Dawn breaks across the estuary to the continuous drone of traffic on the Queen Elizabeth Bridge. The reflected neon yellow of the city lights gives way to heavy grey cloud. Below the bridge a figure stands in the flat landscape of the Swanscombe Peninsula in the Thames Gateway facing the lightening sky. A dog walker investigating the static feature on the sands calls the police. A Copper finds identification on the body. ‘This guy, Everard Devereux, is reported as having fallen into the Regents Canal last night’. The call is put in to Inspector Lee & Sergeant Wade who drive over to examine the scene.

Inspector Mary Lee is tall and thin with failing eyesight. She looks like she might suddenly buckle under the weight of the earth’s atmosphere. Wade is a brash South London drug user & petty criminal doesn’t bother hiding his activities from his superior officer. Mary Lee worked in science prior to joining the police force. She saw something she couldn’t explain but instead of ignoring it or burying it, which is the predominant practice she had observed over the years of her long career, she decided to delve deeper into the phenomenon. The more she investigated the more and more weird her discovery became. The work described bizarre packets of energy appearing as phosphorescent spots before rapidly disappearing. The spots weren’t ghosts in the machine but something she could physically see herself. On the way home one day she stumbled across a terrible accident. The place was covered in phosphorescent paint. She realises she is seeing energy given of when paranormal events are occurring – the laws of physics are being broken. The event convinced her to use her unique sight by enlisting with the forces of Law and Order.

Lee observes the estuary scene of the aquatic emergence, much of the Thames is glowing with the oily phosphorescence. This is potent, the paint is everywhere, Lee says nothing. Lee and Wade get out of their car and walk over to the body where a small crowd has gathered. Two coppers have securing the scene describe their discovery, suggesting Eveready floated down the Thames and has been washed up here. Lee is incredulous. ‘What? He topples into the canal at Little Venice yesterday evening. How the Fuck Has he got here so quickly? And, tell me. Why the fuck is he standing up?’

Wade goes over to the body “God, no eyes”. He turns to Lee & grins “Never patted down a stiff before”.

“Wallet. The Devils in the detail in the wallet. . .” Wade takes out a card and reads “ID – like they said. Everard Devereux. Keys – to what I wonder. Mobile. Oh. Hello, a nice bit of weed – a good quarter I’d say. Seasoned in the Regents Canal and the Thames, no doubt – that’ll fetch a fair bit on the black, black market”.

Inspector Lee mused ‘The body got into the canal then out to the Thames estuary. It’s theoretically possible. But it’s massively improbable. It’s impossible to have got here this quickly’. What’s going on here? Everybody knows, particularly those who wanted cadavers to sell to medical schools that most bodies falling in the Thames wash up at Surrey Water’.

Wade mawkishly rubbing his hands. “So what we have here is the famous Thames Skier. Little Venice is the scene of a grizzly supernatural drowning & watery resurrection of a bourgeois hippie who water-skis through the London waterway network to this idyllic beach’

“You said the famous Thames skier?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that mean? Is there something your not telling me?”

“Haven’t you seen the news?

“No. I only just went home to Turnham Green. Now I’m here on the other side of town. I’m too old for this shit. I have a life, unlike you media and god knows what else junkie. Up at all hours of the day & night at the mercy of your TV, computer & mobile”.

“Well, it pays to be well informed & up to date”.

“For you. Yeah, I think it probably does pay well.”

Wade paused and shrugged before continuing, “In this case, I know the Thames Skier’s everywhere. The TV, the net, it’s even the papers. He was everywhere. Zooming up and down the Thames last night. Nobody’s got a clear picture or knows where he went. Here he is!”

“How can a dead man water ski? I mean, he looks pretty dead to me.” Lee remembered Mr Devereux’s words – “Oh he was dead alright”.

As they spoke a transit van with distinctive satellite disk attached to it’s roof pulled on to the sands & made it’s way towards them.

“Fuck.”

“Word travels fast.”

“Another tip off? The fourth estate? The rapidity with which they turn up they are more like the fourth emergency service.”

“That’s the AA, Ma’am.”

“What?”

“The Automobile Association once billed themselves the fourth emergency service.”

“Well, they’ve got competition now from the these fucking hacks – like vultures turning up . . . I wonder if it’s a symbiotic relationship we have with them, or whether it’s more straight forward parasitology? Get rid of them will you and get some more uniform down here, ASAP. If this thing is as big as you say it this place is going to be crawling with them. I don’t want my crime scene turning into a media vulture circus. Oh god, no it’s Fidel.”

Journalists using the black arts have been recruited to media organizations. One “seer” on the makes up all his articles. Matthew Fidel – reporter. A sleazy as the columns he makes up. He is a Professor of Media Studies or as hey says “Making It Up” at the London Met. Always tries to keep the prevailing light behind him so he appears in shadow. He sits in the pub all day until he quite literally starts seeing things. At night he can’t stop gorging himself on curry. Bold & underhanded at the same time nobody, can believe he has got away with it for so long. Turns up the next day looking exactly the same as the day before. It is apparent that Fidel sleeps in his clothes. He laughs like a seal “Ack, ack, ack!” Far too loud. A real, look at me I’m happy! Despite everything I’m happy. His work colleges hold a sweepstake on what time he’ll suggest going to the pub.

