The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1187 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

At last I had a chance to explain my dilemma. He listened and his eyebrows raised when I mentioned the bonfire rescue, then the shooting and car attack, and finally the attempt on the bus.

“This is far more serious than I imagined, but it explained your rather nervous entry this morning.”

“How did you know I was nervous, you weren’t here?”

“Oh yes I was, you just didn’t see me. I sat in the corner over there,” he pointed, “reading a magazine. You just didn’t see me. I like to get to my venues early, it gives me a chance to assess my clients before they’re aware I’m present.”

I wasn’t sure if I was impressed or found it a little creepy, like he was some sort of voyeur, watching me–but then, the enemy were too; they were watching and not only me.

“Is this too big for you? Should I go to the police?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about all this, except scared.

“We’ll have to include the police eventually, but I’d like to have a poke about and see what surfaces from the muck-pile. The enemy, whoever they are, are big time–nothing local could do half the things they’re up to. Local boys would have come in and killed you all in one hit. These guys are trying to take you out one at a time to make it harder for the police to get a handle on things. I suspect it’s coming from the the Smoke. Did you bring the keys with you?”

“No, but I do have some photos. If it was the keys they were after, then if they got me, they’d get them too–and they’d have won.”

“Be very careful, or they’re going to win anyway. You’re fortunate that you have some resources to fight back. We’re going to need some help–but it’s going to cost.”

“Help?” I wasn’t sure how much of this I could actually afford, nor if I was happy with his spreading the information about.

“I have some friends, ex-service mates, whom I contact now and again when I need a bit of help. I think we need some poking about done, and we need some surveillance done to see who we’re up against. We also need some protection for you and your family. I don’t know yet if they know quite who they’ve picked on. D’you mind if I make a quick phone call?”

He walked out of the coffee shop and sat there, my coffee now cold–I asked them to warm it for me and was pleased that the waitress didn’t think I was weird in asking her.

Jim came back a few minutes later. “I’ll be candid with you, I’ve spoken to Henry, he’s told me to go ahead, I hope you’re happy with that?”

“I’d have preferred not to have involved him.”

“This is a much bigger job than you think.”

“Maybe I should just go to the police?” It wasn’t an option I wanted to take, but then I wasn’t sure I wanted to help fund some sort of covert war against some London based organised crime gang, either.

“You can go to the plod if you wish, but believe me, they won’t make much progress and the keys will end up back with the original owners, and some of your family will probably be dead or badly hurt.”

“But how can you protect us, the police have greater resources.”

“They have more, not necessarily better. Do you know who are based down the road at Poole?”

“The Lifeboat people.”

“Um yes, they are. But also some of my friends in the SBS.”

“The SBS? Who are they?”

“Special Boat Service.”

“I hate to say it, but I live on dry land.”

He chuckled, “They operate anywhere, I could tell you just a few of their exploits but have a look on Wiki.”

“We’re getting the army involved?”

“Royal Navy, actually but only incidently–they’re experts at collecting information while being able to handle themselves if it gets a bit rough.”

I had visions of Scotland all over again, and World War Three starting.

“But won’t the powers that be get involved?”

“Not entirely, besides if we sort out some organised crime, Special Branch will take credit or MI5.”

“This is beginning to get silly, I mean, it’s all about my foster daughter picking up the wrong blessed keys.”

“I suspect it’s been ripe for the picking for some time.” He glanced at his i-Phone, “They’ve rumbled someone was shot at on the bus.”

“Who have?”

“The plod, it’s on the BBC.”

“Oh, does that mean they’ll be looking for me?”

“Probably. Do some shopping on the way home–they won’t know will they?”

“I suppose not.”

“You have a mobile?”

I pulled out my Blackberry and gave him the number.

“Nice phone.”

“Simon gave it to me ages ago, but it still does all I want and more.”

He nodded. “I’ll send you a text as soon as I know anything. Go home and stay there, keep all the kids in, and if you see any strange men wandering about let me know immediately.”

“Why, will they be your people?”

“No–you won’t see my people, neither will the bad guys.”

“What about Simon and Tom, they have to go to work?”

“They’ll be alright for the moment; I’ll have them shadowed just in case.”

“This is becoming so much bigger than I thought it would. I just wanted to stop them trying to hurt my kids and now–well now, we’ll have a bloody aircraft carrier parked in the drive the way things are going.”

“If you want to buy one, I know someone who’s got one for sale–reasonable terms, probably arrange for a squadron of Harriers, too.”

“Stupid government cuts,” I said and meant it.

He nodded, “All governments are stupid, this one seems to excel at it. Oh well, they’ll realise when it’s too late–like they usually do. Go home, take a cab, go beyond your home, and walk back to it.”

“But that’s like, fields?”

“Yeah, they won’t be watching fields, just your house, and you have some protection there by now,” he said glancing at his watch.

“I hope no one is going to get killed in all this.” I said this with a sense of dread and foreboding.

“The object is to make sure if they do, it isn’t you or yours.” He said in a matter of fact way.

“Does anyone have to–to die, I mean?”

“I hope not.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Shall we say it could prove a bit more challenging than my usual work, although I’ve annoyed a few crime syndicates in the last year or two.”

“What if this is one of them?”

“I think I’d know by now if it was–so this is a whole new adventure.”

“Are you mad?” Here I was clenching my buttocks to avoid soiling my pants and he was revelling in it.

“Yeah, but don’t tell everyone. I have to go, things to do. I’ll be in touch.” He offered his hand once more and when I took it he kissed the back of mine. “You were never anything but female, and a lovely one at that. Adieu.” He walked away and I paid for my coffee bought a few things for the kids, and took a cab home–well half a mile beyond home. Then walked back. I didn’t see anyone near the house.

“Where have you been, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“I went shopping, see?” I displayed the bags and was soon overwhelmed by children looking to see what I’d bought. While they were distracted, I told the adults that no one was to leave the house, except Simon and Tom because it was getting dangerous. I told them briefly about the bus ride and Jenny gasped, Stella shook her head.

“One of the things about Cathy is, in her company there is never a dull moment.”

“Yeah but this like being in the war,” said Jenny, “I mean, it’s like a siege, isn’t it?”

“It will come to an end, and I hope soon.” As I spoke Stella gave me a very knowing look. I shrugged.

“Was he nice?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The man about whose dog you went to see?”

“Yeah, he was nice–yeah, very nice.” My hand tingled where he’d kissed it, but I was married to Simon, good ol’ Simon. Just as well, anyone with Jim would be worried his next job would be his last. He was fun, in a very dangerous sort of way, but the last thing I needed with six kids and one of Stella’s was an adrenalin junkie and I suspected that’s what Jim was. He positively revelled in organising counter ops against my criminal enemies and I suspect his friends were as bad. If it meant we could sleep safely in our beds at night, then I was very glad he and his friends were about.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_Boat_Service