3 : Mouse, meet Cat
“Wake up, wake up… we’re here!”
David felt himself being shook as he struggled to open his eyes and realised that he was in some kind of van, lying down on hard wooden seats, facing the roof.
He swung his body around and, placing a foot on the floor, attempted to stand. His vision blurred as a painful throbbing emanated from the back of his head.
“Stay sitting down, you took a nasty blow to the head before you got arrested,” the other person in the van told him.
“Who are you, where are we?” David asked.
“Quiet, they’re opening the door,” was the hushed reply.
The doors to the van were swung open by two officers in riot gear. A policeman in a white shirt stood between them.
“You, out,” he said, pointing at David, and signalled for him to step out of the van.
The other man took David by the arm and started helping him towards the doors.
“Not you!” the officer barked.
The man let go of David, who stepped down onto the concrete floor of what seemed to be an enclosed garage or delivery bay. The van doors were slammed shut and the riot police disappeared from either side of the vehicle and back into the front seats.
“Through the door ahead, don’t do anything silly,” the officer warned.
“Where am I?” David asked meekly, as he obeyed the command and headed to the door.
“A police station,” was the terse reply. “Let’s get you booked in and processed.”
David was shown to the duty desk, relieved of his loose possessions, including his belt and shoes, then made to sign an inventory form, before being marched off to a cell room.
“Take a seat, the doctor will be with you in a minute,” the officer said.
A short while later David had been checked over, cleaned up and given a little food and drink to help him recover.
The painkiller the doctor had given him was the most welcome. He tried to sleep but couldn’t, the pain in his head not letting him black out on his own terms this time.
He remained alone in the cell for the next few hours staring at the walls, images and sounds of the riot running around his mind. Eventually he drifted off to an unsettled sleep.
∞
“I’m here to see my client.”
The police officer on the desk looked back at the woman who had just walked up to the duty desk and knew exactly who she was and why she was here.
“Well, as we only have one client in this morning, I guess it’s him you’re referring to,” the officer said flatly.
“Show me through, then,” she replied.
“Formalities first. Name?” the officer said, holding a pen above the registration book and staring the woman in the face.
Always the little games, she thought to herself.
The important police officers knew full well who she was and who had sent her, but the masquerade of pretence was always played out.
“Lauren Shields, council for David Rhett,” she replied, attempting to skip a few questions.
“Right then, Ms. Shields,” the officer said as he wrote the details in the registration book.
He put down the pen, picked up some keys from under the desk and stepped out from behind it.
“Take a seat, we’ll get him in an interview room for you.”
“Actually, the cell is just fine,” she replied.
Though strictly against the law, he knew it wasn’t worth fighting. In the cell everything would be on camera, but there would be no audio, which was just how they wanted it.
“Fine, follow me.”
A few moments later she was in the cell alone with a confused-looking David.
“And who the hell are you then?” David asked with some force, staring at the woman now taking a seat at the end of his bunk.
Lauren gave him a gentle smile, careful to come across as concerned, but not to show insincere friendliness.
“David… I know this must all be a little confusing for you… but, together… I’m sure we can get this mess sorted out.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” David replied, ignoring her comment.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m Lauren,” she said, holding her hand out to him in her most feminine way.
He shook her hand and gave a nod. “So what do you want, Lauren?” he asked in return.
“Well…” she started. You’re an idiot for not realising I still haven’t answered the question, she added to herself. “We need to sort out the mess you’re in and get you out of here.”
“What mess? I was attacked and knocked out by the police!”
Lauren tipped her head to the side, showing a little neck to appear vulnerable.
“David, you were in the middle of a riot,” she said while using her most concerned tone. “You threw a tear-gas canister at the police and some of them needed medical attention. Attacking the police is a criminal offence, you can be jailed for it!”
David looked stunned for a moment, thoughts racing around his mind.
“Ah, shit. It was some guy, he shouted at me to throw it back, I was in a panic!”
