Rimbauer - Part three
Rimbauer had just crashed through the front door of the school when Ellen’s voice called him back.
“Rimbauer! Wait!” Christ, what now?
“Rimbauer, your student’s here…I told her you were busy but she insisted that she needed to speak with you”.
Rimbauer spun round. “What? Now?!”
Then he noticed the woman standing at the desk. Woman? No, more of a girl really. Typical teaching student…mousy hair, thick calves, bad dress sense and a plain face. She was clutching a folder to her chest and looked at him with an expression which suggested all the personality of a corpse.
She thrust out her hand. “Hello Mr. Rimbauer, my name’s Kate. Kate Bramwell.”
Rimbauer’s lip curled. “You’re three weeks early Bramwell, your block placement starts after the holiday. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the door, the student already forgotten, his eyes scanning the road outside the school, looking for the car.
There it was. The black Mercedes was parked further down the road, facing away from him. He could see that it only had one occupant. His hand moved to the inside of his sports jacket and he eased his handgun from the leather shoulder holster. Footsteps behind him, he turned and cursed aloud. It was the student.
“Jesus Christ Blackwell! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rimbauer was furious. This was no place for a goddam student if OFSTED were on the prowl.
“I’ve come a long way to see you Mr. Rimbauer,” she stammered, “I can understand if this is a bad time but I really did want to meet your class and..and…” Her words trailed off as she saw the cold glare in Rimbauer’s eyes. Stupid damn kid, so green she didn’t even know what was going on. This one wasn’t going to last five minutes.
Rimbauer exhaled slowly. He didn’t have time for this. “Just go back to the school and wait Blackwell…”
“It’s Bramwell.”
“Jesus H Christ! Just do it!” The girl looked like she’d just been slapped. She turned and walked back through the gate. Good, she had no idea he may just have saved her life.
He turned back to the car. The man was still there, his head was nodding rhythmically, he must be listening to music. Rimbauer started to move, coming up on the man’s blind side, silently as a cat. In an instant he had opened the car door, his trigger finger ready to make the fatal twitch that would blow this son of a bitch to hell. Rimbauer’s guts lurched. The car was empty.
How the…? OFSTED don’t move that fast.
He heard the click of the hammer being pulled back and felt the cold muzzle of the gun in the nape of his neck. Shit. Who the fuck was this guy?
“Drop it Rimbauer.” The voice was cold, clipped. Middle class with just a hint of long-ago suppressed Scouse.
Rimbauer let the gun fall from his hand. He felt furious, humiliated. He’d assumed this asshole was just another OFSTED inspector but now he knew he’d underestimated his foe. The man spun him round by the shoulder and slammed him against the car.
“How do you know my name?” Rimbauer looked at the man. He couldn’t be further from OFSTED if he tried. Clean shaven, crisp shiny suit from M&S and proper shoes. He even had all of his own hair. This man was one of the Big Boys.
“I know everything about you Rimbauer. It’s my job. I’ve been thinking of ways to improve Primary Education in this borough and maybe I’ve got an idea of how to start.” The man cackled and pointed his weapon at Rimbauer’s heart.
The sound of the shot split the air in two. Rimbauer’s heart stopped for a microsecond, until he realised it wasn’t his voice that was screaming, but the man’s. He threw himself to one side as the suited man slid down against the car, clasping his left knee. Blood was spurting through the gaps in his fingers and he was howling inarticulate obscenities. Rimbauer looked around him. What the fuck had just happened?
He blinked in astonishment as he saw the student lower her automatic pistol and light two cigarettes at once with her free hand. She stepped forward and handed one to Rimbauer. He took it, inhaling deeply.
She calmly approached the suit and brought the heel of her foot down hard on his shattered knee. He screamed. Rimbauer wasn’t sure but he thought he’d seen the hint of a smile on her face. Christ. That’s twice in one day he’d underestimated someone. Actually no, it was three times. He’d made a bet with the caretaker that the dyspraxic kid in Year 3 would fall off the stage in the Christmas play rehearsal but the little guy had managed to stand all the way through. The little bastard had grit.
Bramwell’s voice was hard. “Right then, who are you?” Christ, that was the sort of voice that could quell a riot in the lunch hall.
The man looked up. “Fuck you bitch.”
Even Rimbauer flinched as she pistol whipped him twice across the face. Her expression didn’t change once. The man sobbed, blood flowing down his tie.
“Who do you work for?” Bramwell’s voice was so quiet it almost couldn’t be heard.
“I…I…I can’t say!” The man was scared now, like a cornered animal. Rimbauer was impressed. She’d even manage to get confessions out of Year Six.
Bramwell took one last drag from her cigarette and then, without warning, calmly stubbed it out on her victim’s cheek. Rimbauer stood, agog.
“Jesus Christ! OK! Balls! I work for Balls!”
Rimbauer and Bramwell looked at each other. The thought hit them at the same time, and the words came out in unison; “Government Think-Tank!”
Christ, this punk was working for Ed Balls. No wonder he moved so fast. This was bad news. Balls and Brown, the two assholes who could shit all over every teacher in the country had already said that they wanted to ‘flush out’ thousands of ineffective teachers. And that hard-nosed bitch Gilbert from OFSTED was screeching on about no-notice inspections by 2009…this asshole was some kind of scout, here to sniff the wind and lay down the ground for a full scale punitive inspection. Well, they’d have a fight on their hands.
Rimbauer leant down and pulled the man’s face towards him. “Well, that kind of leaves me with a problem, fucker. What am I going to do with you?”
Bramwell spoke, “stand aside Mr Rimbauer”. She raised her gun and the man screamed and scrabbled feebly against the car door.
“That’s enough Bramwell!” Rimbauer’s voice was hard. “You did good but you’re still green. You’ll learn that admonishments are a delicately balanced thing, punish by all means but you’ve gotta know when to stop. I’ll teach you that, Year Two will teach you that. Trust me.”
The student pocketed her weapon and Rimbauer slid his back into his shoulder holster.
“Get in the car and drive, asshole. And don’t come back unless you’ve got your friends with you.”
The man whimpered and crawled into the driver’s seat. By the time he’d managed to start the car Rimbauer and Bramwell were back in the Head’s office for a debriefing over a cup of tea and some nice biscuits Miss Yently had provided for the staffroom.
The rest of the day went smoothly. Bramwell met the class and taught them a song called Little Green Frog. They liked her. Good. Bramwell had to admit to himself that this one was different, maybe she’d make it. She was a second year student at Roehampton which explained a lot. They had a reputation for training hard and teaching easy. Rimbauer liked that. Maybe she’d make the eight week placement in one piece. Only one thing was troubling him as he pulled his mackintosh over his jacket and headed into the dark evening; what were Ed Balls and his cronies up to? The media was full of it this week. Sub-standard teachers, lightning inspections, a national strategy on play…this all pointed one way and Rimbauer didn’t like it. It stank of the Bad Old Days. The days back in the eighties and nineties when teachers had no respect, the picket lines, the NUT reps shouting through loud speakers and the ruthless baton charges by the SPG into the screaming, brown and grey flannelled ranks of desperate but determined bearded geography teachers. Christ, not that again.
Rimbauer lit a cigarette and set off into the night.
He was unaware of the two shapes that emerged from the shadows and started to follow…
To be continued…
