Special Circumstances - 9. The Bodyguard

Inspector Boswell was sitting behind his small desk and stared at me. He hadn’t done anything else since I’d entered his office to report for my first duty in the Protection Command. I was a seasoned police officer, so I didn’t mind him showing off to establish authority. It was all part of the game.

But when he finally spoke, he surprised me. “I don’t know what to do with you, Jamie.”

No answer was expected, so I didn’t offer any.

“Your appearance here is insulting. All members of my squad had to go through a lot of effort to even get admitted to the courses you were sent to. They had to prove their dedication. Then they had to wait for a place becoming available. You just turn up, get Gravesend customized for you, and I get you dumped on me.” He leaned forward. “I don’t know much about you, Jamie, but frankly speaking, what I do know is enough. I don’t like people like you.”

I decided to let him continue his rant. To be honest, I did understand him. I truly did.

“Tell me, why are you here, Constable?”

Not much sense in hiding anything. “I was requested, sir.”

He sighed. “Indeed, you were.” He worked on his computer. “At least your firearms and protection marks are good. Driving not so much.” He read some more on his computer till he turned to me. “This squad is one of the best units in Specialist Protection. I’ve selected the best officers to serve here. I want it to stay that way. This week, I’ll put you to the test. If I’m not satisfied, you’ll find yourself out of here quicker than you can say good-bye, clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

He got up. “We start now.”

He led me to my new locker and gave me five minutes to get ready. As a firearms officer, I had to hand in my old stab vest for a new ballistic vest which had arrived just a week earlier. In Gravesend, I hadn’t had much opportunity to wear it in. So, I felt a bit uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I was ready at the appointed time, and we headed to the small gym.

That Monday, he tested my martial and firearms skills. On Tuesday, he wanted to check my driving. On Wednesday, I was tested on my protection knowledge.

I knew my stuff and was able to show it, that wasn’t the issue. Inspector Boswell, however, was like most of the trainers at Gravesend had been, distanced and unapproachable. Being close to him for hours on end, I tried talking to him, but to no avail. I got short answers, and it was clear he didn’t want to engage with me apart from asking questions to test my knowledge or to justify an action I’d taken. To his credit, he was objective about my performance.

Inspector Boswell was convinced of my skills, because by Thursday, I was still around. On that day, I met the team for the first time. Sufficient to say the reception was very cool, if not hostile. Mike had made some cake which I brought. Unfortunately, it didn’t help much in breaking the ice as the cake and I were mostly ignored. I doubt my stoic demeanor helped there much either.

Sometimes, I wished I was more outgoing like Nam, although I was sure this wouldn’t have changed anything with this crowd. I was the intruder, and they let me feel it. I doubted they knew I was gay, otherwise, I was sure I would’ve gotten remarks. It didn’t seem as if Inspector Boswell had accidentally shared that information, if he had bothered looking into my personnel file in the first place.

After that not so nice team meeting, Inspector Boswell took me to his office to discuss the security plan for Minister Morris-Walker. He went to a safe behind his desk and took out a folder. Then, he invited me to sit down.

“Your first duty with Rupert Morris-Walker is scheduled for this weekend. Friday and Saturday late duty for events, and Sunday day time duty. We get an updated schedule from his secretary every day. Our investigators here will perform the threat assessments and provide your support information.” He picked up a report which he showed to me. “This is a summary of the security relevant incidents the minister experienced. There’s a stalker who you’ve met.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure what they knew, therefore, I didn’t add anything.

“Usually, we’d put him in the basic threat class assigning a Taser officer. However, it was upgraded to an armed officer for out of office hours.”

I didn’t ask by who it was upgraded. It was clear he didn’t agree with the decision.

What he said set my alarm bells off. “Am I right, there won’t be a protection detail, just a single officer?”

“Well, you’ve been specifically requested. According to the threat assessment, your presence should be sufficient.”

At least, he didn’t smirk.

