Warning: This post contains numerous rude words so, if you are of a sensitive disposition then I suggest you let it pass you by.
Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I had some pretensions of thinking myself as a novelist. I would carry copies of Steppenwolf and Jonathan Livingstone Seagull in my back pockets and would sit under an old oak on the school grounds, thinking I was to be the next John Fowles! Oh dear!
However, the other day I got to thinking that perhaps I might have been prescient, after all, they do say that everyone has one book in them and I thought why not try and break into the overcrowded cop thriller market with my own contribution, and, to make it even better, serialise it on my blog like some Dickens of the technological age (except with half the talent and none of his sentimentality).
It seems that all cop stories have to have some sort of angle and that nothing is now taboo in the world of the thriller writer, so I have made this intentionally gritty in the style of an English Ed Mcbain (oh dear! once again). I have also incorporated a period feel as I felt it strange that neither the excellent Life of Mars, nor Ashes to Ashes put any focus on the latter half of the decades they were set in. So let us begin our tale. It’s Wandsworth, January 1986 and the Westland Crisis is at its height. Our two heroes are: veteran Yorkshire cop Charlie Hall, an outspoken and known as the ‘Enforcer of SW18’ and his junior Freddie Lomacks, a newly appointed detective with an economics degree from Leeds University and a taste for pinstripe suits. As we pick up the story, the daring duo are chasing a murderer through the mean streets of Fulham/Wandsworth.
*
Lomacks picked up the cassette from the car floor and turned to Hall, ‘what is this s**t?’
‘Chic Corea’s Elektric Band, hot from Japan, why? Do you have a problem?’
‘It’s awful.’
‘Your opinion I suppose, I don’t get in your face when you play your folky rubbish in that sardine tin you drive.’
‘No need to get defensive, I just don’t like it that’s all’ The car took a sharp corner and the tyres whined as if this sort of thing had occurred one time too many.
‘blimey, this guy’s giving me quite a runaround… anyway Lomacks, listen to Dave Weckl’s drumming, you don’t get any better!’
‘Just concentrate on the road guv!’ As Hall swerved to avoid a collection of wheelie bins placed precariously close to the curb.
‘Sh*t! That was a close, we could have had yesterday’s breakfast splattered all over the bonnet.’
‘What?’ Lomacks looked puzzled, as he often did by his boss’s bizarre speculations.
‘Nothing, just make sure you tell me where he’s going.’ By this time Lomacks had switched to the radio, and Dave Lee Travis was introducing ‘Break Out’ by Swing Out Sister.
‘For f**k’s sake, he’s got onto the Wandsworth 1-way system. We’ll never catch him now. He isn’t going to stop for a McDonalds!’ The 1-way system loomed as the cars sped over Wandsworth Bridge. Traffic lights meant nothing to the first car as it started whizzing round the convoluted junction. Hall braced himself and clenched the wheel
‘Just leave this to me…’ he growled.
‘Is this guy crazy, he’s going to kill someone!’ Lomacks looked concerned, as well he might, knowing how unpredictable Hall could be when faced with a problem. Ahead was carnage as cars swerved out of the way to avoid a potential collision as a result of the oncoming action.
‘Hold on Lomacks, this is going to take a wing and a prayer!’
‘what?’
‘Well…never mind!’ Hall shook his head in disbelief, had his partner not seen the 1957 John Wayne classic? kids these days! A low rumble turned into a rev and soon the VW Sirocco they were driving was reaching speeds only imagined in the adverts for this distinctly average car.
‘what the f**k! We’re going to hit the underpass wall!’ Lomacks screamed
‘trust me…’ said the wily old Yorkshireman, his face the picture of calm.
the car a headed straight for the concrete bank guarding both the round-a-bout and associated underpass networks that characterise the infamous one-way system. the Sirocco had managed to gain enough momentum on the slight slope of the bank and flew through the air. Sailing over the traffic island it landed with a screeching halt in front of the car they were pursuing. The driver of the other car swerved to avoid the tonne of Teutonic metal but ended up crashing into a traffic light by Wandsworth Town station.
‘JESUS F**KING CHRIST! You stupid b*****d!’ bellowed the younger of the two detectives.
‘no time Lomacks, he’s legging it!’ The assailant had got out of the totaled wreck of his car and had started to make his way into Wandsworth Town.
‘we’ve gotta stop him’ cried Hall, ‘before he gets to the ‘Toast Rack’, otherwise we’ll lose him.’
‘You shouldn’t have had that extra fried slice at brekkie boss.’ quipped the maverick partner, adjusting his glasses and smoothing his hair before setting off in hot pursuit.
‘Never you mind lad, let’s get that murdering bastard before he can pray on any more defenceless women!’
‘Right guv!’ Hall and Lomacks chased the felonious thug down Wandsworth High Street, the Hall puffing and panting, curls matting to his forehead; Lomacks swift and agile, his close cut straight hair as fresh as if he were straight from the hairdresser.
‘I’m get getting…to old for this sort of thing!’ Gasped the ‘Enforcer of SW18’
‘It’s that fried slice, I warned you not to have it.’ replied the young upstart. Eventually, they caught up with the criminal who they proceeded to brutally beat in a fashion which I won’t describe, purely out of good taste.
‘Hold him up Lomacks.’ Hall had received a bloody lip from the scuffle and was giving the perp daggers.
‘Right boss.’ said Lomacks pinning the goon up against a wall as Hall walk up to the hoodlum, hate in his eyes and a cocked fist.
‘You know what I hate lickspittle?’
‘Na? What copper?’
‘Scum like you, she was only 17 years old. I’ve got a good mind to shoot you here…in the balls, you f**king abortion!’
‘Think I care what you think?’
‘I don’t think you do...’ at which point Hall yaked up and spat in the murderer’s face. ‘That’s what I think. You are going away my son, for a f**king long time, and I home they stick more up your a******le than dynamite in a disused coal mine! Take him away Lomacks.’ The cuffs were duly produced and the hooligan read his rights against the side of the Sirocco. As Hall is walked away from the scene to calm himself....
‘They’ll get you Hall, you b*****d, your not f**king God! Hall Turned to face the Hoodlum, whipping out a pair of Wayfarers and putting them on.
‘God Calls me God you nonce…and don’t you forget it…’
Tune in next for the second instalment in this exciting new series...
Tune in next for the second instalment in this exciting new series...
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