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June, 1960, Salisbury, Rhodesia
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Constable Michael "Mac" McGuinness opened his locker and sighed, staring at the uniform within. Tan t-shirt, shorts, black loafer shoes, knee high tan socks topped with a blue band, and a tan forage cap with blue band. Very... Simple and plain. The Canadians, now they did it right, with their bright red coats. He was mildly jealous. 

"I rather was enjoying the days off. Met a lovely gal from Pretoria." He said with another sigh as he began to shrug off his personal clothes and pull on the uniform. 

A grunt came from the next locker over where Constable Mabasa "Sas" Sasa was already buttoning up his uniform shirt. The two had been partners for three years now, Mac had been in Counter-Insurgency before that and Sas had worked in Major-Crimes. As a General Patrol unit they were a force to be reckoned with, both men standing over six feet and well fit.

"I should have joined you then. I had to go to my sisters house for her twins birthday. Why are two year old birthdays even a thing?" Sas replied as he finished buttoning up the shirt and grabbing his duty belt from the hook inside the locker. A holster for his semi-automatic "Weerlig" pistol was on the right hip, two loops on the left side would hold a large flashlight and a wooden "billy-club", and two pouches on the rear held handcuffs.

"Hell if I know..." Mac grumbled as he pulled on his socks and then laced up his shoes. He heard Sas slide a mag into his pistol and rack the action. The Weerlig Pistol held a fifteen round magazine and you always rode with the round chambered. Mac copied him a moment later, pinching the chamber open a crack to ensure a round had been chambered.

The two men finished dressing in silence before making their way toward the briefing room. It was Friday night and things were sure to be hoping in downtown Salisbury as a music festival was getting underway. Despite that, the halls of the Salisbury District One office were fairly quiet this evening, most of the big brass would have gone home and only the beat cops would be out and about at this time. The briefing room itself was on the main floor, just outside The Pit. There would be roughly twenty other officers on shift this evening for District One, which covered the whole of the downtown core. 

"Sas, Mac, over here." The two men turned as one to see their Sergeant, a fit black woman named Hannane Ferdjani, striding toward them with the familiar manila envelope she had carried every day for months, the daily assignments and pass-ons from day shift would be inside.

"Sergeant." Sas and Mac both offered her a respectful nod. Hannane was the only black female Sergeant in the Salisbury Police Force and she took her job VERY seriously, this was good or bad depending on who you asked. She had been sent down to District One six months ago to replace a Sergeant shot in the line of duty and few had anything bad to say about her.

"You two are the Brute Squad tonight and I need you out there right now. Forget briefing." She tossed them two sets of keys and jerked her head in the direction of the parking lot. 

"Nailed it." Sas said, and the two men high fived without looking at each other. Hannane laughed and offered them a rare grin. "Stay safe you two."

"Always." Said Mac.

"And forever." Said Sas.

Hannane snorted and pushed past the into the briefing room. A storm of noise greeted her as the door opened and then died into silence as she headed for the podium at the front of the room. The door closed behind her and Sas grinned at Mac.

"Dibs driving."

"Fuck." Mac swore. "Why am I always so slow on that one..."

"You white boys never were very fast." Sas said with a wink as Mac raised an eyebrow at him. "You need the practice on your foot pursuits since I outran you the last two fitness tests."

"Sure, and I made you look like a girl in the strength portion." Mac said, flexing two massive fists. 

"Alright, I'll drive now then, and when we need someone to bend a steel pipe in half, you can drive."

"Pest..." Grumbled Mac but his tone was humorous, the two men were easy friends and had been since they met. 

They headed for the parking lot. Rows of Police vehicles sat in the parking lot, white bodies with blue front doors, hoods and trunks/rear doors, everything from standard four door sedans to Land Rovers. It was toward one of the Land Rovers the two men went. The "Brute Squad" was a term given to a pair of officers who sole task for the evening was to roll around the downtown core, particularly the areas with high numbers of drunks, and move them along. That might mean a quick word, a fisticuffs, or dragging someone off to cells for the night. 

The pair approached a Land Rover, the words "Salisbury Police Service" embraced the cities coat of arms on both front doors and hood. POLICE was painted in bold letters on the flanks and rear door of the vehicle. Under the POLICE were the words "Paddy Wagon". This particular Land Rover had a metal cage that separated the two front seats from two bench seats in the rear. Four metal u-bolts were attached to the floor, each of them with four short chains topped with handcuffs. Anyone who didn't want to move along of their own accord could easily be transported by police. 

