Scotty and Saira had spent the morning cruising the target areas, spotting drug users desperate for their next fix. Their unmarked Toyota was in dire need of a valet, the bodywork having been used as target practice by Brighton’s ever-present seagulls and the inside carpeted in rancid kebab wrappers and crushed coffee cups. Scotty’s rationale for not cleaning it was that its revolting state added to its anonymity. The fact that just about every drug user and homeless person in the city could spot it from a hundred yards did nothing to disabuse the sergeant.
Lizzie, the red-headed, sprightly, Op Eradicate drugs worker teamed up with them today, seemed less than impressed with this mobile hovel. Scotty also sensed her fidgeting in her stab vest, something they all did until they became a second skin. He knew his secret lover would give him hell about this later.
As he pulled off the seafront into Oriental Place, a prime dealing area due to it having more than its fair share of hostels and bedsits, half a dozen bewildered druggies of questionable ages were scurrying in the road.
‘You know the saddest sight I’ve ever seen?’ 33
‘No, but I’m guessing we’re about to find out, Sarge,’ said Saira, as she half turned to raise an eyebrow at Lizzie.
‘I was driving down the M4 and up ahead brake lights flashed on and all the cars swerved from the middle lane. I thought something had fallen off a lorry but as I got closer, I saw there were seven or eight tiny ducklings dashing around the carriageway, no sign of the mum. It was too dangerous to stop but I knew it wouldn’t be long till the inevitable happened.’
‘Right, well that is sad, but why are you telling us that now?’
‘This lot reminded me of them, that’s all.’
‘Is he always like this?’ Lizzie asked Saira, as if she didn’t know.
‘Not at all. Once, around Christmas time, he talked sense.’
‘I heard that. Right, let’s have a word with them.’
Scotty dropped Saira and Lizzie off by a builders’ van, cover enough for the low-key surprise they were used to springing, while he drove past the group and pulled up beyond them. He parked up, slowly got out of the car and ambled towards the group as Saira and Lizzie did the same from the opposite direction.
As he closed in, Scotty recognised all but one and knew they’d have little fight in them. Anticipating them running though, he readied himself. He was proud to see the other two mirror him – both owning the middle of the road, their arms out at forty-five degrees.
It was a pale, scraggy young woman who made the first move. Her efforts to power-walk past Scotty lasted no more than a few seconds as the huge sergeant stretched out his right arm.
‘Now that’s just rude, Trish. Fancy not even stopping to chat.’
A couple of men met the same end trying to edge past Saira and soon all six were huddled between Lizzie and the two officers.
‘Now, what are you all up to?’ Scotty asked as he switched on his body-worn video camera, its red light flashing to show that it was active. ‘As if I can’t guess.’
It was Trish Kenyon who became the spokesperson. ‘We ain’t doing no harm. Just need to score then we’ll be out of your hair.’ 34
‘I’m afraid that’s a bit of a problem today,’ said Saira. ‘See, our colleagues have been busy sweeping up the dealers and, well, most of your gear is now in our drug store.’
The panic was palpable – these, like every other addict, had just one goal in life.
‘We don’t cause no trouble but we’ll be clucking in a couple of hours. You lot keep doing this shit and no one gives a toss about us.’
Lizzie stepped forward. ‘It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.’
‘Oh no, not the fucking Op Eradicate chat again,’ said Trish as she tried to walk away. Scotty stepped across, blocking her path. Just then a furniture lorry trundled down the road.
‘Come on, let’s do this on the pavement,’ said Saira, shepherding them out of the truck’s way.
Lizzie continued. ‘Well if you’ve heard it before, you know the deal. You can come with me now and we’ll get you enrolled on one of the funded treatment programmes today. No waiting lists, no eligibility criteria. One form and you’re in. Do that and we’ll all be here to get you off drugs and crime.’ Her hand gesture included Scotty and Saira in that pledge.
‘And if we don’t?’ said the only person Scotty did not recognise.
‘Then we hound you, nick you for farting in public and when you tell the magistrates you need to go into treatment, we show them this video,’ said Scotty, tapping the camera. ‘Some call it assertive outreach. I prefer Hobson’s choice.’
