John Fish B.Sc.
Publishers of Tenby in Wales
(UK)
FaceBook
LinkedIn
STAR OF WALES SHORT STORY ANTHOLOGY
TWELVE LONG HOURS
Memoirs of a Mobile Patrol Officer
In the Private Security Industry
by
Jonathan Tate
e-mail: Jonathan Tate
SYNOPSIS
SAMPLE CHAPTER
Synopsis
Twelve Long Hours is an illuminating snapshot of my life as a mobile patrol officer in the early twenty-first century before the introduction of training and licensing for operatives. After twenty years of experience in the security industry, often dealing with unpleasant and sometimes confrontational situations, I now look back at those times with horror and more than a little disbelief.
I want to push open the door a chink and shine a light on the secret world of private security in bygone times. I offer the unique experience to join me travelling throughout North Wales for the twelve long hours of an overnight shift. I share an insight into the trials and tribulations facing me at the places I visit and reveal what really happens in this little-known area of the security industry.
My journey, split across two nights and two different shift areas, allows a view of an unseen sleeping world through my eyes ... from quarry to college, historic town to car park.
Over the course of this novella (word count 19,161) I discuss:
My personal opinions and feelings;
The rich and often hidden history surrounding the Welsh sites I visit;
Some of the unusual and often terrifying occurrences I have witnessed;
Folklore and stories associated with my patrol area.
Finally, I impart what I have gained from this life-experience: how it has enriched my life and how through it I became a better person.
I am a Criminologist and have had articles published on Security, Psychology and Criminal Profiling. I reside in Anglesey (Wales, UK) and my writing experience includes published poetry.
Sample Chapter
To the south of the seaside resort Llandudno is the town of Llandudno Junction which grew up around the intersection of two major railway lines. The old steam locomotive servicing depo is now a business park and fast food restaurants and a multiplex cinema have sprung up over the years but the pace of life is much the same as it has always been. I was on my way to a large neo-Georgian Grade II listed building. Originally a children's home, it was later converted into a nursing home for the elderly. In 1994 it became offices and a local housing association took up residence. My job was to check the interior, lock up and alarm the building after the last of the staff had left, make another visit during the night and deactivate the alarm to allow access before the first employees arrived the next day. A simple enough brief that caused no end of problems. With no prior warning as to who if anyone was staying after hours it was impossible to plan when to visit. Ultimately, an officer had to visit at closing time, find out what was happening and either sit and wait for the building to empty or come back later, risking an unlocked empty building because the employee staying after hours had finished earlier than expected. Unfortunately, there was also a number of illicit liaisons amongst staff that caused endless embarrassment as it was impossible to know where you were going to interrupt proceedings!
The interior has been largely modernised but still maintained the original two storey layout - entrance foyer (reception area, if you like), corridor that ran full length of ground floor with rooms coming off either side. There were two staircases up to the first floor, just past the reception and at the farthest point of the corridor. The lift was situated near the first staircase. The upper level was laid out in an identical manner with added escape stairs on one balcony. The reception area was equipped with a silent panic button which could be pressed to summon assistance from the first responder (at night, a mobile security officer or police officer).
I always found the darkness within this building unsettling and menacing. It brought feelings of dread and trepidation. Working alone in the dark for hour after hour, deprived of visual input allows our deepest fears and anxiety to bubble to the surface. Imagination makes up for an inability to see through the shadows - we are faced with our own demons. Night security officers saw things and over time fertile imaginations embellished and dramatised to such an extent it was no longer possible to say what had really happened. I think everyone has experienced the feeling of being watched at some point in their life. The almost paranormal tingling on the back of your neck, the uncomfortable knowledge that eyes are upon you. Not magic, not supernatural - just a part of our brain being sensitive to things our consciousness awareness misses. Quite possibly a primeval safety measure protecting us from unperceived harm. Security officers come to rely on this feeling - a sixth sense that helps keep them safe. In the office block, that sixth sense worked overtime! It was the middle visit that was the problem. The building has been checked when you locked up - it was empty, windows were shut, lights were off, doors were locked. What can I say? It was always empty ... which makes what I am about to write what ... delusions ... the product of an exhausted security officer's imagination? I consider myself a sceptic - not easily convinced, hard to persuade - so, for the most part, I tend not to dwell on the happenings at the housing association offices. I discovered that similar occurrences happened to other mobile officers and the building was well known in security circles for its unearthly goings-on.
Upon entering the building, deactivating the alarm and turning on the reception light, it wasn't unusual to hear the lift coming down from the first floor (always coming down) and the door opening. No one ever came out - of course they didn't - the building was empty! I never got used to this - maybe it spooked me more than I was willing to admit but the feeling of being watched stayed with me for the entire site visit - every time I went there. The toilets were clean and bright and the psychological need to use them sent my anxiety levels through the roof. I was convinced I would hear footsteps coming along the corridor at any moment. This never happened but just the thought left me feeling vulnerable and exposed and I could feel the ice seeping into my bones. Sometimes, creeping upstairs, I could hear the sound of a photocopier working in a particular room (definitely a photocopier and not fax machine - I did check!) The building was empty - it always was! Often it was all I could do not to hurl myself down those stairs and out into the night ...
Entering tonight all was calm - a quick inspection of both levels and I could leave - probably at a run! The reputation of this particular building had spread and it was some comfort to know that others beyond the security sector had experienced something of my nightly terrors! One particular incident shared by a police officer made an indelible impression on me ... the panic button has been activated in the reception area and I was to meet a police officer outside the building to investigate. This made little sense. To activate the silent alarm and summon assistance, the button had to be pressed - an insect or slight breeze just couldn't do it. The building was empty - who would push it? Surely not whoever had gained access? When I arrived, the officer was observing the building from the comfort of his vehicle. Nothing looked amiss. The windows were black - no lights - and the alarm ( which could only be deactivated by a set code) was silent. We approached together and entered. The alarm system hadn't even been activated - and I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach - impending doom! Turning on the ground floor lights it was evident from the look on the officer's pinched white face he was fully aware of the building's reputation. The lift was silent and settled on the ground floor. We slunk along the wall and each took up a stance next to a flight of stairs - the idea being to block exit from the level above. The sound - when it came - scared the living daylights out of me! Already primed to expect - well, something utterly terrifying - the resonating thud seemed to encompass my very being, enter my very soul - and then it was gone. One look at the petrified officer reassured me it wasn't my imagination working overtime. We reached the top simultaneously , flicked on the lights and worked our way towards each other. Every door was locked, all windows were shut. Nothing out of the ordinary. No intruder. The building was empty - but then, as I have said previously - it always was! We left in silence - what was there to say? The report stated simply - False Alarm.