The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1360 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I swallowed and opened the door slowly, as I exited the car, I was met by two men, one significantly older than the other. The younger one, probably in his late thirties was the one with the knife. The other jumped into my car and reversed it up a drive, we followed the man with the knife pushing me in the back all the time.

Part of me wanted to mess my pants, part of me wanted to kick his arse and another part of me wanted see that Julie was safe. I went with the latter. As we went into the garden, I was sick again throwing up all over a rockery and the man laughed seeing it as nerves or fear–he was wrong, it was that sandwich or the boat trip.

I was led into a garden shed and my bag was thrown in after me–they taken my phone–and the door was locked. Wonderful, there was just a glimmer of light round the edge of the door and that was it. My little torch was on my key ring which was still in the car. Great stuff. No one knows I’m here that could help me, and I feel lousy–could do with a drink–probably need a pee and I haven’t even got somewhere to sit down.

After a few minutes my eyes adjusted a bit and I could see big things in the shed. It was a wooden one. I could see several large items like a mower and large tools like a spade and fork. There were pots of some sort probably paint.

The shed was warm and stuffy and quite well built. It wasn’t one of those you get from B&Q which fall down a week later, but a handbuilt on with concrete posts and planking. If I broke out of here, it would make so much noise that they hear me long before I got away.

I searched in my bag, was it there or had they found it–no they hadn’t. I grasped it in my hand and fiddled with it feeling for the right application–got it. Then I turned to the door and felt for the hinges and started trying to undo them with my Swiss Army knife. It felt like hours and I was getting very hot and bothered before I managed to start undoing one of them, but it began to move and I knew I had a chance.

I had no idea how long I’d been there, it was getting dark when I got the final one loosened. The door was now held on precariously, my hands were sore and my back and feet were none too comfortable either. I had been stood for ages.
I heard footsteps and the rattle of the key when I kicked hard at the hinged side of the door, it met with some resistance which yelled and ‘oofed’ at the same time. I was none too pleased about being shut in the shed with no food or water so when the man picked himself up from the driveway and came running at me, the blade glinting, I swung the spade and knocked it from his hand, following this up by ramming the handle into his chest as he came through.

He bounced back off it clutching his chest which was when I smacked him on the jaw with the handle and he went down like a sack of coal. He was wearing a belt, so I undid it and tied his hands behind him, pulled his trousers down effectively binding his ankles, gagged him with his shirt and dumped him behind the shed–he was quite heavy and I had to stop and rest for a moment.

I crept up to my car which was parked under some bushes–it wasn’t locked and the keys were still in it. On the floor of the front passenger side lay my Blackberry. I reached in for it and also took the car keys. I left the car unlocked, then made my way down the garden and dialled triple nine. It took a few moments to talk to someone who could help me, I explained briefly where I was and that there was probably at least one hostage and that I had felled one of the kidnappers.

I switched off before they told me to sit and wait–my kid was in there and if her parents–those scum bags–I’d save from death had hurt her, I was going to hurt them and sod the consequences. I was working up to a full blown paddy.

I switched off my phone and crept up to the house it was dark outside and the curtains were drawn–bugger–how am I supposed to form a plan when I don’t know who’s where and with whom. Think about it–I’m busy.

None of the windows I could see into were illuminated, so I had to assume the two or three rooms with curtains pulled had to be the occupied ones. I went in via the back door shutting it as quietly as I could but a man’s voice called, “Is that you, Kev?”

I slipped through the kitchen and into the hallway. The door the voice had come from was now between me and the kitchen and I hid flat to the wall beyond it.

“Kev–you alright?”

I held myself against the wall, my heart hammering in my chest as exertion and adrenalin sped it up.

“Kev?” the voice sounded more anxious, then the door opened and the older man walked out carrying a gun. Shit, that made it a different ball game. He turned to the kitchen as we heard a helicopter fly over quite low–reinforcements. I threw myself at him knocking him into the kitchen, yelling as he went.

