PADS #19

A slow whistle from the deep exhalation of the numberless police officer stilled the atmosphere. Wyse later recalled that during life and death situations time is perceived to slow down. In situations of humiliation and ridicule however, it goes much, much slower.


The ugly head of defeat now threatened to start shouting, Rogers’ face contorted once more as it sensed blood, ‘Yes Wyse, explain to all of us about this murderous bucket of yours?’

‘You think a bucket killed him? Is this some sort of bloody joke?’ said the numberless police officer.

Releasing the radio button QO 232 turned, ‘What? I’ve just called the detectives, they’re on their way, how am I going to explain this? They haven’t forgiven me for the Dartford incident.’

Producing his notebook the numberless officer licked the tip of his pencil. Pointing it at Wyse he smiled with a flourish of his outstretched arm, ‘Well let’s not jump to any conclusions here, after all this is a murder scene. Now if I could take your name sir, so I may record it for prosperity.’

The sudden comic approach by the officer was obviously one he had practiced many times before and probably kept the pencil for just such an opportunity. Well so be it thought Wyse, his dignity however would not allow him to be a bit player in this officer’s attempt at farce, ‘Wise, with a y.’

QO 232 had started to say something but paused, a look of dread focused itself upon his face as realisation dawned in his eyes, ‘Oh no, wait a second it’s you!’

‘Who?’ asked the numberless officer.

‘Please Officers,’ said Officer Rogers, ‘I understand what you are referring to, but in that matter a full internal investigation took place and the appropriate action plan implemented. It would be wrong now to infer my colleague is incompetent because of what happened with the Queen nine months ago. Even if at the time there were those who thought he should have been arrested and at the very least dismissed from the Service. It was decided by others in command, not to proceed with such wisdom.’

Wyse was rooted to the spot, he realised too late something had indeed gone terribly wrong. In the last few moments, triumph had been snatched away from his grasp to be replaced with the jaws of defeat firmly clamped around him. He was aware of Elms nearby, but dared not glance at him. He would, of course, have to give Elms a true and honest account of what had happened, one which would contradict the ridiculous versions circulating at the time however this was neither the time nor the place. Focusing upon Rogers, Wyse sharpened his tongue for an appropriate thrust which would end this duel but before he could lunge, he was stopped in his riposte.