled, no longer conscious of a world awake and outside her pleasant dreams.

In the meantime, Loach was examining his wounded extremity.

McAllister made a sympathetic cluck with his tongue. ‘I suppose I’d better make a report that the offender suffered an injury during the struggle.’

Loach displayed the bloody stump of his thumb. ‘She was going to bite it off!’

Sergeant McAllister restrained himself from snickering. ‘Don’t worry, laddie. That goes in the report as well. G.B.H.T.T.’

There was an inquisitive look from Loach.

‘Grievous Bodily Harm To a Thumb.’ He allowed his diagnosis time to register in Loach’s brain. ‘And get it checked.’

Then McAllister turned to the arresting officer. ‘Get the surgeon to check her.’ Truth be known, he was more concerned with Loach’s health than hers. Big Jess was the Frank Tyson of the prostitute world.

At the Byron-Newman engineering works, there was now an ambulance as well as three other patrol cars, and another vehicle belonging to the manager of the works. All of a sudden the scene had become as busy as it might be in the middle of the day.

Anjali Shah was looking down compassionately at young Raj Patel lying on the stretcher, waiting to be taken to the hospital to get some attention for his leg. He was visibly trying to contain his fear.

‘Who was the one who did this to you, Raj? What’s his name?’ She was making every effort to relate to him, not as a uniformed officer of the law but rather as a concerned human being from a similar background.

Nonetheless, he gritted his teeth and shook his head defiantly.

There was nothing left to be said for now. Anjali and Toby watched the young man being placed carefully into the ambulance, as they were joined by the manager of the engineering works.

‘Another hero,’ Toby muttered.

The manager piped up in reply. ‘If there was any justice, he should’ve broken his neck.’

Toby noticed Anjali’s reaction.

‘Bit over the top, don’t you think, sir?’ Toby gently chided him. ‘I mean – they missed the money box. And what they stole was a bit of machinery, wasn’t it?’ Of course the manager was upset, but it was time to bring his anxieties back to earth.

‘A very expensive drilling bit, officer,’ the manager explained in a patronizing tone. ‘Only about thirty-five thousand quid. Not that it makes much difference. Fat chance we’ll ever hear of it again …’

The next remark the manager aimed toward Anjali. ‘… especially since ethnics are involved.’

After staring her down, the manager was about to turn away when Anjali spoke.

‘Excuse me, sir. Will you let us try to get your property back before you press charges?’

The manager was immediately suspicious.

‘Why? You know something I don’t?’

Anjali’s response was neither timid nor equivocal. ‘I know one of the offenders. After all, I’m an ethnic myself.’ She wasn’t mincing her words, Toby noted. ‘At least let me make enquiries.’