Horse's Arse (22 page)

    The
group had finally passed out around 5 a.m., lying on the floor and slumped
across chairs, blissfully unaware of the gathering storm and strangely
confident. They knew they could expect a pull from the Old Bill in due course,
but Bobby had taken care of things. They'd be all right.

    The
Chief's vehicle swept into the back yard at Horse's Arse just as the cast of
Ben Hur hurried out through the front. As news of the impending visit had
spread, suddenly everyone had urgent inquiries elsewhere. Gillard saw them go
and again considered mingling with the crowd and vanishing. He watched the
Chief and his staff officer get out of the rear of the vehicle and saw the
Chief speak briefly to his driver before walking to the back doors. He had in
fact told his driver to remain with the vehicle at all times to prevent its ending
up on bricks minus its wheels. Running his trembling hands through his bouffant
hair, Gillard took a deep breath and hurried downstairs to meet him. The Chief
was still waiting outside the back doors when he got there, with a face like a
slapped arse. His repeated pressing of the buzzer had brought no response from
the control-room operator who was busy on the phone telling a colleague at
Alpha Tango of the shitstorm enveloping Horse's Arse. Gillard opened the door
and proffered a handshake, which was pointedly ignored.

    'Chief
Constable, good to—'

    'What
in hell's name is going on here, Mr Gillard?' said the Chief, pushing past him,
followed by Curtis. Curtis smirked as he entered. He was never happier than
when the shit hit the fan and none of it was likely to land on him.

    'Little
prick,' muttered Gillard as he followed them into the custody area. Daniells
stopped in his tracks when he entered and saw the prostrate prisoners, now
being tended to by the crews of three ambulances that had parked at the front
of the nick. Collins rose to his feet as Daniells entered and acknowledged him
with a simple 'Sir'.

    'What
happened, Sergeant?'

    Collins
offered the same explanation he had given Gillard but diplomatically avoided
mentioning the previous incident.

    'Has
it happened before?' barked the Chief, rendering his diplomacy redundant.

    'Um,
yes, I'm afraid it has, sir, late last year. Same thing but only one prisoner
affected.'

    'Were
you on duty then?'

    'Yes
I was, sir.'

    'What
did you do about it?'

    There
was nothing Collins could do but mention his memo.

    'Brought
it to the attention of the powers that be that day, sir.'

    'You
mean Mr Gillard, do you, Sergeant?' said the Chief, looking at Gillard, who
looked as if he'd just had a pineapple stuffed up his arse.

    'Yes,
yes, that's quite correct, Chief. I remember the memo well. I passed it to Mrs
Bott to deal. I'm not sure how far she's got with resolving the problem,'
Gillard said quickly, wringing his hands.

    'Fucking
nowhere by the looks of this fiasco,' shouted Daniells, causing the ambulance
crew to look up at him. 'Where's Mrs Bott now?'

    'Handstead
General in an observation ward, sir. She had to be sedated to get her out.'

    'Jesus
Christ. Mr Curtis, get hold of Superintendent Grainger at Complaints. Tell him
to drop whatever he's doing and get over here now. I want this mess examined
today, understand?'

    'Understood,
Chief,' said Curtis joyously, before hurrying out to find a telephone.

    'What's
happening with the inquiry into the attack on the landlord? I understand
prisoners are outstanding?' the Chief continued.

    Collins
came to Gillard's rescue, realising that he'd have little idea of what was
going on. 'Eight nicked last night, sir, amongst this lot. CID and some of the
Early Turn have gone out to nick the others. Could be as many as seven more.'

    'They
won't be coming back here, I take it?'

    'No,
sir. They'll all be going to Alpha Tango. I've warned Custody over there to expect
them and the CID have been told the good news.'

    'And
what about this lot?'

    One
of the ambulance crew answered the question for him. 'They're all suffering
various stages of carbon monoxide poisoning. It's not life threatening because
your lads got them out in time, but they're going to need to be kept under
observation for at least twenty-four hours.'

    'And
under guard,' said the Chief. 'Have you sorted that out, Mr Gillard?'

    'All
in hand, sir,' he replied, looking desperately and hopefully at Collins, who
discreetly nodded in the affirmative.

    'I've
got a unit of the Patrol Group coming over to get stuck into this toilet, Mr
Gillard. I'd like a detailed breakdown from you on where they can concentrate their
efforts by this afternoon. Understood?'

    'Perfectly,
sir,' the Chief Inspector answered meekly, resolving that the second piece of
paper he presented his superior with would be the notice of his retirement.
Fuck this for a game of soldiers.

    'Why's
this one naked?' asked Daniells, pointing at Morgan who lay shivering, barely
covered under a blanket, amongst the group of prisoners. The Chief Constable
noticed the livid purple welts on his lower back but decided not to pursue it.

    'Vomited
earlier, sir,' replied Collins quickly. 'I was on my way down to him to give
him a fresh suit when I found what had happened.'

    Daniells
still looked puzzled.

    'He's
one of the Mafia, sir. We seized all his clothing for forensic,' explained
Collins.

    Satisfied,
but not convinced, Daniells turned on his heel and left Custody, followed by
Gillard. The less he knew the better.

    'We'll
use Mrs Bott's office for the time being,' he said over his shoulder as they
climbed the stairs to the first floor. As they walked, he noticed the slightly
less strong smell of piss but said nothing until he had seated himself behind
Hilary Bott's desk. There was an overpowering smell of cheap air freshener in
the room. Gillard noticed his twitching nostrils.

    'Mrs
Bott's accident, sir - it was rather unpleasant,' he offered.

