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Authors: J Murison,Jeannie Michaud

ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold (46 page)

BOOK: ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold
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The policeman put away his notebook.  ‘That will do for now.’

‘On to the next one?’

‘Aye, I wish this bloody mist would lift.’

 

He didn’t get far before some anxious commuters grabbed him.  I tried to round up my lot; they’d split up all talking to different people.  I grabbed them one by one and sent them back up the path.  I had to drag Abie off the top of the police car.

‘Bit she hasn’t told me her name yet,’ he protested.

‘Then take the hint and leg it.’  He did so reluctantly.  I seemed to have completely lost Grizz.  I had to peer into cars.

 

‘You looking for the big fella?’  A bloke asked.

‘Aye.’

‘Two cars down man.’

‘Cheers.’

 

‘Excuse me.’  It was the WPC.

‘Yes officer.’

‘That man, who was he?’

‘That was Abie Ritchie, the football player.’

Her hands flew to her mouth.  ‘Oh, no you’re not joking are you?’

‘Nope that’s his department.’  She looked thunderstruck.  ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I thought I’d seen his picture in a mug shot and he was just being wily.’

‘No that would be the newspapers; he’s hardly off the sporting pages.’

‘Damn it, he was really nice too.’

‘Well we stay in the small compound above Glencourse camp.  Why don’t you pop in and see him.’

‘Oh I couldn’t do that.’

‘Look if you really want to impress him come in and arrest him, handcuffs the lot and drag him away.  Tell him you’re not going to release him until you get a date.  He’s got a wicked sense of humour and would love it.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Trust me, I’d never do him a wrong turn.’

‘OK thanks.’

‘No problem.’

 

‘Grizz,’ I knocked on the window of a small car, he was crammed inside it.

‘Oh sorry Jim.’

‘It’s OK nip back up the path and join the others.’

 

‘See you later.’  He jumped out.

 

‘Excuse me.’

‘What now,’ I thought.  ‘Yes love.’  She was a cute wee thing and well stacked.

‘Are you his officer?’

‘Aye that’s right.’

‘Is he really single?’

‘Single and completely unattached.’

 

I stopped halfway up, the mist had cleared a little and I watched as the police car finally pulled away blue lights flashing to its next job, trying to spread a little reassurance among the stranded motorists.  The mist closed in again and I made my way back to the top.  We trotted back to camp with Abie bitching all the way.

 

Samantha noticed straight away.  ‘You’re all covered in blood, what the hell happened, where’s your kit.  Is Kenny all right?’

‘Oh fucking hell,’ I exclaimed.  We were supposed to have met him at the top of a hill and run back with him.  ‘Has any one got a phone with his number on it?’  I was handed one and it was already ringing.

 

‘Where the hell have you lot got to, are you lost?  I’m freezing my balls off up here.’

‘Aye Kenny I’m sorry but we ran into a situation down here, will you find your own way back alright?’

‘Of course I bloody will, but it had better be fucking good or I’m going------’

‘Listen cunt, there’s been a spate of accidents down here, and we’ve been up to our armpits in blood all morning so just shut the fuck up and get your arse back here OK.’  I cut him off.

 

‘Steady Jim, the man’s been stuck on top of a hill á day wí no idea fits happening.’  Buff’s plain common sense broke through the surge of rage I’d felt, as usual.

‘Aye your right, ach I’ll apologise when he gets back, right now all I want is a hot cuppa and a long shower.

 

‘I’ll go make you all some tea and coffee,’ Samantha offered.  It was welcomed.  The reaction was beginning to settle in.  I felt exhausted.

 

‘Jim, Jim.’  I stuck my head out of the shower.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s Kenny he’s in trouble.’

‘What kind?’

‘Lost.’

‘OK Sam lay out my compass and map for me will you, I’ll be right there.  Christ, fit next?’  I mumbled to myself as I stepped out from the shower still feeling dirty.  Dripping wet and wrapped only in a towel I sat and took the phone from Samantha.  ‘Kenny, what’s up?’

‘Hi Boss, I’m fucking lost that’s what’s up.  I need that phenomenal sense of direction of yours.’

‘I can try mate, you was on 205 weren’t you?’

‘Aye that’s right.’

‘Can you see anything?’

‘Behind me nothing, in front of me there’s a bloody great cliff that shouldn’t be there.’

‘Are you standing on the edge of it or looking up at it?’