Wade went over to deal with the media intrusion.

“Who’s in charge?” growled Fidel.

“No Lee is. . .” Wade nodded in the direction of Inspector Lee who was walking away from them across the mud flat towards the estuary.

“Ah, tall frail and pale.” Chuckled Fidel, “Marooned out there like out there like an alien on an planet whose only other inhabitants are mud skippers. . . I won’t get anything out of her”. Fidel waved and called “Inspector Lee!?” as if greeting a favourite aunt. Fidel was right, the only sound was the wind coming in of the estuary.

“How about a photo?”

“Sure,” Wade struck the appropriate bloodhound pose, “You got here quick!”

“Yeah I was in the area,” Fidel cleared his through and looked down “I was working on a parallel story.”

“How much do I get?”

“Pardon?”

“How much do I get for the tip off? Tasty one this. Should be a BIG storey for you. Should be at least a couple of K, I reckon. What do you say?”

“Not me mate, as you know I’ve got my own methods.”

“You listen to me you fucking fat worm, I want my money.”

“You wanna watch it sunshine. I don’t know who you tipped off, but they haven’t arrived yet. We’ve been parked up watching the dawn & PC plod roll up to unveil the identity of the Thames Water Skier. I don’t want to get into all that trouble and accusations of tampering with a crime scene again whilst trying to get a decent story”.

“That trouble arouse because you were the perpetrator”

“Officer Wade –just because you’ve not apprehended the guilty party, please don’t start all this nonsense about my involvement in the case. You really should be concentrating in the issue at hand. Half the world has been up all night, or day, depending on where they are in the world, wondering, researching, who or what the Thames water skier really is. Well, I’ve already sent my report out a while ago. Ready for the early breakfasters.” Fidel made the universal gesture for a big media story, crossing his hand in front of his fat chest and arching them out in the end of the theatrical song style & reaching out to the world.

“Everard Devereux, son of renowned aristocrat and antiquities dealer is the lone Thames Skier! Quite moving, what him standing up & the sunrise and everything.”

Fidel smiled. “And now footage of a copper demanding payment for a tip off a pretty good morning I’d say”

“But how did you know?”

“Like I said I have my methods and this case is ideally suited to my skills.” “Inspector Lee!?” Fidel called his favourite aunt again.

“She’s gonna go apoplectic with rage when she sees you, I can’t imaging why.”

“The Thames Skier?” Fidel shock his head in mock amazement “The crowds will be he in no time. A high profile case. Should pique our readers interest which I guess will include you, Inspector Lee & the rest of the Met. . “

“What can you give me?”

“Welllll, what can you give me? I bet you’d like to know who is responsible?”

“Yeah. We’ve pretty much got nothing at the mo. . .”

“It’s more usual for the police to tip off the press but as you’ve got nothing tag along while I go and see some the pawns in the game. You can’t get those those at the top, but then you never do.”

“I can’t I’m assigned to Lee.”

Bring her along. It might do her some good to be in at the sharp end for a change instead of always following on behind. If you can’t do that send some unform along instead. All I need is some photos of the arrest. Can your boys manage that?

“Yeah, I’ll send ‘em a text. . . ”

“Oh look. Here come the rest of the media boys now.” Fidel said as another white transit van came into view. “Do you mind if we get some closer pictures, now its common knowledge?

As Fidel made his way towards the cadaver he was meet by the irate Inspector Lee.

“Can’t you fucking do anything Wade? Do I have to do everything myself?”

The ensuing mêlée, a ridiculous spectacle of a tall frail woman tussling with corpulent bedraggled ape went viral. About twenty members of the public watched the fight with bemusement, some had been out walking, but an increasing number had deliberately come here to observe in the ghoulish spectacle as new spread. Finally a flat foot intervened dragging the red-faced Fidel back to his van.

Lee turned to Wade “Get forensics out here, not much else we can do. What you reckon? No footprints, no sign of a struggle. Find somebody who knows about bodies in the Thames.” She thought “So much paint here & quite a lot on paint on Fidel.

Fidel climbed unenergeticly back into his van. Through the open window his calls to the police “No time to lose! On to the next part of the story!” & waves.

“Do you think he followed us?” Lee asked

“I doubt it. He seems to getting his information from somewhere else.”

“Not you then?”

Wade stared into the Thames “Where to boss?”

“Well we need to tell the father the good news but as Everard Devereux is on our database, lets check out his address and see those keys will open up this investigation?”

As Fidel’s van made it’s way off the sands more of the press pack are just arriving. Fidel toots at them and gives them his open handed wave like an ape trying to catch a tossed banana.

Read more. . .