The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2336 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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I was still trying to understand what was going on. Special branch are usually on the political stuff, terrorists or anti-establishment groups, like animal protection groups or even anti GM crops protestors. We, to a large extent were pro establishment, that was where the money came from and was loaned to. Governments are the bank’s biggest customers and because they repay slowly, they pay dear for what they borrow. They try to set terms and conditions but the banks largely get what they want.

So, given that the UK and various other government owe High St or Cameron’s Bank probably a few billion pounds, why are they watching them? Shouldn’t the banks be watching the government—they’re far less reliable. It doesn’t make sense. Even Henry wasn’t sure what was going on, and he’s plugged into the intelligence services. So what chance did I have of making sense of it?

Jim phoned at tea time and said he’d pop in later, he didn’t say how much later and as my brain was still wrapped around the problem, I forgot to ask him. Stella announced that Mitchell was coming to take her out when she returned from work.

“I thought he was leaving the area?” I challenged.

“He’s taken a day’s leave to come and see me.”

“Why doesn’t he come and meet with the rest of us?”

“Why should he?”

“I thought he’d proposed to you?”

“Um, not quite.” She blushed. “I exaggerated the other night to get you going.”

“You said he was in security?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s quite a big field.”

“So?”

“So which one’s he with?”

“Why?”

“I mean is he in MI5 or does he stand behind the checkouts at Asda?”

“Oh yeah, and drive a 5 series Beamer?”

“That could be rented.”

“Why are you asking all these questions?”

“I have a hunch that he’s not what he claims to be?”

“You and your hunches, Cathy—or is it just a way to stop me having a man of my own? If you can’t bewitch him, you discredit him. Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me in peace?” She stormed out of the kitchen and David stood there blinking.

I’d forgotten he was there and I apologised to him but asked him to keep it all under his hat. He shrugged and asked what as he hadn’t heard anything. I patted him on the shoulder and asked if he could do me a cake for when Jim came. He invited me to make it myself and share the oven with him. I therefore could say to Jim, “I knew you were coming so I baked a cake.”

And so it came to pass. After Stella avoided us all like the plague, she disappeared off out with Mitchell just before Jim arrived. I made coffee for him and delivered my punch line as I offered him a slice of cake. “Did you make this?”

“Of course.”

He took a bite, it was a basic Victoria sandwich, two layers of sponge with a filling of jam and cream. “It’s delicious.”

I smiled, I knew it would be and took a piece because I knew it would disappear as soon as the kids and Simon knew it was there.

“Is Stella about?” he asked.

“No, she went out with Mitchell about half an hour or so ago, she was miffed because I asked a few questions about Mitchell.”

He winced.

I picked up this discomfort in my solar plexus, “He’s not kosher, is he?”

Jim shrugged.

“C’mon, Jim, level with me.”

“I spoke with Henry earlier, he’s been in touch with his contacts quite a way up the tree...”

“The Home Secretary, you mean?”

“Like I said he’s been in touch with a high up source and they don’t know what’s going on.”

“Or say they don’t.”

“That’s possible but it doesn’t feel right, somehow.”

“Mitchell is a rogue cop, isn’t he?”

“It’s beginning to look that way.”

“Stella is out with him, is she in any danger?”

“I don’t know, I guess as long as he doesn’t think anyone is on to him, she should be all right.”

“This the Russians again?”

“Could be,” he shrugged.

“Why aren’t they tied up with Ukraine?”

“They are but if the sanctions start to bite they could retaliate by destabilising a major UK bank.”

“Why not a US one?”

“I suspect High St is just the right size to cause widespread panic and enable them to negotiate with the UK to stop supporting Ukraine or face another financial crisis.”

“Would that happen?”

“Oh yeah, it sure could.”

“I think I’m allergic to Russians.”

He smiled, “They’re not all like their Fuhrer...”

“What Ras?”

“Ras?”

“Yeah, Ras Putin,” I smiled.

“Cathy, that is awful—but quite apt.”

“Creepy little man.”

“Okay, let’s not get too personal about this.”

“But why Stella?”

“If he could worm his way into her life she wouldn’t suspect him if he was told to kill or kidnap her.”

“If he lays a finger on her I’ll kill him,” I threatened.

“Uh no, Cathy, he’s mine.”

That sort of shocked me. Jim was a professional, a professional killer; trained by his country to deal with separating its enemies from their lives. To him, this could be just one more enemy to be despatched.

“Did Henry ask you?”

“I can’t answer that on the grounds of client confidentiality.”

“So he did.”

Jim said nothing but finished his cake.

“What can I say to Stella?”

“You can’t, if Mitchell becomes suspicious, then Stella is at increased risk.”

“Can’t they just arrest him?”

“No, we have to let him have room to prove his treachery. As soon as we have enough evidence, they’ll pull him in.”

“What if a colleague tips him off?”

“Plan B.”

“What’s that?”

“The terminator.”

“What you?”

He shrugged and I knew it was him.

“I didn’t think governments did such things.”

He shrugged and told me he had to go before Stella got back or Mitchell would know he’d been rumbled.”

“What car are you driving?” I glanced down the drive.

“The usual, I walked through the orchard.”

“This frightens me, Jim, especially for Stella, why do they always pick on her.”

“When you wage war you always pick on easy targets, fewer casualties on your side.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Jim, especially if they hurt her. Henry will be very angry and Simon will be homicidally so.”

“Know what, Lady Cameron?”

“What?”

“They’re not afraid of Simon or even Henry.”

“They should be.”

“Why?”

“They could cause loads of grief with their money and influence.”

“So?”

“Surely no one in their right mind would want to take on either, would they?”

“It isn’t Henry they’re frightened of.”

“Simon, my Simon is a...”

“...Pussy cat.”

“What?” I gasped.

“The only one even your little friend Ras is afraid of...”

“Yeah, is who? It’s you is it?”

“No, far more deadly than I am.”

“Well who is it? Do we need to hire them?”

“No Cathy, you don’t—it’s you. You’re the one they really fear.”

“Me?”

“Yes you.”

“What for?”

“Two reasons, you’re an implacable foe and perhaps more importantly, if you did one or two of your miracles in the open, you’d command twenty million Christians who would see you as an ironic second coming.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“They know about the dead bodies you restored to life.”

“They weren’t quite dead.”

“A minor point, they had no cardiac activity and yet you got them walking again.”

“They know about this in Russia?”

“Cathy, you saved two or three Russians—they know about it in Whitehall.”

“Oh shit.”

“The one thing you’d have to watch out for is if you did play the second coming card...”

“The Vatican.”

“Quite.” He pecked me on the cheek and left, walking up through the orchard.