He rolled over and kicked me away, the sole of his shoe catching the shoulder of my leather jacket, It pushed me backwards and I rolled into the room he’d just vacated. At this point sirens sounded outside and he decided to run for it instead of trying to bargain with his hostages.

I heard the kitchen door slam behind him and the helicopter began hovering. I turned to look at the room and there looking most uncomfortable were Shirley and Bradley Kemp–tied up and sitting in chairs. They were both gagged.

I pulled down his gag, “Is there more than two of them?”

“Yes,” he gasped as he recognised me–I suspected I looked like the wild woman of Borneo after hours in his shed.

“Where is he?”

“Not here–went off with Julie.”

"The bastard has Julie?”

“Yes.”

“D’you know where he went?”

“No.”

I released the gag on Shirley, “D’you know where he took her?”

“He said something about a caravan to his friend.”

“Where though–there must be thousands on the island.”

“You’re not the police–are you?”

“It’s Lady Cameron, Shirl,” correctly diagnosed Brad.

“What?”

“I can tie you up again if I feels more comfortable?” I offered as a load of burley coppers rushed in waving guns. I do not enjoy being pushed to the floor and having my hands roughly tied behind me with cable tie.

“When I tried to speak I was kicked and told to stay quiet.”

Eventually, Bradley Kemp managed to convince them I wasn’t one of the bad guys and they let me go and helped me up, cutting off the cable ties. “Next time you kick someone make sure they can’t retaliate,” I suggested kneeing the copper in his family jewels which made his colleague laugh. He went to hit me back and I ducked and kicked him in the chest and he went flying over a chair.

“Okay that’s enough. Hawkins get outside–you, Missy be careful or I’ll charge you with assaulting a police officer."

They took statements from each of us and I was allowed to go, cautioned that I should go straight home or else.

I wondered what or else was, so decided I might find out. I walked out to my car and I felt a huge thump in my back which knocked the wind out of me and pitched me forward onto the drive, where I just managed to turn into a forward roll and spun onto the grass.

“Right you bitch, you asked for this.” Standing in front of me as I rose from the grass was the copper with the damaged ego and liking for brutality.

“We’re even now–stop before you get hurt,” I pleaded but all he did was laugh and came at me, swinging his baton. Oh shit, no time to think just react.

He charged at me as I rose, both his hands on the yard long stick, I let him come on to me grabbed his stick, fell backwards and stomach threw him over the top of me. I heard him thump on the grass and he groaned.

I rolled and staggered to my feet, he crawled to his and staggered to stand, which was when my flying drop kick caught his chest and knocked him backwards. He lay on the grass groaning. I went back into the house and began complaining about police brutality–the officer in charge came out but the offender had scarpered.

I asked about the one behind the shed–he’d been taken off to hospital. I walked stiffly to my car and drove out of the drive. Once clear; I found a pub, parked and went in ordered a coffee and brandy. After downing both I called home and reported what had happened to Simon, who told me to book into a hotel and he’d come and get me.

I felt a little better for the drink and the opportunity to use a loo. I bought a bottle of water and went back to the car. I was having a sip of it when the passenger door opened and an irate policeman holding a revolver pointed at me, “It’s payback time, bitch.”

“Put the gun down,” I said noting I’d parked the car in reverse gear.

“When I’ve shot you–I will.”

“Not much of a gunman are you?”

“What?”

“You left the safety on.”

He looked down I pressed the starter and the car leapt backwards knocking him with the door, into the doorframe and ultimately under the front wheel. He screamed and I grabbed the keys and ran from the car into the pub.

A couple of men came out and helped me remove the injured copper from under the car, and the ambulance sent for. I left a message saying I would speak to the police a little later but I had something to do. I handed the gun to the landlord and asked him to surrender it to the police, as it belonged to them.

I drove to a piece of waste ground and parked up, drinking some more water, wondering where Julie was and how I could help her. I sat and closed my eyes asking her to let me know where she was. I felt a warmth in my solar plexus and I knew what to do.