CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Strapped securely onto a Spinal Board, Ricky was rushed to the Hospital, not quite enjoying the full ‘Blues and Two’s’ treatment, every pothole in the woefully neglected road surface, sending a bolt of agonising pain from the base of his back to the nape of his neck. Upon arrival, he bypassed Triage and was taken directly to the Accident and Emergency examination area where he was probed and prodded each touch making him convulse in agony.
Forty Seven hours into his shift, the Junior Doctor decided that an X-ray was required even though he suspected soft tissue damage, which tended not to show up on such images. Ricky was twisted, turned, bent and straightened as his back and neck were ‘radiated’ for the good of his health. It has to be said that the X-ray department were the very picture of efficiency. A short while later, he was being wheeled back to A&E the images of his insides, on the inside of a large manila envelope which was lying on his chest as he was lying on his back.
The Junior Doctor took the view that Ricky should be admitted for observation and an MRI scan. This was just the sort of thing that admitting doctors loved…endless calls to the Bed Manager in the search for a bed. However, like everything in the NHS, everything has its price and the ‘Auction’ for a bed soon escalates into a fevered frenzy that makes trading on the London Stock Exchange floor look like a meeting of the Quakers.
This daily struggle proved to be the source of inter-department friction, and the stakes were high…the currency of choice being family sized boxes of Cadbury’s Roses, split on an agreed percentage between the Bed Manager and the receiving ward. The main benefactors of this neat little local arrangement was that business in the onsite W.I. shop was extremely brisk, and was said to be instrumental in the ever expanding waist line of the nursing staff.
Hannah White was sitting at the Nurses Station on Ward 7 when she answered the telephone. She knew that a bed had just become available, or at least one would be available, once the patient had arranged to be picked up by relatives. Hannah was therefore able to negotiate from a position of strength, and replenish the ward’s confectionary supplies whilst at the same time as ‘vetting’ the patient…she would not be thanked by her colleagues if she admitted anyone too demanding. And so it was that Ricky would make the acquaintance of Staff Nurse Hannah White.
Hodder had no sooner come off the informant’s phone than his mobile rang it was Grace…’Have you heard…have you heard’?
‘Calm down Grace…Tell me what is wrong’?
She spluttered out something about Lauren and Ricky being involved in an accident. Ricky was injured but Lauren was missing.
As if his previous conversation with Bostock had not been bad enough, Hodder now had a hysterical wife on the other end of his phone. ‘Where are you’? He asked. ‘I’m at home with a Police Officer’.
‘Can you put him on please Grace’?
Moments later a young officer, P.C. Dias, whose name Hodder recognised but whom he had to pretend to know came on the line ‘Sergeant Hodder, P.C. Dias here…’
Hodder said ‘It’s Denny isn’t it’?
‘Yes’ replied the Uniform guy, secretly pleased that Hodder knew him.
‘Denny, can I ask you to stay with my wife for a short time whilst I try to find out what is happening…as you will understand this has come as a bit of a shock’.
‘Yes. No problem Sarge, I will do what I can’. Even at a moment like this Hodder squirmed at being called ‘Sarge’ but he was certainly not going to make an issue of it now, or indeed in the future.
Hodder asked for Grace to be put back on the line and when she spoke her voice was quaking with emotion. He said ‘Grace, I will be with you as soon as I can…but I’m going to try to find Lauren. Please hang on in there I will speak to you soon…call your mother, get her to come to our house to be with you’.
Through stifled tears Grace could just about manage the contradictory instructions of ‘Come home soon. Please find Lauren’.
Baxter did not need to be a mind reader to know that something grave was happening. ‘He’s got Lauren Jeff…the bastard had got Lauren’.
‘Who has her’?
‘Bostock…wants to exchange her for Parks’.
‘We have to find Parks…where the fuck can he be’.
Hodder then went to the Custody Suite where he got Thompson’s phone from his property, he then scrolled through the contacts list until he found Bostock’s number.
He then got Thompson from his cell and took him to an interview room where he did not intend to interview him. Thompson, was still nursing a bruising from his arrest, but worse still, a bruised ego, from the revelations about his sexuality and relationship with Malcolm. ‘Now,’ said Hodder, ‘I have a deal to offer you and it really is very simple’. Holding up Thompson’s mobile he said ‘The answer to the problem lies within this telephone, and both solutions, for there are only two, will determine not only your immediate but also your long term future.
