Sarge - Part 4 of 4 - Finale

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For once in my life, I was lost for words.

“The thing with George is just business,” said Pritti in a total expressionless manner.

Those words seemed so cold, so out of place for her.

Pritti reached up and kissed me. Part of me I wanted to break away but I didn’t. I just wanted to savour every second. The woman I loved was going to marry someone else.

When we broke off, I said,

“How can it be just business?”

“It is just that. I get to inherit the woods and everything.”

“But… but isn’t that too much for you to manage on your own?”

Pritti smiled back at me.

Then she took my hand.

“What about coming in with me? Work in the woods and… finish the house and live there together?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Look Pete, I know how you feel about me. Every time you go back to London gets harder and harder for you to leave. I see it in your whole body and especially your eyes. So does everyone else. I know your Mother does because she told me.”

Those few simple words were really hard to hear and to take. I’d thought that I’d hidden my feelings but apparently, I’d failed, miserably.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“George is cool with it. He wants me to have a future, much like you did when you smuggled me down here.”

After a few seconds Pritti said,
“Will you go and talk to George?”

I sighed.
“I suppose so.”


Pritti made herself scarce the following morning so I took the hint and went to find George.

“Hello George, I gather you want a word or three?”

“And Pritti has made herself scarce I see?”

“It appears so.”

I waited for him to speak.

“I guess that she’s told you about me?”

“Yes. I expect that you don’t want that broadcast though?”

“Exactly. My family are very protective. They wanted to virtually smother me after my last lot of Chemo. They were treating me like a five-year old. In the end I’d had enough so I just walked out one day, went to see our family lawyer and bought this place. I’d seen it advertised on the internet. The lawyer made sure that they didn’t send the cavalry but so far I think that they have no idea where I am and long may that last.”

The smile that was on his face disappeared.
“What aren’t you telling me?”

“The cancer is back. I went for a scan two weeks ago. Pritti knows. That’s when we cooked up this plan.”

“From your face, I get the impression that you aren’t going to fight it?”

“You are the investigator…”

“What does she say?”

“She understands and that’s why we want to tie the knot ASAP. Then I can go to wherever with a clear heart.”

“But what about your family? Won’t they think that Pritti is a gold digger?”

“Yes, they will, and in many respects, she is but I will make sure that they can’t touch what I have built here and you and Pritti as well.”

I had my doubts about that.

“I can see that you have your doubts.”

“George…”

He smiled back at me.

“I know how both you feel about each other. It is blindingly obvious to everyone so consider my land and business here my wedding present to the two of you.”

“What about your family. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she told me your family name.”

“It sucks does it not?”

“I’ve been grilled in the witness box by your brother several times including the trial that Pritti gave evidence at.”

George’s face dropped.

“Yes George, your brother is… shall we say a bit bent. From what I heard when I was last working on a case with the CPS, it is only the lack of evidence that is stopping him from being arrested and charged with all sorts of stuff. He’ll take one look at Pritti and one phone call later, there will be a contract out on her and me and my family.”

George swore for the first time in the years that I’d known him.

“Fuck!”

“The only way to keep them out of it is for me to buy the wood from you while you are still of a sound mind and body.”

George looked sad.

“How about it George?”

“I need to think about this.”

“No problem George. Pritti must be kept away from your family at all costs.”

“My shithead of a brother is everything you say. We have all known it for years. He was the prime reason I got out of the law. He… Well, let me just say that I didn’t want to be in the same room as him.”

Then after a big sigh he carried on.

“He gets my title by the way. His head will get so big that it won’t fit in London.”

George had just summed up his brother perfectly.

“I’m just surprised that he’s not inside. He’s been on the take since he became a Barrister. His Chambers is not exactly clean either and the dirt starts at the top.”

“George, do you know what you are saying?”

“I do and I am fully… compos mentis. I want Pritti to be safe. If it means dishing some dirt on my brother to take him out of the picture then so be it.”

“Do you have actual hard evidence on your Brother?”

George shook his head.

“I don’t but I know some people who do.”

“Will they be willing to… dish that dirt in public?”

George smiled.

“They should. I was head of that chambers before I got my first encounter with cancer. I was fully aware of what was going on. No evidence. A lot of ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil’. But with feeling unwell, I didn’t do my job as head of chambers most of the time. Standards dropped and… well he became defacto head boy. Getting the Cancer diagnosis was a heck of a wakeup call to me as it is to many people. I got out and dropped out of sight. Now some years later and three bouts of Chemo, three operations later, I have this place. Love at first sight would not describe how I felt and still feel living here. I still do and I want to share it with Pritti while I have time.”

