Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 792 by Angharad

I felt incredibly close to Simon as I watched him shower and change to go to London. He wore his black leather jacket and grey trousers, with a tidy striped shirt, he rolled a tie and shoved it in his jacket pocket. I packed his overnight case and felt a pang of guilt, he was going as a favour to me.

“Drive carefully,” I said, unable to restrain the tears which broke over the dam and flowed freely down my face.

“Hey, Babes, why the wet stuff?”

“I’m worried for you.”

“This baby will outrun most things,” he said tapping the car fondly. I wasn’t sure I entirely agreed, James Bond’s Aston Martin dealt with one in Casino Royale, I think. Still, I didn’t think the KGB ran to Astons, or even Porsches, so maybe he was right?

“I love you.”

“So you said,” he replied winking at me.

“Come back safe and soon.” I kissed him passionately to emphasise the point.

“If there’s more where that came from, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Did you pack my navy suit?”

“Yes, darling and your black shoes, you’ve packed your laptop so you should have everything.”

We kissed again and the MI5 people parked a van in front of the camera so he could steal a march on them. He promised to phone as soon as he got there, and with a squeal of tyres, he screamed up the road with an escort vehicle behind him – a large dark BMW. I suspected it carried an armed passenger.

With the girls asleep in bed, Stella watching the telly and Tom working in his den, I felt somewhat alone. At a loose end and not feeling much like doing anything which required any thought, I went up and had a soak in the bath and shaved my legs.

An hour later I came down, feeling physically relaxed but also still worried about Simon. Tom was pouring himself a whisky and offered me one. I can’t stand the smell let alone the taste, so I had a cuppa. Stella joined me in sharing a teabag.

“Whaur’s Simon gone?”

“Up to see Henry.”

“Whit fer?”

“To discuss my idea with him.”

“Whit idea is that?”

“To threaten to close their bank in Russia unless the Russian government pull out their hit squads.”

“Ye think this is official Russian policy?”

“MI5 do, which is why they’re here.”

“They’re no very efficient, are they?”

“That had occurred to me, Daddy.”

“I could hae knocked ye off yer bike nae bother, an’ I’m no a trained assassin.”

“Maybe it was a warning, this is what will happen if you don’t do as we want.”

“Aye, mebbe.”

“Yeah, but why target you, Cathy, I’d have thought Simon or Daddy would be more appropriate ones?”

“Yes, Stella, but it would depend upon how you view things. If they’d got me, it would show a determination of purpose without hitting the main players. If they still wouldn’t play ball, presumably they hit one or other of them, or even you.”

“Geez, Cathy, that is too scary to contemplate. Here I was thinking, I’m glad I’m not involved, but I guess I am just by being a Cameron?”

“Sadly yes, so is Puddin’.”

“They’d better not lay one finger on my baby, or I shall go ballistic.”

“Which is why I’m trying to get the Russian government involved directly.”

“They’re hardly going to talk to a little old English bank, are they?”

“According to Simon, they owe your bank over a billion pounds, if Henry declares he’s going to call in the loan for whatever reason, other banks will start to worry and before long a snowball effect begins. If it starts it could bankrupt Russia and bring down the government with a bump.

“Do you really think that could happen?”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to try it if Henry will do it.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because it could destroy his bank and the assassins will travel over here in large numbers.”

“Maybe we should flee to South America.”

“That didn’t save Trotsky, did it?” I sighed.

“How would I know?” she responded, “He was before my time.”

“Stalin had his assassins track him down and they bashed his head in with an ice pick.”

“I thought it wis Mexico, no South America.” Tom stared at the golden fluid in his glass.”

“I can’t remember, it’s a long time since I did history,” I conceded.

“Think hoo I feel then,” said Tom, looking saddened.

“What d’you mean, Daddy?”

“Whit you studied as history, I wis livin’.” He sipped his malt whisky and winked at me. I glanced at Stella who smirked and in seconds we were both giggling like two schoolgirls.

The phone rang and I jumped up so quickly that the chair fell over behind me. I ignored it and ran to the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Babes, I’m here – without incident.”

“Oh, thank goodness for that, love you.”

“Love you too, Babes, take care of the girls won’t you?”

“Of course I will ... Simon?... Simon?” the phone was dead. The last expression, take care of the girls, had done it. Until then, I’d have believed what he was saying at face value. Now I wanted to get my car out and drive up to London, to find him. Where was the escort? My heart flipped over and over.

“Was it Simon?” asked Stella coming to find me.

“Yes, yes it was.”

“Oh good, he’s arrived then?”

“So he said,” I felt a huge tear run down my face.

“So why are you crying?”

“I think he’s in trouble.”

“How d’you mean? With Daddy?”

“No, I think they’ve got him.”

“Who?” a look of realisation came over her face, “The Russians?”

“Yes.” I replied grimly.