The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1006 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

As we sped away up into the air, I could see a convoy of police vehicles moving from Portsmouth, north and west towards Soberton Heath, a place I only knew as somewhere I went through on occasional bike rides.

In a relatively short time, we were over the area, which was wooded on the one side of the A32 road–I must do a check there for dormice, I thought to myself as we circled round and about–but for now, we were hunting bigger game–rats, of the two legged variety.

“They could be anywhere,” I sighed, “What if he was lying?”

“With you threatening to kebab his nuts on an arrow, I doubt it. Would you have shot him in the goolies?”

“How do I know, all that mattered was he thought I would.”

“True, but would you have?”

“If it meant saving Simon’s life, then, yes I would–I think. It’s different talking about it in isolation compared to the heat of the moment.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I’ve cycled round here.”

“What from Portsmouth?”

“Yes, why?”

“You’re quite fit then?”

“Not at the moment, I rarely get time to cycle these days.”

“Pity, it’s good exercise.”

“So they say, ooh look, a Jaguar just like Simon’s.”

“You what?”

“Down there,” I pointed, “the Jaguar is the same colour as the one Simon has.”

He spoke into his microphone and the chopper did a pass around the house and this time had the computerised camera working to try and read the number plate.

“What’s his number?”

“SI 09 CAM.”

“The camera is picking up a CA, can’t see the rest for trees,” said the observer sitting up with the pilot.

Wheatland ordered his cars to close in on that farmhouse.

“It is a Jaguar,” confirmed the observer, “I can see the cat badge on the back.”

“Can we go down and see what’s happening?” I asked.

“No, one of the reasons for bringing you along up here is you can’t get involved in any fisticuffs.”

“But my Simon could be down there,” I wailed.

“If he is, the swat team will do its job and get him out. They train for it, they’re not natural born killers like some people.”

“So you go to the cinema,” I teased.

“Infrequently, too busy chasing ne’er do wells.”

“Got a definite on the car, sir,” came a voice from below us.

“Treat with great caution.”

“Get my husband out safely, please,” I squealed into the microphone.

“We’ll do our best, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

The link went quiet and we soared away hovering some distance off. The police vehicles blocked all exits and entrances, and we could see men scurrying about like ants. It felt unreal.

“Can’t we go any closer?” I asked.

“No, if they start shooting we’re practically defenceless.”

“I thought you had a gun,” I poked him in his jacket, “there in your holster.”

“A pistol would be lucky to hit a house from anything further than twenty or thirty yards away.”

“How come Clint Eastwood can shoot the balls off a fly from a hundred yards away with his Colt 45?”

“That is pure fiction, he’d be lucky to hit the town from that range. More bystanders got hit than gunslingers.”

“Go and arrest him under the trades descriptions act.”

“The wild west is a bit out of my jurisdiction, but if he ever shows up over here with a six gun, I’ll arrest him, that’s the best I can offer.”

We watched the drama below us, the flashes of thunderflash grenades, which deafen and disorientate their targets–presumably by pressure wave stuff and the organ of balance in the ear.

Men were rushing to and fro and I wished I was down there to see where Simon was, and that he was okay.”

We watched in silence, the police stormed the farmhouse, and although two men tried to escape via the back, they were soon caught.

Ten minutes later, “Building secured, no sign of target, sir.”

“Okay, Inspector, we’re coming down.”

We landed in a field across the road, and I was very restrained in my desire to rush across and look for myself. Walking with Wheatland into the house, I caught sight of movement above us and pushed him away, a bullet zinged between us and a copper fired back. We ran for cover at the back of the house.

“I thought you had secured the area?” Wheatland chided his colleague, the one I’d hit earlier.

“I don’t know how we missed him, we have three other captives, so I can issue the order to shoot full stop.”

“That’s up to you, Inspector,” Wheatland wasn’t taking responsibility for any deaths.

Once again a bullet zipped near us, and we ran further behind the house.

“Keep down, Lady Cameron, you seem to be his target.”

“Meee?” I squeaked, “Why me?”

“If we catch the bugger, I’ll be sure to ask him.” With that the Inspector in charge of the swat team ran round the corner and straight into a bullet–in the face. He fell backwards, and Wheatland called for a medic.

We dragged him back with us, he was quite a big man and took some hauling. I pulled a handful of tissues from my bag and tried to staunch the wound. I also threw some healing at him–well he was on my side, even if he was a bit limited by red tape.

An ambulance tried to come around the back of the building and withdrew because it was fired upon.

“Will you get that bastard?” Wheatland shouted at the police trying to get a clear shot at the lone gunman.

“He’s got a rifle of some sort hasn’t he?”

“Yes, possibly one of those collapsible things that convert into a pistol and you screw on a barrel and so on. How’s he doing?”

I was throwing rather a lot of blue energy into my patient, and thankfully the bleeding had stopped. I needed this to be quick, I wanted to speak with the man who was shooting at us, because I was sure he knew where Simon was.

I suppose we were there for about twenty minutes, by which time I could confidently predict my patient would live, I did have to push his brain back in and heal it, although I wondered if he used it much anyway.

Finally, a paramedic came scrambling though the hedge on foot, he’d run around the woodland to get to us. I left him with the wounded man. I picked up the bulletproof vest we’d stripped off him, and while there was a bit of blood on it, it said police in nice big letters, so hopefully I wouldn’t be shot by a copper.

Wheatland was peeping around the corner at roughly where the shots were coming from. I reckoned he was on a flat roof over a bay window, which had a small wall around its edge.

I grabbed the vest and the officer’s machine pistol, and dashed into the house. I found the stairs and stopped to don the vest and check the gun was loaded and the safety catch was off. In a pocket I found a spare stun grenade. That could be useful.

I made my way up to the attic and crept slowly across the floor, some of the boards were missing and it stank of mildew and rotting flesh. I nearly stepped on the corpses of some jackdaws, which had obviously fallen from their nest, nearly fledged too.

I spotted an opening under the eaves where the tiles or slates had fallen off and I estimated he was almost directly underneath me. I pulled off another tile or two to make the hole large enough to squeeze through wearing the vest.

I scrambled through and found I was about twelve feet above him although I couldn’t see him because he was under a ledge. I primed and dropped the stun grenade. It exploded on impact, exactly as I’d wanted it to. However, the blast blew me backwards into the attic, and through the rotten boards crashing onto the floor beneath.

The lone gunman stood up and I saw his shadow against the window in front of me, there were several shots and he fell backwards into the room. It wasn’t a he at all, it was a young woman about thirty and she was rather perforated by police snipers.

I crawled towards her, she was still alive but very injured and barely breathing. I started to push some light into her, but she was resisting me. I’d never encountered this before–surely she didn’t want to die. I wanted her to live, because I was sure she knew where Simon was.

I tried to talk to her but her eyes seemed to glaze over and she sighed as blood began to bubble from her mouth. I sat there with her, “Don’t you die on me you bitch, c’mon, stay with me,” I spat at her as I pushed the energy into her blasted body, then realised, she wouldn’t be able to hear me anyway because of my grenade. Oh shit!