Boswell gave me the rest of the briefing, and I was considered ready to go. I spent the rest of the day doing admin work like changing email signature and duty station in different systems as well as checking and requesting access. The rest of the day, I prepared for the different locations mentioned in the plan.

Friday afternoon, I got a first taste of traffic in central London. Luckily, I’d left home with enough safety margin to be on time. Even driving a bike didn’t help much. That was a part of the new posting with which I wasn’t happy.

I went to my locker, kitting up and then checked out my weapons, a Glock 17M pistol, a HK MP5A2 machine pistol, I had chosen the fixed buttstock model over the retractible one, and a Taser. The only thing I refused to wear was the cap. I hadn’t worn it over the last years except for in rain, and I wouldn't start wearing that thing now. I wasn’t a tourist attraction!

While I would’ve had the opportunity to check out one of the red marked Protection Command patrol cars, I chose to take the tube to the Home Office building, because it was much quicker. It felt odd entering the tube in full uniform sporting a machine pistol, but there’s a first time for everything. I should’ve known better, of course, because a couple of tourists took pictures of me.

At the Home Office building, I reported to the security station where I got issued a pass and was told to go up to the minister’s office. I navigated the building trying to look like I belonged there. Double checking I was at the right door, I knocked and was bid to enter by a female voice.

I opened the door. “Good afternoon. I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Constable Jamie Artois, part of the minister’s security detail. I was told to report to the minister.”

The young woman waived me in. “Yes, please come in. He’s currently occupied but will see you shortly.”

I entered the office. “Thank you.” I looked around the space.

She smiled at me. “Would you like to take a seat? Or anything to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

She beamed at me. “You’re new.”

“Is it that obvious? I’m sorry. What’s the most professional way to behave here?”

“You’re sweet. I’m Melanie, by the way.”

“Jamie. Have you worked here for long?”

“Five years.”

We started chatting. She was hitting on me. Hard. Somehow, I wasn’t able to bring my boyfriend into the conversation. In the end, I was rescued by Rupert Morris-Walker who entered his offices.

“Ah, Jamie,” he said, and he offered me a hand to shake. “Good to finally have you around. Please come with me. Miss Carter, unless important, please no interruptions.”

“Yes, Minister,” she replied dutifully.

We entered his office, and I closed the door behind us. He sat behind his desk and offered me a chair.

“I better get used to a lot of standing, Minister.”

“Truth to tell, Jamie, I have never had a personal protection officer before. I am unsure about the exact protocols.”

He should’ve been briefed extensively, but I thought a bit of humor might help to break the ice. I smiled. “Well, sir, I’ve never been a personal protection officer before, so I don’t know either.”

“And for what I have sent you on all those courses, Jamie?”

I didn’t know whether he was trying to be funny or serious. “Fighting ghosts was somehow omitted from the curriculum, Minister. Therefore, I think we’ll have to come up with our own protocols.”

He looked at me and finally nodded.

I tapped my bodycam. “It’s off, sir. Might I suggest you tell me about the incidents you’ve experienced?”

Of course, I’d been given the police information about those incidents, but these files didn’t contain any of the important information. To impress my point of what I meant, I focused and ran to the other end of the office.

“Would you please not do that, Jamie? It is distracting.”

I focused and ran back to the door. “I’m sorry, Minister. I didn’t have much time to train this.”

“Well, do it later.” He looked at me.

“Yes, Minister.”

“Better,” he said, still looking at me like I was an unruly child. “To answer your question, there have now been ten incidents. The third one you were witness to yourself. What all of these incidents have in common is that they only happen when I am relatively alone, never in open public. I am unsure about a date pattern, but all incidents happened during the night.”

“Does that have to do with what the assailants are?”

“No, that is folklore, Jamie.”

“Then the obvious question, Minister. How have you been able to evade them? Why am I now here?”

“I evade them by running away,” he said annoyed. “I am getting the reputation of a race driver. There are only so many favours I can call in to keep it quiet. I hope you realise this is very damaging politically.”