Before I could respond, George put his hand on mine.

“As I said, I know how she feels about you. I am under no illusion that she loves anyone but you. Marrying me will give her, and you a place and business of your own when the time comes.”

“But…”

“Yes, my brother. Let me deal with him. Pete, I know that you’d love to collar him but there… Let me say that his corruption goes well beyond your pay grade. I’ll go up to London tomorrow and see a few people. Call in a few favours. My Brother… He’s always been a bully and willing to do anything to get ahead. I still feel bad at leaving him in a position of power when I left the chambers. I was all messed up after getting told that I had the big ‘C’, but I should have known that he’d take the chambers right over to the dark side. There are a few people who’d like nothing more than seeing his downfall. Believe me, it is nothing less than he deserves.”

He smiled at me,
“I might not have electricity in my Caravan or a TV or a Radio but I use the Library every time I go into town. I have kept abreast of what was happening but… I turned a blind eye until you… You put me straight. I never connected Pritti to my Brother. Her name was never mentioned in the court reports for very good reason. I will make this right. I have to do this for Pritti and for you, for your future together.”


Going home after meeting George was difficult. I wasn’t in the mood to do anything other than go back to London. There was no way I could even begin to explain to Pritti or my family for that matter, what I’d discussed with George. They would not be able to understand.

Back in London, I threw myself into my work. It was all I could do, to keep my mind off of Pritti and what might happen to her. All I could think of was that I could not let anything happen to her.

“Sarge?” said my Constable.

“Eh? Oh, sorry constable. I was miles away.”

We were on patrol in an unmarked car. He was driving and we’d just turned off of Marylebone High St and into New Cavendish St.

“Sarge, I thought I saw Anna Stuart coming out of a Café.”

Anna Stuart was the name of a ‘person of Interest’ to us and was given to us at our start of shift briefing.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“North or South?”

“Eh?”

“Did she turn north out of the Café or did she turn south?”

“North… I think.”

“Good then turn here and we will do a loop up onto Marylebone Road and back down the High Street.”

“Gotcha Sarge.”

“Slow and normal Constable.”

“Understood,” said the constable.

There was no sign of Anna Stuart when we drove back down Marylebone High Street, but it served as a wakeup call to me. It was hard to put Pritti and everything to the back of my mind but for the rest of the week I seemed to manage it.


On my last shift of the week, I was with the same Constable once more and we were attending a Traffic Accident on Praed Street right outside the entrance to Paddington Station.

I had the Constable directing traffic while I sorted out the possible pugilists. We’d arrived just as they were squaring up to each other. The one who was clearly to blame refused to accept this and he also refused to give a name, address or details of his Insurance Company. That led me to believe that he either had no Licence, Insurance or the car was ‘hot’ or all three.

“Sir, unless you provide those details which you are required to by law. If you fail to do so, then I will be forced to take you down to the Police Station for interview. What is it…”

As I was about to say, ‘What is it to be?’ he turned tail and ran.

“Constable!” I shouted.

He was for once right on the ball and took off in pursuit of the man.

The suspect had no chance against this particular Constable. He could run a 100m in 10.7 seconds.

The suspect legged it down the ramp into the Station. Normally, we’d have to call the Transport Police whose responsibility the Station, the Railway and Canals were. But if we were in pursuit we could follow. The suspect reached the bottom of the ramp and ran right into a Cyclist who was coming the other way and pushing his bike.

The Constable pulled the suspect upright after handcuffing him.

Less than a minute had passed before the suspect was back in front of me. It was then that I saw it. He had the same tattoo that Pritti had been given by the Albanians.

“Six Five to Control,” I said into my Radio.

“Control, go ahead Six Five.”

“Can you send SOCO and the CID to Praed St, opposite the Station entrance. Operation Medway.”

I’d added the code-word for the investigation into the Albanian gang.

“Control to Six Five, understood out.”


Two hours later, we managed to extricate ourselves from the CID people who had swarmed all over the suspect car. They found a veritable treasure trove of goodies that would keep the Operation Medway team busy for weeks an all thanks to a road traffic accident.

I drove us back to the Station and went for a well-earned tea with the Constable.

“Constable, you need to write up everything that happened today. I mean everything and every little detail from the time we were called to the traffic accident. Is that Understood?”

“Sarge? May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead Constable. If it is reasonable, I won’t bite.”

