Terror Cops by Harry Keeble

Author:Harry Keeble [Keeble, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

SIXTEEN

THE COMMISSIONER AND I

I was at home, clearing out the car in preparation for our family holiday in France. It was full of all sorts of rubbish. Being so busy over the past few months with house moves, job changes, working long hours – not to mention our three lively kids, aged two, six and fifteen – meant that we lived in barely organized chaos. Although I still had plenty of time before I needed to leave, I seemed to have a never-ending list of jobs to complete and as a result I was rushing.

Buried in the back of the boot was a tin of magnolia paint. I was pulling it out, wondering how on earth it had got there, when the phone rang.

It was Jenny. ‘Harry, we’ve got an urgent job, we need you down at TT, asap.’

‘I’m on leave from early tomorrow.’ But of course, that was the point. My name was still on the board, tomorrow is another day and twenty-four hours is a long time in Special Branch.

‘Not till tomorrow, officially speaking, according to DI Caudle,’ Jenny said. ‘Sorry, flower, a big one’s come up.’

Holidays had been in short supply over the last few months and my family really needed one. I really didn’t want to have to tell them that the job had interrupted our lives once more. They’d put up with so much from me. They understood that what I did was important and that my job was a huge part of who I was but I’d been missing more and more family occasions, from sports days and school plays to birthdays and anniversaries. I couldn’t complain; I’d known the score when I applied for SO12. As Terry had told me once: ‘You can sit on the merry-go-round or ride the rollercoaster, it’s up to you. I chose the latter and never looked back.’

In frustration I grabbed the tin of paint and yanked it out of the boot. As I lifted it out, it slipped from my hand, the lid popped open and a couple of litres of emulsion poured down my front.

‘Oh for f—!’

‘Dad? What’s going on?’ my eldest son, who’d suddenly appeared at the garage door, asked. Wiping myself down, I explained that I had to pop to work and that I’d be back as soon as I could. I didn’t want to mention that I had no idea what awaited me there or how long I would be. I got the worst of the paint off, changed and drove straight down to TT while calculating the cost and logistics of having to rebook the ferry. I tried not to think of the disappointment on my family’s faces if I had to tell them our holiday was postponed – or that they would have to go without me. We had to squeeze in a break while the kids were on holiday and my wife couldn’t just swap her leave around in her job. I’m sure these dilemmas are shared by every emergency worker in the land.

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