I wondered whether I’d understood correctly. “Let me get this straight. I went through three months of hell not to guard your sorry backside but your reputation?”

He was taken aback by my words. “Oh, dear. No, Jamie. If an entity were to get hold of me, the consequences would indeed be disagreeable. I do require your assistance, let me assure you.” He wanted to placate me at least a bit.

I sighed. “Well. Have there been any other fights with them?”

“No, there have not, and I am grateful for that. Seeing you fight one gave rise to the idea of me getting a close protection detail. Before the encounter, security only had my word I was running away from a stalker.” He paused before he continued, “I am sick of running away, Jamie. With you around, I will have the opportunity to find out who sends them.”

Who was behind them would’ve been my next question. “How?”

“I must be able to touch one without it getting me.”

I laughed out. “Minister, I was planning on getting both of us away from them, not getting into a suicide mission.”

“I am not suicidal, either, Jamie. However, it is of the utmost importance we do this.”

“Why?”

“Only when I touch one can I find out who sent it.”

What bullshit was that? “You’re sure about that?”

He seemed annoyed. “Yes, Jamie. I am sure about that.”

I sighed. “Can you tell me anything else about the, what was the phrase, manifested spiritual entities?” I padded my machine pistol. “Does this actually help?”

“Jamie,” he said indignantly, “You are the muscle. How do you think I would know such things?”

“Minister, I can’t just try emptying a magazine into one to find out! I have to account for every single bullet. Half of the firearms course was about when not to shoot rather than how to shoot. Every time I even point one of these things at somebody, there will be an inquiry after.”

He waved my objection away. “Oh, Jamie. Of course, if you think you need ammunition to try firing at them we will get you some. An inquiry would be the last thing I need right now.”

“I don’t wanna know,” I murmured and said aloud, “Anyway, I’ m here. What’s the plan, Minister?”

“Tonight, we will go back to Devon. Saturday, daytime, political groundwork, evening, party event. Sunday daytime rest, evening, drive back to London. A room has been prepared for you.”

That wasn’t the plan I’d been told. “A room? You expect me to stay with you the whole weekend? My duty scheme tells something about evening duty but nothing about staying in Devon.”

“Oh dear. See it as an opportunity for overtime, Jamie.”

“Minister, I’m not prepared to stay a weekend in Devon. For starters, the only clothes I have are the uniform I wear.”

He said sternly, “Nearly all attacks have been on the way to or from Devon or within Devon. We will buy underwear and toiletries and lots of deodorant for you on the way out. Now, if you would excuse me. I have these papers to finish. I will be out in about fifteen minutes.”

He started working on his documents, and I was obviously dismissed. I left the minister’s office to face the smiling Melanie who continued chatting me up. However, this time, I did have a reason to bring my boyfriend into the discussion.

“Sorry, Melanie. The minister has changed my plans. I need to tell my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Her disappointment and shock were clearly visible on her face and audible in her voice.

I gave her an encouraging smile. “Yes, sorry.” I went to the window to call Mike.

“Hello, boyfriend!” Mike greeted me happily.

I whispered, “Hi, I can’t really talk. I just got details. I’ll spend the weekend away. I won’t be home before Sunday evening late.”

“Well, I’m not happy, but I have to work anyway, so it isn’t that bad.”

I played very disappointed. “You aren’t missing me?”

“Never, you snore,” he teased.

“I do not!”

“You’re unconscious when you snore, so you can’t tell, can you? Well, I can.”

That cheeky monkey. “Wait till I come home!”

“Can’t wait. Love you. Bye.”

“Me, too. Bye.”

I hung up and faced Melanie who now did her best to ignore me. Time to calm the waters. You never ever want a secretary to be mad at you.

“I’m sorry, Melanie. I didn’t want to lead you on. I just couldn’t figure how to mention him politely in our conversation. You’re so enthusiastic. I’m sure you’ll find a good man soon.”

