The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1603 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“The bit I don’t understand is how Irena or whatever her name really is could repay us with such treachery?” I looked at James as if he was the fount of all knowledge.

“Are you certain it was her?” he replied.

“I’m not certain, but it looked very much like her, I think.”

“You think? How much time did you spend with her on the first meeting?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.” I looked at Stella who nodded in agreement.

“Ten or fifteen minutes–so the woman who came here could have been anyone?”

“Not anyone, Vlad the impaler Putin, she definitely wasn’t.”

James shook his head, “Look I’m trying to be serious here, people’s lives are at stake.”

“Okay, it could have been her. It could have been someone who looked something like her. I don’t know.”

“Have you rerun the advert in the paper?”

“No, don’t think I’ll bother until this business is over.”

“Why not?” asked Stella, “It’d be an extra pair of hands and eyes.”

“It would also be another possible victim if there is any more violence.”

“I think Cathy’s right. We don’t need more strangers in the camp at the moment, besides they could be spies or worse.”

“Like last time,” I suggested.

“Quite,” James agreed, Stella shrugged.

So what do we do next?”

“Batten down the hatches and wait it out.”

“What if they just import a few more hitmen?”

“I don’t think they will, unless of course, this team enjoys some success.”

“Success?” queried Stella.

“Yes, if they manage to kill or injure one or more of you.”

“So why didn’t they just kill Simon?” I asked and Simon looked astonished, then ill.

“Probably because they thought they could get the rest of you in one hit. Let’s face it, the first one is the one which has the most surprise element and thus most likely to succeed.”

“Except they ’ad Mighty Mouse,” added Chas who’d just come in on our little conference. “Looks like the police are back.”

“Okay, check their ID and let ’em in,” instructed James.

A Chief Inspector, accompanied by a man in a suit were let into the house. The man in the police fatigues flashed his warrant card at me but I held out my hand to look at it in more detail, so he had to pull it back out of his pocket and almost sighed.

I could see his name was Wordsworth because it was on his jacket, but I wanted to see what his first name was. He was taller than Simon, and had a military bearing about him, no wonder he looked like someone who ran a SWAT team, whereas Tom and I ran a swot team.

“Who are you?” he asked James.

“Their security adviser, why?”

“Lot of use you were last night.”

“From what I hear, you weren’t much better.” James wasn’t intimidated by this man’s manner.

“If you or your two gorillas are armed, I’m arresting you.”

“And how are you going to find out?” James squared up to the big copper.

I stepped between them, “Boys please leave your playground games for outside. If you so much as touch each other I’ll throw both of you out.”

Chief Inspector Wordsworth laughed, exactly the reaction I expected. James shook his head. “She means it.”

“With all due respect, madam, please don’t make threats you can’t carry out.”

“Because you’ll arrest me too, will you?” I said angrily back at him.

“No, because I’ll put you over my knee and smack your arse.” I saw Simon step towards him, but I motioned him to stay back. James closed his eyes and Tom and Stella stepped back.

“If you try, you’ll regret it.” I spat back at him. The man in the suit shook his head.

The copper laughed at me and I slapped his face. He stopped laughing and stepped towards me, two seconds later he was lying on his back groaning. “She did warn you, Tim.” The man in the suit could speak.

“Where the bloody hell did you learn to do that?” asked the copper, now sitting up and rubbing his chest.

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not, except I could have shot you while lying on the floor.”

“If I thought you’d intended to shoot me or anyone else here, you’d be unconscious, not just winded. You’d also have inhaled your teeth.”

He shook his head and struggled to get up with his stab proof vest. He walked towards me again and held out his hand, I stepped away from him. He shrugged and withdrew it. The suit laughed.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Me? I’m from the Home Office.”

“His name is Mick Thomson, and he works for MI5,” said James.

“Well remembered, Jimmy boy. Right people, can we get down to talking about rounding up these South American morons, or are you all going to fight each other until you’re too tired to argue any longer?”

In lots of ways I’m surprised the security services hadn’t been interested in us earlier. Apparently they had, but had kept a watching brief until now because they thought they’d better take a hand. I suspect Henry might have had some finger in this particular pie, just as he’d arranged for a group of commandos to visit the woods the night of the battle of Stanebury.

Over cups of tea, the suited man, Mick Thomson, suggested what we do to prevent more casualties and against the Chief Inspector’s wishes, he declared that I’d be armed with a handgun in case the bad guys got in the house, in which case I’d be expected to shoot to kill–‘after all, you’ve done it before.’

I declined his offer.

“Not going to play with bows and arrows again are you, Lady Cameron?”

“If I was thinking of arming myself, that would be more useful.”

“Especially with nasty barbed arrows, eh?” he smiled as I’d imagine a spider does when something walks into its web and gets stuck. I felt myself blush. “They’re illegal, but then you know that, don’t you?”

“So are handguns.”

“Not on authorised personnel.”

“Why not give it to Simon?”

“With all due respect to your husband, you’re the one with the record in combat.”

“You make it sound like I’m a soldier or something.”

“No, dear lady, you’re far deadlier than most soldiers I’ve met.”

“Look if you’re planning a trap, and I suspect you are with us as the bait, why do we need any sort of weapons, and aren’t you expecting to take them alive or at least intending to?”

“These guys aren’t just hoodlums, they’re a death squad trained by their secret service.”

“Are you suggesting that they’ve been sent by their government?”

“Off the record, yes, they’d like the Malvinos back.”

“Stuff that,” said Simon, “not until all those sheep vote for it. They stay British and they’ve already said joining Argentina was a baaad idea.” Everyone glared at him and he blushed.

“What has killing us to do with achieving a political end?”

“In reality, very little but if they’d been promised much of the hundred million taken from your bank, they might just become interested.”

“Like common criminals?” I gasped.

“With that sort of money, it’s hardly common is it, dear lady?”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” I retorted, and he smiled. He was a slimy wheeler dealer, but there was something about him which showed through all that crap, but he was no James Bond–then he wouldn’t be, that’s MI6.

“So, returning to our plan, here’s what we do...”