Blues and Twos

"Jane, I have a strange one--putting you through. Sounds like a code three, but he isn't making any sense"

The call appears on her screen.

“Okay, I’m ready transfer him. Police emergency. Hello, caller, what's the emergency?”

“She has killed my girls.”

Male caller; she feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“OK, when you say she's killed my girls I need you to explain. Who has been killed?”

“The girls, my girls.”

“What are their names?”

“Sophie and Jane.”

She hated it when the victims had her name. She pressed a button alerting the duty inspector. Alarm bells were already going off in her head.

“What has happened to Sophie and Jane?”

“They have been killed, by her. The bitch, the brown, skinny bitch.”

Is that IC3 or IC4? She types both and adds a slash and a question mark.

“I need you to calm down sir, I am sending help, it is on the way”

Multi agency call. Priority. Police car requested and Ambulance service requested to standby.

“How have they been hurt?”

“Sophie’s neck is broken and Jane has had her throat cut.”

“Where has this happened sir?”

“In the orchard.”

The inspector arrives, she is listening on her own headset. She will now confirm all of Jane's decisions. Jane writes on a piece of paper for the inspector to see, ‘Bad!!!’.

“Where is the orchard?”

“Next to the house.”

“Can I have the address?”

“The mill, are you even listening? I am at the mill.”

The system has already located it. She has the address already on the screen; The Old Mill, Barnet, owned by a Donald Wendall; no priors. Call is unusually from a landline.

“Who did this?” Jane continues.

“She might come back.”

“Is ‘she’, still on the premises?”

“Yes.”

“Where is ‘she’ now?”

“In the orchard I think.”

“What is ‘she’ doing?”

Jane was frantically typing. Ambulance and the first police car are sent top priority. Ambulance instructed to wait on arrival and attend after the police.

“She is planning to kill my other two girls.”

“Who is ‘she’?”

“Pina, Pina Martin,” says the voice on the phone, “come quick, I am going to get my gun. I am going to kill her.”

Despite typing everything at speed, that last part makes her pause.

“SIR. Sir, No, Sir. I need to go through some questions with you, but it’s not delaying us, OK. I have a car on its way?”

“Hurry up.”

Jane writes on a piece of paper the words ‘threat assessment’, tapping her pen on it to get the inspector's attention. The inspector nods and she immediately gets on the adjacent console typing madly and issuing her own instructions.

“I need to know your name,” Jane continues.

“Why?”

“My name is Jane; I need to know your name for the police officer who is coming.”

“My name is George.”

“Hello George, have you got a last name?”

“Wendall.”

The inspector signs at Jane to talk, only talk and takes over her log.

“Hello, George Wendall, when did all this happen?”

“An hour ago, I heard my girls screaming and chased her into the woods.”

“Chased who, George, chased who?”

“The bitch.”

“George, how old are Sophie and Jane.”

“Sophie is 2 and Jane is 4.”

On that revelation they both freeze at their stations, momentarily.

They can hear him crying on the line. He starts sobbing. He is talking, but none of it is making sense.

“George, I need you to breathe, take a deep breath. Calm yourself down and talk to me.”

“Okay.”

“You said there were other girls there.”

“I am so sad.”

“George, I understand, you said there were other girls there.”

“Yes.”

“What are their names?”

“Claire and Trudy.”

“George how old are Clai…”

Click.

He has hung up.

“Call him back!” shouts the inspector.

The job goes to the top of the board; flashing as the number one priority.

The inspector stands up.

“Right I want a full turn out, check on that ambulance and arrange a second, and deploy the closest AFO unit.”

Children are not meant to die, and the police investigation into the sudden death of a child must be influenced by this basic fact.

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Callum put down the radio. They were speeding along the road, full blues and twos; blue flashing lights and the two tone siren.

“Did you hear all of that,” he said.

“Yes this is a big one, your first big one, Callum. Tell me everything so you have it straight”, said Joe.

“Suspected double murder; potential suspect is a IC4 Female, slight build. Name Pina Martin. Age unknown. No description. Call disconnected. Caller has possible learning difficulties he also may be armed and dangerous.”

The radio goes again.

“This is Detective Inspector Sharma I am going to be SOI. Get ready boys you are going to be first on scene.”

“Instructions, we believe there may be an armed threat,” Callum said.

“Golden Hour principles, but you must stay safe, I want you to assess the situation and report back to me. Try and find the two unharmed girls. Activate your bodycams.”

“You want us to enter the property?” replied Callam.

“Use all acceptable judgement. I am twenty minutes out. The protection of the other siblings is paramount. This is a full turn out.”

