CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Garda behind the counter was a big man. Reassuringly big. The kind of big dependable country Garda that made you believe they would never, ever need to carry weapons in this country to fight crime. These guys were pacifists in action. He was a man in his late 50s, stout as an oak tree and with distinguished graying hair on the back and sides of a mature bald head. He had that friendly look that Irish police are so good at wearing. I already felt better. This was my world, not the sick universe of these small time violent thugs.
"Good evening Garda, I need to see Sergeant Mike Biggs please. It's important." I dropped in the first name because I hadn't met this Garda before and I wanted him to know that I was both local and a friend of his boss. Maybe I was wrong there though. He gave me a look that said 'I'm not impressed'. The town was getting big after all. There was a time I used to know all the local Gardai, but now there were quite a few new ones I hadn’t even met. I suddenly was shocked then to see a dirty tattoo sticking up over this old man’s shirt collar. I mean, the Gardai? Even the Gardai? And this old guy? He could have been almost twice my age. And on the neck? For God's sake.
"What's it about?" He said. He didn't seem so friendly any more.
But still. He was a Garda, so I put my prejudices aside and decided I would trust him. Maybe he wasn't as ignorant as he suddenly looked. I figured I would at least get his name though.
"My name is Dennis Small, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
"Thicke," he said, "Garda Ian Thicke."
"I'm here to discuss an illegal loan shark operation Garda Thicke, right here in Darklow."
"Oh is that right now Mr. Small?"
"Yes it is. This is very serious matter officer. He has threatened to destroy my property and has made vicious and very, very real threats against both my person and against my son."
"Well, well now. Those are serious allegations alright. Do you have any evidence for these accusations?"
"My son and I will both swear to it."
"OK so. And how many of them were there on this occasion?"
"Two of them."
"Right then. Two of them and two of you."
He gave me a withering look.
"Did these two bold boys actually hurt either of you then?"
Bold boys?
"Yes officer. I was manhandled. One of them picked me up by the shirt collar and shoved me against the wall. I can describe distinctive tattoos that each of them had."
"Oh can you indeed?"
"Yes I can. The one who assaulted me had a Chinese character right here on his temple. The other had a tiger tattooed onto his neck. Typical lowlife criminal artwork."
"Is that the case? Were the tattoos anything like this then?"
He used a thick stubby finger to draw down his shirt collar and reveal the Chinese character tattooed onto his own neck.
"Is this the kind of 'typical lowlife criminal artwork' you mean?"
Obviously in my enthusiasm to denounce I had forgotten about his trashy and inappropriate tattoo.
Great.
"Look, officer. This isn't about the tattoos. I just need to talk to Mike about this. I've been threatened, my son has been threatened. To be honest with you I haven't been to a doctor yet but I think this guy may actually have done some damage to my neck."
The big idiot snorted to himself. A disgrace to his uniform. Mike Biggs may have been a bit obnoxious to me the last time we spoke but at least he was professional and adhered to police procedure.
"So do we have any evidence of these so-called threats?"
"Well, as a I said, my son and I...."
"So your word against theirs then. Is that it?"
I stood with my mouth open.
"Allegations so, is what we call this. Tell me then, who is this master criminal at all, when he's at home?"
"He goes by the name Sammy the Shark."
"Hah!"
The big Garda snorted again. I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose it did sound a bit silly, cartoonish even.
"I... I don't know his real name obviously."
"Sammy the Shark? Is that it? Do you want me to write that down? Seriously?"
"That's the only name I have Garda."
"Come here to me now, you." His attitude became very serious, very quickly. "What's your name again?"
He stood and revealed that he was big tall guy, but like I say, people don't usually scare me. I'm hard to intimidate unless it's two goons in my house with sledgehammers and baseball bats threatening to break my children's’ bones.
"My name is Dennis Small, Garda."
"OK then, Mr. Small." He said my name like it was an insult. "You say you've been threatened by a criminal called 'Sammy the Shark, isn't that it?"
"That's correct Garda, yes."
"Give me your fuckin' address there Small, so as I can get you processed and locked up for wasting valuable Garda time."
I looked at the copy of the Irish Sun newspaper on his desk, open at the titty page. There was a half eaten chicken burger with large fries and curry sauce beside it.
"Are you serious?" I said. "Do you know who I am? Officer, I run the residents association on the Sunnyvale estate. I'm on the Tidy Towns committee. I've worked for Dooley Insurance down on Main St. for the last decade and I know Sergeant Biggs personally. He lives in Sunnyvale. He's my neighbor."
I stopped to let it all sink in.
"I need your help as a Garda and as a Guardian of the Peace. You have a moral and legal obligation to protect life and property, both of which are at stake here. Now either you help me or I'll wait until Sergeant Biggs gets here and then we'll see what he can do."