I need you to find out where Bostock is. If you don’t I will telephone Malcolm and tell him that the reason that you are on Tyneside is because you have been having a secret long term affair with me, and that you will not be returning to Manchester. Now, that in itself is not entirely untrue because if you don’t do as I ask, I will ensure that you get a very long prison sentence, during which I will make sure that your sexuality is known to one and all. You will fucking hate it’.
Despite his hard man looks and impressive build, Thompson spoke with a fragile, camp voice and even Hodder found it difficult not to feel some sympathy for him.
‘Are you blackmailing me’?
‘Yes’.
‘It seems that I don’t have a choice’.
‘That too would be correct’.
‘If you don’t do exactly as I say, I shall take the phone from you and speak to Bostock. I will tell him that you have volunteered information to me in exchange for your freedom and I’m pretty sure that one of his mates in Manchester will pop around to see Malcolm and have a not very quiet word with him. Do you understand’?
‘Yes…please don’t hurt Malcolm’.
‘This is what you don’t understand Neville. I won’t be hurting Malcolm, Bostock will be…his revenge will be swift and extreme…Malcolm would never want to see or hear from you again…even if he is able to’.
Sensing victory Hodder continued, ‘Essentially, my friend, you hold the fate of Malcolm and yourself in your own hands…I need you to find out where Bostock is. I want you to tell him that some heavies from Newcastle came to Palma’s flat following your visit to ‘First Aid’s’ home. Tell him that a struggle took place and they abducted Palma but you managed to make good your escape but that you had to nurse your injuries and lie low before contacting him…Do you understand’?
‘Yes’.
Hodder punched in Bostock’s number and passed the handset to Thompson…this was going to be make or break time. He listened intently to the one side of the conversation that he could hear and true to his word Thompson carried out his instructions to the letter.
When the call ended Hodder said ‘Well’?
‘He is staying in the ‘High Tides’ guest house on North Parade, Whitley Bay, but he is not there at the moment’.
‘Where is he now’?
‘He did not say but he was in a vehicle’.
‘Did he say where he was going?
‘No, but he did say that he would be back tonight and he wants me to meet him at the guest house’.
For now this conversation was over, and Thompson was returned to his cell. Hodder had to consider what to do with Thompson…he would eventually decide to bail him, though that would certainly raise a few questions given the gravity of his offence. He also knew that when he did bail him, Thompson would doubtless be on the phone to Malcolm and neither man would be seen again. After some consideration he concluded that though this was not ideal, it was probably the best course of action to take. After all, Bostock would
probably kill Thompson and Malcolm anyway once he discovered the truth. In a perverse way, Hodder thought that he was doing his bit for crime prevention.
After weighing up the other options available to him Hodder called Randall-Ord. ‘Francis. Have you discovered anything’?
‘Not a dickie bird old boy’.
‘Listen up’. Mindful that he was taking the biggest gamble of his life with the biggest stake at risk, knowing that if his plan did not work the he may never see Lauren again. Equally, he knew that if he pressed the panic button and got the police involved then he definitely would not see her again because knowing what he knew about the police service, a monumental cock up would doubtless ensue, where they startled Bostock into some form of desperate action.
Hodder told Randall-Ord to contact Burrows and tell him that he had discovered that Bostock and Co were staying at the Village Hotel but that they would not be there at the moment. This simple act of deceit would hopefully buy Hodder some extra time whilst he decided what to do about the present incumbents of the ‘High Tides’. As an added incentive he gave Randall-Ord the registration number of the Infiniti and told him to pass it on to Burrows.
If Burrows asked where this information came from Hodder told him that it came from a bent copper whom he only knew as ‘Gee-Gee’. Even at a time like this Hodder was amazed at his instinct for revenge. Hodder knew that if he did have to rely upon Burrows to stop Bostock, then at least he was in the North Tyneside area, and not too far away from Whitley Bay and a simple call to Randall-Ord should result in his early arrival.
For now, he had a distraught wife to deal with.
Grace answered the phone immediately. ‘Jim. Have you found her…have you found her’?
‘Not yet…we are checking all of the hospitals and I am on my way now to speak to one of the first witnesses at the scene. Stay at home. I will be with you just as quick as I can’. Hodder did not know how much time this tactic would buy him, but it did occur to him that he should mention the accident to Ben Heath who would doubtless advise him to go home thus creating the time vacuum that he needed to find Lauren.
