Thief Taker

By Diem Burden

With police college a distant memory, Constable Burden quickly becomes one of the most experienced officers on his shift. Just a handful of years separate that awkward, nervous rookie from the professional he has become, and as he revels in his new undeclared status, the variety of incidents he has to face on a daily basis just continues to grow!

Patrol alongside Constable Burden through the streets of Cambridge, as he deals with the terrifying, tragic and often unbelievable events that a small British university town can somehow manage to conjure up out of nowhere.

Then maybe, just maybe, you'll understand why cops love being cops ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diem Burden
• Release date: Oct 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311270368

Diem Burden

Award-winning author Diem Burden (DM Burden) grew up the middle of five sons to a working class family in the north Midlands, UK. Childhood was extremely hard and money was scarce.From an early age, he showed an artistic talent in painting and drawing, so much so that one of his drawings mysteriously disappeared from his school foyer (last seen at the home of a teacher, allegedly...)Destined for art college, Diem grew so frustrated with further education that one day he got up and walked out of college, and joined the army for six years. After his military service, he became a police officer in Cambridge, UK. He left that job as a sergeant after 12 years walking the beat.By then, he was on his second marriage, and moved to Spain to teach English in 2002. He helped to set up a highly successful language school in Spain before semi-retiring in 2020 to focus on his new passion: writing.He published five short stories of his time as a cop in Cambridge, and wrote an additional (free) ebook available to people who sign up to his newsletter, which is a humorous look at his tough childhood, and perhaps implies he should never have become a cop all those years later!At the end of the year of Covid (2020), his life was rocked when he suddenly lost his eldest brother to cancer. His marriage ended at the same time and he found himself alone in Spain at 55 years of age.Over the next six months, Diem fell into a deep and dark depression, struggling to get out of bed most days. He just opted out of life, giving up on writing altogether.In mid-2021, a stranger walked into his local café and led him on a three-month journey he could never have expected: the ardent and highly opinionated atheist subsequently found Jesus, who changed his life around instantly.The story of that miracle is told in his book, Come to the Table.Now, unless God has any other plans for him, he is finishing his series of books (Get up and Walk) of his pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago in Spain, walking each stage with a different action plan with God.

Book preview

THIEF TAKER

Part four of

THE ROZZERS

By

Diem Burden

LEGAL

Published by Shriven Books

Copyright 2015 © Diem Burden

Copy-edited by Jan Marshall

Cover design © Jan Marshall

Scroat: © Ammentorp | Dreamstime.com

Cop: © Richard Thomas | Dreamstime.com

Cop’s face: © Ammentorp | Dreamstime.com

Victor Bravo Four Alpha: © Keith Curtis

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.

DISCLAIMER

This short story is based, in part, upon actual events and persons. I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in all instances, I have changed the names of individuals and places. I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence, as well as other descriptive details. Some of the events and characters are also composites of several individual events or persons.

Throughout this book I generally refer to police officers in the male form. This is not meant as disrespect to the many female officers doing the same job: it is purely for ease of writing. I have nothing but admiration for all police officers, male and female, who do an amazing job fighting both the criminal, and the bureaucracy dumped on them from above.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the volunteers of

Magpas (Mid Anglia General Practitioner Accident Service).

As a cop, I recall the relief of seeing you promptly arrive at injury incidents I was dealing with. For the casualty, you must be living angels.

Thank you for everything you have done, are doing and will do.

You are amazing.

ALSO BY DIEM BURDEN

End of the Road

Part one of

THE ROZZERS

"Such a well-written short … I wished it wouldn’t end … I’m happy to support such a wonderful writer. I hope the next few books or shorts are as great!" Vinny Vino

"I was right to pick this well-written, short read, the author made the story come alive and left me wanting more." Nutty Helen

"This was just a great short story. The biography of the author [on Amazon] is funny too … [the story] is well written and just flies along. It’s gritty and graphic and will make your heart pound. I can’t wait to see what is next." Dara Kovachev

Cops Don’t Run

Part two of

THE ROZZERS

"Brilliant. This is the second in what promises to be a great series of short stories based on the author’s time as a police officer. This instalment details his experiences whilst going through training both at training school and out on the beat, learning from real incidents. Some of these are very funny and some incredibly sad. A true reflection of a copper’s rollercoaster day. I highly recommend this if you are in any way interested in the police." Si 1790

"…Like the first, it has been well written, with humour. A true reflection of the majority of policemen who work hard with, in my opinion, very little thanks …" Nutty Helen

One for the Road

Part three of

THE ROZZERS

"Great book and series. Easy to read. Excited for the last two books.

Would like to read more from this author." Pen Name

"A+++++" Poodle Plus

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

COP OUT (book five free sample)

About the Author

Acknowledgements

CHAPTER ONE

I’d finally made it onto panda cars and I no longer felt like the new kid on the team. Being able to drive also meant that I went to where the action was, so I needn’t miss out on anything. It elevated me too: I was essential now – the cars and the van were always staffed first, and anything that was left over was a bonus. I was no longer that spare.

Unfortunately, nobody told me about the negative aspect of police driving; or if they did I wasn’t listening. With so much adrenalin kicking around, it took months before the downside hit me. The greatest irritant was the constantly interrupted or missed meal break – it was par for the course. We were professionals and we never ignored an emergency call, no matter what. In fact, the kitchen staff were marvellous to us: whenever an officer dropped his fork and ran out of the station, they’d quickly collect your meal and have it ready for you if and when you came back for it. There aren’t many professions where an eight- or ten-hour day without food would be tolerated, but policing is certainly one of them.

