The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2370 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You know who hired it?” I said stating the obvious.

Trish rolled her eyes, “Duh,” and handed me a sheet of paper with the letter heading of a well known car hire company.

“You hacked their system?”

“That’s the easy part making it look like it came from someone else’s is the tricky bit.”

“So they could be accused of hacking? Trish that isn’t fair, someone could end up in prison for something they didn’t do.”

“Doubt it.”

“You know whose computer it was, then?”

“Natch.”

“Well whose was it?”

“That bloke from the big house in London.”

“Gramps?” gasped Danni.

“No, the one with the copper on the door, can’t remember his name.”

“The policeman or the man in the house?”

“The resident of the house.”

“And you can’t remember his name?” I asked knowing damn well she was winding us up.

“I know it’s something familiar.”

“What is?” asked Danielle.

“The geezer’s name.”

“What geezer?”

“The one with the big house.”

“You lost me already,” Danni went back to her X-box or whatever she was doing before.

“What’s she on about, Watts? Hey we could call you Megawatt and her Miniwatt.”

Stella’s humour didn’t improve with keeping.

“If what she said is correct, she hacked the car hire computer via one at Number Ten.”

“Ten what?” Stella seemed unlikely to be considered as a genius unlike her niece.

“Number ten, Downing Street.”

“She hacked Cameron’s computer?” gasped Stella.

“That’s the geezer’s name, knew I’d heard it before.” Trish had difficulty keeping a straight face.

“So what name have you got? I interrupted the silliness.

“William Hastings,” I read off the sheet together with a home address and telephone number.

The others fell about laughing. Trish stood there unaware of the connection between the names. On asking what was so funny, Livvie mentioned Willian the Conqueror and the battle of Hastings. Trish chuckled for a moment having got the joke. I suppose sometimes it’s not easy having a brain the size a planet.

I looked at the address again, it was one in Aldershot. So was this the man who spoke to me? Was it a co conspirator? Who was taking the photos and were any of them, this person, whose name I had on the sheet, or was it a fake driving licence? They paid by card for the car, so unless that was faked as well it was unlikely. I checked the dates, it was on hire for yesterday, today and tomorrow. Do I expect any further incidents tomorrow.

I adjourned to my study and called Jim, he answered on the second ring. “Your wish is my command,” he said, “plus twenty per cent vat.”

Explaining my situation I asked for his take on it. “It could be coincidence but it does look a little suspicious.” I gave him the name and address together with the number of the car. “I’ll get back to you. If he’s journalist he may well be registered with the NUJ, I might also be able to see if I can find an occupation from the name and address.”

I thanked him and left him to it. He loves digging up dirt. At bed time, I still had no response from him so assumed he hadn’t found anything. I told Simon who checked his customer database but it seemed Mr Hastings didn’t use High St Bank. That reduced our bargaining position.

The next morning I awoke to reports on the radio of an attack on Karachi airport by the Taliban. There were also reports of Ofsted suggesting some schools in this country, in Birmingham, in particular, had been infiltrated by Islamic fundamentalists and were pushing a dangerous agenda. Those two reports reinforced my own prejudice that religion was the cause of much of human suffering and misery.

After showering and dressing I roused the girls and another wonderful day began. At nine o’clock I collected fifty exam papers from Pippa and took them down to my office. I was second marking these, to check the original marker had adhered to the scheme of which there was an enclosure. These were final year scripts so gradings and passes depended upon the marks accrued. If my final mark differed by more than ten from the first marker, they had to be seen by a third person. I’d be lucky to finish by tea time but Stella was only working that morning so agreed to collect the girls if necessary.

I made a coffee and got out my pencil—I always mark in pencil. About an hour into my ordeal of death by boredom—at least I hadn’t failed anyone yet—my mobile rang. I ummed and ahhed about answering it but did so.

“He’s not the only one who can take photos,” announced Jim’s voice. I switched on my iPad and he’d sent me some pictures of Mr Hastings. He looked familiar but wasn’t the man who’d come to my room. Another photo showed him with a second person who was the visitor, they were entering a beauty salon, then there was a photo of Hastings with a dark haired woman—the one who visited me was wearing a skirt and a dark wig. What was going on?

“Want me to keep up the tail?”

“Please, Jim.”

“I’ll let you know if they head your way.”

I thanked him and tried to get back to my marking, the fizzing in my mind didn’t help my concentration.

“They know your car, they’ve checked it out twice since lunch.”

“What am I supposed to do, walk home?”

“Up to you—less fit people might catch a bus or use a cab.”

Or even a bike. I was now certain some sort of sting was going on with me as the target and the so called, transgender man as the trap. Was it going to be a written piece or film?

I texted Stella and she said she’d collect the girls. I went back to marking papers after telling Tom and Pippa what we knew about a possible ambush. Pippa came down with a sandwich for me and a mug of coffee. I was on number twenty seven, twenty three more to go.

It was nearly six when I finished the marking, sealed the papers in the envelope provided and took them back to the office. Pippa had gone so I locked them in her filing cabinet and went back to my office to lock up. I don’t have much there; there isn’t room; but what I do have I intend to keep. I have a lockable cupboard in there with overflow stuff from the labs, image intensifiers and so on.

It was nearly time for me to leave when my Blackberry rang, or I should say buzzed as it was on silent ring. “They’re here, dunno where she went but could be in the building.” My tummy did backflips, why had this man dressed up in a skirt to come and see me? Was he coming to see me? Were they going to film it and why?

I shut my office door and locked it sitting at my desk like a deer caught in the headlights, I wasn’t sure what to do next. Suddenly, there was a rap on the door and I jumped off the seat