Naturally, this was best done face to face but Hodder being Hodder he simply rang his office. The call was diverted to Heath’s secretary and Hodder left a brief message with her. She promised to pass on the message the minute that he came out of his meeting with the ‘Local Bean Counters’.
His next task was to convince Baxter that they should go to the hospital to speak to Ricky to find out every small detail of the ‘accident’. He knew that Baxter would object but also that he would relent in the end…he always did…but he would have to level with him by giving some more information about the guest house. However, he decided to keep the involvement of Randall-Ord under wraps.
As Hodder walked into the office, he asked Baxter to find out what ward Ricky was on. He did so without protest and seemed in a surprisingly good mood when he came off the phone. ‘He is in Ward 7…Hannah’s Ward’. ‘That explains everything’ thought Hodder and as they left the office he said to ‘Gee-Gee’…’How you coping with your drug habit? Mind, you kept that quiet’.
‘Gee-Gee’ responded by burying his head in an article in ‘OKAY’! Magazine paying particular attention to an item about celebs with the best suntans. Criminals everywhere…how do you sleep at night? with a guy like this snapping at your heels!
En route to the hospital, Hodder told Baxter about his conversation with Thompson. Naturally, he missed out the bits about blackmail, death threats and 24/7 anal intrusion. These were all minor details that could wait, there was no need to cloud the issue with mere trifles.
Baxter, for his part, felt that the day was taking a turn for the better since he found out that Ricky had been admitted to Ward 7. He led at a very healthy pace keen to introduce Hodder to Hannah. When they got to the ward Hannah was at the Nurses Station and looking up she flashed one of her radiant smiles at Baxter and then at Hodder. Hodder instantly understood Baxter’s attraction to her but in truth his mind was elsewhere, and he probably conveyed the wrong impression to her.
After a few uncomfortable moments Hodder left them at the Station and made his way to Ricky’s bedside. He had a bandage over one side of his forehead which instantly reminded Hodder of Pudsey Bear, but he hesitated making a joke about it as Ricky looked at him.
‘How are you Ricky’?
‘Aches and pains. Mainly my neck, shoulders and lower back’.
Sitting on the edge of the bed Hodder said ‘Can you remember what happened’?
‘Not really. We just got shunted from behind and the next thing I remember was the air bags going off and someone helping Lauren from the car’.
‘This is important Ricky…did you see this person’?
‘Not really. There was dust in my eyes from the bag but he was a big bloke…Gold…gold…I can remember gold’.
‘Okay mate. Don’t you worry about a thing. Do your parents know that you are here’?
‘Yeah…the nurse said that they are on their way’.
At that point in time Hodder received a text. He excused himself and reading it he saw that it was a very short text from Palma that simply said ‘Tynemouth txt L8R’. English was clearly not his strong point but the crux of the message was that he was in Tynemouth, hopefully with Parks and that he would text again when possible.
Hodder returned to Ricky apologised saying that something urgent had just come up and that he had to go. Back at the Nurses Station Baxter was ‘floating’ about six inches off the ground…this was no time for niceties and though he rather abruptly interrupted Baxter saying ‘Come on Casanova…we have a clue’.
He kept walking out of the ward as Baxter stood there mouthing the word ’Sorry’ as he followed his leader. Hannah, summed Hodder up in one word ‘arsehole’.
As they walked to the car, this time the pace was being set by Hodder. ‘Okay Jim, what have we got’?
‘I have just had a text from Palma…he is in Tynemouth with Parks…he is going to text again with an exact location. We need to be in the area to get him’.
‘Shall I call this in Jim? We may need some backup’.
‘Not a chance. If someone else gets him he will go straight to the nick and I will never get Lauren back. Are you in or not’?
Baxter could barely conceal his sigh of frustration as he said ‘I don’t really have a choice do I’?
‘We all have choices Jeff, It’s just that some are easier to make than others’.
At about the same time that Baxter and Hodder were walking back to their car, Parks led Palma to the western side of Collingwood’s Monument. After first checking around the monument Parks released a bolt on the ‘hinge side’ of the door and swinging it slightly ajar around the lock and hasp on the other side of the door and he slipped into the base of the monument.
