to Silver, white male, late sixties coming towards you, approach with caution.’
Jane tensed as he moved closer, she took a deep breath, and felt the adrenalin rush of nerves. She could smell the alcohol as the man weaved and tottered towards her.
‘Which way to the Cat and Mutton, my darling one?’
he slurred.
In the obo van Moran became alert and told Edwards to stand by.
‘I’m sorry, mate, I dunno,’ Jane said in a dreadful attempt at a cockney accent as she passed him.
‘False alarm,’ Moran muttered. ‘He’s pissed out of his head. I’m beginning to think this is a waste of everyone’s time.’
He opened a can of beer and lit a cigarette while Edwards had a cup of coffee from his flask and ate his sandwich.
It was now just after 10 p.m. and Jane made her way along the tarmac path, past the Lido yet again. She was struggling to walk in the thigh length boots that were by now really hurting her feet and had given her a blister on her right heel. But she had to keep up appearances, even though she was continually having to adjust her hot pants as they rode up her thighs. The cold night air penetrated through the frilly cheesecloth shirt that was tied tightly round her waist.
Jane couldn’t believe that she hadn’t even come across a ‘legitimate prostitute’ having sex up against a tree, or a park bench, as she had seen before when out on uniform patrol. But she realized that the fact that there were no prostitutes about was actually in her favour. It meant she avoided any angry confrontations with local Toms questioning what a new girl was doing on their patch. Jane knew that an uptight prostitute, or worse still a drunk prostitute, could be a real handful to deal with.
She carried on walking along the path, the pain from the blister getting worse, when she was suddenly aware of someone approaching quickly behind her. She gripped the radio mic in her hand, ready to press the talk button if she needed to. She could hear the sound of deep breathing and panting coming nearer. Jane’s heart was pounding as she turned her head slightly, to look over her left shoulder, and saw the figure of a man in a hooded black tracksuit within inches of her. She had a sudden urge to scream but controlled herself as he jogged on past her.
Jane felt an incredible sense of relief as she looked to her left along Martello Street, on the east side of London Fields. In the distance, she could see the obo van moving slowly with its lights out. She was really glad she hadn’t jumped the gun and radioed in for assistance, and taking a deep breath she walked on. The fact that neither Moran nor Edwards had radioed her about the jogger made her wonder how visible she was to them.
Jane’s heart was still beating faster than usual. As she passed under a large tree she was startled by some conkers falling from the branches of the chestnut tree above her. Relieved, Jane smiled, but then she heard a much heavier thud behind her. Before she could turn around a black leather-gloved hand was clamped over her mouth while the other hand grabbed her round the chest, pinning her left arm to her side. The sudden attack caused the mic in her left hand to fall loose from the sleeve of the rabbit fur jacket, and dangle like a kid’s glove on a string.
Jane’s assailant groped and squeezed at her right breast with his left hand and started to drag her backwards towards the covered entrance of the Lido. Jane struggled to break free and desperately tried to look over her shoulder towards where she had last seen the obo van. She attempted to scream, but the leather-gloved hand tightened around her mouth. A man’s voice whispered harshly in her ear.
‘I’ve got a knife . . . so keep your mouth shut, you fucking thieving whore . . . or I’ll cut your throat wide open this time.’
Jane nodded vigorously to indicate that she understood, and the leather-gloved hand relaxed its pressure slightly. Jane then realized that he couldn’t be holding a knife as there was one hand over her mouth and the other was groping her breast. Her instinct took over and she opened her mouth wide and bit down as hard as she could on the gloved hand. As the assailant released his grip Jane screamed loudly and spun around quickly to confront her attacker. The man had a stocking over his head, making him unrecognizable, and he was wearing a black roll-neck sweater and black trousers. Jane understood exactly what he was intending to do to her when she saw his erect penis sticking out of his unzipped trousers.
In an instant Jane kicked her attacker hard in the groin. She pulled the truncheon free from inside her sleeve and hit him on the side of the head with all her strength, knocking him to the ground. The force of the impact against his skull made her lose her grip on the truncheon, causing it to fly out of her hand and onto the grass a few feet away.
Enraged, the assailant was growling and moving slowly. Like a bear about to make its final move on its prey he gradually stood up, the growling getting louder and louder as spittle foamed through the stocking mask. Jane managed to retrieve the radio mic, and pressing the transmitter screamed, ‘Urgent Assistance!’ and yelled at the top of her voice that she was a police officer. The attacker, as if confused by the revelation, froze momentarily before turning to run. Jane lunged at him, grabbing his right shoulder from behind. In his desperate effort to escape, the assailant elbowed her in the mouth causing her lip to split and bleed. He started to run, and although Jane was determined to give chase she knew she’d never be able to catch him in the boots she was wearing.
Suddenly she saw DI Moran and DC Edwards running at speed towards the assailant and together they tackled him hard from behind, knocking him heavily to the ground. As he tried to get up Moran pulled his head back by his hair and smashed his face down onto the pathway, causing his nose to split and bleed profusely. The two detectives then pinned him to the ground, pulled his hands behind his back and DC Edwards handcuffed him.
Jane felt a mixture of fear and relief as she heard the two-tone sirens of the police cars making their way to the Fields. Moran spoke into his portable radio.
‘All units from Gold, stand down. Suspect has been arrested and WPC Tennison is safe and well. We only require a uniform van for the prisoner to be taken to Golf Hotel.’
‘You were supposed to be covering my back! Where the hell were you?’ Jane shouted.
Moran calmed her down, explaining that their view from the obo van had become partially blocked as Jane had passed between some large trees.
‘It wasn’t until we heard you scream that we realized something was wrong. I mean, where on earth did he come from? It’s as if he appeared from nowhere.’
Jane’s hand was trembling as she pointed to the chestnut tree. ‘Up there . . . he must have been up there, and jumped down. He grabbed me from behind, covered my mouth with his hand and said he’d cut my throat if I screamed. I couldn’t get to the radio transmitter or shout for help until I bit him and he let me go.’
The attacker now started shouting that he’d done nothing wrong, earning him a well-aimed kick in the side of his ribs from DI Moran. He pulled the stocking up off his head revealing a man in his early thirties, clean shaven and with neatly cut hair.
Moran looked at Jane as he put the stocking in a plastic bag. ‘He’s your arrest, Tennison, so go ahead and caution him.’
Jane licked at her split lip, tasting the blood as she spoke. ‘I’m arresting you for an indecent and serious assault on a police officer. You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be given in evidence.’
‘I’ve done fuck all! That bitch suddenly attacked me and started screaming . . . Look at my