Callum thought back to his training; completed only eight months ago at Hendon. Golden Hour principles were as follows; preservation of life, preserve the scene, secure evidence, identify victim and identify suspects.

They were already onsite and pulled into the drive of the mill.

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Come on Jane think, she screams in her head. Looking at her screen, she could see the first units have arrived. Two people were now working on this call. She had briefed the first responders, but still could not get an answer from the phone. She called up a second screen and typed in the address looking for a second number; a mobile phone, anything. The appointed SOI was still twenty minutes away, unusual to send one this soon but calls involving anything like weapons, kids, or domestic violence take priority. If the red flags going off now were correct this one had all three.

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Callum and Joe had entered the property. They circled round the large building, an industrial Victorian mill, partially converted. They knocked on the door. No one responded.

“Keep trying, I am going to try and find this orchard,” said Joe.

At the far end of the building was a walled orchard with a single entry point. Joe approached the opening.

“Holy Shit, Callum come here.”

Callum ran to where his partner was. He looked into the space. There was an IC1 male, a FBU, wearing jeans and a white shirt walking around the orchard. His shirt was smeared with blood and he was carrying a shotgun.

Joe hit the button immediately. Police officer in danger send urgent back up.

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Jane could see the atmosphere in the control room change instantly. They had a code zero. Her screen was lighting up like Christmas; officer in danger, send back up. She had just located a mobile phone number for Donald Wendall; the owner of the property. She was just about to connect the call and froze. Her colleague Josh, looked over at her and nodded and he took on board the log traffic. She hit connect.

“Hello?”

“Is that Donald Wendall?”

“Yes.”

“This is the police, are you the owner of the Old Mill in Barnet”

“Yes.”

“We have a major incident going on around that location.”

“I am ten minutes away, at the bakery, I am heading back.”

“Wait, sir, it is extremely important you stay on the line with me and answer some questions.”

“Okay, I am walking and talking, go ahead.”

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Callum was only on probation; all new recruits were for their first two years. Somehow, he was leading a major incident. He had the most information, he was the most valuable police asset onsite. Two more officers were on scene, an ambulance and the first AFO unit had arrived. Callum was briefing them outside the orchard while Joe was inside trying to talk with the man with the shotgun.

“He is hiding behind a red and white shed in the far corner, he is armed.”

“With what?” said the AFO

Callum looked at the AFO in his casual dress, flak jacket, black white checked cloth cap and impressive carbine.

“With nothing as exciting as that, maybe a shotgun.”

The AFO smiled at him cutely, clearly unimpressed with the inexperience of the comment.

“There are potentially four young children also in there with him, two may have sustained injuries,” Callum continued.

The threat was contained but also concealed; there was no clear sightline to the subject.

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Joe was sweating he was inside the orchard. Crouched behind a tree halfway between the entrance and the red and white shed. Behind the shed was the gentleman who he believed was the initial caller. He was thinking he was getting too old for this.

“Sir, I need you to put down the gun and come over here and talk to me,” said Joe.

“Go away.”

“It’s George isn’t it?”

“Might be.”

“George you called us.”

“It was a mistake, go away.”

“George where are the children?”

“It was a mistake; I did not mean to do it.”

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Donald Wendall had run from the bakery and was stopped two hundred meters from his gate by an officer. He still had his phone in his hand. He was breathless and could barely speak. A police officer forcibly stopped him. He could not get the words out and struggled to get past him. A second officer came over to help in the struggle. Donald Wendall was a big man. Donald struggled even more. He found himself tackled to the ground and handcuffed. He just wanted to tell them it was a mistake. It was all a horrible mistake.

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Detective Inspector Sharma got out of her car at the mill. She was talking on her radio.

“Say that again dispatch,” she said, “Shit.”

She started running towards the mill.

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Callum was no longer leading the scene. He was supporting the lead AFO officer. Two AFO officers, with little option and an immediate threat to life, were getting ready to enter the orchard, and take up defensive positions among the trees. Joe had retreated to a position closer to the entrance. This had been cleared on the radio. No order yet, to engage had been given. This was only to protect an immediate threat to life. DI Sharma came running up.

“It’s not real” she said.

“What is not real,” said Callum.

“The gun, it is not real.”

“Are you sure,” responded the AFO officer.

“Can never be sure,” she said, “You two AFOs take the lead, the critical decision to engage is yours, but the information I am giving you is, the gun is not real.”