Palma followed him in and was immediately struck by the smell of damp, decay and human excrement…it’s seems that Parks had everything required for modern living except, well, all the necessary mod-cons. Parks gave Palma a head lamp and when he turned it on he saw the ram shackled condition of his new home. Surely Parks could not be serious about staying here. Granted they would not get discovered unless they were seen going in or out, but it really was a hovel.
As he scanned the interior he saw the same old scaffolding poles and crash barriers happily rusting away but when he saw the small tent that was erected at one end of the foundation he knew that Parks was serious. ‘So, what do we do for food’ asked Palma…he need not have asked because his torch beam immediately reflected off some metal fast food containers piled up behind the tent.
‘What day does the bin man come, and do we need to recycle our waste’ said Palma sarcastically.
‘You can always take your own risks if you want but we will not be here long’.
Sensing a window of opportunity Palma said ‘Are we going to do the farm tonight then’?
Parks responded by saying
‘Let’s just see how the land lies…I’m gonna have to speak to my friendly taxi driver again but he is not going to pick us up from here’.
‘Well’ continued Palma ‘Where are we going to stash the stuff. This place looks as good as any. We could get your man to drop us off with the gear in the car park by the Red Seal Rescue Station at the end of the pier’.
‘We could but that’s not the way I work. I’m gonna text one of my cash customers and get it taken his place. Then we can lie up here until the early hours and get out of the area. Then it will be best to split up’.
Hodder, meanwhile, was making arrangements of his own, and standing outside the car which was parked on the slip road leading down to Long Sands, opposite the Grand Hotel, in Tynemouth he called Randall-Ord again. Straining to hear above the lashing wind and rain Hodder said ‘Francis…it’s me. Tell your boys to move to Tynemouth…they are in the area but I don’t know where yet. Tell them to stay off the main streets’.
Hodder ended the call and immediately rang Grace. Naturally, she was desperate for news and was frantically pacing around the room looking out of the window hoping that a passing car may stop and that Lauren would get out and come running home and into her arms. It didn’t happen, and with each passing minute she came closer and closer to the point of despair. Hodder knew that he should be at home to offer Grace as much support as he could but he was compelled by a much stronger force. A force that drove to get Lauren back at any cost…to himself at least.
He had to buy more time, by making the correct noises. Old habits die hard and Hodder felt the birth of another lie by saying ‘We are making some progress we have officers combing the streets. We have circulated her description, and all of the hospitals are aware. She may be dazed from the accident but because she left the scene she was obviously well enough to walk. Hang on in there. I will call you soon’. As he was ending the call he heard Grace’s muted cry…he knew what she was going through, the truth was he was going through it too. However, had she known the truth her worries would have been compounded tenfold.
Jim came off the phone and noticed that Baxter was staring at him. ‘Jim. This is in serious danger of getting way out of hand…we should make this official…with all the resources at our disposal we could get her in minutes’.
‘Jeff, as usual you are right, but I just can’t do that because I would effectively be giving Bostock the green light to do whatever he wants with her. He knows that he holds all of the cards and so far he is holding them pretty close to his chest. I have no option but to play along with him. I will call this in if we don’t make any progress in the next hour or so, is that okay’?
‘No it’s not. But mark my words, I will call it in myself if nothing happens soon’.
Hodder made noises which suggested that he reluctantly agreed with Baxter.
From inside the monument, Parks was unable to get a signal for his mobile so he told Palma that he was going outside to call his customer. He asked Palma to remain inside and to bolt the door behind him after he had left. As he was leaving the monument Parks reached into his pocket and passed him a packet of Love Heart sweets saying ‘I’ll be back soon’. Once outside, Parks gently slid the exterior bolt into position thus imprisoning Palma inside. Parks concluded that he would only come back if necessary. Driven by greed and his perverse controlling nature, he decided that he and he alone would profit from the snide booze in the barn loft at Friarsdene Farm. Effectively, Palma knew too much and besides that, he had now outlived his usefulness.
Palma for his part, had other ideas and after waiting ten or fifteen minutes during which he composed another text for Hodder he decided to leave the base of the monument. When he couldn’t open the door, it finally dawned him that he had been duped by his erstwhile partner.
He too, couldn’t get a signal and he frantically leaned forward through one of the ventilation gaps with his phone in his hand hoping to get a signal. The walls were about three feet thick and his arms were simply not long enough. So, by the light of his headlamp he removed one of the guy ropes from the tent and lashed his mobile to a six foot length of scaffolding pole and pushed it out of a vent. The ‘beep’ from his phone was barely audible, but it sounded like music to Palma’s ears when he heard it.
