Wrongfooted

They all got out of the car, and began walking up the alley.

As he hurtled toward the wire-mesh gate, Adam's fist thought was that he must have slipped on the greasy cobbled surface.

Landing full length, he'd at least managed to protect is face by stretching out his hands - though of course, the price he paid was stinging hands and jarred arms.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, he received the message from his brain, telling him that he'd been tripped. This was confirmed when he looked round and saw the flat, calm expression on the policeman's face.

"Oh dear," said the policewoman, taking his hand to help him to his feet. "You seem to have tripped over, sir. There you go."

"But I didn't..." began Adam, not catching the tone of her voice.

"No sir, I think you'll find you did trip. We both saw it, sir. And if you don't want to find yourself tripping up again, then you might want to answer a few questions we'd like to put to you. OK, sir?"



Part Two begins here.