‘Looking up.’

‘OK, bearing?’

‘Due East.’

‘East.’

‘Aye.’

‘OK, you sound chilled.’

‘Just a wee bit Boss.’

‘Never mind the wee bit, I ken you can run through it Kenny but I don’t want you too.  Get a brew on and warm up, then get back to me, OK.’

‘OK.’

 

I spent a good five minutes scouring hill 205 and every path and track off it to no avail.  I found I was also trying to fight off a strange type of lethargy, making it hard to think.  A look at my companions told a similar story.  Most were now pole axed.  I went back to the task before me.  I changed tactics, instead of following the tracks off the hill; I traced the tracks onto the hill and soon found what I was looking for.

 

‘Do you need anything Jim?’

‘Another coffee would be great Samantha and could you get me General Lamb’s phone number.’

‘Yes OK.’

 

By the time Kenny phoned back, I’d worked out where he was and how to get back.  I reeled off the co-ordinates of his present position to him.  I could almost feel him shaking his head in disbelief.  ‘How the hell did I get here?’

‘The way I see it you must have been following the main track up to the saddle then turned off to 205.’

‘Aye that’s right.’

‘Well instead of taking the fourth track off to 205 you must have taken the third and headed up the wrong hill, apart from the distance involved the features on both hills are virtually the same.  The problems would have started on the way back down.  Retracing your route on 205 would have involved taking the right hand track after the first dyke on the hill you were on.’

‘Aye, your right Jim I’ve got it.’

‘Right can ye manage now?’

‘Aye, nae bother, thanks man.’

‘No problem, if you think you’re going wrong again don’t stop to think just phone.’

‘I will.’  He rang off.

 

‘Reginald’s got that number for you Jim.’

‘Thanks.’  I traipsed through to the office.  ‘You have a number for me Reginald?’

‘Yes sir, would you like me to put you through?’

‘Yes please.’

Reginald had me through in seconds.  ‘Hello Mark, yes Reginald here, how’s the wife, good, good.  Is the general in, he is, good.  I’ve the Commander of the new ACV’S unit here, do you think he could spare us a few minutes of his precious time?  Yes OK I’ll wait.’  There was a moment’s pause.  ‘He will, thank you Mark, I’ll put him on.’  He handed me the phone.

 

‘Hello is that Lt Morrison?’

‘Murison Sir.’

‘Murison, yes what can I do for you?’

I was surprised he knew my name.  ‘If you have a spare five minutes sir, I need some advice.’

‘Carve away.’

‘Well sir, I have a team of men here who normally run 15-20 miles a day, carrying a 16 stone man, they come home jump in a shower have a cup of tea and their fit enough to do it all again.  Today however, we came across a road accident.’

He cut me off.  ‘Ah yes I’ve been hearing about that.  My office is being inundated with calls from the media.  Tell me, what does ACV’S stand for?’

‘I’ll be honest sir, I don’t know.  It was the Prime Minister who first coined us that and I haven’t the bottle to call and ask him.’

‘Maybe I’d better call him myself then, but by all accounts you and your men did a brilliant job today and let me be the first to congratulate you.  Now how may I help?’

‘Thank you very much sir, getting back to my problem, as I’ve said we’re all very fit, but after only a six mile run with very light patients one of them a child, every one of them are, well for want of a better word, they’re knackered, useless.  They’re all lying about in a strange kind of lethargy or sleeping and I don’t know what the hell’s happened, or what to do about it.’

‘Yes I know what your problem is.  How are you feeling?’

‘I was in the same state myself, for a while, but I had a small crisis on my hands when I got back.  It pulled me through it a little but I still feel rough.’

‘I like your honesty Lt Murison but what is your concern?’

‘My concern is simple sir, one day we may have to do more than one job, but if we’re going to end up in this state every time something happens then we’re going to be useless.’

‘I see, well what you and your men are suffering from is a form of postoperative shock, very common amongst new people to the trade.  What you and your men need is a little hardening and I may be able to help you there.  Will you leave it with me?’

‘Yes sir, thank you, I would be most grateful.’

‘Grateful enough to invite me over for a look see at your new unit?’

‘Consider yourself invited, at any time.’

‘Thank you, I’ll pop down some time after I’ve sorted something out for you.  Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye Sir.’

The connection was broken.  I put the receiver down with a sigh.

