The next morning I caught up with the Guv back at the schoolhouse. He led me into the headmasters office, the one he had commandeered for his own use. Seeing as school was out for the holidays it made sense. We used that for his office, I had one, well me and the rest of the guys, plus the few uniform we’d managed to grab for leg work, had one next door. We used the various classrooms for interviews, and had an incident room in the hall.

But when we got into his office, there was another guy already in there, strange.

The Guv didn’t speak to him, just nodded in his direction. I took my cue from him and did the same. Another fly-boy by the look of him, taller than me, about six two, looks like a surf bum. Blonde dyed hair in dreads, scruffy flying suit, smoking a dog end in the office, something I’d not risk for fear of the Guv ripping my bits off. He was sprawled out over a comfy chair like a gangly teenager, a look of bemusement on his face.

"Ok, I’ve been thinking Jim," says the Guv, still ignoring the other guy, "we’ve got three guys here as main suspects, all telling the same tale, and with the background detail confirmed, or a least not questioned, by half a dozen other witnesses. We’ve got one tale to work with, and it’s not one I like. We need someone with an analytical eye to take a look at the incident scene."

" I wasn’t talking about where he landed, Jim, I was talking about up there in the air."

I didn’t like the way this was going.

I liked this even less, and I could see that tosser over in the chair quietly smirking away to himself, as if in on the joke.

"Sorry, I’m being rather rude here," the Guv changes tack. "Jim, you haven’t been introduced to your new best friend Innes." Innes, half raises a hand, palm out, as if to say "how" like a Red Indian.

"Innes runs the local paragliding school"

I was wondering if it was to late to call in sick, obviously it was, could I just throw up, feign something terminal and go off home, or should I just shoot myself now and get it over with?

"Ever ‘eard of a tandem?" Innes speaks for the first time, some sort of Brit accent, not posh like in the old films, but more your sort of "rural rustic" local dialect.

"Yes, they’re a bike for two peo...."

The reality hits home, my jaw hits the deck, my gonads try crawling back up where they came from. He’s not serious? One last ditch attempt at saving my underwear; "You going flying then Guv?"

It sounded as weak as a kittens fart even as I said it.

"No time to talk now, Innes’ll fit you out and get you there. He reckons there’ll be a window of opportunity at about 10.00 am, so there’s no chance for you to go and change, get straight to it," it sounded like we were going dancing.

"You get there, and keep that brain of yours alert. With what he’s proposing I’m bloody sure my brain would be alert. Jim, you’re a good copper and this could be the making of you." Yeah, or the death of me. "I’ll be down here doing the boring leg work, think of it as a freebee on the works account." He slaps my shoulder so hard it hurts.

How could I confess to the boss I was scared of heights, how could I ever hope for promotion if they knew that looking out of a second story window had me sweating like a pig, the thought of climbing a ladder had my underwear wet? And now he wants me to take a flight over mountains on a glorified parachute, with a grinning hippy for a pilot. I all but collapsed at the thought of it.

Innes caught me from staggering and making an arse of myself, or more of an arse of myself. He slung his arm around me and ushered me outside.

"Bricking it eh?" I’d not heard it called that before, but yes, I admitted to myself that if I wasn’t careful I would be filling my pants...

"Not with me as your pilot,’" he said.

His grin grew wider, "I’ll remember tha’ one" he chuckled.

He led me over to his truck, a ten year old landrover. I was wondering if I could book him for illegal tyres, or something like that, and get uniform to tow it away with all his kit in it. He jumps in and clears a load of crap off the passenger seat. Gives me a tatty form on a clipboard to sign; "Just sign at the bottom, you can read it if you like, you’re probably better at all that legal jargon than I am."

I read it, basically it told me that by signing this form I gave up any right to sue Innes, his partners, friends, family and/or pets for any damage that happened to me while I was in the same country as he was, even if he had blindfolded, tortured and gagged me, and thrown me off a cliff. "Pretty standard disclaimer then," I said more jokingly than I would have believed possible.

After about half an hour of uphill driving, mostly through forest, with frightening views of how high we were getting appearing through the trees at unnervingly more frequent intervals, we rounded a bend in the track and pulled up onto to a large grassy flat area at the top of a ridge. Several windsocks hung limply, not stirring too much, a few pilots sat around doing nothing, smoking, sharing jokes.

I blurted; "Not enough wind by the look of it, shame that, but never mind, I don’t think the Guv had his ideas worked out proper like. You’ll give me a lift back down then? Thanks old son."

Innes turned and looked at me, a rather sad expression on his face; "M-a-a-n, this is goin’t to be the best day of yer life, perfect conditions, and the best tandem pilot in the country to fly you. And you’re going to let your imagination, all your kiddy fears, your own self created bogey man, scare you out of the experience? Your going to create a fear, let it grow, take root, flourish like a weed, and cripple a big guy like you? It’s time to face yourself man, it’s not the hight, or the drop, or the chances of failure you’ve got to square up to, it’s the part of you you’ve allowed to grow out of control and dominate you. Time to piss or get off the pot big guy."

