Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T he coach driver from Saturday night was reluctant to go to the police. He'd never been in trouble with the law. He'd never been inside a police station before, until today. He had spent his life staying on the right side of the law and even feared being called for jury duty. Keep your nose down was his motto, but he'd had to report the broken radio to his boss.

‘We need to report it,' his boss had said. ‘For the insurance claim, you understand. It'll come up at the next meeting. There'll be safety discussions for our drivers, and if we say we didn't report it because we were afraid of a few thugs… well, you can imagine. It's also likely that some passengers have reported it, so we can't waste time.'

‘Why can't you report it?' he'd asked his boss.

‘I wasn't there, was I, Alan?'

It was the right thing to do. Alan knew that. So here he was, Tuesday morning, sitting on a hard chair in the police station waiting room. Then, glancing again at the clock on the wall, he realised he'd been there for fifteen minutes already, and his nerves were leaving him. If someone didn't come soon, he'd leg it. At that moment, unfortunately for Alan, a female police officer walked in. God, they get younger by the day , he thought.

‘Hello, sir, I'm DC Rawlins. How can I help?'

‘Well, it's nothing really,' said Alan, trying to play it down. ‘My boss wanted me to come as a matter of routine.'

‘Can I get you tea or coffee?'

‘Oh no, I doubt I'll be here that long.'

‘Come through,' she said, smiling, and he followed her into an interview room. ‘Can I take your name?'

Alan hesitated for a second. ‘Alan Mitchell.'

‘So, why has your boss asked you to come along?'

‘There was a bit of an incident on my bus Saturday night, nothing much.'

‘So, you're a bus driver. You must see some things on your journeys?'

‘The Oxford Tube, actually. The coach from Oxford to London.'

‘Oh,' she said, surprised. ‘I'm not familiar with that. Is there any reason you came here instead of Oxford police station?'

Alan hesitated.

‘So, what happened,' she said encouragingly, opening her notebook.

Alan sighed. ‘Some lads, you know, excited after a football match. They most likely had been drinking. They got a bit rowdy, as they do, and picked on some Pakistani lad.' He laughed nervously. ‘It happens, you know.'

Ana's eyes registered interest, which dismayed Alan. ‘Were they racist towards him?'

‘Well, you know, just a little bit, but the odd thing was this masked guy suddenly popped up with a machete, sorted the lads out, and threw them off the coach,' Alan said matter-of-factly, thinking she might not take it too seriously if he made light of it.

‘What?' said Ana, looking up from her notebook. ‘He had a machete?'

‘He didn't hurt anyone,' explained Alan. ‘He just threatened them, and then a bit later, he got off too. He did everyone a favour, to be honest.'

Ana looked perplexed. ‘I still don't understand why you didn't go to Oxford police station.'

Alan chewed his lip nervously. ‘Well, they're a big station, aren't they? It's not like it's a murder or anything, and seeing as I live in Stonesend, I thought…'

‘The man with the machete, can you describe him for me?'

Alan shook his head. ‘That's the thing. He was wearing a balaclava and called himself The Vigilante. He also wore combat trousers and a khaki top.'

‘Did he get on your bus like that?' she asked.

Alan laughed. ‘I think I'd have noticed if he'd been wearing the balaclava. I remember him vaguely, but I couldn't describe him.'

‘Do you have CCTV cameras on the coaches?'

Alan sighed. ‘Yes, but they sprayed them with black paint.'

‘Canny little buggers then,' she said. ‘Were these the lads causing the trouble that did that?'

Alan nodded.

‘So, let me get this straight. Some lads got on your coach, sprayed the CCTV cameras with paint and harassed this Pakistani lad; and then this guy pops up wearing a balaclava and threatens them with a machete?'

‘That's it, and he gave me this card,' said Alan, taking out his wallet.

Ana pulled the card towards her using a pen. ‘When the law fails to serve us, we must serve as the law. The Vigilante,' she read aloud.

‘Shouldn't I have touched it?' he asked nervously.

‘It's okay.' She smiled.

‘He only threatened the ringleader,' said Alan.

‘Right, can you describe any of these lads?'

‘No, I was too busy keeping my eyes on the road.'

Ana nodded. ‘How about when they got on the coach?'

‘I don't rightly recall seeing them. We get a lot of people catching the coach.'

‘Can I ask why you didn't use your radio for help?'

Alan sighed. This was getting too intense for his liking. ‘One of them smashed the radio with a hammer. That's how I got these cuts on my face and hand. Look, I don't want trouble. I've got a family.'

‘There shouldn't be any trouble. It's good you came here,' she said reassuringly. ‘I'll need to take a formal statement from you.'

‘Is that necessary?' he asked nervously.

‘You've just reported a crime, Mr Mitchell.'

Alan's shoulders slumped. He knew he should have kept his head down.