Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 793 by Angharad

“Jes’ whit did he say?” asked Daddy, standing before me and holding me by my shoulders.

“He told me to take care of the girls,” I sobbed.

“Sae whit’s yer problem?”

“It’s not something he would say, not then.”

“How d’ye ken that?”

“I know Simon, Daddy, I know what he’d say.”

“Alricht, whit aboot the MI5 men, whaur are they?”

Stella went out and down the drive to see if they were about. Naturally, they weren’t. I phoned Henry – his phone was unavailable and I had to leave a message. I simply asked him to call me urgently, irrespective of time.

“What if Bill and his buddies weren’t MI5?” I asked, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

“You mean, we’ve been suckered?” Stella gasped and looked quite ill.

“Nah, they’ve gotta be. I mean they knew so much about the Russians.”

“So would the Russians,” I said grimly.

“Oh poo and double poo,” she said stamping her foot.

“It looks like it’s hit the fan. What do we do, go for a siege or do a runner?”

“With fower bairns?” asked Tom shrugging. “If twa o’ us look efter the bairns, one might escape and raise help.” Tom was thinking more clearly than I was.

“You go, we two girls will stay with the babies.”

“Me? Och I’m far too auld. Ye’re the fittest, Cathy, ye go.”

“I can’t leave three children here.”

“Why? It’s oor only chance.”

“You must try, Cathy.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just try and break the cordon, they’ll no doubt have thrown around us.”

“I’ll go and change,” I ran upstairs and changed into some black lycra cycling clothes, a balaclava and my helmet. I pulled on my cycling shoes, and after kissing all my babies goodbye, I got the compound bow from the back of my wardrobe, a quiver of arrows and the image intensifier.

I checked the phones, none were working – they were jamming any mobile signals and had presumably cut the landline. Tom was bemused by my appearance, but made no comment except to wish me luck. Stella and I had a tearful embrace and I begged them both to look after my babies. We switched off the lights and after waiting a few minutes to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I slipped out and got the old mountain bike out of the garage.

I decided they’d expect me to go for it by car or on foot, not by bike and probably not off road. I included a knife in my armament, I wasn’t going to go easily if they did jump me. Progress was painfully slow, moving from bush to bush, fence to fence staying away from street lights and roads. With the image intensifier, I saw three of them without them seeing me and I managed to slip past them.

I knew even if I got beyond the blocking of my mobile, it would also enable them to find me, perhaps before I got a decent message out to the police – who were bound to query it – it was pretty bizarre by any stretch of the imagination. My skills acquired of moving quietly around woodlands in the dark were proving rather useful just now, and I slipped past yet another hostile without him seeing or hearing me or the bike. I rested about a mile into the countryside, hoping I was through the cordon, although if they went to the farmhouse, they’d soon know I was free and it wouldn’t take much too make either Tom or Stella talk, which was why I made them think I was going by one of the faster road bikes.

Making sure I wasn’t observed – as best I could – I climbed on the bike and rode towards Portsmouth police station. I’d left the bow in the garage–it would slow me down and they’d be looking for someone cycling with a bow on their back.

With no lights on the bike, I was in danger of being knocked down by careless motorists, but I didn’t have much option. Then my luck changed, I got pulled by a police patrol car for riding with no lights.

“Okay mate, stop here.” The rather large and corpulent copper pointed to the kerb.

I got off the bike, “Thank God, please take me to the station, I need to speak with the most senior officer I can.”

“Bloody ‘ell, it’s a girl.”

“Yes, look please this is a matter of life and death.”

“Have you been drinkin’ luv?”

“No, I’ve spent the last two hours evading a bunch of Russian secret service to raise the alarm.”

“Of course you have, they’re a real pain around here, now why don’t you turn around and walk the bike home.”

“I can’t, they’ve probably taken the house by now and my children are inside.”

“What have you been taking, luv?”

“You stupid man ...”

“Watch it, luv, or we’ll ‘ave to arrest you.”

“Fine arrest me, if that’s what it takes to get help for my family.”

“’Ere Jim, she looks familiar, it’s that bint off the telly.”

“Yeah sure, which one?”

“The dormouse one, it is you, innit?”

“Yes, I’m Cathy Watts, look I’m telling the truth, and I think they’ve kidnapped my fiancé too.”

“What the dormice?” said the fat one, laughing. “Why don’t I just take you back home and we’ll sort out whatever sort of tiff you’ve ‘ad with your bloke?”

“Look here, I am demanding that I see a senior officer now.”

“Don’t get all ‘oighty-toighty wiv me, luv.”

“Is your radio working?”

“Course.”

“Prove it?” I demanded.

He gave me a filthy look but clicked on his radio and spoke into it, “This is Sierra Echo X-ray Yankee, over.” Nothing happened, so he tried again – still nothing. His friend tried and nothing there either.

“Funny, never ‘ad ‘em both go togever, you some sort of witch?”

“Yeah, my broomstick’s broken so I had to use the bike. They’re jamming you, please take me now or it’ll be too late and I can promise you you’ll be unemployed by the morning.”

“Ooh, threats now.”

The car was parked with the engine running, I threw my bike at the smaller copper and planted the larger one with a kick to the chest, he stopped in his tracks and then fell backwards groaning. In two steps I was at the car and a moment later I was speeding away in it with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. Twenty minutes later I was at the police headquarters, under arrest for assault and stealing a police car and the most senior officer I’d seen was the custody sergeant. My luck wasn’t changing.