“Sarge, how… how did you know that this was a person of interest?”

“He had a tattoo on his neck. Before he legged it, it was covered up. When you brought him back, it was clearly visible to me. I have seen the tattoo before. That’s why I called in the troops.”

“Thanks, Sarge.”

“No, thank you Constable. He legged it and you caught him. If he had gotten away, we would have called the local council who would have removed the car. We may never have gotten to see inside the car until it was too late. I shall mention it in my report. You did good.”


With my shift over, I headed over to Edgware Road Police Station and searched out DI Jayne Avis.

She greeted me with a smile.
“I wondered when we’d see you.”

“You know me, a bad penny that keeps coming back.”

She laughed.
“Well Pete, you are certainly not a bad penny in our eyes. You have given us a literal goldmine. We found all sorts of evidence in that car.”

“What about the man we arrested.”

She smiled again.
“He’s saying nothing but he does not need to. He’s already been deported twice so he’s going away for ten years even if he does nothing but say his name.”

Then she looked at me.
“I don’t have your reports yet so how did you know he was Albanian?”

I grinned.
“He legged it when I mentioned taking him to the station. He was refusing to give us any details. My constable went after him and when they returned, I saw the Tattoo on his neck. I’d seen it before so I put the call in.”

“That was just luck then?”

“I guess so. Very few of us ‘uniforms’ would have recognised it.”

“Did he lawyer up?”

“Yes. They arrived about ten minutes ago. His brief was there as well. Someone called Carmichael.”

The smile disappeared from my face in a flash.

“I’d better make myself scarce then. I know his elder brother. They don’t see eye to eye over a lot of things. But… watch out for him. Apparently, his chambers are a bit iffy but don’t tell anyone I said that or that I know his brother. More than a few lives depend on it.”

“Lives?”

“Yes Lives. Mine for starters, then my family and a few others that I won’t name.”

Her face went very pale.

“Iffy? In what way?”

“No real evidence but I have it from a very reputable source that they are not afraid to go over to the dark side. Money and Criminals and all that…”

The D.I. nodded her head. She’d been around criminals long enough to know what I was talking about.

“Drop by anytime.”

I started to walk away but turned back.

“Jayne, I was never here ok?”

“Who?” she said grinning.
I walked away knowing that she’d keep her mouth shut and that I’d trained her well even though she now outranked me.

I hurried home trying not to think about the day. The question ‘why me?’ came up several times despite my attempts to block such thoughts out.

Why had I been the one to encounter people from this particular gang not once but twice? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it was time to move on from Central London. I’d been at West End Central for twelve years. That was long enough, more than long enough.

The thought of me jacking it all in and moving home was very tempting but ‘home’ had its own problems. Problems that I didn’t want to face at this point in time. I’d wimped out of several relationships in the past. Apart from being a Police Officer, I’d never really committed to anything much since I’d left school and passed on going to University.

I knew that very soon all that was going to have to change.

I was just dropping off to sleep when my phone bleeped. Someone had sent me a text.

“Suspect charged with drug trafficking. 37kg of H in car. Thanks, Jayne.”

I went to sleep happy that one person was off the streets at least temporarily.


Two days later, I was taking a mid-shift break in a side street off of Goodge Street when the radio burst into life.

“Control to Six Eight.”

“Six Eight receiving.”

“Control to Six Eight, message from someone who calls himself Charcoal George. He says that he has the information you need. Wants to meet ASAP’”.

“Six Eight Understood. Does he suggest a meet?”

“Control to Six Eight. He says ‘where snakes come out to play when the sun goes down’.”

I tried but failed to suppress a laugh.

“Six Eight to Control. Understood out.”

I sat back in my seat with a smile on my face. I hadn’t expected George to come up with anything so soon.

“Sarge?” asked my Constable.

“Don’t worry Constable Jones, I’ve set up a meet with an old informant for this evening. There is nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Sarge, we were warned about the risks of meeting informants at strange places. From what I heard it seems that you are going to do just that?”

I chuckled.

“If you mean that the Reptile House at London Zoo an hour before closing, a strange place then yes but in reality, it isn’t.”

My Constable didn’t reply.


“Hello George. I wasn’t expecting to have a meet with you,” I said when we came face to face in the Reptile House.

“Hi Pete. I wasn’t planning on it either but needs must eh?”

“What do you have for me and what do you want me to do with it?”

George smiled.

“That arrest that was made a few days ago, of the drug trafficker has put the cat amongst the pigeons.”

I grinned.

“That was you wasn’t it?”