Safety was another issue. Being on foot-patrol meant you were walking the city centre, which was conveniently central should you shout for help. Being in a car was very different. Cambridge was divided up into four quarters (or beats), with one panda car assigned to each beat. These cars were mostly single-crewed, which meant that you were usually out on your beat completely alone.

So the four cars (or the four officers) were responsible for any jobs that came in on their respective beats. A van, usually double-crewed with experienced officers, was used as back-up to these officers and for the collection and transportation of any arrested people. To ensure the van crew was able to offer back-up in a timely fashion, it was fitted with two-tones and lights. Naturally, everybody wanted to drive the van just for the siren, but only the more experienced officers got to do it. They generally stayed away from long, bureaucratic jobs so that they were readily available should their help be needed. The van generally went to where the trouble was, so, if you were sent to a potentially violent situation on your beat, you automatically listened out for and judged the timing of the arrival of the van at your location. The two extra staff were always a physical reassurance, but the fact that they were generally the guys with the most experience on the shift meant that they could be relied on in any tricky or new situations. They always knew what to do, and it was great to know that they would be there for you. If they were available.

Staff numbers permitting, a fifth panda car was often used as a general enquiry car. This was usually given to the newest officer and had no assigned beat – it was a wandering, citywide car. The officer was generally given the lengthy enquiries to do and left to get on with it. It could go anywhere in the city and, if the van wasn’t able to back you up, then this car usually would. If not, a colleague from a neighbouring beat would come across to your aid.

So, apart from being hungry on a daily basis, being a driver also made you feel very alone. Attending a violent incident on the northern edge of the city, on some sprawling housing estate, knowing that your nearest back-up is coming to you as fast as they can, but often through heavy traffic from the other side of the city, is not for the faint-hearted. When the van was committed elsewhere, and a colleague was coming to your aid from their beat and without sirens, it was often quite worrying. Yet, such work was routine to us.

Occasionally, support might come from other departments. Home Beat Officers, who were foot- or cycle-patrol staff, might be out in their respective neighbourhoods doing their jobs. If they were close enough to you, they could walk or cycle there. Traffic officers didn’t work the city, but they were based in the central police station with us. If they were travelling through the city to the motorways, or in the city on enquiries, they could also back you up, but they were few in number.

Hunger and isolation were the principal changes newly qualified drivers had to learn to contend with, as well as the variation in the type of job they were expected to handle. RTAs – or Road Traffic Accidents – tended not to get allocated to foot-patrol officers for obvious reasons. Once in a car though, that all changed – you could easily get sent to several accidents in a day.

I hated them – there was so much to deal with on arrival: securing the scene, identifying witnesses, gathering evidence, securing personal property, ensuring traffic flow and possible injuries (blood!). Imagine having to do all that alone! Furthermore, accidents are rarely accidents: usually somebody is at fault, so there might be follow-up prosecutions and the dreaded civil claims, etc. As I hated them, and as there were so many, especially during the rush hours or when it snowed or rained, I realised I couldn’t do my job well by avoiding such incidents. So I told the control room staff that I would volunteer for every RTA that came in. And I did. I did so many that, before long, I thought nothing of dealing with accidents. In doing so I not only became very adept at RTAs but also rapidly developed my people skills.

During one 7.00am briefing I was introduced to a new probationer who was on his observation week with us. I recalled my first day, roughly a year earlier, and how I had been chased by Jeremy the Axe. It had taken less than a year on shift and I was considered capable and experienced enough to take out a new lad. Kevin looked awkward in his new uniform, and fiddled continuously with his radio set. He was a rather large, middle-aged guy, and instantly likeable. I was glad to have another officer to patrol with me, even if he had no legal knowledge or the slightest idea of what he would be doing. The public wouldn’t know that, and, to me, he was a big guy with maturity, somebody who knew a bit about life.

Dave, can you turn out for an RTA on your patch? It was always said as a question, but there was no way I would have said no. It’s a head-on collision on The Fen Causeway roundabout.

The head-on bit worried me. Even if both cars had been driving at the mandatory 30mph, the collision speed between the two vehicles would have been 60mph. That usually hurts people. From experience, I knew that most people drove at 45mph in the city, giving a coming-together speed of 90mph. That usually kills people. Yet most drivers will whine like buggery if you pull them up for driving at over 40mph in a 30mph area. Such drivers don’t get to see what cops see, day in day out.

The fact that it was on a roundabout pleased me, as it would mean lower speeds and hopefully no blood, but I couldn’t help wondering how it could be head-on on a roundabout. Maybe the information was incorrect – often it was.

I steered Kevin out of the briefing room and into our car. I let him hit the blue lights and, within minutes, we arrived at the scene – a head-on collision between two cars on a roundabout at 7.00am, just as stated.

Stick with me, Kevin, I said, as I threw a reflective jacket at him and put mine on. Don’t say anything, do as I say without question, and watch, and try to enjoy it, I told him, as we approached a man and woman standing by a low wall near the scene. My car was left parked at an angle behind the accident to protect it, and the roundabout was blocked. Traffic was light, but rush hour would be building soon, and this was a major trunk road into the city.

A quick glance at the vehicles told me what had happened. One of the cars had inexplicably entered the roundabout against the flow of traffic and hit the other car head-on.

The couple were arguing. The lady was middle-aged and middle-class, the male a young lad of about nineteen years. The woman was berating him heavily as he was counter-arguing.

Are you two the drivers involved? I said, in a commanding voice that cut through their argument, stopping it dead.

Yes, he— said the lady, pointing at the young guy, clearly agitated and wanting to get the first word in.

I wanted to show Kevin