    The
Chief said nothing but looked Gillard straight in the eyes. He'd spotted
Collins digging him out of the shit in Custody, and his years as a detective
had alerted a sixth sense about his response to the memo concerning the
ventilation problems in the cells.

    'Go
and find Mr Curtis and tell him to meet me here, and then find out which unit
of the Patrol Group are on their way,' he said, without expression.

    'Sir,'
said Gillard, hurrying from the office. He expected the Chief to start looking
for the memo but was not unduly worried. He'd taken care of things.

    As
soon as the office door shut, Daniells began to go through the drawers in
Bott's desk, carefully examining each piece of paper and replacing everything
in the same order. After just a few minutes he found what he was looking for
and leant back in the chair to read Collins's memo. Dated 23 November 1975, it
was detailed and to the point and ended with two recommendations. First, that
vehicles should be prohibited from reversing towards the cell block when
parking up, despite the drawbacks when it came to achieving fast exits from the
yard, and second that the ventilation bricks be covered over and extractor fans
fitted in the cell block to provide ventilation. The memo ended with the
observation that they had been lucky to avoid a tragedy. Under Collins's
signature was a date stamp reading Sub-Divisional Commander's Office 25
November 1975, indicating that it had taken two days for the memo to travel one
flight of stairs to Gillard. There then followed Gillard's instructions to
Hilary Bott to deal, concluding with what the Chief thought the typically
pompous observation that this was a serious matter. Those instructions had then
been stamped Sub-Divisional Commander's Office 27 November 1976. It was too
pat; he knew Hilary Bott would never have sat on her hands for two months
without doing anything about the matter. Something was wrong and he read the
memo again. And then he smiled, pushed the memo on to the desk and waited, arms
folded, for Gillard to return.

    Gillard
had eventually found Curtis in the sergeant's office speaking to Complaints on
the phone.

    '. .
. he says tell him to drop everything and get his arse over here on the hurry
up,' he heard the staff officer say as he walked in. 'The place is in uproar
...' Curtis trailed off and replaced the phone when he saw Gillard glaring at
him.

    'Chief
wants you in Bott's office now, Inspector,' he said harshly. 'And find out
which unit of the Patrol Group are on their way over.'

    Curtis
didn't reply, but picked up the phone and dialled HQ switchboard. He asked to
be put through to the Patrol Group admin office, spoke briefly and replaced the
phone.

    'Unit
Three, briefing first at HQ, then due here within the hour,' he said. 'Shall we
join the Chief?' He pushed past Gillard and made his way back to the first
floor, closely followed by the Chief Inspector, who was determined not to miss
anything that passed between him and Daniells. He need not have worried. When
he entered Bott's office, hot on the staff officer's heels, he was surprised to
find the Chief beaming merrily.

    'Everything
OK, sir?' asked Curtis.

    'Couldn't
be better, Kevin,' he replied cheerfully. 'I found Sergeant Collins's memo, Mr
Gillard,' he said, leaning forward and pushing it towards the Chief Inspector.

    'Oh,
good,' said Gillard awkwardly, glancing at it but not picking it up. 'Had she
made any progress with it?'

    'Absolutely
none at all, Mr Gillard,' said the Chief mournfully, shaking his head, 'but
then that's not altogether surprising as she's never set her eyes on the
fucking thing, is it?' he finished with real venom in his voice.

    'What
— what do you mean?' said Gillard, swallowing hard as his mouth began to dry
out.

    'Have
a look for yourself, man,' replied Daniells.

    Hands
trembling, Gillard picked up the memo, and having read it looked blankly at the
Chief. 'My instructions are quite clear, sir . . .' he began.

    'Yes they
are,' interrupted Daniells, 'but she won't get those instructions until later
this year, will she? Look at the date.'

    Beginning
to shake, Gillard focused hard on the stamp he had recently added to the memo.
The colour drained from his face and he felt faint. He'd changed the day but
accidentally pushed the year on by one. He threw the memo back on to the desk
and thought he was about to be sick.

    'You're
finished, Mr Gillard,' said Daniells quietly as Curtis stared open-mouthed.
'Get out of here and remain in your office. Mr Grainger will interview you as
soon as I've briefed him. Don't bother to submit any papers to retire just yet,
will you? There are a few matters to sort out before you creep off to the sun.
Once Mr Grainger has seen you, you may take whatever leave you're still owed,
or go sick if necessary, but you are not, under any circumstances, to set foot
in this station after today. Do I make myself clear?'

    Gillard
nodded. Seeing nothing, he turned and shuffled out of the office a broken man.
He returned to his office and slumped in his chair, staring at a wall.

    Back
in Bott's office, Daniells located an A4 plastic wallet and carefully placed
the incriminating memo in it. 'I don't think we'll need it,' he told Curtis,
'but a pound a penny to a pinch of shit, the fingerprints on there won't belong
to Hilary Bott.'

    'Unit
Three will be here within the hour, sir,' the flabbergasted Curtis said
eventually. He'd just witnessed the end of the career of a senior officer who'd
tried to ensure that a subordinate took the can for an incident that had
enormous ramifications for the Force. He still couldn't quite believe what he
had witnessed. He couldn't wait to tell his wife. There was going to be a
vacancy for a Chief Inspector, albeit at Horse's Arse. Right man in the right
place at the right time and all that. But at Horse's Arse? He'd speak to Mrs
Curtis, if she'd speak to him at all.

    'Let's
get a cup of tea, Kevin,' said the Chief, getting up from the chair and handing
him the memo to look after. 'I'm as dry as a nun's cunt after that. And contact
Oscar One for me,' he added, naming the main Force control-room inspector, 'to
divert the Patrol Group direct to the Grant Flowers flats. The CID officers
there can do the briefing. No point them coming here.'