She was quiet at first, leaving me to wonder whether my words had made her more angry when she suddenly exclaimed, “Why do I always bark up the wrong tree? Why are all the good men gay?”

“Well, I wouldn’t agree all good men are gay. You just haven’t met the right kind of guy.”

“The ones I meet are all machos,” she said resolutely. “Take your colleagues for example. They just storm in here as if they owned the world. You were the first one who was kind and friendly. Really cute, actually.”

“Melanie,” I said in mock exasperation, “If you want a guy who isn’t gay, never tell him he was cute. Or sweet for that matter. Okay?”

“Machos!”

I sighed. “I doubt police officers are the right kind of guys for you. What about a nice Home Office civil servant?”

She blushed slightly. “I want a fit guy, not a paper pusher.”

I smiled. “I’ll keep my eyes open. If I see a muscular official, I’ll stop him and ask him his name and office number.”

“You’d do that for me?” She asked equally joking.

I touched my security pass. “Wearing this in here, I can ask everybody everything.”

She laughed. “You’d get a reputation, Jamie.”

Just in that moment, the minister’s office door opened. “I see you are getting along well. That is good, you are my most valuable employees.”

He walked out. I grimaced after him and Melanie laughed. I winked at her and followed the minister out. We walked to the next set of elevators and took one down to the garage.

Morris-Walker stopped in front of a Range Rover. “Here we are.”

“And where’s the driver, Minister?”

“You are the driver.” He threw the keys at me. I just caught them.

“I’m your Close Protection Officer, Minister, not your chauffeur.”

“Oh, Jamie. Sometimes I wonder whether you are simply not listening to what I am saying or whether you fail to connect the dots. I have gone through some lengths getting you close to me because I do not need to explain anything. Now, why would I get a chauffeur who does not know? Hm?”

Luckily, I never blushed. I felt so stupid right now. “I concede not connecting the dots, Minister.” Asshole.

I opened the car and went to the driver’s door. He was still standing there.

“I’m not opening that door for you. I’ve just admitted to being dumb. Even my dignity knows limits, Minister.”

This time, he accepted defeat and got into the car by himself. I took off the machine pistol and tried finding a place for it in the passenger foot compartment. I was happy not having brought the cap.

“This is so against all regulations,” I murmured.

I adjusted seats and mirrors and went to perform vehicle checks. First internal, then external.

“What are you doing, Jamie?” The minister asked, leaning out of the window.

“Checking the oil, Minister.”

“It is a hire car, Jamie. The company will have done so.”

“Let me introduce you to the ABC of policing, Minister. Assume nothing, Believe nobody, and Check everything.”

Having completed the checks, I sat in the driver’s seat and adjusted it.

“Will you do this every time?”

“Every time it’s a new car or it has been driven by somebody else. There’s something else I must do.” I spoke into my radio, “Sierra-Papa, Papa-Charlie Three-Six.”

“Papa-Charlie Three-Six, go ahead.”

“Zero-Five.” They knew all planned destinations.

“Copied.”

It took a while driving out of London. Morris-Walker had some telephone calls and was reading some papers. We hit the motorway, but once we left Reading behind, I drove off. Now was payback time.

“What are you doing, Jamie?” The minister asked when he realised we’d left the motorway.

“I need to get to know the car, sir.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Instead of answering, I accelerated hard as the ATS turned green. I drove onto the country A-road and tested the car limits with regards to curve handling, breaking, and acceleration in different scenarios.

“Jamie!” Morris-Walker exclaimed concerned as he was thrown from left to right.

“As I said, sir. I’ m getting to know the car.”

“This is illegal!”

“No, I’m driving within the speed limit and other road traffic act provisions.” True.

“Watch out! The curve!”

It must be scary for him. “This is advanced Roadcraft driving, Minister. Remember, you paid for this.”

“Jamie! I am not amused!”

“No, Minister, this is necessary. If we must escape, that’s the simple version of how I’ll drive. I must know how the car handles, sir. You must know what to do as well.” I glared at him through the back mirror. “First, put on your seatbelt, or you’ll be thrown around.”