“I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Well done. As they say in the Westerns, they are circling the wagons. Anyone not in the core clique are being jettisoned and pronto. A lot are going home for a long holiday. Even some of the girls are being let go for good.”

That was a surprise to me. The strings of Prostitutes and their Drug dealing were their core businesses. The words ‘for good’ sent a chill down my spine. George did not have to elaborate any further to know what he meant.

“The stash that your lot found in that car was their latest shipment. That driver is as good as dead. Once he gets remanded, a contract will be put out.”

“Your Brother was at Edgware Road ‘nick’ again yesterday. That's three days in a row. What you just said confirms my suspicions.”

George nodded.

“I know, I was watching from a shop nearby when he arrived. Don’t worry, he didn’t see me. That’s how I know that things are bad for them. He prefers to keep at arms-length from them. But to go to the Station three days in a row sends a clear message to the driver and to those of you who are on the take. Yes, there are even one or two at Edgware Road Nick.”

I didn’t react with the news that there were some fellow officers on the take. That is just par for the course. There would always be a few bad eggs in a force the size of the Met Police.

George smiled as he handed me a supermarket shopping bag.

“Take care of that information. I had to call in a lot of very old favours to get what I’ve just given you but you would be surprised how many people want to see the back of those Albanians. They have no scruples at all. Even the Russians have some honour codes. That lot? Fat chance.”

“Thanks George. I’ll make sure that the right people get this.”

“Pete, be careful. I have copies of everything in that file. If something happens to either of us then those copies will be sent to the media. I’m sure you know that those guys don’t take prisoners.”

“Message understood George. What are you going to do now? Are you going home?”

George shook his head.

“No. Too risky. I’m off abroad for a few days. Pritti can handle things with the kilns.”

He paused for a second.
“Think of it as laying a false trail. I’m going abroad and not hiding the fact. That should take… take any threat to Pritti away. If those Albanians want me then they’ll come after me while I’m sunning myself in Mauritius.”

He looked at his watch.
“My car will be waiting for me. A trip to the airport and a thirteen-hour flight awaits.”

He made to leave but I took hold of his arm.

“George, what if they do… do catch up with you?”

George looked me right in the eye.
“Don’t worry, I’ve made sure that Pritti is cared for. She gets the woods and as my nearest relative is likely to be facing some considerable jail time, I don’t think that he will be in a position to contest my will now do you?”

I had to agree with him.


We walked together out of the Zoo and I watched him get into a Black Cab. As it disappeared into the gathering gloom, I started to get a feeling that I’d never see him again. George had been for him, unusually fatalistic. As I headed for the tube station in Camden Town, I sincerely hoped that I was wrong.

At home that evening, I read the folder that George had supplied. It was pure dynamite. There were pages and pages of names, facts, figures and a few photos of… of people they’d disposed of. I knew some of the faces from missing persons reports that we’d received in recent months.

It made hard reading, very hard reading. Some of the people named were known to me. There was one name that made me really sad. It was a DCI from Hounslow. He’d been my ‘Sarge’ when I was fresh out of Hendon.

The details of George’s brother’s involvement were just astounding. I could not sit on this a moment longer.

Despite it being close to Eleven at night, I made a call to someone I could trust after I’d photographed each and every page of the file. I sent the lot to my Father along with a note. I was just unable to trust anyone at the moment.


As Big Ben struck One in the morning, I arrived at the Home Office HQ in Central London.

“I’m expected,” I said to security as I showed my warrant card.

The guard saw my name on his list and two minutes later I was being escorted to the Office of the Home Secretary.

“Come,” came a voice from inside when I knocked on his office door.

I entered and saw the Home Secretary. He wasn’t alone. The Commissioner of the Met Police was also with him as was a man I sort of recognised but could not put a face to.

“Come in Sergeant,” said the Home Secretary.
“It is nice to see you again. How long has it been? Four years I think?”

“Yes Sir. Four years is about right.”

It had been him that I’d called some ninety minutes earlier.

“From what you told me on the phone I took the trouble of asking the Commissioner to join us. He needed to hear this at first hand.”

“Sir,” I said as a way of greeting.

“This is Marcus Everett,” he said introducing the other man.

That was it. I knew that he was from MI5. It made sense.

All three of them looked at me. I took my cue and began to tell my tale.

“Sir, as I said on the phone, I have come into possession of some information relating to the operation of two Albanian Gangs in London. The documents put the finger on a good number of Police Officers as well as at least a dozen pretty senior members of the Legal Profession. Most of the latter are being blackmailed. Then there are politicians that range from local councillors all over London and I’m sorry to say it, three senior civil servants who work right here at the Home Office.”

