It had been a pleasant August late afternoon. Blunt had taken advantage of the weather to go on a two hour exploratory walk of the Stalham countryside. It left him mentally relaxed and in need of a little liquid refreshment. That need had been sated at Huggies café in the High Street. There was one empty bench left outside. The rest were occupied by chattering holidaymakers taking advantage of one of the few sunny days so far that summer. The owner was a stocky and talkative little man who gave him the lowdown on some of the aspects of the small market town.
He pointed out the unit next door 'Uncle Bill's'. It looked like a second hand type of shop. He learned that if anything went missing in the town and surrounding areas the first place anyone looked was next door. Huggie jokingly stated that he hoped Blunt had nothing to do with the law. The policeman thought it wise not to comment. The little man pointed out another two characters walking up the street. One with shorts and long grey hair kind of lolloped along. The other individual about six two in height and several stone overweight, judging by his chins, wore an overcoat and a trilby. Their nicknames were dumb and dumber although some called them the Blues Brothers. The Café owner pointed out a dowdily dressed woman walking by clutching a cloth shopping bag. On closer inspection Blunt suspected that the she could be a he. Huggie confirmed it. The person Michael Loveday had decided to be a woman several years ago. He had walked out on his wife and two children and rented a flat above the Chemist shop a little further up the High Street.
He had enquired as to what Blunt was doing in the town and Blunt had been very circumspect with what he revealed.
John Blunt's journey to living in Stalham, Norfolk had been circuitous in more ways than one. Nine months ago Internal Affairs had grilled him to see whether he had any knowledge of the events that led up to the suspected murder of the former Chief Executive of Aktion fur Arbeit and the disappearance of the businessman Marker. The latter was suspected of killing the former. The matter had been dropped due to lack of evidence of any wrong doing on Blunt's part. However, the investigating officers had informed Blunt that they believed him to be as guilty as hell.
Blunt's investigation had led to the successful prosecution and imprisonment of numerous establishment figures. Judges, QC's, cabinet ministers, MPS, senior police offices, senior civil servants and many others. As a result he had created many enemies not least the former Chancellor Gerald Black. However, the new Commissioner of the Met, Moyles, had stood up for him and facilitated his move to Norfolk. It probably helped that Blunt knew a great deal that Moyles would prefer to remain out of the public domain. Moyles, ever the consummate political operator had made sure that the powers that be knew the threat posed by Blunt. However, Blunt remained convinced that Moyles had let him swing in the wind. A tactic that had resulted in his nervous breakdown. He would never forgive the man for the distress that he had caused him. A further bone of contention involved Moyles' treatment of Debbie Flint who had worked alongside on the Aktion case. He had threatened, and carried out his threat, to bust her to traffic and other similar duties.
Blunt's task in Norfolk was to set up a new experimental anti-people trafficking unit. Norfolk had been chosen for three reasons. It seemed to be a major centre for the dissemination of illegal immigrants to other parts of the country. The case concerning the German multinational Aktion fur Arbeit had served to reinforce that view. The second was that the Chief Constable Bill Strumpshaw had been to university with the current Home Secretary and to school with the senior civil servant in the department. Finally, Moyles, the new Metropolitan Police Commissioner had also thrown his hat into the ring in support. The new unit had presented him with the ideal opportunity to be rid of Blunt. The further he was away from London the better.
After leaving Huggies the policeman took a gentle stroll up the High Street and window shopped in a distracted fashion.
On getting home he settled down to watch the early evening news with a glass of McAllan.
The plunging pound on world currency markets featured highly together with the predictions that it would take another tumble when the markets opened the next morning. That lead onto a look at how the recession seemed to be tightening its grip on the economy with no end in sight.
The next item caused Blunt's heartbeat to quicken and his upper lip to involuntarily curl.