Hodder was becoming ever more agitated on the slope down to Long Sands frantically working out a strategy to ‘buy’ more time from Baxter whom he knew would finally lose patience with him. Suddenly, the text from Palma reached his mobile.
It simply said ‘Locked in Statue…P is cumin back soon’.
Hodder’s heart skipped a beat. Progress at last! Baxter had been sensible enough to remain in the car and had been protected from the elements but Hodder had been outside exposed to the wind and rain for the best part of an hour and he was soaked to the bone. As he got back into the car, he began to tremble…he was vaguely aware of it but had he stopped to think about it he would have realised that this was a massive adrenalin overload, quite unlike anything that he had ever experienced before.
‘Quick. Collingwood’s Monument…Palma is locked inside…Hopefully Parks will be back soon and we can capture the twat…leave the car by the Pier Watchman’s hut and lets walk the rest of the way’.
In times of high anxiety like this, Baxter seemed to retreat into himself as if he was gathering his thoughts or mentally preparing for what was to come…they were after all going into the unknown. They were acting on the word of a self-confessed criminal who was most certainly only providing them with information for his own purposes. If it had not struck Hodder, it certainly chimed with Baxter that they would probably not have heard from Palma had he not been locked inside the monument.
They parked the car by the Watchman’s hut and made their way on foot up a narrow track that inclined slightly upwards towards the site of the monument. Hodder knew that the access door to the foundations was located on the western side but none the less he asked Baxter to skirt the eastern side of the structure as he approached from the west.
He was keenly aware that both Baxter and he were exposed as they walked across the open land towards the monument, and if Parks was watching then it was highly likely that he would see them and not return. Another risk associated with this particular strategy, was that the only person that they may end up with may be Palma, and at this moment in time, Hodder did not particularly want him.
The two Detectives met on the wide steps which lead up to the large pedestal which is home to the statue. They agreed that Baxter would open the door and that Hodder who was carrying a flash lamp would enter the base ahead of him. It seemed only right that under the circumstances, that Hodder took all of the risks! They approached the door, and after careful examination Baxter located the bolt on the ‘wrong side’ and after a silent count of three he unlocked it. Hodder bounded in, the stench hitting him like an assault on his senses.
The beam of his torch flashed around the debris and for a second he considered that they may have been duped and that they may be the ones getting locked inside and if that was the case then he (Hodder) had really had excelled on this occasion. He immediately began to regret his blind stupidity, for not ‘calling in’ the job.
Baxter stood silhouetted in the doorway the light from outside sending a narrow shaft of daylight into the sordid interior. It seemed as if the putrid air from inside had been queuing up to escape or it may have been that the interior of the building was gulping in fresh air for the first time in decades.
‘Is there anything Jim’? said Baxter.
‘There is a tent at the far end…keep the door covered I’m going to have a look’. Hodder gingerly made his way over the detritus his shoes sliding on a suspiciously unpleasant substance that once disturbed added to the growing internal stench, so reminiscent of the house where Parks had escaped from him. The words ‘Dirty Bastards’…escaped from his pursed lips. As he approached the tent He saw Palma emerge from it looking like a bug eyed Tarsier his eyes bulging to drink in the ligh
t from the torch.
‘Mr Hodder. Mr Hodder, it’s me Davy Palma’.
‘Okay Davy…are you alone’?
‘Yeah. Parky has gone to call his mate he might be back anytime soon. I don’t want to be here when he does…he really gives me the creeps’.
Hodder responded by saying ‘Open the tent up so I can look inside. I want to see that it is empty’. Palma did as he was told and as Hodder shone the torch inside the tent he saw Laurens laptop lying on top of a sleeping bag’.
‘Pass me that laptop Davy then make your way towards the door but do not go outside’. Palma did as he was told and as he did so Hodder saw that he was holding a partially eaten pack of Love Heart sweets and a mobile phone in his hand. Uninvited, the phrase ‘The Last Supper’ flashed across his mind. This was not the time or place to tell Palma just how lucky he had been, but Hodder simply took the phone from him.
