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

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

She did not 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, Joyce called the room to order. "I don't have to tell you, but I chose today for this job. Those awake will know this wasn't the predicted forecast, but Mitchell is a hard bastard. I want him arrested and in the cell. We have reliable information 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. Sergeant, you will operate the big key. Turner and Fields, you're rear guard in the back alley. Stubbing and Adams are with me as we enter. Archie, 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, and the darkening sky promised more rain. The small convoy stopped two streets away from Mitchell's home. Silence was their watchword. In nearby houses, curtains moved and closed at the sight of many police vehicles.

As the cars and vans emptied, the doors closed without excess noise.

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."

The Sergeant holding the big key waited next to Joyce. Roger led the charge along the street where Mitchell's girlfriend's house stood. He chose not to mess about and pounded hard against the panels of a black-painted door. 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 broke away.

Joyce stood back as Roger and his officers entered.

Officers shouted, "Police, Police,"

Someone screamed, "What the fuck," as heavy steps raced across the upper floor.

Four officers bounded up the stairs. Still holding the big key, the Sergeant and Roger checked the ground floor. From the rear of the property, a window squeaked open.

"Someone's on the move. Follow me," roared Roger.

A woman screamed and swore as officers entered her bedroom.

Joyce removed her warrant card and climbed the stairs. She nodded to a male officer at the bedroom door and strode into the room. The woman in the bed screamed, "Fuck off, I've got no clothes on."

Joyce's nose twitched as smells, baby oil, and sweat hit her senses. She held her warrant card so the woman could read. "I'm sure there's not much to see, but none of my officers will touch you. Get dressed." Joyce removed an envelope from her pocket and tossed it on the bed. "My authority to enter and search this property and arrest Mr Peter Mitchell.

Your copy."

"Fucking pigs. Smashing your way into innocent people's homes. Who's going to fix my front door? Fuck you, I'm gonna make a complaint."

Joyce stared at the woman. "Making a complaint is your right. By the way, you've put your knickers 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." Joyce stood at the open door.

Roger raced into the rubbish-strewn backyard. Mitchell 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 fence posts had snapped. Rolling over the broken panel, he continued the race. From behind, he heard others scurrying along the rear alley.

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

Before Roger entered the green-painted house, he screamed, "Two of you, round the front. I bet 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."

Roger entered and saw Mitchell's right arm compressing a middle-aged woman's neck. In his other hand, 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. "Drop it, Mitchell. Drop the knife onto the floor."

Mitchell's muscles tightened around the woman's neck.

Roger saw his eyes shift from left to right as he checked for a way out. "You don't make it easy, do you, Mitchell? Drop the knife now. 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."

Roger inched close as he talked, but Mitchell appeared determined.

"Look, arsehole, I'm going to park my arse in this chair. Not as fit as I used to be."

"You and me both," said Mitchell.

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

Mitchell tossed the woman aside. As she fell to the floor, he punched Roger, distorting his nose and spraying blood everywhere.

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

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

Roger 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 over. "Don't have bandages. I can cut up a sheet if you want?"

Roger's blood did not flow but pulsed with the beating of his heart. Eric formed a pad with the cloth and pressed it on the wound. "Got any Sellotape?"

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

"Sellotape. It's a new role."

Eric wiped his blood-covered hands on a nearby hand towel. Time stopped as he wrapped the tape around Roger's neck, securing the pad. It did not 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 as it took her damaged inspector away. She turned to a uniformed sergeant. "What happened?"

"Not sure, guv. The knife was deep in the 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 Roger Brown. If he falls over, I won't check the bruises, but be careful."

"Right, 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 chuckled. "Tell her I'll arrest her if she doesn't shut up. Right, Sergeant, I'm off to A and E to see how my inspector is."

***

Joyce parked next to A and E. She trudged into the reception area, waving her warrant card. "One of my inspectors arrived here about half an hour ago. I need to confirm 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 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 to use a phone."

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

"Thank you."

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 wanted, but at least the news was not terminal.

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

"Hi, Mary, it's Joyce Parsons, Roger's 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 mind if I waited with you.? I do want to know how he is."

"Thank you for your support. 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. Your officer's stronger than you think. We'll send him home in a couple of days."

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