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The two AFOs entered the orchard. George Wendall stood up and saw them coming towards him in a defensive position. He looked at his gun and threw it quickly away, as if all of a sudden it had become red hot. The AFO’s closed down the distance and shouted at him to lie on the ground. He complied and Joe followed them up, making George put his arms behind his back and cuffed him. The awaiting officers swept in and began the search for the children.

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Callum had found the source of the blood.

“Mam.”

DI Sharma went over to the red and white shed where Callum was standing.

“I think I have found them, Sophie and Jane.”

The red and white shed was a chicken house. Inside the chicken run was a white chicken lying prone on the ground with its neck bent down at an impossible angle. Next to it was a grey chicken that looked as if it had exploded. It was split fully feathered in two. It was not a pleasant sight.

“Then that would make those two, Claire and Trudy,” DI Sharma said.

At the top of the gangplank into the house was an opening, and two very curious chicken heads were looking out at all the insane commotion inside their tranquil orchard.

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Two Days Later.

Emergency call responders do not do fieldwork. Jane was sitting in her car on the driveway to the mill. She was thinking how this is stupid and unprofessional. She could lose her job. What was she thinking? This job is not about seeking closure. She climbs out of the car and walks to the gate. Seeing an impressively, robust man, with brown hair in his thirties, she calls out and waves.

“Hello, are you Donald Wendall?”

“Yes but call me Donnie.”

“I am Janisha Lal, the police dispatcher from two days ago, but you can call me Jane.”

“Okay, oh wow, come on in.”

“I should not really be here. It is improper.”

“I think I owe you a big thank you. It’s okay I won’t tell.”

At that moment his double came out and stood next to him. It was uncanny they were dressed differently, and the second Donnie had a large scar on his forehead but they were eerily alike.

“Well, this is George, my brother, the most infamous man for miles around, say hello George.”

“Hello.”

“Hello, George Wendall.”

“It is the lady on the phone… Jane”, said George.

“That’s amazing, how did he know that?” she said.

“George is special in many ways.”

“Your…”

“Yep twins.”

“But.”

“George and I were in a car accident when we were 17, George suffered a brain injury. Eighteen months ago, he came to live with me after our father died.”

“That’s very good of you.”

“Not really, when we were 17, I was the one driving, anyway I love him, don’t I George.”

With that he put his arm tightly around George and kissed him on the head.

“Get off me, yA homo,” George said laughing.

“You have to forgive him, we are working on making him a little bit more politically correct, I really am sorry for all the trouble we caused two days ago.”

“Sorry,” echoed George.

“I think, your boss thinks, I am not a responsible enough adult to be looking after my brother,” Donnie said.

“I am just a civilian; you will have to take that up with her.”

“I work here, I am around him all the time. I make furniture and props for the theatre, my workshops are here, George is my assistant. The Wendall Brothers, carpenters extraordinaire.”

“So the gun?”

“A theatre prop.”

“I was sorry to hear about Sophie and Jane.”

George looked sad and kicked the ground with his foot.

“The chickens are like George’s children; he really does take good care of them. His emotional understanding of the world is slightly skewed. The chickens help him, cope with things like that.”

“I wish I understood better on the call.”

“George should have never called. Last year he saved my life. I am diabetic and went hyperglycaemic he called the ambulance. Ever since then he has been a little obsessed with 999. But we are going to work on that.”

“Is George, diabetic?”

“Nope, just another of those weird twin things.”

“Who is Pina Martin?”

“Not Pina, Pine,” said George.

“What?” Jane responded.

“Pine Marten,” George stated.

Donnie added “It is a type of ferret/weasel. They can get through the chicken wire.”

“Skinny, brown bitch,” she replied.

“Yes,” Donnie replied smiling and looking at her strangely, “would you like a cup of tea?”

“I am at work in an hour.”

“A quick one then.”

“Okay, a quick one, but I have a present for you.”

“A present?” said George.

She walked back over to her car and opened the boot. A cardboard box with vent holes in it jumped slightly. As she lifted it, there was a quiet bukking noise. She really hoped this time, the twins, would not call one of these chickens, Jane.

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Note

For readers outside of the United Kingdom the majority of the police in the country are not armed with firearms. They have cuffs, a retractable baton and a canister of CS spray (or equivalent).

Glossary

999 - The Emergency Services number in the UK

Code 0 - Officer in immediate danger

Code 3 - Emergency Situation

IC1 – White Caucasian

IC3 - Black

IC4 - Asian

AFO – Armed Firearms Officer

SOI – Senior Officer In-Charge

DI – Detective Inspector

FBU – Fucking Big Unit (Police Slang)