The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1444 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I sat in the Boxster and waited, I could hear the odd pop of gunfire and finally, sirens. Up above appeared the police helicopter, and the sirens came closer. Jim appeared running like hell, he literally jumped in the car and I floored the gas, almost colliding with a couple of police cars as they sped the other way.

“Why the emergency escape?” I asked him as we slowed down some half a mile from the trouble. More sirens sounded behind us, the police we having a real party. We could still see the helicopter circling over the yard.

“Some of the goons had outflanked me and they weren’t terribly friendly.”

“What happens if they shoot the helicopter down?” I asked aware that they had quite powerful guns.

“It’ll make quite a bang when it hits the deck.”

“Don’t they take evasive action?”

“Probably, the main use is to direct the cops to pick off all the villains.”

“All? How many are there?”

“About four, I think–I got one, so there were five before.”

“Six, I had one down and his friend with the rifle shot him–the one you got.”

“No, I didn’t shoot him, I missed him, I shot one of those who tried to come up behind me.”

“So who shot the guy with the rifle?”

“Someone with another rifle and a very good aim.”

A large black car pulled across in front of us and I had to brake hard to avoid hitting it. Two men jumped out both wearing fatigues like the police have but with no badges on them. “Get out of the car,” they said with menace. We obeyed because the car pulled across behind us tended to mean we weren’t going anywhere.

We were marched across to the large car in front of us, “Ah, Lady Cameron, I knew you were holding back on me.”

“Inspector Singh, how nice, I held nothing back from you, however, you held loads back from me.”

“The privilege of my job, alas.”

“Did you know where Simon was?”

“Not exactly.”

“Have you rescued him yet?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“No, it’s the plans you want isn’t it?”

“What do you know of plans?”

“Enough.”

“I think I must ask you both to get in the car.”

“I think I must decline, I want to check my husband is alright.” Just then one of the men in fatigues went to grab me, I sidestepped him and kicked him in the chest, he flew backwards landing on his colleague. Jim jumped in the Porsche–the roof was now down and I was only a couple of steps behind him. Somehow he managed to steer it past the two blocking cars and we sped back to the gunfight at the OK corral.

“They let us go, didn’t they?” I said to Jim as he parked the car in a yard across the road.

“Probably, but it explains your sharpshooter.”

“How’s that?”

“They’re paramilitary police.”

“What like redcaps?”

“No, they’re just military police, these guys are like the police SAS.”

“Oh, so how come they let me deck one of them?”

“Maybe they’re playing us like you do a trout.”

“I thought that was a quintet by Schubert.”

“That education was wasted on you, wasn’t it?”

“Probably, just an ignorant hayseed at heart,” I sighed.

“Yeah, sure you are, a very wealthy hayseed, though.”

“So–I like quality hay.”

“Keep back,” shouted a copper–this one was in uniform with a bullet proof vest on.

“My husband is in there somewhere.”

A copper with lots of bits of metal on his shoulders came up, “And who are you?”

“Catherine Cameron, who are you?”

“Chief Inspector Willis–now please leave! This is an unsecured area.”

“Have you found my husband yet?”

“We haven’t done a search yet, there might still be gunmen there.”

“Can’t your helicopter tell you that?”

“The helicopter had to withdraw.”

“Who are the guys in fatigues running about the place?”

“I have no idea–they’re not police.”

“Oh, I just wondered.”

He spoke into his radio, “Okay begin the sweep.”

“Can we help?”

“Yes by keeping out of the way.”

“He’s ex Commandos and I lived in Bristol for a number of years.”

“Lady, I don’t care if you fought in the Boer War, you’re keeping out of my way or I’ll have you arrested–is that clear?”

“My great grandfather probably fought in the Boer war.”

“I don’t care if your great Aunt Nellie did, stay here or I’ll arrest you.”

“You wouldn’t have arrested my great aunt Nellie–she’d have brained you with her brolly.”

“Okay, you’ve been warned, Catherine Cameron, I’m arrest...”

“Um–there’s a bloke behind you with a gun.”

“This isn’t a panto.”

“No, and he’s not the Jolly Green Giant.”

Jim stepped away his hands in the air and I did the same. “You won’t fool me with that old trick.”

I smiled but kept my arms in the air. When he noticed his officers dropping their weapons and raising their arms he turned round. “Who the hell are you?”

“Okay, copper all the guns on the ground, now handcuff yourselves together.”

“Put the gun down, sonny, you can’t escape–the area is surrounded.”

“You gonna argue with this?”

“That’s an M60, I doubt your flak jacket would stop those rounds,” Jim offered advice to the inspector. “That’s a big gun.”

I regarded the man carrying it, he was huge about six foot six inches, nearly a foot taller than I, and probably double my weight, but it wasn’t fat–this bloke kept himself in shape.

“I know what it is,” the inspector answered Jim, “Look, you won’t get away, just put the gun down–there’s a good man.”

“Do as I tell you or you’re all dead.” I looked at the gun, he had a small belt of bullets on it, enough to shoot all of us twice over. Why didn’t I go home for a change of knickers–I was beginning to feel I might need them.

“You’re making an awful mistake, put the gun down.” The inspector sounded as if he had a death wish.

“Next thing you say is your farewells–‘cos you’re gonna die if you open that big mouth again.”

The colour drained from the policeman’s face and he capitulated and dropped his pistol on the ground. He then handcuffed himself to his colleagues and they handcuffed themselves to a post. They wouldn’t be going anywhere soon. Jim was made to join them, which left little ol’ me.

“Hey, bitch, can you drive?”

“Yes,” I said feeling myself increasingly in need of those spare knickers.

“You’re gonna drive me in that,” he nodded to the big police Range Rover. At least my practice with the Cayenne would stand me in good stead, what really worried me was that they could hardly allow someone to run about the place with a rather large gun and if they took him out, I could cop it as well.

“Okay, bitch, get in the car, I’m gonna be right behind you, with little Tommy here. An’ you,” he indicated the inspector, “tell that chopper to stay away or I’ll shoot it down.” With that gun, he might well be able to do so.

I sat in the car and my knickers felt damp round the gusset–I hoped it was only sweat. “Okay, bitch drive,” he said getting into the back seat of the car right behind me.

I decided there and then, that no matter how much he apologised later, I’d never invite him to a dinner party.