An Encounter

"Excuse me, Sir!" said the policeman to the tall figure in the black robe and hood. "May I have a word, please?"

"Of course, officer!" replied a bass voice from within the hood. "How may I help you?"

"Erm," responded the young PC, not having expected any form of cooperation from the person he had addressed. "That thing over your shoulder?"

"This?" the figure asked, placing a bony hand on it so that it did not slip off as he stepped from the night club queue, leaving a space that unexpectedly did not close up.

"Yes, that. What is it?"

"It's my scythe," stated the figure, changing his stance slightly so that the constable could get a good look.

The PC looked at the white curve of the wooden shaft with its two small handles and followed this up to where metal attached at the figures shoulder level; about inch above his eyelevel. From the attachment a three foot blade rested with a minor downward angle over the shoulder.

"Is it dangerous?" The policemen was not sure why he asked this question, which to him seemed to have a blatantly obvious answer.

"In the wrong hands, of course. But in the right hands it is as safe as any other tool of the trade."

"Sorry," apologised the policeman, "that wasn't the question I meant to ask. What I meant was, Is it an offensive weapon?"

"Do you find it offensive?" replied the figure.

For a moment, the young constable considered the sweep of the sinuous handle and the way the light reflected on the spine of the blade and its sharp edge, while it seemed to fall into the area in between. He found the sight pleasing; the result of fine craftsmanship and the loving care of the owner. As he looked a highlight ran down the length of the edge.

"I think it is a beautiful thing," the policeman said, then he realised that he should not be commenting like that and added, "But is it an offensive weapon under the law?"

"I do not know, perhaps you should find out," suggested the black robed figure.

The young man mentally cuffed himself round the head for not thinking of that himself and placed a hand on his radio transceiver. "Seven-three-six, to Centre.  Seven-three-six, to Centre, come in please."

After a short pause, filled with a click and some static hiss. The radio replied, in a female voice that suggested that she was interested to hear what 736 going to ask or say, because it usually caused amusement. "Centre to Seven-three-six, Go ahead!"

"Is a scythe an offensive weapon? Please advise."

"A scythe?" responded the radio with a giggle in its voice. "I thought you were keeping an eye on things at the TR13." The voice implied that this should have been an assignment that should produce no trouble; after all what trouble can a rookie find patrolling a queue of happy and not particularly drunk people waiting to get into a nightclub? She knew that most of the trouble happened when people left the worse for more alcohol than was good for them and that 736 would have been re-assigned to something harmless, before that occurred.

"I am." 736 said, "but you know; it's the first night open since they closed down to get their fire detection upgraded, and there's some sort of 'free drink if you come in Halloween costume' promotion going on, so there's lots of people in costume. This bloke's wearing a black hooded robe with a scythe over his shoulder."

"Is it a real scythe?" asked Centre.

"It looks real to me," commented the rookie.

"Yes, it's real. I have had it for years," said the figure, who had been listening to the young man speaking to his unseen colleague.

"He says it's real," relayed the constable.

"And is it sharp?" queried the voice on the radio.

The PC looked at it and decided it looked very sharp, but waited for the robed figure to comment before saying anything more.

The scythe-carrying figure said. "You may tell your lady friend that it is very sharp. I sharpen it before and after each time I use it."

"It looks very sharp to me and he says he maintains it well."

"I see," responded Centre, "And is the gentleman acting in an agitated, threatening or irresponsible manner with this scythe?"

"No, he seems very calm and has co-operated fully."

"In that case, I suggest you inform the gentleman that he is committing an offense under the Criminal Justice Act 1988 which states that anyone who has a pointed or bladed article in a public place is guilty of an offence unless he or she can show good reason or lawful authority." The last part obviously, from tone and delivery, being read from a screen. "I also reckon that you needn't arrest him if he can put it away or disable it."

The young policeman considered this advice and replied, "Thank you, Centre. Over and out."

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid you seem to be carrying an offensive weapon. I assume you heard what Centre said. So, I would advise you to put it away or sheath it somehow, because I can't see that there is a good reason to carry it as it is."

The hood nodded. "I am in a quandary. As you can see it is not going to be possible to just put it away and when I am not using it I wrap it in oiled muslin, which I have not got with me."

The young constable felt a bit guilty for putting the figure in this fix, then an idea occurred to him. "I saw a skip round the corner, presumably the rubbish from the upgrades to the club. Maybe there's something in there that could be used to make a make-shift sheath for your scythe. I'll go and take a look."

"Thank you," said the tall figure to the policeman's receding back as he returned to the place in the queue.

The PC looked over the edge of the skip and saw the usual kind of rubbish; broken ceiling tiles and empty cable spools. Then he saw just what he needed; a large cardboard box, partly ripped, bearing the logo of a fire safety company and three unused zip-ties. He ripped the upper flap and part of the side from the box; and in doing so exposed the bottom of the box where someone had written 'Fire damaged stock. Do not use.' He picked up the cable ties and returned to the black robed figure.

"Here we are. If we can put the card round the blade, and hold it in place with a couple of these tie thingies, that should be OK."

The figure unshouldered the scythe and held it out for the policeman to perform the suggested operation.

"Thank you for your help and advice," the hooded figure said with much sincerity. "If I may ask, why did you join the police?"

The young constable was slightly taken aback by this question, but felt the urge to give a truthful answer. "I want to help the public and keep them safe," he said.

"In that case," the figure intoned, "might I suggest that you would be more suited to being a part of some regulatory body, rather than the police; I think your talents would be better employed in such a role."

For a moment, the young PC thought, 'who is this bloke, a complete stranger, to give me advice about my chosen career?', then he pondered that his uncle, who was in the Health and Safety Executive, had tried to encourage him to join that organisation instead of the police. In reply to dark figure, he said, "I'll consider it, thank you and have a good evening."

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Later that evening, while the rookie was patrolling in a car in a well-to-do neighbourhood and thinking about the incident earlier. He got round to wondering if fire damaged smoke detectors worked properly.

"Seven-three-six, to Centre.  Seven-three-six, to Centre, come in please."

"Centre to Seven-three-six, Go ahead!" This time the same voice carried no amusement.

"Thank you Centre. How do I report my suspicions that a place might be unsafe due to the installation of faulty equipment?"

"I'm sorry I can't help you there, at the moment, we're in the middle of a major incident at the TR13. Seems a fire started and wasn't noticed for quite a while and the fire detectors didn't go off."

"Do you need me to go and help?" offered 736.

"No. You keep flying the police flag for the F- and G-Band council tax payers and then come in a little early to look up the answer to your question. Centre over and out."

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Later, at the shift change, he asked several colleagues, who had attended the fire at the TR13, whether they had seen the tall black robed figure with a scythe leave the building. None of them remembered anyone of that description and most said that something like that would definitely be memorable.

A couple of days later he met the fire officer leading the investigation of the fire to let him know that he suspected that the fire detection had been faulty. "And by the way, did you find a scythe at the incident?" the policeman asked.

"No. Why would anyone have one of those in a nightclub anyway? And why are you asking?"

"An acquaintance went that night dressed as Death and I hadn't heard anything. I hope he's OK," the constable lied.

Later that evening he telephoned his uncle and asked whether there were any vacancies in his office.