attacker up from the floor and noticed with disgust that the man’s now flaccid penis was hanging out of his trousers. He glanced at Jane who glared straight back at him. By now her fear had been replaced by the buzz of adrenalin from making an arrest.
‘Don’t look at me – I’m not putting that thing back in his trousers!’
Moran laughed, surprised by her ability to make a joke after what she had been subjected to. DC Edwards roughly zipped up the assailant’s fly, and hauled him away screeching in agony.
The prisoner was placed in the back of the police van, flanked by two officers and with DC Edwards sitting opposite him. DI Moran drove Jane back to the station in the obo van, and asked her to go over everything that happened and what her assailant had said.
She was still energized as she repeated how she had been attacked from behind and how he had threatened to cut her throat.
‘I bit down on his hand as hard as I could so he released his hold.’
‘Good girl . . . sorry you had to go through that, but you did well. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Her heart was beating rapidly and she suddenly felt unable to stop shaking. Taking a few deep breaths she managed to calm herself down, forcing back the feelings of fear. In some ways she was more concerned that DI Moran might notice she had been panic stricken.
He had noticed and gave her a sidelong glance. As he concentrated on the road ahead he spoke quietly.
‘You know, at some stage in our careers we’ve all had the guts kicked out of us. I don’t mean literally of course . . . but once you’ve had to face that fear and been able to deal with it, the next time isn’t nearly as bad. It’s not just the adrenalin rush that helps you get through something like tonight, but the satisfaction that you caught the bastard.’
Jane had not expected Moran to be so understanding. She smiled bravely and even attempted to make a joke.
‘You been dressed up as a Tom to make an arrest, have you, sir?’
He chuckled, shaking his head.
‘I never put a bad guy away that didn’t deserve it, that’s all you’ve got to know about me, Tennison.’
Back at the station Jane asked to be excused so she could sort out her split lip. Moran nodded, instructing DC Edwards to find the duty officer. Jane went to the ladies’, then after washing her hands she inspected her cut lip in the mirror. It wasn’t as swollen as she thought it would be, but she knew it would take at least a week or so before it healed. That meant not visiting her parents for a while. She put on some makeup and lipstick to conceal the cut, and thought about what Moran had said to her. She was more confident that she had handled the situation well under extreme pressure, but there had been a moment when she had really feared for her life. When the stocking had been removed from her attacker’s head she had been surprised to see that he was actually quite a good-looking man, and not the ugly, vicious person she had envisaged.
Jane thought about taking off her wig, but decided against it as it made her feel even more like an undercover officer working with the CID.
As she stared at herself in the mirror above the cracked washbasin, it triggered another memory. She was in the washroom standing by Kath Morgan as she was getting ready to go on her first plain-clothed assignment; she had been so excited and eager to catch a burglar robbing old-age pensioners. Kath had been such a feisty woman, not afraid of anyone or anything, and regaled everyone by describing how she had brought the scrote burglar down with a rugby tackle. She had been laughing in the incident room as she told everyone how she had grabbed him by his hair and discovered that he was in fact wearing a Marc Bolan-style wig. She missed Kath – Jane was the only woman at Hackney, apart from clerical staff. As she left the washroom she noticed that there was a laminated ‘LADIES TOILET’ sign on the door. Smiling, she remembered the notice that Kath had handwritten and pinned to the door, which some of the male officers had then adorned with phallic cartoon drawings. A proper sign would have pleased Kath.
Jane headed down the corridor towards the small B Relief tea kitchen that officers used when the canteen was closed. She had a key to the cupboard for the tea bags and tins of instant coffee, which was kept locked as the contents were always disappearing. Her head ached and she was hunting for a bottle of aspirin when DC Edwards hurried towards her.
‘You’d better get back to the charge room . . . I’ve got to go and find Sergeant Harris . . . he was supposed to be there ages ago. The guv is getting so fed up he wants to shove a snooker cue up his backside if he doesn’t appear soon.’
‘That’s where you’ll find him, he’s usually in there having a game. If you like I can go and find him?’
‘No . . . no . . . it’s fine, I’ll do it. A couple of uniforms are with the prisoner and he’s handcuffed, so he’s not going anywhere. But DI Moran has gone walkabout as well.’
Edwards ran his fingers through his mop of unruly hair. His arms seemed too long, even for his size. He had always had a dishevelled appearance. Sergeant Harris had complained about his untidiness on several occasions and Jane had even overheard him asking Edwards why his trousers never had a crease in them. The following day poor Edwards had turned up for work with the burnt imprint of an iron on his flared trousers.
Jane continued along the corridor into the B kitchen annexe. Unlocking the cupboard she pulled out a bottle of aspirin and filled a glass of water from the tap.
Edwards banged on the door.
‘OK, I tracked him down . . . see you in the charge room. Hey . . . I couldn’t have a couple of those aspirin, could I? I’ve got a terrible headache.’
Jane handed him a glass of water and watched as he tipped four aspirin into his palm. She noticed that his hand was shaking.
‘Are you all right, Brian?’
Edwards swallowed all four tablets in one mouthful and gulped down the rest of the water.
‘Yeah, I’m fine . . . It’s just that DI Moran makes me nervous. You know it wasn’t my fault that bastard got you tonight. He clipped me one . . . I’m sorry you were put through that, Jane.’
She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as he left and said she would see him in the charge room. She poured a fresh glass of water and took two aspirin, sipping the remains of the water before she rinsed the glass under the hot water and left it on the draining board.
Jane had been alone for a few minutes with the handcuffed prisoner when Sergeant Harris walked in, clearly irritated at being dragged away from his game of snooker.
‘Where’s Moran? I thought he was in charge of things?’
‘He just went out to look for you.’
‘Well, he obviously didn’t look hard enough, did he?’ Harris replied sarcastically, sitting behind the charge desk. He took out a large custody sheet from the drawer, clipped it to a board, and removed a pen from his top pocket, as DC Edwards walked in.
‘Right, who’s the arresting officer and what are the facts?’
At that moment Harris took a second look at Jane, causing him to shake his head in disbelief.
‘What
