The gale battered Joyce as she attempted to run across the police station car park. The street lights were already off as the dawn crept across the sky.

The reception sergeant looked up as she entered the briefing room. "Crazy weather, guv. But great for making an arrest."

She didn't stop. "If you say so, Sergeant."

Inspector Roger Brown and his team sipped their coffee and waited for her to say something.

Removing her raincoat, she noted Roger was looking cheerless. "Not that you need to know, but I chose this crappy morning for this job. Those of you who are awake will also know this wasn't the predicted forecast. Peter Mitchell is a hard bastard. I want him arrested and in the cell. One of our friends has confirmed he's shacked up with one of his many girlfriends. I'm going along for the ride. Roger will brief you on the action.

"Morning, guv. The crap weather works in our favour. The rain helps kill the noise." The slide projector operated, and a detailed street map appeared on the wall screen.

Roger pointed with the chrome car aerial he used as a pointer. "We will park our vehicles here. There will be no flashing lights or sirens. Sargent, you will operate the big key. Turner and Fields, you're rear guard in the back alley. Stubbing's and Adams are with me as we enter. Archie, please stay in the van until we call for you. Remember, Pete Mitchell is a big guy. Any questions?

He gazed at his team. "Okay, let's do it."

Joyce drove Roger in her car while the others followed in police vehicles. The lock-up van was the last to leave the car park.

The rain continued, the darkening sky promising more to fall. The small convoy stopped two streets away from Pete Mitchell's home. Silence was their watchword, but curtains moved and closed at the sight of the police cars.

The vehicles emptied of police officers with the car doors closed quietly.

Roger gave the orders and watched his team move to their delegated positions. He turned to Joyce. "Are you ready, guv?"

She grimaced as the rain ran across her face. "As ready as I'll ever be."

With the sergeant holding the big key, he led the charge along the street where the Mitchell house stood. Rogers chose not to mess about. He ran to the black-painted door and pounded hard against its panels. He repeated his action. No answer. He stepped back and nodded to the sergeant, who moved into position. One swing of the big key and the wood around the lock shattered. One more thump and the bolt on the bottom burst open.

Joyce stood back as Rogers, followed by his team, stormed into the semi-darkness of the hallway. Four offices raced straight up the stairs. Still holding the big key, the sergeant and Roger checked the ground floor. From the rear of the property, a door slammed shut.

"Mitchells on the move. Follow me. "Roared Rogers.

A woman screamed and swore as they entered her bedroom.

Joyce removed her warrant card and climbed the stairs. She nodded to a male officer standing at the bedroom door and entered. "If I were you, madam, I'd be quiet and put some clothes on. This is my warrant to search this property and arrest Mr Peter Mitchell." She tossed it on the bed. "Your copy."

"Fucking pigs, the lot of you. Smashing your way into innocent people's homes. Who's going to fix my door? I'm goin to make an official complaint."

Joyce stared at the woman. "Making a complaint is your right. By the way, you've put your knicker on the wrong way. Please stay in this room. There will be a male officer outside."

"Can I go for a piss?"

"Go now."

"Wearing only her bra and knickers, the woman stomped across the landing and into the bathroom."

"Please leave the door open. Can't have you removing or destroying evidence."

"I'm going for a piss you pervert."

For the hell of it, Joyce stood at the open door.

Rogers raced into the rubbish-strewn backyard. Michell disappeared over the neighbour's fence. Undeterred, he clambered over the wall, ran, leapt and grabbed the top of a fence. A sharp crack told him the posts had snapped. Rolling over the broken panel, he continued the race. From behind, he heard others running along the rear alley.

As he scaled the next fence, he saw Mitchell disappear into a house.

"The green-painted house he screamed. Two of you round the front.

"I bet that bastard is waiting for me," he muttered between deep breaths. He scanned the wide open door. From its position, he assumed Mitchell was not behind it as it swung loose.

As he placed one foot inside the kitchen, he heard Mitchell.

"Call off the dogs."

Rogers entered and saw Mitchell's right arm compressing a middle-aged woman's neck. In his other, he held a carving knife. He grinned to conceal his fear and made light of the situation. "Don't worry, love, he won't hurt you."

The woman grimaced as if she had trouble breathing. "You don't make it easy, do you, Mitchell? Outside is crawling with my people, and they aren't going away. You have a hostage, and I know you're prepared to kill her. She's done nothing to deserve this. Let me take her place."

As he talked, he inched closer, but Mitchell appeared determined.

"Peter, do you mind if I sit? Not as fit as I used to be."

Mitched laughed.

Lunging forward, Rogers grabbed Mitchell's knife hand and twisted and pulled.

Mitchell tossed the woman aside. As she fell to the floor, he punched Rogers, his nose bent, spraying blood everywhere.