Baxter had pulled the door to, and all three of stood quietly. Palma was utterly bewildered. Hodder was frustrated that once again Parks appeared to have outwitted him and Baxter was growing increasingly agitated by Hodder’s seeming obsession to ‘go it alone’.
Finally, Hodder said…’Look Jeff, if he is coming back I want to capture him. You know what is at stake here. Stay inside with Davy…If he comes back and Davy does not respond when he calls out he will most definitely do a runner. If he comes inside you can lock him up and I will follow him in. Simple’?
‘Jim. Like all of your plans it sounds simple but you have history’.
‘Trust me’.
‘Do I have a choice? Look where it has got us in the past’.
‘As I have said…we all have choices…but the answer here is No’. He smiled. Baxter frowned. Palma looked bewildered and terrified.
‘On one condition’ said Baxter. ‘I need to call Hannah to tell her that we will be late again…do you know that my relationship will be as tattered as yours if you keep this up…are you deliberately doing this to me’?
‘Of course I am’ replied Hodder…with a mischievous wink ‘I see it as my duty to protect you from yourself…you will thank me in the end’.
For his part, Palma was perplexed by the apparent jokiness between the two Detectives…he just could not comprehend how they could be having such a light hearted conversation at a time like this. Palma simply did not understand the black ‘gallows humour’ of the police, and, having said that, he was all things considered, just a little bit on the thick side too.
Baxter stepped outside for a couple of minutes mindful that he could be being watched. He kept his call brief. When he returned Baxter said ‘Hannah does not know where we are but she is going round to your house to keep Grace company…she knows about Lauren…she met Grace and Lauren at the hospital the other day, and she just wants to help…Do you see what I do for you…I use my girlfriend as an alibi to cover your arse’.
Hodder smiled…’Girlfriend eh? That’s progress for you…okay…tea break over…back to work’. Palma was nonplussed, and for the second time in as many days he was being unlawfully imprisoned though, on this occasion it did not fully register with him.
The senior man asked to borrow Baxter’s phone saying that his battery was running low and that he would recharge it in the car, and that he would call Grace to tell her about Hannah calling around.
Without a second thought, Hodder went outside with Baxter’s phone and silently locked the door using the exterior bolt, and as he did so, he was struck by an overriding sense of guilt. Guilt, owing to the fact that he had just manipulated Baxter into an untenable position, because he knew that if he captured Parks that the first person he would be calling would be Bostock.
Baxter would be justifiably furious, but Hodder resolved to cross that bridge when he came to it. There was after all, much more than a poxy police career on the line here.
Taking the laptop with him, Hodder returned to the car and drove to the corner of Priors Terrace and Collingwood Terrace. Once there, he took some binoculars, and entered a small walled copse and took up a position where he could watch the western approach to the monument.
After about forty minutes or so, Hodder saw a young man with shocking blonde hair walking towards the monument across open land from the direction of the Fish Quay…there was something very familiar about his gait though his appearance was very deceptive.
After a second take he realised…it was Parks!
Parks had decided to return for the laptop, it was his insurance policy. He could simply go back for it in a few weeks after the rats had dined on what remained of David Palma, but he would rather have the security that it offered him now. It was a bargaining tool over his bent solicitor and that bent copper, and he worked on the principle of ‘a bird in the hand etc’. Parks revelled in his smugness…he was really impressed with himself.
He did not think that Palma would recognise the significance of the laptop, but he felt confident that he could convince Palma to ‘hang tight’ until he had successfully concluded his non-existent meeting with his non-existent cash customer. He even toyed with the idea of leaving the laptop. So what if it was discovered in a few weeks’ time? It would appear to the entire world that Palma had been living rough and that he had simply died whilst doing so. The police would conclude that it was Palma and not he who was responsible for the vile postings on Facebook.
Hodder ran back to his car, banging his shin on the underside of the steering column as he got in. If one can ‘Fire Up’ a Vauxhall Astra, then Hodder did a pretty good job of it!
He sped back to the Watchman’s hut and ran up the slope towards the monument. As he approached from the north his eyes connected with Parks who was about twenty yards away. Parks began to sprint towards the Spanish Battery, so named after the Spanish Mercenaries who defended the Tyne in the 1600’s. However, interesting as this fascinating historical fact was, it was not, it must be said, uppermost in Parks’ mind as he sprinted away.