I slowed down and drove in a normal manner. He did fasten the seatbelt.

“That was not funny, Jamie,” Morris-Walker said indignantly.

“Yes, Minister.” Oh, it so was.

On the way back onto the motorway, we passed a big shopping centre. I drove into the car park.

“What now, Jamie?” The minister sighed. I thought he might regret making me drive.

I parked the car.

“Underwear, toothbrush, and deodorant,” I quoted him and retrieved the machine pistol. “And as you said, in public, we’re usually safe, so better to shop here than at some out of the way motorway service station.”

“Bring me a Latte Macchiato, will you?”

“Ah, Minister?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll need to come with me. I’m supposed to guard you. Therefore, I can’t leave you.”

He glared at me for a second but then made a move out of the car.

“I had not thought you were so much trouble.”

I again tried some humor. “But Minister, we’re all just getting to know each other. The car and I. You and I. You and the car…”

He didn’t reply.

We must’ve made quite an impression walking into the shopping centre. Morris-Walker just couldn't walk next to me or behind me, he had to walk in front of me. The problem was that he’d probably never before set a foot into a shopping centre to actually buy something. Most likely, he’d always had somebody doing the shopping for him. It was quite of an act to subtly direct him to the relevant aisles. In the end, I got the items I needed, and he got his coffee.

We settled back into the car and drove to his house in Devon which was, of course, an old mansion. I drove up to the main entrance.

“Nice. This does look old, Minister. From when is it?”

“Oh dear. It is a true Tudor mansion, Jamie. You know when the Tudor time was?”

Pompous asshole. “Sometime in the middle ages, Minister, but the facts elude me.” I didn’t know whether I was actually putting across the sarcasm.

“This mansion was erected in 1526.”

“Does it have a central locking system?”

He seemed insulted by the very suggestion it might not. “Of course, it does, Jamie.”

“Then I’d need a general key, Minister.”

“Why should I give you a general key to my home, Jamie?”

“Minister, I might not know when the Tudor time was, but I need to familiarise myself with the grounds. After that, we need to talk about where you’ll need to run when shit hits the fan. Okay?”

“Well, I do see your point, Jamie, but might I ask you to be less vulgar in future?”

“Yes, Minister. Where would you like the car parked?”

“The garage is over there.”

He obviously meant the outbuilding to the left. I drove towards it.

“Will you not let me out?”

“Minister, I’ll only let you out of my sight once we’re in your dwelling and I had a walk around. Till then, we won’t part. So, if the car which I must drive goes into the garage, so do you.”

“You cannot talk to me like that.”

I didn’t reply. I stopped the car in front of the garage, picked up the machine pistol and opened the gate. Checking quickly inside, it was completely empty, I returned and drove the car inside.

I got out and opened his door to let him out. “Minister, as you said, you’ve gone through a lot of trouble getting me here. If this is to work, we can’t wait for an entity to jump us. There are procedures to follow in close protection. In your close protection. Yours, Minister. While most of the time I’m going to follow you like a well trained dog, you yourself have declared Devon enemy territory. So here, I must ask you to do as I bid you to do.”

Having gotten out, he looked at me for a moment before he nodded and walked to the door in the gate.

“Please wait, Minister. I’ll go out first.” I locked the car. “Sierra-Papa, Papa-Charlie, Papa-Charlie Three-Six.”

“Papa-Charlie Three-Six, go ahead.”

“Zero-Six.”

“Copied.”

We walked from the garage building to the main house. The door was opened precisely at the right moment by an elderly gentleman. Of course, Morris-Walker had a butler.

“Good evening, sir,” the old man said, “Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you, Turner,” Morris-Walker replied while the butler took his jacket. “This is Jamie. He will be nosing around. Please provide him with a general key, show him the house, and otherwise do not mind him.”

“Certainly, sir,” the butler replied while eyeing me with suspicion.

Morris-Walker was about to go upstairs.