 

‘How do you feel now?’  Samantha asked.

‘I think I’ve a stinker of a headache coming on.’

She’d moved round behind me and started massaging my neck.  It was glorious.  ‘Does that feel any better?’

‘Heaps, I could sleep for a week.’

‘Then why don’t you go lie down?’

‘Good idea.’  I dragged myself off the chair.  ‘You’ve got magic fingers Samantha.  You know I’m going to hate the man you finally marry, if I’m still around.’

‘I sincerely hope you will be.’

‘Well If I am and if I’ve still got any money, I’ll buy you the house of your dreams as a wedding present.  Hate the bastard or no, how’s that sound?’

She shrugged.  ‘An old caravan would suit me.’

‘Nah, that’s just for old tramps like me.  Wake me if anything happens eh, see you later.’

‘OK.’

I went through and collapsed onto my bed.  Boy jumped up, lay at my hip, and started purring.  I was asleep in minutes.

 

*

 

‘Are you alright Miss Samantha?’

‘Yes I’m fine Reginald.’

‘I don’t think I’d fancy being hated by our Mr. Murison.’

‘Oh I don’t know Reginald; he already dislikes himself.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hating himself a little either,’ she grinned wickedly at him.

‘Lady Samantha Bryce, are you declaring your intentions.’

‘Shh,’ she gestured, ‘He doesn’t know yet.’

 

CHAPTER 49

 

I opened my eyes and checked my watch, I’d missed lunch and I was ravenous.  ‘I’m telling ye if he said it once, Ritchie if you’re going to puke do it in that direction and every time he said it he’d point wee something covered in blood which just made me feel worse.  How I hung on to it for so long I’ll never ken.’

It seemed the short rest had rejuvenated us.

 

‘Oh look it moves.’

‘Fuck off George.’

‘The chef’s held dinner back; you going for something to eat?’

‘Aye I’m starving.’

 

‘How can ye eat after yon?’  Abie looked disgusted with us.

‘Belly wants, Belly gets,’ I answered unconcerned by his sentimentality.  We trooped over to the cookhouse to find Kenny had already arrived back.  We made our apologies and he thanked me for helping him out earlier.  Samantha and Reginald were already there.  Reginald as usual was sticking into the picnic box his wife packed for him every day.  With a captive audience, Abie was soon into full swing, reliving the day’s events in all its gory details.  I saw Reginald swallow hard and push the picnic basket away from himself still half-full.  No doubt, his wife would take him to task for it when he got home.  I found myself in an acute state of embarrassment as my navigational skills were praised, then spent the next two hours trying to explain my methods of navigation to men who were already skilled in the art.

Davie arrived back shortly before teatime, he was tired but relaxed.  It was obvious he’d been enjoying himself.  I helped scrub and sterilise the kit before putting it back in the store.  They’d managed to save what was left of the woman’s arm and Davie believed she would make a full recovery from the rest of her injuries.  It was now up to the plastic surgeons and the physiotherapists.  He gave us a short debrief on the day’s event’s from his point of view and he seemed quite pleased with us, which was a great relief to me.

 

‘Jim, Jim come and see this quick.’

I’d been dobbied into making the teas and had been washing out the cups.  I left them in the sink and hurried through.  ‘Whit?’

‘The Telly.’  It was us running down the hill.  ‘They’ve already shown the crash.’  Buff was shushed sharply by the rest.

 

‘This footage was shot at the scene of the dramatic rescue by an amateur digital photographer.  Among the men was Scotland’s leading football star Abie Ritchie and the renowned author George Chambers.  Other members of the team weren’t immediately recognisable but unofficial sources say they are all men of some notoriety if somewhat unapproachable.’

‘Get that thing oot ó my face or I’ll shove it right up your arse,’ I snarled at the camera.  A great howl of laughter shook the room, I wanted to crawl away and die, it seemed even the newswoman had trouble trying not to laugh.  ‘Even though he did seem to have a gentler side.’  The scene cut to Boy leaving the stretcher and jumping into the square pack.  Unknown to me the cameraman had followed me around for a bit.  Boy had watched the man with great interest, his head and paws peeking over the edge of the square pack.  Hilarity reached fever pitch.

To my intense relief it switched to scenes of that lot drinking tea with the old lady and Abie begging to be arrested by the WPC, although you couldn’t hear what he was saying.  Ali however, filled in the blank bits for us and it was his turn to take a ribbing.  Then it switched to scenes of us leaving.

