Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Bonzi ap Angharad.
part:252.

I drove home and sure enough, there were two strange men there wearing a police badge over otherwise ordinary clothes. One was in a hoodie and jeans, the other was wearing jacket and trousers.

I asked if they were armed, they didn't actually answer me, saying they were there to help me deal with any phone calls. I wasn't sure if I found it reassuring or not.

My phone bleeped to denote a text message.

'We will kill the woman unless you release our friend. You have 24 hours.'

I realised they didn't do text speak. I wondered if they understood it.

"What do we do now?" I asked the police.

"You need to play for time."

"So they can kill her?"

"They won't."

"If they do can I sue you for wrongful advice."

"I don't think so."

"How about I tell them their man is very sick in hospital?"

"okay, but let me see it before you send it."

'Your friend is very ill in hosiptal. Fractured skull. He can't be moved.' I wrote it in full, just in case.

With the police agreement, I sent it. We waited for some time before the reply came back.

'Release him or she dies.'

"That is brief and to the point," I said before wanting to go berserk, preferably with a group of Russian low lifes. I wanted to write back and threaten them, but I knew it would only inflame things. I so wanted that bow in my hands and a thug stood in front of me.

One of the coppers came back from talking to the superintendent. "Tell them you're doing all you can."

So that was what I wrote, 'Doing all I can, please be patient.'

Back came the response, '23 hours'.

"Why don't you lot know where these people are?" I said aggressively to one of the coppers.

"Same reason you don't."

"I thought you had informants all over the place."

"Not when it comes to the Russians."

"Why?"

"Because they have a mean streak the size of the equator."

"So we need to kill them all then."

"You seem rather aggressive for a woman, if you don't mind me saying so."

"If they'd taken someone you love, wouldn't you be a bit pissed?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure I'd necessarily want to kill them."

"This is the third run in I've had with them. If they were all dead there wouldn't be a fourth."

"Couldn't they be saying the same to you?"

"They probably are, but we need to get it in first."

"This is a civilised country not the Wild West."

"If it was the Wild West, I could have got myself a gun and shot them."

"You'd still have to find them."

"Oh I'd find them all right, and kill them."

"They might kill you."

"Everything has risks."

"Miss Watts, there is risk taking and there is recklessness bordering on stupidity. Please we do have experience of dealing with hostage situations."

"With the Russians?"

"No, not with Russians exactly."

"Gee whizz, that really inspires me."

"We'll get them, don't you worry."

"So will I, so don't you worry."

I left the room, "Miss Watts," was called after me. I ignored it.

"Cathy, please don't do anything silly, you could prejudice our efforts and put Lady Cameron at extra risk."

They were right of course but I was so angry all I wanted to do was bomb a gulag or something. How the hell was I going to stay sane while they had Stella? I couldn't settle, I couldn't sit nor lie. I certainly couldn't sleep yet I felt exhausted. It was awful.

Henry phoned me, "Hello Cathy darling, this must be awful for you."

"It is Henry, I am so worried and so angry. I feel like going to the hospital and killing that big ape."

"You can't."

"I know, but I'd like to."

"You can't."

"I know that, it would be criminal."

"You can't."

I was fed up with this, I knew I couldn't, I'd admitted as much. "Why can't I?"

"He died about an hour ago."

"What! Oh no! What are we going to do?"

"We have a plan."

"I'm glad someone does."

"This being dealt with at the highest level, please don't do any Girl Guide stuff to mess it up, will you darling, no matter how angry you feel."

"Are we going to get her back?"

"I hope so."

"Poor Henry, this is your daughter we're talking about. I'm sorry if I've sounded off a bit."

"Yes it is my favourite girl, but I'm talking to my next favourite one."

"Henry, you old sweet talker," I gently chided him whilst blushing.

"Keep your pecker up ..."

"I can't Henry, it's been removed, remember?"

He roared at my interruption. "You silly girl, and you are one now, congratulations."

"Thank you, but please go back to talking to your Russian friends and find them."

"How did you know about that?"

"Simon told me a long time ago. I had hoped it would keep the numbers down being preoccupied with each other."

"So did we, however, we'll find them and very soon."

"Is Simon with you?"

"No he's at Heathrow with MI5 officers, can't say anymore."

"Tell him to be careful."

"I will when I see him."

He rang off and I didn't know if I felt any better or not. At least it seemed that someone was doing something about it and I hoped they were more advanced than Henry could tell me.

Surely someone in Russia must have communications with the lot over here, someone must know. Why can't we find out from there and then go and get them.

Wish that it were so straightforward. I suppose if they stormed the building, assuming they're in one, the thugs would kill Stella or she could get shot in the cross fire. Oh it was too bad, I wanted to do something but I couldn't.

I changed into jeans and a sweater, with trainers on my feet. I hoped I was better dressed for action. My hair was tied back in a pony tail and that was clipped flat to my head. I was getting ready for a fight, just in case.

Tom eventually came home and we hugged. My phone kept receiving texts reminding me it was 22 hours, then 21 and so on. The police had a machine which intercepted the calls and texts and they took over replying to them.

I was to be available in case they actually phoned to speak to me. I wondered why they couldn't use a woman copper instead, but they said it was in case they put Stella on the line, she'd notice a difference and then things could go wrong.

That night, I tossed and turned. I lay on the bed fully clothed in case they needed me. I was up at six, having slept maybe two hours. I felt awful but my adrenalin was keeping me going.

At eight thirty, my parcel arrived. I told them it was scientific equipment and took it up to my bedroom to assemble. It felt good and the pull was about right for me.

I went out to Tom's garden and squeezed through the hedge, then sneaked up to the nearby woodland, where I practiced for an hour. I hadn't lost any of my previous skill. We had an archery club not far from us in Bristol, I used to target shoot quite regularly and with a compound bow did very well. I could certainly hit something man sized from about 50 yards.

They were target arrows, the only sort you can get in the UK unless you make your own heads. I wondered about modifying them but decided against it in the end. If I hit someone with one of these it would take them down and maybe even kill them. Silent and deadly.

I recall learning that in the Napoleonic wars, the object was to cause your opponent to flee the field not kill him. So they used canon which made lots of noise and created havoc, plus muskets which did the same. Apparently, if they wanted to kill each other, they'd have used longbows. During the frequent Anglo-French wars, the English longbowmen could release an arrow every six seconds and fire it 300 feet or more. It was a rain of death. Hence at Agincourt, they destroyed the flower of the French aristocracy in a few hours.

Did I want to rain death upon my enemies? Part of me wanted to, I knew it was pathetic but that was how I felt. I just wanted to get Stella back safe and well and neutralise the threat so it couldn't happen again. If that meant killing people, I would consider doing it, in theory anyway.

This dilemma was gnawing away at me, I was a liberal humanitarian at heart, I didn't want to give way to baser human emotions. I liked to think that things are resolved by talking, by politics not warfare, yet here I was preparing to possibly kill someone. Someone had died already, how, I don't know. Could I have killed him with one of the kicks, or did Pippa, or was it something else? Hell, I could be a killer. I just made it to the loo when my stomach evacuated its contents upwards and very rapidly. I had to admit to myself, I didn't really have the stomach to kill.