Two thirty ay-em, and we're heading towards our divisional HQ for a spot of porcelain patrol.
It's been one of those nights, and neither of us have had a single break in eight and a half hours of work. Imagine the stress on our poor bladders.
Of course, as we drive through the darkened glistening wet streets, our control room put out the "suspects on premises" call about a quarter of a mile from our location.
And of course, muggins here answers up rather than go and take the desperately needed comfort break.
Forty minutes later, and we're still waiting for a dog unit to attend as they are tied up at a job on the other side of the Force. It's raining hard now, my stomach is tying itself in knots, and I'm standing alone in the dark on a containment on a warehouse waiting for the furry land sharks to come and bite the buggers who have been caught on scene by a security guards whilst helping themselves to the company computers.
I know my oppo is inside the security hut with the guard, watching the cameras.
I also heard the toilet flush not long after him going in there.
Bastard.
"BX23, BX201, BX24 and BX82 from Bravo X-ray. Dog unit is still dealing and unavailable. Bravo X-ray over."
A pause, then a resigned voice "Received."
Sod it. This is how bad decisions are made. I decide to go in and look for them ourselves.
Short story, we got both of them eventually. I had to run, and ripped my uniform trousers for the umpteenth time. I also got a smack from a confused probationer who had blundered into the building without a torch and mistaken my jacket saying "POLICE" as a black and white sweater with a "SWAG" bag.
Nevertheless. Two bodies in, one for me and my oppo.
First time I've ever stopped at a garage to use their bathroom with a prisoner on board...
Throughout the whole event, I kept replaying Solomon Burke singing "None of Us Are Free" through my head. At one point the rain drops hitting my hat started to sound in time to the song.
Nights do something funny to me like that.
