Stakeout, raid and a secret society

He ran smiling into a corridor between the prison and the drunk tank and through the bars shouted at the drunk tanks the only inhabitant.

`Higgins, you helped me quite a lot!`

`Really, detective?`

`Yep,` smiled Wheele. `I’ll tell the constable to let you stay here longer if you want.`

`That would be jolly good, guv,` thanked the vagrant the detective, who was already half the way to the reception.

`Constable,` shouted Wheele when he entered the reception. `Leave Higgins in the drunk tank for another couple of days, unless he wants to leave on his own.`

`Yes, sir,` answered the slightly confused copper but didn’t question the order.

`And ask him if he wants a cell of his own if the drunk tank gets too crowded. Oh and give him something to eat,` he added.

`Yes, sir,` repeated the constable and saluted.

The detective ran upstairs and entered the open space where three constables in standby mode drank their tea.

`OK, gentlemen,` he said. `Get up, we’ve got work to do!`

`*crunch*Yessir,` said one of them with his mouth full of a ham sandwich.

`What’s the job, sir?` asked another one.

`A stakeout,` said Wheele. `One of you will join me at the end of Factory Street I and the other two will go to the corner of Lottery Close. Come here and sit down and I will tell you the background.`

They sat down at a large table and the detective started to explain the situation. When he finished he looked at the faces of the constables to evaluate their level of comprehension.

`So, everyone knows what to do?` he asked.

`Yes, sir,` answered one of them.

`Let’s go, then,` ordered the detective and all four of them went out to man their assigned posts.

When Wheele and his subordinate entered their designated location, they started to look around for a convenient hiding place.

`Can you see the broken window over there?` asked the constable.

`Yes,` looked the detective in the way his colleague pointed. `That looks perfect,` he added and they approached the mentioned place. Through the window, they entered a dark room. It looked even worse than the usual SA district room. For some reason, no one lived there, which was peculiar, as housing in SA districts wasn't plentiful. They pulled in a couple of small crates from the corner and sat down each having a good view on a different section of the street.

`This position is perfect. We can see almost everything from here,` said the detective watching the door of a house on the opposite side of the street.

`Do you think they’ll come here?`

`What’s your name, constable?`

`Larry,` he answered. `Larry Ferrall.`

`Well, Larry, I don’t know. My intel says that the perp is often present in a cellar somewhere close to the IN4 district wall. Because there are only two cellars that correspond to these parameters it will be probably one of them. That’s why we watch this one and the other two are bivouacking at the Lottery Close. Everything else is just sheer luck. That is one of the constants of the detective work. If you want to do the job, you need to look for the most probable explanation.

`Especially in SA districts you never know what is going to happen. If you find a clue and manage to interpret it correctly you will narrow a field of suspects. And every correctly interpreted clue will get you a step closer to the perp.`

`Thank you, sir,` said the constable trying to memorise the whole speech. Then he caught a glimpse of something in the street and focused his gaze at the door opposite them.

`Look,` he said to the detective. `A hooded person is entering the house across the street carrying something wrapped in a paper.`

`That’s what we are looking for,` the detective stood up. `Let’s go.`

They climbed through the window back to the street and went straight to the opposite house where the hooded person disappeared.

`Watch my back,` said the detective while they walked down the dark stairway. Constable Ferrall fished out his issued 7.65 revolver and covered their rear. The detective with his 9mm inched his way deeper and deeper to the cellar. Both of them were as silent as they could. After a short while, they found themselves in front of a massive wooden door. They heard voices from the other side.* They positioned themselves on each side of the door and the detective counted on his fingers from three. When he got to the zero, the Constable kicked out the door and both of them stormed the room behind.

`This is the police. Hands up and nobody move!` shouted constable Ferrall.

In the room illuminated by massive candles placed on tall stands, a dozen figures froze on a spot. Both policemen pointed their guns at them and they all raised their hands.

`Stand up against the wall,` ordered the detective and all of them silently shuffled to the described area of the room.

One of the hooded people brushed with his foot against a candle stand which toppled to the floor starting a domino effect and taking the rest of the stands with it. Most of the candles were extinguished by the fall, but few of them kept burning on the floor. As the melting wax dripped on the floor covered by grease, wood filings and other usual cellar debris, the mixture caught on fire.

At that moment everyone panicked. Some tried to stomp out the flames, others tried to escape, detective Wheele kicked around trying to get the flammables out of the fires way and to stop the flames getting out of hand and the constable was standing at the door preventing anybody to escape unless they were evacuated in an orderly fashion and to keep them around until they were properly identified.

When the flames were stopped the cellar plunged into complete darkness. The silence was interrupted only by shuffling of feet.

`Everybody out,` ordered the detective. `You first, constable, and everyone else follows,` he added and turned on his portable electric lantern. They did as he said and outside they gathered against a wall of the house.

`We are not doing anything illegal,` said a hooded figure that looked like a leader in a deep, calm voice. `What, in the name of the Great Felix do you want from us?`

`That’s to be seen,` said the detective and lowered his gun. `Please remove your hoods.` They all complied. The policemen beheld a selection of youngish men led by a forty-ish years old man.

`We did nothing wrong,` kept repeating the leader. `I’m the Grandmaster Nicolas Bryce of the Felicio order and I demand an explanation for this intrusion into our sanctuary!`

`Your order, Mr Bryce, is suspected of a theft and property damage,` said the detective.

`And what property would that be?` asked the Grandmaster.

`Theft and killing of sixty-six cats that belonged to citizens of SA6 district.``

`That is not possible,` said the man with genuine astonishment. `Our order does, indeed, believe in absorbing feline intelligence by a consummation of their flesh, but we catch only strays. I wouldn’t allow the boys to touch those that we know to be someone’s property. Am I right, boys?` The rest of the order nodded.

`Is it possible that someone didn’t follow your rules?` asked Wheele.

`Is it possible?` asked the Grandmaster his followers. They just shook their heads.

`We know you use thin-bladed weapons to kill the animals,` said the detective. `I will now collect your weapons for analysis,` he added and gestured towards the constable. `Larry, if you would be so kind…`

The constable patted all of them and found and bagged twelve long thin silvery daggers. He bagged them into individual bags and put them in his haversack.

`And now,` continued the detective. `Please follow me to the police station. Constable Ferrall will close the procession to make sure no one will try anything stupid.`

At the station, the detective wanted to separate them in cells by three,** but when he got to the last cell he noticed that he was missing one person. He made a mental note to asked them about that. He asked the constable to search them in case anyone had more concealed weapons. When they found none, he sent the previously confiscated daggers to Gloria in the lab for analysis.

Footnotes:

* the policemen, not the door.

** they didn’t have enough space at the police station to keep twelve people in solitary confinement.