Piter Lovsi - Another One Goes Tonight

Another one goes tonight.

This time Im ahead of myself so this isnt a to-do list. Everything is in place, as they say. But being methodical I want something on record to look at when its all over. Youre on your own in this game, so any debriefing is with myself.

The only thing left is to make sure I get the timing right. Im going for 2 a.m. when hell be sleeping soundly, guaranteed. Get gloved up, let myself in, do the necessary and get out without leaving any trace. The police have no idea and Im not doing them any favours.

Hell rest in peace and so will I, with the difference that Ill wake up tomorrow morning.

Ive seen a few things on the night shift, Police Sergeant Lew Morgan said, but this beats them all.

Shall we stop him? his driver, PC Aaron Green, asked.

What for? Hes not speeding.

No helmet.

He doesnt need one. Its only a trike.

Its motorised. Hes not turning the pedals. Aaron Green wasnt there simply to drive the car. Typical of young bobbies out to impress, he was constantly on the lookout for offenders.

Lew was older and reckoned he was wiser. He took stock. There were reflectors on the pedals and, sure enough, they werent moving, but the tricycle was. Three hours to go and the boredom was getting to him.

Might as well do the business.

He pressed the control on the dash and triggered the blue flashing lights. Okay, chummy, lets see if your brakes work.

Their patrol car slowed to tail the offending vehicle and draw in behind. The stretch of minor road near Bathampton was otherwise deserted at 2:30 in the morning.

The tricycle came to a controlled stop. Its rider turned his head in a way that involved rotating most of his upper body. He wasnt young.

You know what? Lew said. Thats a fucking deerstalker hes wearing.

Still illegal, Aaron said.

Who does he think he is?

Fancy dress?

Lew got out and approached the rider of the tricycle. Switch off, sir.

I beg your pardon.

Deaf as well.

Lew shouted, Switch off, and mimed the action with his hand.

The tricyclist obeyed. The hat was definitely a deerstalker. And the rest of the clothes matched. Lew was no fashion expert but he had an idea he was looking at a Norfolk jacket worn over a check shirt and trousers kept in place by leather gaiters. Like some character out of a television costume drama.

And the voice was vintage BBC. How can I be of assistance, officer? How patronising was that?

Do you have a licence to ride this thing?

I do not.

Lew almost rubbed his hands. He was going to enjoy this. Youre aware that its a form of motorcycle?

I suppose it might be described as such.

So you need a licence.

Actually, no.

What do you mean, no? You just agreed with me its a motorcycle.

In the eyes of the law, its a beast of another colour, so to speak.

A what?

In point of fact this is an EAPC.

Lew was supposed to be the voice of authority here. He wasnt about to show frailty by asking what an EAPC was. That may be so but its motor-powered. You were riding without moving your legs.

The man gave the sort of smile that gets the seat by the window. Only because the poor old pins arent up to pedalling so far these days.

Lew didnt have any sympathy for the elderly. They did far too well out of the state with their inflation-proof pensions and all the extras. So its a motorbike. Youre not wearing a helmet either.

That is true, officer. Far from sounding apologetic, this lawbreaker was oozing confidence.

Lew remained civil, but firm. Did you know its also against the law to ride a motorcycle without a helmet?

Now the silver eyebrows peaked in concern. Youre worried about my safety?

Im not worried. Im not worried in the least. Im telling you its illegal.

Oh dear. But the concern wasnt for himself, it was for Lew. I dont suppose you come across many drivers of motorised tricycles.

Thats beside the point, sir.

Forgive me, officer. Im trying to save you some embarrassment.

Trying to save me? Lew said.

You see I wouldnt be out on the public highway if I knew I was in breach of the law. However, if youll bear with me a moment... He dipped his right hand towards his jacket pocket.

Lew reacted fast. Dont do that!

The startled old man almost fell off the saddle.

Put your hands where I can see them, on the handlebars. Whats in the pocket?

Only a piece of paper. I always carry a copy of the official government advice, which I believe is still in force. I was about to invite you to look at it.

I dont need to.

Thats a shame, because if you did you would see that provided I dont exceed fifteen miles an hour and my vehicle doesnt weigh more than sixty kilograms and the power is not more than two hundred and fifty watts, my choice of transport contrary to appearance is not classed as a motorcycle but an electrically assisted pedal cycle.

An EAPC.

All this had been spoken with such self-assurance that Lew knew with a sinking heart it had to be right. The figures the old jerk had quoted were faintly familiar. Out on patrol you dont often come across motorised trikes. This road user was a pain in the arse, but he was in the clear. He didnt require a licence or a helmet.

Lew should have stuck to his first impulse and told young Aaron to drive straight past. Now it was a matter of saving face. He pointed to the large bag strapped to the back of the saddle.

Whats in that?

Nothing of interest to the police, I promise you.

Answer the question, please.

A plastic box containing a banana and a slice of date and walnut cake. I come prepared, in case I get hungry.

Is that all?

I havent finished. A flask of tea. Also my binoculars, camera, tripod, an ordnance survey map. He smiled. And Trixie.

Whats that?

You mean, Whos that? Trixie is my late wife.

There was a pause for thought. In this bag?

I always bring her ashes with me. We shared so much in life. She passed away six months ago. Examine her, by all means. And I forgot the puncture repair kit. Its surprising how much the bag holds.

Best insist on the old man handling his own possessions. The power to search at a road check has to involve suspicion of a serious arrestable offence. Lew asked him to unzip the saddlebag. This involved a contortion that was clearly uncomfortable, but Lew wasnt going to get caught out a second time.

The vacuum flask and the sandwich box containing a banana and a wedge of cake were visible on top. And so was the lid of a plastic urn. Lew didnt need to meet Trixie close up.

What are the binoculars for?

Oh, youre thinking I might be a peeping Tom. Absolutely not. Im well past that sort of nonsense.

Most people are in bed at this time of night, Lew said.

But its not compulsory. Were living in a free country.

Do you mind telling me where youre going?

A reasonable question that got an unhelpful answer. I wont know until I get there, will I?

Lew was being led into a minefield of embarrassment. He knew it. The only mercy was that Aaron was out of earshot.

The old man added, They dont stay in one spot. Theyre moving steadily closer to Bath, you see.

He didnt see. He didnt see at all. But he wasnt so stupid as to ask. He waited for something more, and he got it.

They can cover as much as a mile in a single night, using hops.

A mile a night? Lew pictured a colony of travelling rabbits. What was that film hed once seen about rabbits on the move? Watership Down. And you hope to see them through your binoculars?