Not reporters, I hope. I won’t see anyone from the press.’
‘ No, they’re officers from Greater Manchester Police. They say they have something very important to discuss with you.’
‘ Right, right… give me five minutes.’
‘ I’m Detective Chief Superintendent Runshaw and this is Detective Inspector Tandy.’
August leaned across his desk and shook their hands. He had changed out of his uniform into a suit and had quickly shaved, nicking himself several times in the process. He looked a mess, but didn’t give a shit. He invited the two men to sit down with a wave of his hand.
‘ Pleased to meet you,’ he said, even though he didn’t like the look in their eyes. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘ A somewhat delicate matter,’ Runshaw admitted. ‘We’ve received a complaint from a member of your force, one of your officers, and we are investigating it following a decision by our Chief Constable in consultation with the PCA and CPS.’
‘ Oh? Sounds unusual.’
‘ It’s actually a very serious allegation that’s been made and it’s an allegation against you, sir. It’s one of rape.’
August nearly wet himself. ‘What? That’s preposterous.’
‘ A female Chief Inspector has alleged that you raped her in her home some months ago,’ Runshaw went on.
‘ That’s not true,’ said August shakily. Please, ground, he thought. Open up, swallow me…
‘ Well, sir, the allegation has been made and we’re satisfied that there’s enough evidence to make an arrest-’
‘ An arrest? Are you saying that you’re going to arrest me? I’m a Chief Constable, for God’s sake. You can’t do that, especially on some unsubstantiated allegation by a bitter woman.’
Runshaw held up his hands, palms towards August in a pacifying gesture.
‘ Firstly, sir, I know you’re a Chief Constable. Secondly, I or any other police officer could arrest you, so don’t make that mistake. You are not above the law. However, if you would be willing to accompany us voluntarily so that we can interview you about the matter, that would suit us. No unpleasantness. That said, I must caution you.’ And he recited it, word perfect.
August replied with a sneer in his voice. ‘Her word against mine. You’ll never prove anything.’
‘ Please, sir, don’t jump to that conclusion.’
‘ You mean you have evidence other than her say-so?’ He looked astounded as he watched the two men nod simultaneously. ‘Such as?’
‘ Suffice to say there is more than just her say-so, as you put it.’
‘ Bollocks! Anyway, I’m too busy to be bothered with this at the moment. On the way out, make an appointment with my secretary for some time next week and we’ll discuss it then. Goodbye, gentlemen.’
Cool, unflustered, DCS Runshaw said, ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of raping Karen Wilde, and may I add that I don’t give a rat’s arse that you’re a Chief Constable. You could be the fucking Prime Minister for all I care. You’re coming with us — now. Understand?’
For the second time that morning, as the enormity of what was happening hit him, Dave August’s career tumbled before his very eyes like a ton of bricks off the back of a lorry. Whatever happened now, he was a goner. The combination of the arrest and the newspaper headlines had well and truly sunk him, professionally and personally.
He sat back slowly in his big comfortable leather chair and nodded apparent acceptance of the situation. But his mind was racing.
‘ Could you just give me five minutes?’ he asked. ‘Obviously I have numerous things to sort out and I can’t just leave them in mid-air. I’ll need to tell my secretary and staff officer what’s going on; then have a quick word with an ACC to hold the fort. Will you let me do that?’
Runshaw looked at his DI and gave him the eye. ‘DI Tandy will come with you, sir. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.’
‘ No problem.’
August walked out of his office with Tandy on his heels.
‘ Jean,’ he said, ‘I’ll be back shortly to let you know what’s going on.’
‘ Yes, sir,’ she nodded worriedly, completely mystified by the events of the morning.
In the corridor outside the office, August said, ‘I need a wee.’
‘ I’ll come with you, sir.’
‘ Suit yourself, but I’m not going to do a runner.’
He led Tandy to the gents toilet on the same corridor. There was no one else inside. Tandy hung back by the door whilst August relieved himself. He washed his hands meticulously and dried them under the hot-air machine. Standing there, rubbing his hands as instructed, flexing his fingers, he made a rash decision which in his present lightheaded, unreal frame of mind seemed totally rational.
Might as well go out in a blaze, he thought.
He smoothed his jacket down and with a resigned smile on his face, sauntered towards Tandy, giving the DI no warning of what was to come.
It was a wonderful punch. Low, hard and rising, right in the solar plexus. He couldn’t have placed it better if ‘X’ had marked the spot.
The wind hurricaned out of Tandy. He doubled up with an agonised gasp. August then grabbed hold of the scruff of the detective’s neck, and drove him headfirst into the wall. The DI flopped to the floor, dazed, gurgling incoherently. For good measure August kicked the unfortunate man twice on the head. The first kick knocked him cold, the second meant that Tandy would lose the use of his left eye for ever.
August then dragged him across to one of the cubicles where he dumped him, folded him up on the floor around a toilet and closed the door.
In his haste to leave the gents, August almost slipped headlong on the trail of blood across the tiled floor.
Outside, the corridor was clear.
He turned and sprinted towards the stairs, propelling himself down them three at a time. Within seconds he emerged in a ground-floor corridor. Here he paused and composed himself.
‘ Fucking career’s ruined, life’s ruined, what’s it fucking matter?’ he chunnered to himself.
A couple of people walked past him and nodded at him. He smiled benignly at them. Pulling his jacket together he walked briskly in the direction of the garage where his car was parked, passing the armoury as he did so.
The door was slightly open; someone was working inside. August did a quick sidestep, unable to believe his good fortune. ‘Play it cool,’ he told himself.
The man inside was a firearms instructor from the training school. He was working at a small table, checking over some handguns which were laid out in front of him. August’s eyes lit on a revolver, next to which was a box of ammunition.
‘ Hello, sir,’ said the instructor, surprised, starting to rise.
August gestured for him to remain seated. ‘No, don’t get up. Just a flying visit as I was passing. All well?’
‘ Yes, sir.’
August pointed towards the revolver — a 4-inch barrelled Smith amp; Wesson ‘38. Standard police issue. ‘Mind if I pick it up? It’s not loaded, is it?’
To anyone else the instructor would have said no. But how could he refuse the Chief Constable? After all, he was the one who signed everyone else’s permits.
August picked up the gun, gripping the barrel and cylinder as though he was going to use it as a hammer to knock in nails. In one flowing motion he whacked the heel of the butt across the instructor’s head with as much force as possible. Surprise, as much as anything else, decked him.
August loaded the revolver and pocketed the remainder of the bullets from the box.