"You bastard," roared Rogers as his right foot booted Mitchell's crotch.

Still holding the knife, Mitchell lunged as they tumbled to the floor.

Rogers groaned as a uniformed officer stepped over him. Men shouted as they dragged Mitchell away.

A pair of strong hands grabbed him moments before the world went black.

Constable Eric Simpson, a uniformed officer, checked the knife wound. "Shit." He turned to the woman. "Get me a clean tea towel and a bandage."

Shaking, she pulled a tea towel from a drawer and handed it to Eric's constable. "Don't have bandages. I can cut up a sheet if you want."

Rogers's blood didn't flow but pulsed with the beating of his heart. Eric didn't look at her as he formed a pad with the cloth and pressed it on the wound. "Got any Sellotape."

Another officer entered. "Marty, find the guv. Tell her Rogers is in a bad way. I want the van with a driver to take him straight to ER. Don't stand there like a spare prick at a wedding. Shift your arse."

"Sellotape. It's a new roll."

Eric wiped his blood-covered hands on a nearby hand towel. Time was irrelevant as he wrapped the tape around Rogers's neck, securing the pad. It didn't stop the bleeding but slowed the loss.

"How goes it?" asked Harold, the van driver.

"If the Inspector isn't in hospital soon, you'll need to have your best uniform cleaned for his funeral. Grab his left side, and we'll drag him to the van. I want the siren on and the lights flashing. If it will do eighty, I want eighty-five."

Joyce held the van's rear doors open as they laid Roger on the floor. "Harold, as fast as you can, please." She slammed the doors on Eric and Roger as Harold drove away.

***

Joyce watched the van leave with Rogers unconscious in the back. She turned to a uniformed sergeant. "What happened?"

"Not sure, guv. The knife was deep in his right shoulder when I dragged Mitchell off him. Blood was spraying everywhere; the blade must have sliced the right coronary artery."

Joyce nodded. I'll visit the hospital when we finish here. Eric Simpson managed to stem the blood loss. Charge Mitchell with the attempted murder of Elsie Gordon and Inspector Rogers. If he falls over, I won't check the bruises, but be careful."

"Roger, guv. The team are preparing to leave. The Mitchell woman is creating merry hell about her door. What do you want me to say?"

Joyce laughed. "Tell her I'll arrest her if she doesn't shut up and walk away. Right, Sergeant, I'm off the A and E to see how my Inspector is."

***

Joyce parked her car in a no-parking area next to A& E. She walked into the reception office, waving her warrant card. "One of my inspectors arrived here about half an hour ago. I need to make sure he's okay.

"You're not allowed in here," said a male nurse.

A nurse in green scrubs grabbed her arm. "I assume you're the officer's boss. He was unconscious, so they took him straight to the operating theatre.

"How is he?"

"We'll know more when he's out of the theatre. He's in good hands. If you want to wait, I can get you a coffee or a cup of tea."

Joyce swallowed hard. "Thank you, but no thanks. Now I know he should be alright. I must contact his wife and let her know. Can I use a private room to talk to her when she arrives?"

The nurse shook her head. "Sorry, but we don't have such a facility, but there's always the chapel. Part of it is a quiet room we use when patients pass on."

"Can you show me where it is? I also need the use of a phone."

"There's one in the priest's room at the rear of the chapel."

"Perfect."

"Ten minutes later, the nurse left Joyce in the chaplain's compact office. She hesitated before dialling Roger's home number. This was part of the job no one enjoyed, but at least the news was not as bad as it might have been.

A woman answered the call on the fourth ring. "Hallo"

"Hi Mary, it's Joyce Parsons Rogers, boss."

The line went silent.

"Mary, Are you still there."

"What's happened? Is he okay? Where is he? Can I see him?

"Mary, he's going to be okay. I'm at the general, and the staff tell me he's in the operating theatre. In short, he was chasing a villain who, when cornered, threatened a woman hostage with a kitchen knife. Roger saved the woman."

"I suppose he charged in without thinking."

"I can't answer the question. You'll have to ask him. Would you like me to wait with you? Like you, I want to know how he is."

"Thank you. I'd like that. Where are you in the hospital?"

"In the hospital chapel. They have a coffee machine outside. How long will it take you to get here?"

"Depending on the traffic, I reckon thirty minutes."

"See you soon." The line went dead.

***

Mary arrived five minutes after they wheeled Roger from the theatre. Joyce chatted with her until a nurse informed them he was groggy but awake.

Following the nurse, they entered the private room. Roger opened his eyes, smiled and returned to sleep.

"How did the op go," asked Joyce.

"No problems. He's a fit man. We'll send home in three or four days."

Joyce checked the time. "I'll leave you with your husband. If you need anything, please ask."