The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3089 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 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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“If we wait until dark,” which would be less than two hours, “we could probably get in somehow, over the fence or through the railings.”

“I hate to admit it, but my plump little body wouldn’t go between those railings and even if it didn’t my head wouldn’t.”

“That’s because of your big brain, Professor.”

“Very funny,” I said meaning entirely the opposite.

“There is always plan B,” he said after a short pause.

“Which is?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought of it yet.”

I began to wonder why I was employing him. He got out of the car and came back with an attaché case. He pushed back his seat and opened the case on his lap. I sniggered when I saw what was in it. There were rubber gloves, a hacksaw, little tools that looked like they might be used for picking locks, pieces of wire, a head light, batteries, a voltage detector and thing that looked like a small endoscope, even smaller than the ones we use in field work.

“This will get us in,” he said picking out the hacksaw.

“In two weeks. Have you seen the thickness of the bars of the railings?”

“It won’t take that long.”

“Has the car got a jack?”

“Yes, why?”

“Please go and get it.”

He disappeared for two minutes and returned with the aforementioned device.

“What’re you going to do, take the wheels off?”

“No, c’mon I’ll show you.”

We wandered around the circumference of the grounds of the house and when I deemed we were out of view of the CCTV, I showed him what I was going to do with the railings. Stick a jack between two of them and start pumping. In five minutes my brains and his muscle had bent two railings enough for me to squeeze through. He went back to the car and replaced the jack then dashed back. It was a tighter squeeze for him, but the he is much bigger than me, however, he got through. The first thing afterwards was to mark where the gap was so as to find our way out and to do this without making it too obvious to those inside the house or they could trap or anticipate where we’d go to escape them.

Squeezing through the hedge was the next task and that was harder than the railings. I was beginning to feel they really didn’t like visitors. I found a bit of stick and laid it on the grass pointing to the escape route and James said to me, “Have you done this before?”

“No but my brain still works and I try to plan a few minutes ahead of where I am now.”

“The military do the same, if you go in somewhere before you commit you work out how to get out, then do it.”

“There you go, some of the military are obviously brighter than others.”

“Cathy, some of the officers are very bright, Oxbridge graduates and all that.”

“I don’t see that as much of a recommendation. Half the cabinet are Oxbridge graduates, most of those in the Brexit campaign were, too.”

“I take your point. I also take it you didn’t go there.”

“Me? Nah, I went to Sussex.”

“Where you got a first.”

“If you knew where I studied, why bother asking me?”

“Just checking.”

“What about you?” I asked meaning where was his alma mater.

“UCL then Sandhurst, been back to UCL since for a few things.”

“Did you know Simon, he went there?”

“Don’t think so. You ever think of joining the army?”

“Don’t be daft, I don’t do orders—well I give ’em rather than take them.”

“I honestly can’t understand why that doesn’t surprise me,” he said and chuckled quietly. Just then a large dog came bounding almost silently at us. James saw it and pulled out his pistol but I stopped him shooting it. Instead as it reached about ten feet from us, I threw a ball of blue light at it. It fell over yelped and ran away faster than it arrived.

“How on earth did you do that?” asked James his eyes very wide.

“With practice, why?”

“Where did the blue flash come from?”

I shrugged, “Dunno, but if it hadn’t arrived we’d have been in trouble.”

He waved his gun at me, “You might have been, so might the dog. I’d have been alright.”

“Bloody typical.”

“What is?”

“I left my phone in the car.”

“So you’re not perfect—thank goodness for that.”

I looked at him then shook my head.

“Gee thanks, bloody biologists.”

“Yep, it’s a life time commitment.”

“Groan,” he said quietly and we both sniggered.

We’d made it across from the railings to the house, now it was a question of avoiding the halogen lights which seemed on every corner of the place.

“How do we get past those without long detours?” I asked him.

“Elementary,” he said pulling a catapult out of his jacket pocked and a handful of ball bearings.

“I’d need a sack of them to hit one of the lights.”

“See, the army did teach me one or two things.”

“I’d have thought an airgun would have been better.”

“Not guaranteed to break the glass and heavier than this little baby. Also if necessary, this will stop a man with a head shot.”

“I’ll leave you do sort out any attackers then.”

“For you, Cathy darling, anything.”

“Just concentrate on shooting the lights out.”

“But of course.”

The sound of glass breaking in the light was like a clap of thunder to my sensitised ears, which had been listening for anyone coming out from the house. James had shot out two of the intruder lights when to our surprise a man came out of the house, walked across to the garage and entered it, leaving the door wide open. Well with an invitation like that...

I slipped into the house and James went into the garage emerging two minutes later on his own. He shut the door behind him and we crept along the corridor. I could hear voices coming from a slightly open door just up from us.

“Tell me where is your brother Danny?” urged a woman’s voice, “Tell me and I’ll let you go plus I’ll give you a hundred pounds each.”

“We haven’t got a brother Danny or anything else. We’re all girls aren’t we, Cind?”

“Yeah, Mum’s got a thing about boys—she don’t like them.”

“But the adoption agency told me who had adopted him, and it was Mrs Cameron, who lives in the old farmhouse.”

“D’you know who my parents are?” asked Danielle.

“Yes, Mr and Mrs Cameron and he’s an executive in a bank and she’s a lecturer at the university. Look, girls, I want my son back.”

“Why so you can abandon him again?”

“That was a great mistake and I bitterly regret it, but if you know about that, you know him. Tell me, or I’ll hurt you.”

“I knew him, he was at the same home as me. Nice boy, liked his soccer.”

“But we were told he’d left the home and been adopted by the Camerons.”

“Nah, that was me, weren’t it, Cind?”

“Yeah, sis.”

James had to almost physically restrain me as I listened to this interrogation. “Just wait a moment,” he hissed and pulled out his smart phone. He pressed a couple of buttons and then put it back in his pocket. “Insurance,” he whispered.