He looked me square in the eye, daring me to punch him out for being right. I nearly cried. I felt like I had when I was a kid of about ten, and all my mates were jumping off the quay wall into the lake, and I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t the swimming part; I just couldn’t picture the falling through the air, and the slap of the water on impact. I’d gone to the edge several times, but each time just made the whole idea more terrifying. I’d had to crawl on my belly to the edge in the end, and everyone had laughed at me. I had run home crying, only to get a belt off my dad when he found out what had happened.

I shrugged, "Well after a psychoanalysis like that, how could I refuse to go? You a shrink in your spare time?" "Nope, but I trained as a clinical psychologist before I got into this lark, but I won’t charge your Guv any extra for that service."

I suppose my surprise showed on my face, he just smiled back. "He’s a good bloke that Guv of yours, and he thinks you’ve got the makings of a decent detective too. But joost maybe he thinks there a right soft spot in you that needs working on, or some weakness that needs tacklin'."

A statement rather than a question.

We hauled a huge rucksack out of the Landrover, far too big for just one man to carry. A couple of the other pilots came over and offered to help. Innes introduced me just as Jim, and didn’t let on why I was here, or why I looked like I was about to lose my lunch. I suppose they knew something was up, I don’t suppose too many people turn up for a fun flight wearing a suit and tie, but they didn’t let on, and they included me in the banter.

A fun bunch, I suppose I came across as a bit square, and bit fuddy-duddy, a bit of an old fart, even though most of them were my own age. Innes gave me an old flying suit to wear, and I struggled into it. I just kept concentrating on what I was doing at the time. "Now I’m doing the zip up, now I’m putting my boots on, now I’m tying my laces, now I’m wondering why everyone is looking at me oddly?"

Innes came over; "you do know that talking to yourself is the first sign you’re going doolally, don’t you?"

Christ, I hadn’t even realised.

Innes took me to the front of the hill, to where it dropped away steeply, and pointed out over to the other side of the valley, to where the mountains proper started. "That’s where it all happened. Funnily enough I was up on here tha’ day, teaching a bunch of beginners. I couldn’t see owt of course, far too far away, but I’ve got the co-ordinates in my GPS, so I should find the spot."

I had registered most of what he had said, but didn’t feel like contradicting his idea that this was a fit place to bring beginners. Beginners for christs sake? I could see houses down at the bottom of the hill, bloody miles down, I could just about see cattle in the paddocks, from up here they were just black and white dots on the brown pasture. On the road we had turned off to get on the track up here, there was a child’s toy lorry chugging along, too far away to even be heard.

We strolled back up the hill, the wind had strengthened a little, which was very noticeable to me at that point, but only slightly. Innes got the glider out, and a couple of the guys came over and spread it flat with him. So many strings on the bloody thing! I was sure they’d be a right mess, and take a day or four to sort out, but bloody Innes took hold of one end, shook the lot and they all lined up neatly. I’ve seen conjurors with less impressive acts than that.

"Ok, here’s a quick run through of what you need to know, I’d normally give someone a couple of hours tuition first as a minimum, but as you’re getting..." He smiled, then laughed, so I beat him to the punch-line, "...a crash course. Oh bloody ha, ha, ha, Innes." I didn’t have the energy to be angry with him, it was all being used by my stomach which had decided to learn how to turn somersaults.

Jeff strolls over calmly, and why shouldn’t he be calm? Jeff’s a big guy, quiet type, doesn’t say much, but he’s got forearms like a tyre fitter on him, and you wouldn’t cross him with a team of Sherpas. God, I’m supposed to be a bloody copper! I’ve been in tight spots, faced down a gunman once, been in more bash-ups than I care to remember; yet I’m like a rag doll being manhandled about here, and what’s worse is I’m too scared to object, let alone resist. Even when he sticks his hands down between my legs and pulls up a strap I do nothing, under any other circumstances that would have earned him a week in hospital, eating through a tube. His silence is even more threatening to me in my heightened state, god what a mess.

A worse bit comes when Innes suddenly appears at my shoulder. And the clips to the paraglider are snapped into my harness.

Just for something to say at that point, I asked "Innes, how come your accent changes so bloody frequently? Half the time your sound, then your all bloody Scottish or whatever."

"Dales Yorkshire if you must know," he replied, "and if you knew the bloody heartache I went through trying to make myself understood when I first moved here, specially with the school relying on me as chief instructor, and what wi you bloody lot talking down yer nostrils half the time..."

I noticed the more uptight he got, the stronger his accent became, I decided not to find out how strong it was at full throttle.

Jef caught hold of my harness straps none too gently, and walks backwards, pulling me down to the front of the hill. His face had gone from its normal impassivity to a broad grin, then he spoke for the first and only time; "I got bust for dope the other day, one measly joint, I got a fine too. I’m going to enjoy this."

May god have mercy...