Water, Water, Everywhere...

The rain battered the roof of Jeff Taunten’s patrol car, propelled by a vicious gale in waves of movement that billowed in the light of the headlamps. The windscreen wipers cleared the glass intermittently and without any real effect, providing the only other noise that could be heard over the pounding rain. Jeff rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand, a hand covered in the smudged ink of a half-dozen tiny notes written in black biro. Yawning, Jeff wondered for the fifth time that night where the hell he put his pocket notebook last time he was on duty. No doubt another member of his squad thought it would be a good idea to shove it in an evidence bag and hang it from the fire escape in the back yard of the station.

Again.

Man, these weekday night shifts were a killer in the sleepy town of Antesborough... The digital clock in the car clicked onto 3.02am.

Suddenly the radio glowed briefly as someone attempted a quick transmission, then nothing. The brightness faded before surging again as the voice of the Police control room staff member comes over the radio with detached and nasal voice suitable only for most train stations. “Observations please...”, and then a pause.

“Bollocks...” Jeff said to no one in particular, “Spoke too fucking soon”.

“Observations for a red-coloured panel van, index unknown heading west along Fairview Road towards Lexbury Sands. Vehicle suspected to be involved in a burglary at Harbour Hill. Vehicle is two-up, no description of suspects... Two-six?”

Another frigging burglary. Jeff rubbed his eyes with the back of his ink-stained hand yet again and then turned the ignition key sending the crunching diesel engine of the patrol car into life and then slowly pulled out of the Fairview public car park, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t suddenly see a “red-coloured panel van” pass by the front of his bonnet. Like he did everytime he heard the phrase, Jeff ignored the ridiculous peculiarity that was the description of the colour of the vehicle.

“Two-six...? Calling two-six?” Jeff glared at the radio as if willing it into impertinent silence, then flicked the radio lever that the Police mechanics had so handily installed into the steering column next to the indicator lever. Jeff spoke in a mumbling voice into the void of the inside of the car, his voice picked up by the tiny receiver above his rear-view mirror. “Yeah, two-six I’m on it...” Huffing bad-temperedly, Jeff began to pull out onto Fairview Road heading towards the scene of the burglary, the rain lashing his windscreen like a sudden storm of hail. As he turned the creaking steering wheel of his old-before-its-time patrol car, he suddenly saw a pair of headlights and a flash of red heading towards him through the billowing rain.

“Bollocks...” Jeff said again to no one but himself. The panel van rushed past him at a hell of a lick, splashing filthy water onto the driver’s side window of Jeff's patrol car. Reacting sluggishly, Jeff wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right, attempting to turn around in the road, reaching for the button that would illuminate his flashing blue lights for only the third time in his 4-year career, and then pressed his foot hard onto the accelerator and lifted the clutch. The car suddenly stalled. Jeff sighed heavily, and then twitched the radio lever again. “Two-six, the vehicle has just passed me towards Lexbury Sands. My car has conked out. Again. Please add that to the message for the benefit of the control room Inspector. Again.”

“Noted two-six. Two-nine, can you make?”

“Yeah two-nine, we’re Lexbury towards last known location. Suggest two-six heads to scene?”

“Yeah, well you fucking would, wouldn’t you, Dave?” Jeff grumbled to himself before turning the ignition key again to try and restart the engine. No response. Another attempt. Another failure. Frowning, Jeff leant forward and gently bounced his forehead off the top of the steering wheel several times. He then twitched the radio lever with his head still on the top of the steering wheel. “Two-six to control...?”

“Two-six, you’re muffled. Go ahead.”

Scowling, Jeff lifted his head clear of the steering wheel. “Yeah two-six, my car is completely out of action. Request recovery.”

“Two-six, that received. Pass location please.” Jeff dutifully passed the location and then began adjusting his seat to lie back and wait for the recovery truck. “Two-six, that noted, please head to the scene on foot as we have no other free units...” Jeff looked at the radio as if it had just kicked him in the testicles with steel-toe-capped boots on. He then stared gloomily out of the drivers window into the inclement weather.

On foot. In this rain?

Jeff toyed with the idea of arguing the toss with the operator, then decided it just wasn’t worth it. The last thing he wanted was a call direct to his radio from Sergeant Canley demanding he attend the scene whilst the lazy bastard toasted his toes on the electric fire back in his office at the station. Shrugging on his fluorescent waterproof jacket with great difficulty whilst in the front seat, Jeff then grabbed his clipboard and flat-topped hat before heading out into the rain with his personal radio. As he walked down the hill in the pitch dark illuminated briefly by the flashing of the cars' hazard lights, he began to wish he had never even gone to work that night. He sighed heavily for the umpteenth time as his woollen trousers slowly sought to soak up as much of the rain as possible.

Little did he know that he would come to regret going to work that evening for a different reason entirely...

(c) 2010 James Batty