There was silence in the room so I continued.

“The information also contains details of payments to offshore accounts and shipments of drugs and sadly people being trafficked in and out of the country. These people are possibly the most organised crime syndicate that I’ve ever heard of. My reason for wanting a meeting tonight is that there is a shipment of trafficked women coming in through Dover in less than three hours’ time. I wondered if it might be prudent to track that shipment?”

I passed the dossier over to the Home Secretary.

He didn’t open it but asked.

“How good is this intelligence?”

“Sir, the source is impeccable. It came from a good friend of mine. He even implicates his younger brother in the dossier.”

“We need to know a name,” asked the man from MI5 a little sharply.

I knew that George was well away from the country or at least I hoped he was.

“Sir George Carmichael. That’s the name you want. He also knows that he may well be targeted as a result of providing this information. Please don’t ask how he obtained it as I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.”

All three of them were visibly shocked by the name I gave.

The Home Secretary opened the folder and then looked up at me.
“Where are the details of the shipment?”

“Three or four pages from the back Sir!”

He turned to the back of the file and read the relevant section. His face remained expressionless.

Then he said,
“Gentlemen, we have a problem. I… I think we need to come down on these people and hard. But first the people being trafficked need our support.”

The Home Secretary picked up his phone and made a call to the head of the ‘Border Force’. He was direct and unambiguous in his orders. The shipment would be tracked and action taken. Human lives were the priority. Taking down everyone else could wait.

Then he said,
“Sergeant, I assume that safe copies of all this data have been made?”

“Yes Sir, they have. If anything happens to Sir George then it goes to the media.”

There was a stony silence in the room for several seconds.

“Do you know where he is at the moment?” asked the commissioner.

“Sir, all I know is what he told me and that was he was leaving the country.”

For the first time, my boss, the Commissioner said,
“Don’t say anything else Sergeant. We don’t need to know do we Gentlemen?”

None of the others commented.

“Sir, may I say something?” I asked.

“Sergeant, please go ahead,” said the Commissioner.

“Sir, reading this file earlier this evening made me sick to the stomach. Please throw the book at them. They deserve everything the people named here get. This was my last action as a Police Officer. Some of the Officers I have worked with and even respected are named in that folder. I can’t do this job any longer. I can’t trust anyone anymore. Then there is someone waiting for me at home that I need to be with at this time in my life.”

I pulled out my warrant card and handed it to the Commissioner.

Then I said,
“I there is nothing else Gentlemen, then I’ll take my leave. Goodnight.”

I left them alone to go whatever it was that they were going to do. I wanted no part of it. I was done with the force and this time for good.

It was strange walking the short distance from the home Office to Parliament Square and then seeing the statue of Churchill glinting in the streetlights after the rain that had threatened all evening was falling steadily. I felt… felt a freedom that I had not felt for an awful long time.

I looked up at the clock on top of ‘Big Ben’. It said 02:34. Despite being the middle of the night I didn’t feel tired. As I was no longer a Police Officer, I was at a bit of a loss about what to do next.

I started walking. Up Whitehall, over Trafalgar Square and up Charing Cross Road. I stopped at an all-night café for a tea and to get warm. The wind was from the north and had a distinct chill to it.

Once warmed up, I took the night bus home and started to pack. There was no sense in staying in London any longer that I had too. I was more certain than ever that my future lay more than a hundred miles to the southwest of the capital.


I was just about to leave my home when my phone rang. I recognised the number.

“Hello?” I said with a good deal of resignation.

“Sorry Inspector, I resigned from the service as of around zero one twenty today.”

“Who knows? Well, the Home Secretary and the Commissioner. That good enough for you?”

“No Sir, I was with them at the Home Office at their request. At the end of the session, I resigned from the force and handed over my warrant card to the Commissioner.”

“No Sir, I will not say who, why or what the reason for my visit was. May I humbly suggest that you ask the Commissioner those questions.”

“No Sir, I can’t come into the Station as I am leaving London as soon as I can.”

He was clearly trying to keep tabs on me so I decided to tell a fib. His name was mentioned several times in the Dossier.

“Sorry Sir, I have a plane to catch. I need to get out of the country for a few days.”