'Rafique Khan the MP for Wath and Dearne Valley has been invited by the Prime Minister to join a new security committee. Mr Khan was recommended by the leader of the opposition who stated that because of his links to the world's flashpoints he could bring a unique perspective to Britain's security.', intoned the news reader whilst the screen cut to pictures of Khan doing a walk about in an area that had witnessed rioting by Muslim youths. Khan was one of the rising stars of the labour movement. He was being tipped as a highly probable first non-white leader of a major political party'.
That gave the news team the chance to make a link with what commentators called, 'a simmering situation' in those towns and cities with large Asian populations. The Asian youth were amongst the worst affected by the recession. They lacked education and job opportunities and felt alienated from society in general. What they perceived as the West's lack of interest in the fate of the Bosnian and other Muslims fuelled that alienation. As a result they were turning towards their religion. Unfortunately many of them, influenced by firebrand clerics, were turning to an extreme form of Islam. The commentators considered that this would result in outbreaks of violence in many of the country's towns and cities.
The world news followed. This presented an altogether different picture. Bill Clinton the Democratic challenger had built a big lead in the opinion polls ahead of the Republican Party Convention. It did seem as if the American voters were ready to dump George Bush the man who had saved Kuwait from Saddam Hussein.
Another item featured the worsening situation in the old Yugoslavia where as one commentator put it, the Serbs were redrawing the boundaries in blood and ink'. The news cut to pictures of Muslims in makeshift camps and went on to describe the Serbian and Croatian atrocities against their erstwhile Bosnian neighbours. It went on to describe how volunteers from across the Muslim world were volunteering to fight on the side of their Muslim brothers. They stated that a fair number were arriving from the UK.
The last item concerned the inflation rate in Russia and how it had risen to three thousand per cent. The commentator standing in Red Square said that resentment was building in the country as people believed that a number of the old nomenklatura and KGB had colluded with criminal elements to take control of many of the country's assets. Furthermore, their ready access to cash had allowed them to take advantage of Yeltsin's liberalisation programme.
Blunt turned away to pour himself another whisky. He needed it! Mention of Khan brought back memories. Memories that only recently had partly caused his depression.
He just caught part of the local news that mentioned that a body had been found on Winterton beach. The police stated that there were no suspicious circumstances. They would be releasing a picture of the deceased shortly for identification purposes.
Blunt switched off the news and turned his attention to his meeting on Tuesday morning with the Chief Constable. Strumpshaw had kept his word....but told Blunt that he must keep his nose clean and to keep him aware of everything that was happening.
Blunt had experienced a nervous breakdown. He had managed to conceal that fact by taking extended leave. By God he needed it! The ordeal at the hands of Internal Affairs and the security services had left his confidence and psyche shattered. On top of that had been the letter from Anjii.
He had reached the stage where he did not want to get out of bed in the morning. He awoke in the middle of the night in cold sweats. The remainder of the night he occupied himself by envisaging how sweet it would be to plunge a particularly sharp and thin knife from his kitchen drawer into his heart. He also looked up what plants in his garden could also help him to bring his life to an end. The oleander in his living room appeared to be the most effective. He found the battle raging in his head sometimes almost impossible to deal with. At such moments the knife and the oleander had an increasing attraction.
In the end he had dragged himself to the doctor. He had been prescribed citalopram and a simultaneous course of cognitive psychotherapy. He had found it hard to forgo his passion for malt whisky and fine wine whilst undergoing the course of treatment. The psychiatry stuff he had found to be a load of old codswallop. He had finally weaned himself off the tablets the previous evening and by god he was enjoying the whisky
He poured himself another glass of McAllan and started to make a shopping list of what he needed for the unit.
Communication lines to be established with EU police forces, communication lines to be established with the police forces, close liaison with the 'border folk'. The latest in computer technology, software and hardware. He needed to be able to sift, cross reference and combine data quickly and efficiently. Determining patterns at an early stage could give the unit an advantage. He also wanted people to be trained as undercover agents, so that they could infiltrate the gangs. Again it was about trying to be one step ahead. About being proactive as opposed to reactive.
It took him half the night to map out his wish list. He determined to have an early morning walk the next day and then to finish his recommendations ready for his Tuesday meeting.