Sas bent down, ducking his head inside the driver side door and grinned at a pair of switches that had been newly mounted on the dashboard. He flicked one of them on and immediately the two blue bulbs on the roof began flashing and blue light filled the parking lot. He nodded, satisfied, and then flipped the other switch. Instantly the scream of the siren tore across the parking lot and he flicked the switch off just as quickly.

"Ah, technology. Love it." He grinned across at his partner who gave him a thumbs up from the far side of the vehicle. The electronic sirens and emergency lights had only been installed during their last block of days off and this would be the first time they got to try the "new toys" out. 

"Certainly loud." Commented Sas as the two slid into the car. Their wooden batons went into the holders above the door next to their flashlights, it was impossible to sit with them attached to you. They pulled on their seat belts, clicked them into place and then Mac waited as Sas fiddled with the rear view mirror and engaged the big engine. 

"Ready to roll?" Sas asked and Mac flashed him a thumbs up as he turned on the radio receiver mounted just below the light console. Immediately it lit up with the voice of a dispatcher. 

"...port four people fighting outside the Village Idiot Club. Charlie Eight and Nine to attend. Any available Paddy Wagon requested." 

"And it begins!" Said Mac he rubbed his hands together with childlike glee. Sas laughed and eased the Land Rover out of its parking lot. As he approached the security gate he flipped on the blue lights, the officer inside the security booth giving them a wave as they passed. As the nose of the Land Rover cleared the high brick gateway he engaged the siren.

Vehicles on the roadway slowed, pulled over, or generally just panicked and scattered in front of them as the Land Rover roared out of the parking lot and turned southward. 

"Village Idiot is on 10th Street, near 4th Avenue." Mac said without needing to look at the city map they had tucked into the door of the vehicle. Every cop in Salisbury knew where the Village Idiot was, it was notorious for rock and roll music, cheap beer, easy women, and drunk idiots looking for a fight. It also happened to be right on the border of what the locals called "Little Zimbabwe" and "Gas Town", two areas frequented by working class blacks and whites alike. Both areas were part of the District One patrol zone and made up the majority of the call volume on any given evening.

The Land Rover hurried through the darkening streets, swiftly passing other motorists as Sas urged the big engine onward. Traffic lights were still uncommon in Salisbury and the Traffic Officers frantically blew their whistles and halted traffic as the blue lights approached and then flashed through intersections. 

District One had always been an interesting place to Police. The demographic here covered all types in Rhodesia. There were blacks only bars, whites only strippers, inter-racial everything, even a gay disco that had twenty four hour Police protection following a brutal murder of two men outside the place a year ago. 

The Village Idiot was easy to spot, it occupied the corned of 10th Street and 4th Avenue, a four story red brick building that had once been a hotel. Each floor boasted a different kind of music, any drug you could think of was sold there, and if you wanted to have a few minutes alone, you could still rent an old hotel room kept around for just that purpose for a couple of pounds. 

The lights of two other police cars were visible outside the pub club already and four officers, three white and one black, were dragging struggling bodies apart. A small crowd had formed and were yelling encouragement to one side or the other. One of the more foolish souls, a black man in a red shirt and fedora, ran forward and kicked one of the Police officers, Constable Timmermans, who was kneeling on top of a struggling suspect. The officer saw the kick at the last second but still took the brunt of it in the gut.

"Oh no you didn't!" Mac's voice was loud inside the Land Rover as they screeched to a halt. Mac was out the door before Sas had even put the gear shift into park.

Fedora was already retreating back towards his friends and turned just in time to see Mac bearing down him. The man gave a pathetic high pitched shriek and began to run as his buddies burst into laughter. Mac might not be a long distant sprinter but he had played plenty of rugby and was very dangerous over short distances. 

"Police, stop!" He roared as he launched himself through the air, tackling Fedora high around the shoulders and riding him to the ground so that the fedora went spinning off as his face cracked into the pavement. 

"Geroff me!" The downed man tried to push Mac off of him. Teeth flashed in a savage smile and Mac slammed his fist into the mans kidney, bringing forth a fresh shriek as the man went limp. Mac could hear him gasping for breath between sobs.