Hodder knew that Parks’ escape options were somewhat limited, and instead of following him he went back to the car figuring that unless Parks went back in the direction of the Fish Quay then he could catch him quite easier in the car. As Hodder came back out onto Pier Road he looked directly ahead and saw Parks running along the footpath at the base of Priory in the direction of the North Pier.
If the tide was out, escape along the rocks would be a simple matter. With little more than wet feet, Parks could be around the headland and into King Edwards Bay, to the north of the Priory, and well away in matter of minutes. Hodder sped along the footpath with joggers, walkers and their dogs, leaping out of his way. Looking ahead, Hodder saw that the pier gate was closed, but instead of going onto the rocks Parks climbed around the security fence and began sprinting along the pier.
Hodder continued to follow Parks with the wind and rain driving into his face. He too, scaled the fence and as he ran along the pier he was haunted by the ghosts of every pint of beer, pizza, kebab and cancelled gym membership in his entire life. What a time he thought, to be confronted by all of the unwise lifestyle choices that he had made over the years. It wasn’t so much a mid-life crisis that he was having, more of a mid-rift crisis and his well-developed beer gut acted like some great fat-filled pendulum putting an immense strain not only on his heart, but also the buttons of his sopping shirt.
The reason why Parks ran along the pier was clear when Hodder got there. The tide was in and the rocks covered. Ferocious waves crashed against the pier sending great walls of water and spray into the air where it joined with the rain before draining off the walkway in small rivulets. This was clearly not the day for a leisurely seaside stroll along the pier, or for that matter, an unwanted, coronary induced by sprinting!
Hodder was oblivious that about quarter of the way along the pier he passed a small ceramic dolls’ head which had been set into the mortar when the pier was completed in 1909, after forty one years of construction. Over a century of the harsh north east weather had eroded her feature
s, which was strangely coincidental because the elements were having exactly the same effect on Hodder’s features too.
He was lagging behind and the visibility was very poor as Parks reached the lighthouse at the end of the pier, almost half a mile out into the raging North Sea. By this time, Hodder’s trot slowed to a casual walk, he was to use the colourful euphemism, ‘sweating like an agoraphobic on the top of Snowdonia’. Parks was standing at the base of the lighthouse, his back against the pier wall. Behind him the roaring sea, around him a biting wind and above him dark brooding clouds depositing torrential rain.
There was nowhere for Parks to go…well, there was, but Hodder hoped that he would not choose that option.
‘Don’t you dare jump you bastard’ thought Hodder as he neared his quarry.
Hodder was going to have to play this with a straight bat so it was all raised palms, conciliatory tones and purposeful movements. The last thing that he wanted to do was to startle Parks to the point that he threw himself into the sea. ‘Come on Dean…it’s about time you and me had a chat. Do you fancy doing it somewhere more comfortable? I have a car at the end of the pier’. Dignity was at a premium when Hodder vomited all over the front of his rain and sweat sodden shirt. An athlete he was not.
There was a look somewhere between abject fear, disbelief and cold arrogance on Park’s face…he was obviously not going to make this easy for Hodder and why should he? Compliance would only result in a substantial jail sentence. Fighting to be heard above the howling wind Parks said ‘I know what you did. You and that bent bastard of a solicitor…I have the evidence so you had better let me go or I will use it’.
‘No you won’t Dean’, said Hodder wiping the vomit from his shirt with his tie.
‘Don’t count on it’ said Parks his confidence growing with each exchange’.
‘You won’t Dean because I have the laptop…I got it from your tent…nice site by the way…facilities are a bit basic though, Do you go there often’? Hodder regretted this the moment he said it…this was not the time or place for flippant throw away attempts at sarcasm.
There was silence as he neared Parks. Suddenly Parks said ‘I have got other copies and I will use them’. ‘If you have’ replied Hodder then I deserve to be screwed so go ahead do it…but I do want you to come with me…if you do what I say I will not arrest you’.
‘Yes you will…you’re just a bent copper’.
‘You have my word, now come on, I’m too old for this and besides that, I’m fucking drenched’.
Bizarrely, Hodder meant every word that he had said, though he doubted that he could ever convince Parks of that.
Parks was either really confused or the penny had finally dropped as he stood to his full height and said ‘If you come any closer I will jump’.
Hodder looked Parks in the eye and imploringly said ‘Don’t do that Dean…that is not going to help anyone’… specifically, at this point, he was referring to Lauren and himself.
