STATION CALLING COASTGUARD

‘Station Calling Coastguard.’ is a modern-day crime story with a central theme, which revolves round murder, smuggling, drugs and arms dealing.

Set mainly in and around North Yorkshire, UK, it centres on the Coastguard Service but embraces, as an integral part, the Anti-terrorist organisations, the Drug Squad, Customs and Excise, the Army, the RUC and the Police.  Each of these organisations, as they become drawn in, are graphically detailed to illustrate their involvement and inter-relationships and to demonstrate how they are all, supposedly, working in the interests of National Security.

Two investigators, Mel and Fred (Winifred), from the Special Investigations Branch of the Coastguard Service are despatched with a brief to investigate the disappearance of a Coastguard Officer in unusual circumstances.  Their in-depth searching leads not only to murder, but overlaps with and brings in, and uncovers, some of the complex methods currently and recently used for the smuggling of arms and the importation of drugs into the United Kingdom and their associated distribution networks.  Many similar operations are still currently in effect today.

The book tells how the people involved interact, collaborate, interfere, obstruct and concern themselves with their own personal glory.  There is a psychological profile of many of the characters so the uninitiated gain insight into how easy it is to become involved in terrorism and other highly illegal activities and how hard it is to escape or break free.

The closeness that develops between the two main characters, the result of their circumstances, leads to some intimate moments and throughout there is a strong theme of tastefully, detailed, amorous and sexual encounters which adds spice and titillation.

Many novels, which use National Security, illegal arms and drug dealing and the Secret Services, as their basis, have already been written and no doubt that trend will continue.  But this could possibly be the first time one with actual true and factually based events, which have all occurred in recent times and with which the reader will readily identify; for at the time they actually took place they caused a major sensation when reported on TV and in the National Press.

The whole story has been embellished with humour and minor digressions to make it enjoyable and attractive to as wide an audience as possible.  Told simply, the book contains no complex jargon to confuse or mislead the reader and although the saga is satisfactorily concluded, it is left so that, if necessary the two principal characters can be ‘resurrected’ for future ‘adventures.’

Much of the content and the theme behind the novel are based on the authors’ personal experience following many years in the Coastguard Service.  But naturally and for very obvious reasons, names and places have been changed.

Retired Professional Engineer, Hotelier, and Publican who throughout his working life was in a position to give a large proportion of spare time to HM Coastguard and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.  It was from these experiences that inspired the writing of ‘Station Calling Coastguard.’  A combination of reality and imagination.

The wind had risen since we first set out.  Now all we could hear above it, was the distant sound of the waves breaking onto the shingle beach and although we knew that was some distance away, the wind blowing from that direction, carried the sound much clearer and made the sea appear to be much closer than it really was.  I leant against the rock and looked around searching for any movement or signs of activity.  Fred, crouching down beside me, proceeded to fill the two flask tops with tea from the thermos.  She passed one up to me and I sipped it as I continued to survey the area.

Time passed and I began stamping my feet to keep warm.  Using a torch I ducked down and looked at my watch, to my surprise I discovered we had only been there for about twenty minutes.  Time was passing very slowly and up to then there had been no signs of activity either around the pub or the van.

‘It’s going to be a long night at this rate,’  I whispered.

‘And a cold one!  I’m frozen already,’ replied Fred, who shivered visibly and reached for the rucksack to pull out her spare jumper.

‘Huddled up down there isn’t going to help.  Stand up and stretch your legs, move about, get the circulation going a bit.’

She stood up and handed her anorak to me to hold.  She then proceeded to pull on the jumper and then putting her anorak back on zipped it to the top and pushed her hands deep into the pockets.  She visibly shivered.  ‘Cuddle me,’ she pleaded, letting her full body weight rest against mine, pressing me against the rock.  I unzipped the front of my anorak and she came in close and wrapped both arms round my waist inside my coat.  I took hold of the edges and wrapped them as far round her as they would stretch.  Then by shuffling our feet, we rotated ourselves, so that Fred ended up with her back to the rock and I ended up with my chin on her shoulder.  That way I was able to continue to look out over the area we were supposedly covering.

We continued to stand there, for what felt like a very long time, the only pleasure being the warmth of Fred’s cheek against mine.  Suddenly she bodily stiffened, and then barely audibly whispered, ‘Hear that?’

I was poised to ask what, when I too heard a noise coming from somewhere.  Where exactly, was hard to determine and the wind didn’t help.  Then it came again, only this time louder and closer.  It was the sound of someone walking, the sound of foot falls coming from somewhere over to my right.  We automatically released each and dropped down behind the rock.  As I struggled to zip up my anorak Fred slowly raised up, I whispered, ‘See anything?’

‘Not yet, but it’s coming closer.’

I drew the zip up tight under my chin and raised myself up alongside Fred.  There was no doubt then that someone was approaching from the right.  Finally a man emerged and came into view, from the track that led down to the beach.

‘It’s our friend the Poacher,’ whispered Fred, ‘and coming up from the beach.  I wonder what he has been up to at this time of night and alone?’

‘He may not be alone but with a bit of luck, we may soon find out.’

We stood and watched while he made straight for the car park and his van.  He proceeded to open the back of the van and extract a large cardboard box which by the effortless ease with which he handled it, did not appear to be very heavy, relative to its overall size.  He closed the van doors, picked up the box, and set off back in the direction from which he came, towards the beach.

Everything was once again quiet, with only the wind and the sea crashing somewhere in the distance and it was the wind that was preventing a build up of cloud.  Cloud, which had it occurred, would have obscured the moon, and greatly reduced our range of vision.  As it was, there was sufficient light to see what was going on, over a large area in front of us, despite the dark shadows.  I ducked down into one such shadow and again using the torch, shielded in my hand, looked at my watch.  Then having made a mental note of the time continued to watch and wait.  Some ten minutes later, there was the sound of footsteps once again, only this time they were much slower, almost a plod.  He, or who ever else it might be, was on his way back up the hill.

Once again the Poacher came into view and he was again carrying a box, only this time it was a much smaller one, and from the way he handled it, much heavier than the one we had seen him take down earlier.  He stopped and put the box on the ground.  He took a large handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow.  He then began to look round as we both instinctively ducked behind the rock.  In the crouched position, and sheltered from his view, I moved sideways to the nearest tree.  Once behind, I slowly stood up and peering round it was able to observe him.  He was still looking about himself and probably getting his breath back at the same time and, I hoped, was totally oblivious to the fact that he was being watched.  He picked up the box and continued towards the car park.  As he reached his van he once again placed the box on the ground and opened the back doors.  He then withdrew another box of a similar size to the one we had seen him carry down towards the beach, on his first trip, and placing it on the ground picked up the smaller one and slid it into the van.  Closing the doors he then picked up the larger box and proceeded once again to go towards the beach.