Biking, Cops and Hells Angels

Sounds a bit like throwing down the gauntlet, `Biking, Cops and Hells Angels`, but it's really just an extension of the last post about my dream and anyway I intended this blog-thing I've started to reflect things I've done or like doing. Now I don't personally know any HA's although I've had a coffee and a beer or two with the occasional member I've met on the road. Not being judgmental, I still would unless something gave me cause not to. No axe to grind, on that one and if I look back far enough, there, but for the grace of providence, could have gone I. With my other hat on, I recognise the other side of the organisation and I've been involved in a few little `operations` to arrest one or two. I've read a few books on the subject. Mrs Hogday even bought me Sonny Barger's book `Ridin' High, Livin' Free` a few years ago. Quite an interesting read, although I still prefer the magic of John Steinbeck for road stories. This particular yarn came about in the wake of a near fatal shooting of a gang member during an HA's inter-chapter feud and I was called out to do a house entry and `armed criminal arrest` of the suspected trigger man. Although the CID painted the usual picture of the target being `Britains most dangerous man` it was a straightforward early morning warrant where the firearms unit would secure the place and then handover to the CID murder squad. The door entry was simple as it wasn't a chapter house we had to breach. These days that sort of thing takes much planning and in some cases explosive method of entry (MOE) is considered, by those police forces who have the necessary skills and the senior officers with the bottle to approve it, although I do not know of any that have actually used it. We considered this option once for about 10 seconds, until I saw the look on the superintendents face. We'd done a recce of this chapter house, which revealed a security system and re-inforced doors that included former police cell gates retrieved from scrap dealers and building demolition sites. It was coded by us as FFK or, to give it the full title, Fort Fucking Knox. One of my guys, ex SAS, was busting to show us how we could do it, but superintendent still said, "No" from behind his locked toilet door. On the occasion of this particular story, the door was popped easily and myself and my small 3 man entry team were in within seconds. Almost immediately, the target appeared at the top of the stairs and was hard-challenged (had guns pointed at him along with instructions in words of one syllable). Cool as a cucumber, he slowly put his hands on his head and said, "No problem". 'Cuffed, he was passed to the team waiting outside. The rest of the ground floor was declared clear and it was then that I heard movement upstairs. I steamed up, followed by my 2 and 3 and did a fast and low tactical entry into the room where the movement was detected and found myself facing a naked woman in the process of pulling up her knickers. This was the trigger man's girlfriend or ol' lady to use HA parlance. Seeing me and my firearm pointed at her she left the knickers at half mast around her knees and put her hands up. A quick check of the room and hearing the words "All clear" behind me told me my back was safe. I said I was sorry for the intrusion and told her to cover herself up. Without so much as blinking she said, "That's OK darlin', give me 5 minutes and I'll do you a bacon sandwitch". Such was my surprise at this generous offer, one that I would never normally refuse, I actually said, "No thanks" as I holstered my pistol. That was the last thing I was expecting to hear from someone whose bedroom I'd just crashed into whilst pointing a gun at their very naked chest. Incidentally if, like the boys back at the police station, you were disappointed at me not giving a salacious all boobs and bush description of `ample firm breasts swaying seductively as the pale pink rays of early morning sunlight played tantalisingly across her pert nipples and .........`, I'm sorry to disappoint, but the absolute truth is that I couldn't remember what she looked like, as all I was interested in was whether she was holding a firearm, but having started you off with a broadly generic description I guess you can make up the rest :) We found a sawn off shotgun concealed inside a dummy exhaust pipe on his motorcycle, although the attempted murder weapon was believed to be an M1911 ACP - now that's what I call a handgun. My second encounter with a member of the HA's was very different. I was off duty, out for a ride on my own motorcycle and noticed a biker tinkering with his machine in a lay-by on a trunk road not far from my beat house (For the benefit of my American and Canadian chums, `rural beat` officers lived in a police house that had a small office attached and we were literally part of the community we policed). I pulled in to see if he needed help. As I rolled to a stop behind him, I noticed the familiar death head back patch and top and bottom rockers. 30 minutes later and we'd botched up the broken fuel pipe with some spare I had in my emergency kit and he was on his way. [When you owned a British motorcycle you carried a good kit of `stuff`]. A couple of hours later the police office doorbell sounded. Although I was off duty I would often answer the door unless otherwise engaged, in which case I'd just lay low and wait for them to read the sign on the door and pick up the direct line telephone to the main station. I opened the door and there stood the HA I'd helped. He said, "This is for you" and handed me a bottle of Scotch. I said there was no need. "Take it officer, I was stuffed back there, thanks". With that he placed it on the porch floor, turned and walked down the drive. I hadn't told him who I was or where I lived so asked how he knew where to deliver it. He just winked at me. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1463307/Sir-Gervase-Sheldon.html