"I know very well who you are Small. Sgt. Biggs has already warned us that a fellah like you would be comin' in here to stir up trouble and do our jobs for us. So don't go trying to act important on me."
"I'm only trying to report a crime Garda...."
"Report a crime? A Crime? What crime? Mr. Sammy the Shark was mean to you? He lifted you up, did he? Oh you poor thing now. And what about Herbert the Hyena? Has he threatened to eat your children? Or Rudolf the Rhino? He wants his money back too does he?"
I could only look. How? Here. In modern day Ireland. This.
"Listen to me Small and mark my words. You get out of here right now. Right now. Do you understand? I fucking mean it. Right fucking now or so help me I'll lock up you up for pissin' on my leg while I'm eatin' my tea."
He was a Garda. He wouldn't physically attack me. I decided to stand my ground. All these years reading pacifist manifestos, how to resist aggression passively. Now was the time to put it into action.
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here until I see Sergeant Biggs." It took him a bit off guard. He wasn't used to this kind of resistance. Probably more used to boots and fists coming at him at closing time on Main St. However, it only took him a moment to recover himself.
"Sergeant Biggs won't help you Small. He has less interest in you than me and I have shag all interest in you. Now either you leave this station right now or I put you in the cells for wasting time."
"Wasting time? You're reading the Sun newspaper, gawping at page three boobs and stuffing your face with curry chips while I am attempting to report a serious crime."
"The boobs aren't on page three anymore you little twit." He said.
"Are you, as a public servant, going to take the details of this crime or not?"
"That's it." He said. The big idiot bustled out from behind the counter. I flinched a bit, I admit, but damn it he was still a Garda. He wouldn't actually hit me. I took a deep breath, swallowed into my churning gut and stood my ground.
"Come here to me." He shouted. In seconds he had me by the right arm and the scruff of the neck. "Get in there." He shoved me in behind the counter towards the cells. It was one of those experiences, like a car crash or a divorce; bizarre, unreal. He kicked me up the bum with his huge boot and it felt like my arse was breaking.
"What are you doing?" I screeched. I sounded like a girl for God's sake.
"Get into that cell." I fell into the cell on the floor and he banged the door shut.
"Now you shut up in there. I mean it. Do you hear me? If there's a fuckin' peep out of you I'll go in there and shut you up meself. Got it?"
Complete shock. I mean, I needed help. For the second time today I couldn't think straight. Logic just didn't seem to work. Did 'shut up' mean that I couldn't ask him for his Garda ID to make a complaint? I decided not to risk it. He had kicked me. I hadn't expected that. Even in my worst case scenario. I don't think even Will with his sudden knowledge of the financial circumstances of the local Gardai would have expected that.
I looked around the cell.
It was a cell. Meaning, I couldn't walk out of there. I realized that I couldn't do anything to help my family. I was literally trapped.
And I had less than 24 hours.
But I hadn't done anything wrong....
The Garda's eye came to the peep-hole in the cell door. He seemed satisfied that I was gone quiet and it slid shut again.
This was bad.
Will had been absolutely right. Going to the Gardai had not only been useless but had made things even worse.
I was sitting down but my heart was racing.
I don't know how long it took me but eventually I remembered something important and very obvious; I had Mike Biggs' personal mobile number in my phone. Being a Sunnyvale resident as well as a police officer he had given it to me for the neighborhood watch program I had set up years ago when we moved into the estate. I reached into my jacket to take out the phone and began searching for his number. The keystrokes beeped on the number pad. It was a new phone and I had forgotten to turn the sound off.
"Don't you fuckin' dare."
I looked up from the phone and saw Garda Thicke's eye in the peep-hole again.
"What?"
Before I could protest he was in the cell and had pulled the phone out of my hands.
"No fuckin' phone calls Mr. Tidy Towns. This is a jail not a fuckin' bed and breakfast."
"Don't I have rights?"
"Not for the next 12 hours you don't."
"12 hours?"
"That's right. You'll go home when I go home. Cutbacks. I'm on a double shift here so you can cool your fuckin' heels until tomorrow morning."
"I don't have that kind of time."
He glared menacingly down at me with my phone in his fat hand.
"This is your last warning Small. You shut up now or you get ready for a hidin' you won't forget in a hurry."
My breath was shaking. Our eyes were still locked together. He was fuming but my family were depending on me. The goons would be back in less than 23 hours. Take 12 from that it would leave me only 11 hours to find 36 grand. It would take me a year to earn that much.
"Please...sir...."
He turned around slowly and closed the cell door behind him, then turned back to face me. I looked up at him like a scared schoolboy. I didn't know what was coming next but my heart was really pounding now, so bad it was hurting my chest.
I took a deep breath. Swallowed hard and repeated; "Please...sir ...."