"You're under arrest for being a fucking nob, and for assaulting a police officer." Mac growled as he clicked handcuffs onto the mans thin wrists. He stood and lifted the downed man with one hand, half carrying, half dragging the suspect back toward the initial fight scene. Timmermans had managed to cuff his own prisoner and turn him over to Sas and was now walking toward Fedora.

"You..." Whatever else Fedora had to say was cut off as Timmermans buried a fist in his belly. Fedora folded like a Chinese napkin and dropped back to the pavement as Mac let him go.

"Fucker!" Timmermans spat the word at the downed man before nodding his thanks to Mac. "Thanks Mac, We'll take him and our two drunk friends back to District if you guys are going to hang around."

Mac nodded. "Can do. We might as well do a walkthrough." 

Timmermans grabbed Fedora and hauled him upright, escorting him to one of the waiting police cars, banging the prisoners head off the doorframe once more before slamming the door shut on him. He gave Mac a wave before jumping into the passenger seat and the two patrol cars sped off toward the District Office. 

That left Mac and Sas standing outside the Village Idiot with a dozen or so people smoking, to drunk to be allowed in, and a couple of prostitutes, all of whom gave them a wide berth. The two Constables returned to their Land Rover and pulled batons and flashlights out, sliding them into their loops, before Sas parked Land Rover on the sidewalk. He locked the doors and the two men headed for the entrance of the club.

The building was old by colonial standards, built back when the whites first started putting up "modern"  work. Four stories of windows protected by bars, as much to keep people from climbing in as to preventing them jumping out. There were two doors on the backside of the building that led into a small ally where there would no doubt be tricks being turned and drugs exchanging hands, just par for the course really.

Two bouncers stood just inside the first set of doors, both massive black men who offered the police officers polite nods. They were dressed in white pants and black shirts that strained against their biceps. 

"Alright Harold?" Mac asked the man on the right, officially he was the head of security for the place. 

"Doing well sir." Harold replied with a wary expression. The man was well known for his ability to scrap but he had made the mistake of going toe to toe with Mac four months previously and still had a scar above his right eye from the fight. Since then the two men maintained a cordial business relationship. "Yourself?"

"Just working the Brute Squad tonight, Harold." Sas chimed in. He was not much smaller than his white partner and Harold had seen Sas bare knuckle box a few times, he didn't fancy a donnie brook with either officer. 

"Got some new bands in the house I see." Mac gestured to a series of large posters that had been pasted in the deep entryway of the building. "Peppermints... Wilted Roses... and The Evan Catz. Never heard of them."

Harold brightened up a bit at that. He was intensely into the latest music and collected records from all over the world, and when he wasn't breaking skulls at the Idiot he ran a record store two blocks away.

"Yea, the Peppermints are an all female group playing cover songs of the latest American music, on the second floor. The Wilted Roses are a bunch of older folks, playing Jazz on the third floor. And the Evan Katz, well, they're some sort of new age noise I haven't heard before but the younger crowd like it well enough, especially the girls." He shrugged. "Whatever works I guess."

"Alright, well, we'll be inside." Sas said as he reached for the door handle and looked at Mac. "You ready for this?"

"I was born ready!" 

Sas opened the door and the two officers were hit with a wall of noise. The main floor of the Idiot was a bar only. Tables of every description were scattered about with any number of chairs pulled up to them. The crowd was a blend of black and white faces, only a few of which even noticed the police officers as they walked in.

A large bar was set against the rear of the room where male bartenders moved with purpose as they filled shouted orders. There was no serving staff at the Idiot. If you got a drink, you brought your glass back or you didn't get another one. To the right there was a line for the washroom, to the left stairs climbed upward to where Mac knew another set of heavy doors helped the various musical inclinations from bleeding into each others noise.

"Well hey there good looking. Do you... you want to arresht me?" A white girl, not more than nineteen, had stumbled up and was stroking Sas's arm. She stared up at him, her eyes slightly out of focus. "Punissh me with your shtick?" She tried to make what Sas could only assume was supposed to be a sexy face before suddenly reeling away toward the bathroom.

"Being so handsome is such a curse!" Sas shouted to Mac who only rolled his eyes and pointed upward. The two officers began to make their way toward the stairs.