I hung up and all my euphoria of a few hours ago had gone with just one phone call. I’d tried to be as circumspect as possible. One of the names in the dossier was that of my Inspector. My guess that he was either doing a runner or sitting nervously in his office and waiting for the inevitable knock on the door. It wasn’t my responsibility any longer and for the first time, I really didn’t care.

I took the first through train of the day from Waterloo to Axminster. As I watched London recede behind me I felt relieved and even though I was feeling tired, I was excited about going home.

As the spire of Salisbury Cathedral came into view, I made a call home.

“Hello Mum.”

“I’m on the train. We are just arriving at Salisbury. Can you or dad pick me up at the station just after ten?”

“Ok, thanks. See you soon.”


My mother was waiting for me as I got off the train at Axminster Station. She had a look of ‘what on earth are you doing here in the middle of the week?’ on her face.

“Thanks Mum,” I said as I got in her car.

She gave me the ‘stare’.

We’d gone about half a mile when she stopped the car and asked.

“Ok Peter, out with it.”

“It is a long story and involves George.”

I saw a look of ‘ah ha’ on her face.

“I wondered why he came by earlier today and went off with Pritti.”

“Eh? He was supposed to be on his way to Mauritius?”

“Well, he’s here. Well, over in the wood, at least that was the direction they went in.”

As soon as we’d arrived at the farm and I’d changed into some old non-city clothes, I headed off towards George’s camp.

When I arrived, it was a scene of normality. George was stacking a kiln and Pritti was bagging Charcoal.

“Hi Pete, I wondered how long it would be before you found us,” said George.

“Why aren’t you on a beach somewhere a long way away?”

George grinned.

“That’s what I wanted everyone to think. The cab took me to Heathrow but instead of checking in for my flight, I hopped on the Railair bus to Woking and got a later train home.”

“I can see that you are here but why the change of plan?”

“It wasn’t until we were on the M4 heading for the airport that I changed my mind. I needed to talk to you and Pritti and this was the best place to do it. As far as I know, everyone in London assumes that I’m in Mauritius. I want to keep it that way at least until my business here is done.”

That sounded very fatalistic but it was… well, not that unexpected.

“Well George, we are all here.”

“We are indeed. Why don’t we all go into the Caravan and have some tea?”

Before I could answer, Pritti came up to us. She was wiping her rather dirty hands on an equally dirty rag.

“Hi Pete. You weren’t due down here until the weekend? What gives?”

“Long story but the short version is that I’ve resigned from the force effective as of zero one hundred today.”

The look of surprise on Pritti’s face was priceless.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” said George smiling.

There was an awkward silence between Pritti and myself.

In the end, I said,
“Oh shit! Pritti, I can’t let you marry George.”

Pritti laughed.

“That’s sort of what George said about an hour ago!”

That really confused the hell out of me.

“Come on, I’m parched,” said Pritti as she took my hand and led me into the Caravan.

“Here you are,” said George a few minutes later as he placed three large mugs of tea on the table.

No one said anything until Pritti broke the silence.

“For heaven’s sake people, say something.”

George responded.

“Did you give that information I passed to you yesterday to the right people?”

“Y… Yes, I did. Very late last night I passed it to the Home Secretary at the Home Office.”

“How the heck did you get to see someone like that?” asked Pritti.

“A few years back, I was part of his security detail when he was Northern Ireland Secretary. A couple of phone calls and it was all setup.”

“I told Pritti all about the dossier earlier,” added George.

“That’s all done and dusted unless… unless nothing happens about it,” I said.
“What do we do next?”

George looked at his tea and said calmly,
“I went for another scan when I went up to London. The bad news is that the cancer is spreading rapidly. Basically, I have two months tops. That’s what changed my mind about getting on the plane last night.”

Neither of us said anything.

“Good. Don’t say I’m sorry or other crap like that. I’ve had a good innings and I spent some time with my lawyer in London as they say, putting my affairs in order. I only just made our meeting as it took a bit longer than I expected.”

George reached behind him and took a buff folder from a shelf.

“There are a few documents that need your signatures.”

“What?” I said.

“Pete, I’m making the two of you joint owners of this woodland. Well, for the princely sum of one pound each. Then you are buying it from me. As I am still sound of mind and body, and my revised will was signed and witnessed yesterday by some people with impeccable characters…”
Then he took a deep breath.
“And as it is more than likely that my brother will be banged up pretty soon, I think my plans are good.”

“George…” I said,
“What plans?”

He smiled.

“I want you two to get married before I pop my clogs but there is one thing that needs to be done first.”

Pritti went red in the face. No one needed to explain what that one thing was.