The cameraman had recorded each of us legging it up the hill, the final shot of us before moving onto the hospital was of myself standing watching the police car pull off just before the fog swallowed me up.  In hospital the old man was sitting up in bed, his face covered in sticking plaster singing our praises.  Then onto a young man sitting by the bed of the wee bairn, she was sleeping clutching a soft toy that looked like a little Boy.  His thanks for the life of his wife and his child were emotional words of gratitude that every one of us felt at a deeper level.

They managed to corner Davie Whitton who was profuse in his apologies but couldn’t make any comment.  The report ended with an official statement from the hospital stating Mrs. Green was now out of danger but still in intensive care.

Within minutes the phones started to ring.  Mr. D’Ord was first and he was still laughing.  ‘You do understand I’m going to have to carpet you for your comments to that cameraman, but before I do I’d just like to congratulate you.  Well done.’

 

Andrew was next and I could hear the mirth in his voice.  Buff handed me his phone and Marie made no bones about what she thought of me.  His mum Charlotte came on and we chatted for a few minutes before I had to hand it back.  It seemed everyone wanted to phone his or her husband, boyfriend, son, or brother all at once.  Samantha returned dragging Amanda and a bottle of champagne with her.  Every time she looked at me, she burst out laughing.

 

I’d withered inside; I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed with myself before or since.  Sylvia’s phone call gave me the excuse I was looking for.  ‘We’ve finished unwrapping the sword Jim, it’s beautiful, would you like to come and see it.  We’ll be here for another hour yet.’

‘I’m on my way.’  I grabbed my jacket and almost ran out the door.

‘Hey where are you off to?’  Ali called after me.

‘Somewhere I can get some peace.’

It was the wrong choice of words; they came running out after me, Gigs in the forefront.  ‘Chill oot Jim, man.’

‘Chill oot, that’s a fucking cracker init, fit hiv´ I to chill oot aboot?’

‘Christ fit’s wrong, let’s celebrate, we’re a heroes.’

‘Nah you celebrate, you’re the heroes, I’m just the bloke that made a pure cunt ó himself on national telly.’

 

‘Aw come on Jim, ye were great, I’ve always wanted to say that to a cameraman.’  Abie’s smile made me relent a little bit.

‘Aye OK, look you did a bloody good job the day, á right and ye deserve to celebrate.  So get tanked up and enjoy yourselves.  I’ll see ye later.’

 

‘Bit far are ye going Murison?’  Buff was looking enraged.

‘Sylvia phoned, they’ve got that sword unwrapped, I’m awá to see it.’  They knew I’d been waiting for that call and didn’t push it.

 

Sylvia was all a flutter when I got there and no one mentioned the news, which cheered me up no end.  The scabbard and hilt of the sword were beautiful; both were covered in gold and jewels.  A technician proudly told me of the mechanics that were involved and was pleasantly surprised that I could follow the explanation.

‘I’ve someone I want you to meet Jim, he’s the top man in the field and he’s come all the way from Rome to help us.  He’s really wonderful and wants to take us both out to dinner.’

 

Chris who had been standing close by talking to the technician snorted and turned away.  ‘Arsehole,’ he muttered.

‘Chris, never mind him, they had word’s that’s all.’

I made no comment wishing to remain neutral in the dispute.  ‘Have you got a toilet in here?’

‘Yes through that door over there,’ Chris pointed.

 

When I returned Sylvia was talking to a goliath of a man who was handing her flowers.  It was obvious she was a little in awe of him.  I was amused and smiling as I came round from behind her and placed a hand on her left shoulder to let her know I was back.  I found my hand caught in a vice like grip something snapped and the pain sensors in my brain set off an automatic response.  I kicked him straight in the stones, as he came down I put the head in having the satisfaction of feeling the big nose crunch, but he was far from finished and lunged at me, I sidestepped shin kicking him in the solar plexus lifting him off his feet.  He crashed onto his knees and as he came up for air, a well-aimed punch loosened a few of his teeth and another dislocated his jaw.

 

I found myself being pulled away.  I fired myself around and just managed to stop myself belting Sylvia.  I was instantly calm.

‘Jim.’

‘What?’

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Defending myself.’

‘From what?’