Hadn’t he listened to me? “Sorry, Minister. Where are you going?”

He sighed. “Having a shower, Jamie. Do you need to be there, too?”

“Would you mind we exchange telephone numbers? The true one, please. I must be able to get hold of you, and maybe you want to get hold of me. I can’t just stand here and shout for you, can I?”

He sighed again, took out a fancy phone, and we exchanged numbers. Then, he left us alone.

“Follow me, please,” the butler said and let me downstairs into the service level.

In the kitchen, an elderly woman was the cook. “That’s my wife Lorna. You’ll have dinner with us here.”

“Good evening, Mrs Tuner“, I greeted her and turned back to him. “Thank you, sir. I need to get an idea of the grounds first. I’m sorry to keep you from dinner, sir, but might I ask you to please give me the general key and show me around?”

“I told you,” Lorna Turner said, “I had this before. Police in the house disrupts the routines. Now, go and show the young man the house. I’ll keep dinner warm.”

“Yes, love,” he said in a tone only obtained after years of marriage.

The building consisted of a main house and two wings with two levels each, not counting the loft which was only accessible via ladders. All windows and doors were alarmed. Turner showed me how to operate the alarm panel. I asked him for the operating manual nonetheless. I also wanted to see the electrical system, the mains piping, and the heating system.

During the tour, I was able to check the general key opened every door. Mr. Tuner also showed to me the room he’d prepared for me to stay in. It was quite pleasant, like a hotel room and so located I could easily access the private wing where Morris-Walker’s room was to be found.

We finished our tour of the house at the main door.

“I’ll be with you shortly, Mr. Turner. I need to pick up some stuff from the car.”

Mr. Turner went downstairs, and I went out, carefully locking each door I passed and picked up my shopping bag from the car. Letting the energy flow freely into my muscles and my eyes, I did a survey of the grounds. I was back in the downstairs kitchen just in time when Mrs Turner was serving some stew.

Dinner was good, and we did the usual rounds of introductions. The Turners had worked on the grounds nearly their whole life even before the father of Rupert Morris-Walker had acquired the mansion. They were very closed when it came to talking about the happenings in the house or any details about the life of Morris-Walker. While it prevented me from finding out more, in my own mind, I credited them highly for it.

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner, for an excellent meal.”

“Well, thank you, young man.” She seemed pleased.

Maybe Morris-Walker had adopted that annoying expression from her. I envisaged her telling the master of the house off in that manner, but perhaps I was dreaming.

I turned to her husband. “Sir, might I by any chance intrude on you for some old training or gardening trousers and an old pullover? I’m very sorry, I hadn’t been informed I’d stay here this weekend.”

“Oh, well, I’ll need to check. I’ll bring it upstairs.”

“Thank you, sir. Now, please allow me one last question. When does Mr. Morris-Walker get up in the morning? I want to be ready.”

“On Saturdays around eight.”

“Thank you. Please have a good night.”

I went upstairs to my assigned room. I moved the bed a bit off the wall so I could put pistol, Taser, and machine pistol against the wall. This was so against regulations! However, anybody who wanted to get at my weapons would need to get through me first.

Then, I needed to have a chat with my inspector. He wasn’t happy I called him half past ten in the evening.

“Jamie? What happened?”

“Well, there’s change of plans, sir.”

“What is it?”

“The principal has taken me to alpha destination. I’ll stay here the whole weekend.”

He was indignant. “That wasn’t agreed.”

“He stated it was. Anyway, we’ll coordinate better in the future. I just thought it better to let you know.”

“Of course. Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Good night, sir.”

I undressed and hung the uniform in the cupboard. Just when I had finished, Mr. Turner came to bring an old pullover and some old gardening trousers. He pointedly ignored my state of undress when I opened the door to take the items. I thanked him profoundly.

Mike was working, so I sent him a long message and pictures of the room. Nam got a shorter message and the same pictures. I then turned to sleep my first night as Close Protection Officer.