The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1209 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The snow had mostly gone when I woke the next morning, it was no longer my birthday and looking back, it was possibly just as well. It was after nine on a Saturday morning and Simon was already up and apparently on the phone to the garage which had supplied Pepper. By the time I’d washed and dressed he’d discovered there was a chip in it which once activated could tell the garage where it was.

He was very hopeful of getting it back, I wasn’t so sure. Whoever had taken it had obviously loaded it on a trailer and carted it away, so it could be anywhere by now and the chip might well have been neutralised.

I was having my breakfast when the phone rang and Trish answered it calling Simon to come and speak to the caller. He came into the kitchen smiling, “Within a few square metres, they know where it is.”

“The car?”

“Yes, what else?”

“It could have been anything from the Loch Ness monster down.”

“They know where that is too.”

“What, Nessie?”

“Yes.”

“I’m probably going to regret this, but go on tell me where it is?”

“In Loch Ness–see and you thought I was just some rich, Scots, country bumpkin.”

“I shall have to revise my opinion of you, I can see that–wealthy, Scots, halfwit–okay, where’s my car?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to tell you now.”

“Simon stop interrupting my breakfast with nonsense or I’ll make you sit on the naughty step, now where is my car?”

“Southampton.”

“Southampton?”

“Stop repeating everything I say.”

“It’s a free country–now then, the sixty four dollar question, how do we get it back?”

“I think you’ll find it’s more like sixty four thousand dollar, than sixty four.”

“The question remains, how do we get it back?”

“The garage are liaising with the ‘Ampshire Consta-bulery as we talk.”

“Oh poo, I ask myself, will I ever see my baby again and it never called me mother?”

“How do I know? This time yesterday you said you didn’t want the bloody thing.”

“That was before I’d driven it.” I beamed back, but he ignored me. “So what do we do now? Can we charge in and demand release of my car?”

“I doubt it, the plod are quite capable of getting it back for you.”

“Where is it, exactly?”

“Down near the docks–they think there’s a ring who steal expensive cars to order and ship them abroad under forged cargo licences.”

“They’d better not ship Pepper off or I shall ship them off this mortal coil.”

“I think we just wait for the police to get there and repossess it for you.”

“Can’t we go and watch?”

“Haven’t you got a baby to change?”

“No, I decided to keep the one we have.”

He shook his head and walked away. I popped in to see Tom. He was in his study looking a little better but still coughing and spluttering. “A’ this efter I hae had a wee flu jab, nivver agin.”

“You’ll be okay in a day or two, anything you need?”

He shook his head no. I asked if I could use his Mondeo and he told me I could use the Freelander if I wanted to. I hugged him and took the keys.

The milk I’d expressd last night was still in the fridge, so I checked if Jenny could look after the baby and told Si I was off to Southampton.” You don’t know where to go.”

“You do, besides, you’ll need to drive this home because I intend to drive Pepper home, away from those rotten baby thieves.”

“You’re crazy and likely to get yourself arrested at this rate.”

“That is my car, I have the keys to prove it.”

“What if they’ve reprogrammed the locks?”

“What? They can’t do that can they?”

“Yes.”

“C’mon then, we have no time to lose.”

“There are roughly thirty million females in this country, why did I have to fall in love with this one?” he muttered to himself as we got in the car. He entered the coordinates into Tom’s GPS and off we went.

Most of the snow was gone, although it held on alongside hedges and on hills, however, the Freelander rattled along smoothly with me at the wheel. An hour later, we were following the directions to a wharf. We parked the car and went to have a closer look-see. They were putting cars into containers. There was no sign of the police.

Just then I saw them picking up Pepper with huge forklift truck. I pressed my key and the winkers winked. The driver of the forklift stopped and went to see what had happened. As he did so, I ran in hidden behind another car. I spotted a large sack lying by a pile of tyres. The driver of the forklift went back to his vehicle and I sneaked up behind him and pulled the sack over his head. In the ensuing struggle, he fell over and banged his head. I quickly tied his bootlaces together and rolled a large tyre and laid it on top of him, he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

It took a few minutes to work out how to withdraw the forklift from Pepper but I managed to find reverse, however, the brakes weren’t too good and I shot backwards into the office knocking down a partition wall which fell onto the three men who seemed to be in there.

I ran from the forklift towards my own car and jumped into her and started her up, reversing out of the warehouse at speed, straightening her up and then racing round the corner to park by Tom’s Freelander.

Simon had come running back behind me, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting my car back, why?”

“The police are coming. I saw them cross the bridge a moment ago.”

“There are other cars in there, a Ferrari and a Bentley amongst others, so they don’t need this one.”

“What if they charge you with wasting their time or interfering with a crime scene?”

“I’ll deny it, I had gloves on the whole time, so there won’t be any fingerprints.”

“They might find your DNA on the forklift.”

“They might, I’ll have to wait and see–c’mon let’s run for it.” I drove off homewards and he followed me in hot pursuit. Once home, I called the police and told them I’d found my car where the tracker had said it was, parked on a street in Southampton and I’d repossessed it and brought it home. He didn’t sound too impressed, however the evening news suggested that the police had broken up a car smuggling group after what seemed like a gang war had occurred. It seemed likely that half a dozen members of another gang had smashed the place up and rendered the smugglers immobile.

“See, I told you one woman is worth half a dozen men,” I smirked at Simon. The police for some reason didn’t come round to interview me–Simon suggested they’re still collecting evidence and that one day I’d be in big trouble. He might be right, I do tend to fly off the handle a bit when people try to steal from me. He says I’m impulsive, I just shrug and explain I’m an archetypal Sagittarian a little spontaneous when adventure calls a bit like him with food and drink.

Talking of food I did him a nice boeuf bourguignon that evening and he forgave me all my current sins–mind you, I plan to be asleep in bed before him, so he’ll start counting again from then.