Just then a blue panel van crawled up the road. Scotty barely glanced as it eased to a silent stop. It was only when the side door flew open that his antenna was spooked.
Three masked, stocky men jumped out, one of them shouting, ‘Get the fuckers.’ They closed the two-metre gap in half as many seconds, blades flashing in their clenched fists.
Saira stabbed the red button on her Airwave radio and screamed, ‘Code Zero, Oriental Place.’ This was the call that trumped all others, sparking every available officer to come running. It also left her microphone open 35for a few precious seconds. ‘Urgent assistance. Plainclothes officers and one civvy being attacked by three with knives.’
Scotty drew his baton and PAVA spray, holding the stick in an aggressive stance while aiming the synthetic pepper solution at his attackers’ eyes and simultaneously roaring, ‘Get back! Get back!’
Saira shouted the same, rushing to their flank. She swung her own baton at the right-hand man’s knees, but missed the target. The distant sirens were a welcome sound but Scotty knew they couldn’t hold the knifemen back for long.
The blades swished terrifyingly close and Scotty’s spray canister was all but empty. Just then he notched up a hit with the burning liquid as the middle man collapsed to his knees holding his eyes and screaming. This only drove the others on, and Scotty could only focus on the next few seconds.
He bellowed louder and saw Saira draw her own spray and take aim. Suddenly, the two in front of them stopped and dragged their stricken colleague into the van. Thank God, thought Scotty as they retreated, but then he felt a fourth person barge past him from behind. He glanced and saw it was the one from the original group he didn’t recognise. Scotty tried to grab him but the man slipped from his grip and jumped into the van, milliseconds before it sped away.
Scotty was about to run after it when he heard ‘Help me’ to his left. He looked round and to his horror saw Lizzie writhing on the ground, eyes pleading and blood jetting across the front wing of the white Vauxhall Corsa she was wedged against.
‘Saira, get an ambulance,’ he ordered as he sank to his knees and rammed his hand against the open slash where he guessed her jugular vein was. ‘Urgent, she’s bleeding out,’ he yelled before looking back at the sheer terror contorting the drug worker’s face, tears streaming down his.
‘Keep calm, Lizzie. I’ve got you. You’re going to be OK,’ he said with far more conviction than he felt. The blood sprayed between his fingers as the colour evaporated from Lizzie’s cheeks. 36
The first police car squealed to a halt and the passenger was instantly at Scotty’s side. He couldn’t have been more relieved to see it was PC Wendy Relf, not only one of the calmest and most experienced officers the division had but a trained medic too.
‘Keep doing that Sarge, I’ll grab my kit.’
Seconds later Wendy was back, her advanced first aid pack already open on the pavement and a huge bandage wad in her hand. ‘Sarge, on three, move your hand and I’ll clamp this on. One. Two. Three.’
In no time the white pad was sodden-red. ‘Get me another,’ said Wendy and Scotty obeyed without question. When that too soaked through and Lizzie’s eyes closed, Scotty prayed.
Five pads later, the ambulance arrived. The first paramedic was straight at Wendy’s side, ready to take over. Wendy shuffled over and the paramedics worked furiously to stem the blood, exchanged a look, then one started CPR. Scotty paced up and down, muttering desperate pleas. Time stood still, then the paramedics’ demeanour and urgency waned. ‘She’s gone,’ one said to no one in particular. Wendy sank back on her haunches, as if she’d been waiting for this confirmation.
‘NO! Keep going,’ yelled Scotty, dropping to his knees, barging the paramedic out of the way. Then, two hands on his shoulders gently pulled him back.
‘Sarge, it’s too late,’ said Saira in barely a whisper. ‘You did all you could.’
He looked around at the battlefield, Lizzie’s lifeless body the only casualty.
‘Where are the rest of them?’ he demanded.
‘They all scarpered,’ said Saira. ‘We’ll get whoever did this. We will find them, Sarge.’
‘Fucking right we will. And where the fuck was our back-up?’ he shouted before lung-bursting sobs overtook him and he collapsed into the pools of Lizzie’s blood.