David stood up and put his hands to the back of his head, feeling the bump, a sense of dread washing over him. He knew in his heart that he could never spend another day in prison. A short stretch a few years ago had confirmed that to him.
Lauren looked on and inside was amused at how easy his fear of prison was to trigger, how easily he could be played with a little feminine softness.
That’ll teach you for being too honest with people, she thought to herself.
“Oh, David, I know… I believe you, but the police have you on video with him. I’m afraid it looked like you were having a laugh and joke, it didn’t look like you were panicking.”
She clasped her hands together and placed them in her lap, looking up at him in his confusion.
“So now what?” he said in agitation, turning rapidly back to her.
As he did so, he saw how concerned she looked, and he felt his heart skip a beat as she jumped slightly from his outburst.
“Sorry, so you said something about sorting this mess out?” he said, this time more softly, “How can we do that?” he asked, once again sitting down on the bed.
She reached over and put her hand on his.
“David, I know some people who can make this go away. Not all the police are as blinded by the establishment as some. There are those who support your views.”
She looked back to the door, conspiratorially lowering her voice at the same time.
David raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of this woman with her hand on his, sitting so close and offering ways to give him a get-out-of-jail-free card.
“On the basis that there’s no free lunches, what’s the other side of the deal?” he asked.
She took her hand off his and placed it down on the bed between them.
“Well, of course, it’s a favour for a favour. I help you… you help me,” she said in whispered tones.
Casting her glance back to him, she saw his pupils dilate slightly as the rush of misplaced sexual excitement washed over him, manipulated as he was by her careful use of body language and conversation.
A moment went by in silence as he looked her in the eyes, feeling a rush of blood in his groin.
“OK, tell me what you want,” he replied.
She gave a smile. “Come with me, I have something for you,” she said, choosing her words carefully to wind him up even more.
She squeezed his hand, then stood to go to her briefcase on the small desk on the opposite wall.
Pulling out some papers, she beckoned him over.
∞
“Officer!” Lauren shouted to the policewoman standing just outside the cell door.
The officer opened the door and took a step inside.
“Need something, ma’am?”
“Yes, please take this signed statement and release papers to the front desk. My client would like to leave shortly,” Lauren informed her.
Clearly a little confused, the officer took the papers from her and looked over them. A moment later she cast a suspicious gaze over David and Lauren.
“I see, well, OK then. Give me five minutes and then bring your client to the front desk,” she said.
David and Lauren passed a few minutes with idle chatter about the incident that had gotten David arrested. David made a few feeble attempts to find out who had sent her, but she simply replied that David shouldn’t worry about it and that they’d be in touch soon enough.
“Right, head out to the front desk and get yourself home,” Lauren said, standing up to make it clear the conversation was over.
“OK, thanks, talk to you soon,” David said, sounding hopeful. They shook hands and David headed out of the cell.
∞
Alone in the cell, Lauren sat down on the bed and closed her eyes.
An image of her favourite fantasy came to mind. Seeing herself in a prison cell, she was dressed as a warden, trapped with two prisoners.
One had the cell door tied closed with his shirt to prevent her leaving. The other moved towards her, and with a sick smile on his face, grabbed out at her and threw her onto the bunk.
She caught herself breathing hard and opened her eyes.
Smiling at the image, she stood up, gathered her things, and stepped out of the cell.
Looking up the hallway, she noticed David was already gone.
One born every minute, she thought.
She wondered how David didn’t think it was suspicious that he had yet another offer of assistance, from yet another anonymous source, so soon after the first.
Arrogant or stupid, probably both, Lauren concluded in her own mind.
She heard the front desk’s phone ringing, snapped out of her reflections and checked her watch. It was 10.30am exactly.
Turning away from the cell, she walked up the hallway to the front desk and saw the desk officer pick up the phone.
The desk officer replied to the caller.
“Yes, she’s just here… a call for you,” he said, holding out the telephone for her to take.
“Thanks,” she responded.
Holding her hand over the receiver, she looked back at the desk officer and made it clear she was waiting for him to go away.