Suddenly, Parks jumped sharply to his left looking for all the world as if he was heading for the water. Hodder darted to his right and saw that Parks had jumped off the main pier and onto a massive granite block that stood on a lower pier about ten foot below the main pier walkway. From there Parks did a very passable imitation of an Olympic Gymnast as he jumped off the block and down onto the lower pier. He then began sprinting along the pier again, this time, back towards the shore.
‘Oh. Not again’ thought Hodder as he brought his Cholesterol filled mass up to what passed for top speed for him. There was little point in jumping down to the lower pier because as he ran back towards the land he saw that both piers merged at a point just before they would reach Tynemouth Sailing Club. With a fair wind behind him Hodder might just catch him. Hodder had seen this countless times before. The flight instinct was fuelled predominantly by adrenalin, and if half of the criminals that he had chased during his police service could have harnessed this energy in four yearly cycles, then the British Olympic medal haul would have been so much more impressive.
As he ran towards the end of the pier, Parks suddenly stumbled and fell as buzzers, bleeps and chimes filled the air, so much so that it reminded Hodder of the intro to ‘Time’ by Pink Floyd. Parks had obviously got entangled with a number of unseen fishing lines and activated some automatic bite alarms. It was clear that the rods had been cast out from the lower pier wall by a couple of fishermen who had been sheltering from the elements on the lea side of the lower pier wall.
As Parks struggled to free himself from the fishing tackle, Hodder gained the valuable few seconds that he needed to close the gap and was able to get onto the lower pier using some steps set in the wall. As Hodder continued running he almost collided with a very large, and very irate ‘high viz’ clad angler who looked as if he may ‘do for’ Parks himself.
When he was about six feet away, the non-rugby playing Hodder threw himself at Parks in a tackle that would have graced Twickenham. He landed on the slightly built Parks, all sixteen stone of Hodder forcing the air out of Parks and in a movement which belied his natural lack of agility, and ignoring an impending Asthma attack he had a handcuff on Parks in a micro-second.
Much to the amusement of the fishermen, it was now obvious that Hodder was a Police Officer and that Parks was the ‘Catch of the Day’. Hodder then hauled Parks to his feet and attached the ‘other end’ of the cuffs to a u-shaped lifting eye that had been cemented into one of the large granite blocks which was nearby.
These blocks had once stood on the sea bed acting as ‘Wave-breaks’ to protect the pier foundations. On this occasion, however, the block which weighed about forty tons was doing a very adequate job holding Parks and by default protecting the female population of Tyneside.
Hodder then jogged the fifty or so yards to his car. As he did so, he hoped that the fishermen would not exact revenge on Parks whilst he was away. When he got there he made three phone calls before driving as close to the pier gates as possible.
The third call was to ‘Lighthouse Billy’ a friend of Hodder’s who worked as a watchman upon the pier. After a while Billy answered gruffly…’Yeah…what do you want’?
‘Are you at work’? said Hodder.
‘Yeah…you just fucking well woke me up’!
‘Get the pier open…I’ve just locked somebody up on it’.
‘You must be joking have you seen the fucking weather’.
‘Just open the pier. Now’! Hodder then ended the call.
Seizing the opportunity, Parks began complaining bitterly to the fishermen about police brutality. As they untangled their lines it was clear that they had little sympathy for him. On this occasion, Parks was the one that did not get away! The gates were eventually opened by and unenthusiastic and bleary eyed ‘Lighthouse Billy' and Hodder put a limping Parks in the car.
Hodder ensured that Parks was sitting diagonally behind him in the nearside seat and that his cuffed right hand was attached to the rear nearside door handle. This effectively left Parks sitting in a twisted position, but more importantly for Hodder, it meant that Parks could not strike out with his ‘spare’ hand. However, it didn’t stop him kicking out at the back of the driver’s seat, but all things considered, Hodder could put up with that. It was, after all, he hoped, only going to be a short journey.
As Hodder sped to the first rendezvous point, Parks protested loudly. ‘What is it with these people’ thought Hodder…’They spend all their time on the run, and the minute you capture them they complain when you don’t take them straight to the nick…you just can’t please some people’.
Parks had absolutely no idea what was happening to him, Hodder on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. He was kidnapping a prisoner.
Not for the first time, in the recent past, it occurred to Hodder that there is no situation that a Police Officer could not make worse.