The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2860 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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Basically, the final clause was one to prevent whistleblowers. I would get my lawyer to look at it before I signed it. I photocopied it and then faxed it to Jason asking him to call me when convenient. I slipped the original in a folder and put in my personal file.

It was eleven o’clock. I’d wasted a lot of time but I felt justified. As an archetypal Sagittarius, I tend to charge in when sometimes a more circumspect approach would be more useful in achieving a desired outcome. Age or experience was beginning to show me that small print was something that needed to be read before action not after, then it was often too late. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen at the university that I’d report to the wider world but if something did happen that needed exposure, I would do it—as things stood—I’d also lose my job. Perhaps less of a big deal for me than many of the academic staff because I didn’t actually need the money. However, it also suggested that if i did leave any research projects surveys remained the property of the university. Sorry, but the mammal survey is mine and I’ve registered the methodology and the software Sammi designed for us. Effectively, I hold the copyrights or patents, so if I am forced to leave, so do they—I’m not going to give them away. I’d scribbled a note to Jason with the fax mentioning this. Years ago, I’d have trusted them—nowadays, I trust very few.

Diane had actually sent the fax for me as the machine is in her office and when she brought in some mid morning tea and a hot cross bun—no wonder I don’t lose any weight—she said, “I get a strong impression you’re not very happy with the contract.”

“Your impressions may well be accurate.”

“So who were you faxing it to?”

“A barrister friend who will give me the legal reasons why I may or may not sign it.”

“You don’t do small talk, do you?”

“No. Not with the Vice Chancellor, he’s got more sides than a dodecahedron.”

“Whatever one of those is.”

“Twelve sided solid.”

“Do-deca—ah yes, I get it now.”

“Don’t tell me it was all Greek to you?”

“Very funny. I guess you don’t like the Vice Chancellor very much?”

“Not at all, have you met him?”

“Very briefly when he came to see you once.”

“Did your flesh crawl?”

“Possibly, I can’t quite remember.”

“He knows I’m something of a loose cannon...”

“Maverick, surely?”

“I wear the Cameron brand,” I waved my rings in the air.

“I meant in not conforming, being a free thinker—that sort of sense.”

“Okay, you’ve pigeon holed me, now go and do some work.”

“Yes ma’am,” she saluted me and left.

Ten minutes later my phone rang. “Professor it’s Professor Michaels from Archaeology.”

“Oh okay, put him through.”

“Hello, Peter what can I do for you?”

“Have you seen the new contracts?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I’m still thinking about it, I won’t sign anything until my barrister has seen it.”

“Lucky you can afford to get a legal opinion.”

“True, at the same time his advice generally I would share with interested parties though what they did with it would be up to them.”

“I’m not sure what he’s up to.”

“He’s a control freak,” I suggested.

“He wants to run it like a business and we’d be senior managers.”

“That’s his background, isn’t it—oil industry?”

“Yeah, out in Nigeria or somewhere in Africa—wasn’t there some trouble out there, a major accident, lots of people killed and of course he emerged squeaky clean from the enquiry.”

“I’m sure he had two incidents like that and both times he either managed to shift the blame or sidestep it, or bribe the investigators. He’s made loads of money.” As I said this I suddenly realised that I hadn’t done too badly myself, but at least mine was honestly acquired.

“I suspect I’ll have to sign, Cathy, I’m too old to find another job and since my divorce I’m going to have a mortgage until after I retire.”

“Let me get the report back from Jason, first.”

“Who’s he?”

“My counsel.”

“Oh yeah, you said.”

I wondered how tied into the university the reserve with Billie’s visitor centre was. If I left or was pushed, I’d want to take that with me, I’d have to look at the contracts for that too. I know the bank owned it but had offered a ninety nine year lease for peppercorn rent—as it was my present and memorial to my lovely daughter.

“You still there, Cathy?”

“Sorry, yes, I’m still here. Look how many are likely to dissent from signing?”

“Not many, they’re too scared—at most half a dozen.”

“Hardly enough for a pressure group, is it?”

“Quite.”

“Try and draw it out for a few more days if you can and as soon as I hear from Jason, I’ll let you know.”

I took Diane to lunch for her birthday and on my return I had a text from Jason. ‘Do not sign anything – contract is OTT in their favour. Jason.’

I sat there staring at my phone. “Problems?” asked Diane bringing in a cuppa.

“Jason doesn’t do text speak.”

“Oh, is that good or bad?”

I showed her my BlackBerry. “Oh, that’s pretty definite advice.”

“Exactly. I’d better call his office and speak to him if he’s there.”

I called as soon as Diane went out again. “We’ll patch you through to his mobile,” said one of his clerks as soon as I gave my name. Moments later, “Hi, Cathy, look I’ve only had a quick squint at it but it’s very binding stuff, you’d have more freedom working for the army or the intelligence services.”

“Nah, don’t like uniforms or killing people so both would be out.”

“Probably not the best career move for a professional dormouse handler.”

“You usually say juggler.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you usually accuse me of dormouse juggling.”

“A la youtube?”

“Yes,” I sighed and he chuckled. “You realise that’s been viewed about two million times.”

“Don’t tell me one and half million were you?”

“How’d ya guess?” he chuckled.

“What do I do?”

“Can it wait a few days, I’m in the middle of a big case should finish Thursday or Friday.”

“Come to dinner.”

“That would be nice.”

“Let me know which day and I’ll get David to kill the fatted cat.”

“Cat? Shouldn’t it be calf?”

“Nah, the cat’s fatter than any calf I’ve seen. Little bugger discovered where the munchies were kept and helped herself—ate about a kilo of the things in a week, no wonder she was always thirsty. She kept drinking the birdbath dry.”

“They’re very dry aren’t they?”

“Yes and I suspect salty, to get them edible for cats and they wolf them down, like donkeys and strawberries.”

“I’ve never seen a donkey eat strawberries, have you?”

“No, but that’s the expression, isn’t it?”

“It is. Right, I have to go I’ll ring you on Wednesday or Thursday to get together for dinner, want me to bring any wine?”

“I quite enjoy a nice Prosecco.”

“Prosecco it is, just don’t sign anything—okay?”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it, Cathy, if you do he’ll have you wrapped up tighter than an elephant’s foreskin.”

“You what?” I gasped.

“Well it’s the biggest drawback in the jungle, isn’t it?”

“I doubt it, elephants live on the savannah not jungle.”

“You shoulda been a lawyer, Cathy. Byeee.” Yeah, if I was I’d have been useless, don’t read the small print.