After a moment the officer got the message, gave Lauren a mild look of disdain and walked away from the desk.
She smiled to herself. She was used to that reaction and, unfazed, switched her attention to the phone.
“Hello, sir… yes he’s just left and is very amenable to your offer of help now. Oh yes, of course you can, sir, take it from here by all means. No, no. All perfectly as planned and primed for you getting in contact when convenient.”
∞
Sir Anthear, comfortable in the lounge chair of the Centenary Club, took a long draw on his cigar and continued listening to his long-term Hannover colleague Steven playing out his role as the Handler on the call to Lauren.
“Very good, Lauren, competent as ever,” Steven said and nodded to Sir Anthear.
Steven once again spoke into the phone.
“Let’s meet up tomorrow and we’ll go through what behaviour we’ll now be expecting from David and his merry band in return for our sponsorship.”
With that, he hung up the call.
Lauren knew what the meeting tomorrow meant. Another project for someone and another fat consultancy fee for her.
Working for Hannover had proved a lot more fun than working for the mental health service, and the pay was way better too.
She hung up the call and just for the sport of continuing to annoy the desk officer, called out a thanks with a bright smile.
She waved the phone in the air a little to show that she’d finished with it before placing it on the desk, instead of on the hook.
Yes, very good indeed, she thought to herself as she headed out of the police station.
“A government spook,” the desk officer said to his female colleague, who had just joined him at the front desk with a questioning look on her face. “Just before you ask,” he concluded, replacing the handset.
“You’ve lost me. Who does she work for? MI5, 6 or someone else?”
“We’re not told. It’ll just be a phone call saying someone we have is going to be visited or we’re to transfer them or something. For your future guidance, when that happens it’s a case of ask no questions, get told no lies.”
∞
Steven looked over to Sir Anthear.
“Well then, Sponsor, looks like your escaped fish is back in the net and ready to be drawn in a little further.”
“Indeed it does, Steven, handled well as always. Lauren came through again, eh? She’s quite the capable mind-fucker, isn’t she? We’ll have to watch her, she’s probably psyching us, too,” Sir Anthear said, managing to combine both a congratulatory and cautionary tone in one.
Steven raised his glass in agreement and they both drank a silent toast.
“Speaking of which, sir,” Steven said, “I believe the girls will be arriving now. Shall we join our gentlemen friends in the Club room and see what Lady Thorisen has laid on for us this week?”
“Indeed, Steven. As you’ve so kindly helped me out of the hole I dug myself into, it would be rude to refuse your suggestion.”
Sir Anthear gave a final hard suck on his cigar and stubbed it out, drank the last of his scotch and rose from the chair.
“Of course, one final piece of the puzzle remains for you — to get our man Byford back in the water,” Anthear said, having turned to stare Steven directly in the eyes, impressing his authority on the situation in a moment of silence.
Though good friends with Sir Anthear, Steven was always sure to remember that he was not in charge. He was merely the Handler of any project Hannover wanted running, and Sir Anthear was the Sponsor.
That’s why he always tried to stay one step ahead, like a good project manager should.
“Already working on it, sir. Once I hear in the positive that Byford’s onboard, I’ll take the next step with David and we’ll be off.”
Sir Anthear nodded in acknowledgement and let his usual pleasant demeanour return to his face. Straightening his clothing as if to draw the meeting to a formal close, he made for the door Steven was now holding open.
“Ah, well-bred ladies of connection but no money, happy to be part of their scratching and clawing for what we have,” Anthear commented aloud.
Steven nodded Anthear through to the hallway. “Scratching and clawing, if you find the right girl, sir,” he said, causing Anthear to give a muted laugh.
Steven followed his Sponsor out of the Lounge to the Club room and its weekly buffet of high-class treats.
Thank you for reading! If you’re enjoying the story, be sure to give a clap or 50 and leave a comment. Connect with me on Twitter @markjdiez for updates on this and other novels and writing. New chapters are published every Monday and Thursday, bookmark this page!
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