‘Whit d’ye mean, from what.  That big ugly fucker grabbed my hand and crushed it, or did ye nae notice.  Who the hell is he anyway?’

‘That’s Professor Giovanni from Rome.’  His moaning broke through her panic-stricken state.  ‘Oh my god, what have you done.’  She rushed to attend; one look sent her scurrying to a sink to fetch a cold wet cloth.  As she applied the cold compress to his bleeding face, he squealed like a pig.  She turned on Chris.  ‘What the hell are you laughing at?’

‘Aw come off it Sylvia, the guy’s a dick.  He’s crushed the hand of every man he shook hands with today even old Professor McDonald.  Leave him be, he deserved it.’

‘I damn well will not, he probably thought Jim was going to hurt me.’

‘Bollocks, he knew Jim was here, he was just being a smart arse.’

 

‘Come on you two,’ the technician interrupted, ‘let’s have a look at him.’  He joined Sylvia on the floor.  ‘This isn’t good, his nose is broken and the jaw’s dislocated, we’ll need to get him to hospital.’

‘You’re supposed to be a medic, can’t you do anything more than just stand there.’  She shouted at me.

‘I suppose I could.’  They moved aside to let me see.  ‘Aye, your right it is dislocated.’

‘Can’t you do anything?’

‘I could.’

‘Then do it.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, damn it.’

‘OK.’  I jerked his head back brutally and slapped him hard across the face.  His jaw went back in with a click.  ‘There you go, all done.’

He reverted back to rolling about on the floor squealing like a pig.  It didn’t take Sylvia long to find her voice.  She flew at me.  ‘You evil bastard.’  She laid into my chest pushing me back.

‘Whit now?’

‘That was the most vicious thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’

‘Awa n fuck, the hospital would have taken twice as long and caused him three times the pain.’

‘They would have sedated him first.’

‘Not for that they wouldn’t.’

‘Oh piss off.  Just get the hell away from me.’

 

I stood back out of the way and she went back to her nursing and cooing.  Then I got angry.  I felt the black rage sweep through me and knew it was time to walk.  Only Chris came after me.  ‘Jim wait.’

‘What is it?’

‘This may seem a callous question but you’re not going to cut funding to the project are you?’

The thought had never occurred to me, but it did now.  ‘I tell you what, if this little incident is kept quiet I won’t withdraw funding, how’s that.’

He grinned.  ‘Well I can put it to them; it’s the kind of talk they’ll understand.’  I tried to flex my hand, the rush was gone, and it was really beginning to nip now.  ‘Is it alright?’

‘Don’t know; belting him with it didn’t help any that’s for sure.’

Chris burst out laughing.  ‘It was beautiful man; I’ve never seen anyone that big get taken down that fast.’

I managed half a smile.  ‘When you’re as wee as me Chris ye learn fast or die young.  I’ll see you around.’

‘Hey, wait a minute Jim, can I keep in touch?’

‘Aye of course, here.’  Gigs had printed us all out fancy cards.  I kept a few in my inside jacket pocket.  ‘Shit.’  My hand had begun to swell and was painful to move making it awkward to reach.

Chris noticed.  ‘You’d better get that seen to Jim; it’s not looking to good.’

‘I’ll get Davie to look at it when I get home, here.’  I managed to fish one out with my left hand and handed it over.

 

They were all sitting about moping when I walked in the door.  Abie jumped up.  ‘You’re back, Christ that must have been a quickie.’

‘Oh it wiz quick aright.’  Laughter burst into the strained silence.

 

Davie spotted my pale complexion.  ‘What’s wrong Jim?’

‘Oh nothing much Davie, but I think I need some ice.’

‘Oh nae again.’

 

‘How many times have you broken this?’  Davie had X-rayed it or maybe scanned would be a better word.  Now he was looking at a printout of my hand.

‘Don’t know, a couple of times maybe.’

‘Ever had it treated before?’

‘No it always seemed to heal on its own.’

‘Well it won’t this time.’

 

We went back through with my arm in a sling.  Davie passed the print around.  I could see the anger rise in Buff as he looked at the print.  ‘How the hell did ye do this, it’s crushed.’

 

‘He was fighting,’ Davie told him flatly.’

‘Whit, why, because ye made a tit oh yourself on telly?’

‘No!’  I explained what happened but Buff still wasn’t happy.

‘Whit, he just grabbed your hand and crushed it?’

‘Aye.’

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