“Pritti, my gift to you is for you to allow me to pay for the operation. You came here and… and made my life worth living again. But this bloody cancer has come back and well, I want to be able to give you away when you two get married.”

Then he turned to me.

“I heard what you said about quitting the force. I know how much that job meant to you but this wonderful lady has affected both of our lives.”

Then he took our hands in his.

“My wish is that the two of you make a life here in the woods. Finish the house and be yourselves but never stop thinking of your friend George. Understood?”

I looked at Pritti with watery eyes.
“I promise,” I said quietly.


Two days later, the arrests of pretty well everyone named in the dossier made headlines in all the media. A lot of them were charged including the people who were involved in the trafficking business. Twenty women from places like Georgia and Azerbaijan were rescued along with nearly fifty others who’d passed through their network and had been sold on to other people around the country.

George’s brother was charged as an accessory and also as keeping two Bosnian women in slavery. Those were described as ‘placeholder’ charges. That meant that many, many more would be following as the investigation proceeded. He was finished in the legal profession even if he managed to get off of some the charges. Keeping two Bosnian women as sex slaves was according to George, a slam dunk. This pleased George very much.

Pritti and I went to a private hospital on the outskirts of London where she had her operation to finally make her a woman.


One month later, we all gathered at the Registry Office in Exeter for our wedding.

Pritti arrived with George. She looked radiant all in white. When I saw her for the first time, my heart went all fluttery.

There were smiles on all our faces when we trooped into the room for the marriage.
The actual ceremony was a bit of a blur but half an hour later, we emerged out into the sunlight. I felt on top of the world.

What I wasn’t expecting was the sheer number of former colleagues who’d made the journey down from London. Almost all of the rookies I’d taken under my wing over the years were there to give us an honour guard. It had even stopped the traffic in the road outside.

The rest of the day was also very much a blur. I just went with along with it. All the time, Pritti was at my side. I was so happy.

Our Honeymoon was brilliant. We went to the Cape Verde Islands and went whale watching. It was different to any place I’d ever been before. My life was now totally different to anything I’d ever envisaged.


When we returned, it was obvious that George was sinking fast. His smile was there as usual but we both could see that he was in pain. He’d said that when it was his time, he’d know it.

That time was a little over a week after we returned from our Honeymoon.

Pritti and I walked over to his Caravan one morning. As we approached the site, I had a feeling. There was no wisp of smoke rising from the chimney that poked out of the roof of the caravan. Lighting the fire was always George’s first task of the day. I looked at Pritti.

I could tell that she just as was worried as I was.

As we reached the door, I said to her,
“Ready for this?”

“I’ve seen dead people before from when I was on the streets.”

“But… George…?”

She gripped my hand tightly as I opened the door and went inside.

George was laying there in his bed. He looked so peaceful. I stepped forward and checked his pulse. The temperature of his hand told me that he was dead but I checked it all the same.

“He’s gone,” I said softly.

I looked at Pritti. There was a single tear running down each cheek.
“I’ll miss him the old goat.”

“Me too,” I said.

“I owe him a lot. He allowed me to help out and get my mind straight. I was in a really dark place when you brought me here. He never said very much but he gave me purpose in life again.”

I took her hand in mine.

“He was really happy to have you in his life. As he said only a few days ago, it gave him purpose again," I commented.
"George was a good man. It is hard to think of him as a crack Barrister making life difficult for witnesses at the Old Bailey. His brother was nowhere as good as him even on a good day. But… he just seemed so happy here and you were the icing on his cake.”

“He was happy living here again. He told me that almost every day especially, when he managed to trap a Rabbit or two.”

We stood there for several minutes saying nothing. Eventually, I said,
“We’d better call in his death. He’s made all the arrangements.”

“It will seem strange without him here with me,” said Pritti.

I managed a smile.
“You’ve got me instead…”

She squeezed my hand and looked me lovingly in the eye.
“I know but you aren’t as ugly or as stubborn as him.”

We both managed a laugh. Which was what George wanted. He'd told us many times not to cry at his passing away. He just wanted us to remember him as he was, happy in his little world.

His last words to me had been,
“Don’t cry when I’m gone, just laugh, smile or do anything but don’t cry for me. I’ve had a good innings and I’ll die happy and so should you be.”

I fully intended to fulfil that promise.

George was buried in copse at the top of the wood. The trees in that part of the wood were no good for charcoal or for timber so had been left almost untouched for almost a century. It was very peaceful and a fitting place for him to be laid to rest. We planted some of his favourite woodland plants including wood sorrel and wild garlic on the grave in his honour. George had made his headstone out of a fallen Oak Tree. It read, 'Here lies Charcoal George and you can be sure that I will rest in peace!'. That was George all over.

Pritti and I put all our energies into finishing the house that George had designed. Almost a year after he died, we moved in. We toasted him as we named it ‘St George’s Castle’. We would not forget him, ever.

George’s Brother got twenty years. He never said a word once he was arrested apart from his name and ‘No Comment’. He knew better than to talk to anyone even his legal representatives.

[the end]

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Comments

All's well that ends well

A great story I hated to see end, but what an ending! I can't wait for the next tale.

Brilliant Story

Christina H's picture

I have really enjoyed this story as usual you write well, the story has ton's of substance and realism
with the right amount of sadness wove into the tale.
Sad to see it finished but happy that things turned out well in the end.

Wonderful

Christina

As I said before,

Monique S's picture

George rewarding Pritti and Pete is a brilliant idea.

I just wish certain authorities in reality would clean up their yard just like those in the story.

Bit of a tissue alert for this last chapter.
Well done, Samantha.

Monique.

Monique S

Twenty years

That all?

Sadly it is like pulling weeds.

Garden is clean for a while but they suddenly pop up again.

George Was A Gentleman

joannebarbarella's picture

Two wedding presents....one for Pete and one for both Pritti and Pete.

Although I do think it was a fitting ending I mourn the loss of Sarge's policing acumen and talent to the forces of good. I hope his proteges carry on the good work.

*

Thank you.

T

great

as karen said great story. keep up the good work.
robert

001.JPG

Ahother fine story

Wonder if the village will need a new sheriff?

LOL!

Nice comment. Very well observed indeed. Thanks.
Samantha

Bittersweet ending

What a good story; even the sad ending is memorable.

An excellent, but sad ending

An excellent, but sad ending to a great story. George will be missed by everyone except his brother and few other unnamed ones. Very glad that in the end, the Sarge, thru George was able to root out and end the careers of miscreants both in the PD, but the UK government itself.
It always so sad and heart breaking to discover some of those around you and whom you looked up to, are no better than the other criminals that are being arrested daily.

Thanks for all the nice words.

I set out with a gem of an idea about a homeless person from an ethnic minority finding safety and a new life.
Then my muse took over and this is the result. I'm glad that so many have liked it.

Samantha.

Emotionally Deep

BarbieLee's picture

Samantha's talents as a gifted writer means we, the readers, are able to join her actors and actresses in her storyline. That said, I had to take this chapter in small bits at a time, walking away when the emotional floods came. Time out with the cats, dogs, chickens as I unwound emotionally helped.

IF..., you never held someone's hand as they took their last breath...
IF..., you never walked into a room and knew that person was dead before you ever approached them...
IF..., you have never loved someone so deeply you begged God to let you take their place as they were dying...

Maybe Samantha's Sarge didn't bite you as deep as it did me. Her skill in the way she told this story tells me she's been there. If she hasn't, she's one hell of a story teller. either way.

Life is a gift. Treasure it until it's time to return it. That time comes too soon no matter how long one may live. Trust me on this.
always,
Barb

Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl

Awesome.

WillowD's picture

An awesome but bitter sweet story. Thank you.

Thank You

NoraAdrienne's picture

For entertaining me when I was in bad moods, no moods, or just miserable.

Sweet story

George was an especially well written character even though he wasn't the main one. His final gifts to society, Peter and Pritti were certainly satisfying. Well, maybe not to his brother.

A great story well told.

Superbly plotted and written with a happy(sort of) ending. Who could or should ask for more than that in a story? I read it, I enjoyed it, but those seem like just pale words to describe a work of skill and art.

Thank you SO much for writing it and allowing us to share with you such a wonderful tale.

Catherine Linda Michel

As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script. Y_0.jpg

Bravo!

Lucy Perkins's picture

Oh Samantha this is a wonderful story on all kinds of levels and I adore it! For a start the main characters are superb..Pete Pritti and " Charcoal George" just breathe reality..but with that the plot unfolds wonderfully... I was reminded of Gene Hunt Andy Dalziel or even ..whisper the words..the great Morse himself..as a perennial underachieving righter of wrongs!

"Lately it occurs to me..
what a long strange trip its been."

Thanks Lucy

for a delightful comment. It made my day.

Samantha

Very good story

Simple, down to earth, and a very smart man. Reckon college isn't for everyone. Good windup and ending.