The Disguise and Love

Over the last 3 days I've written about 5,000 words but I'll save 4,000 for further blogs. And here are 1,000 of them in the story of Arthur and Mary, continuing from the previous blog ...

"Right, enough talk!" said Dottie, interrupting authoritively. "The sooner we get this shoulder looked at the easier it will be to get it back into place. The swelling will not wait for our fascinating discussions."

"Yes Matron!" said Joan, saluting and laughing. "Arthur, untie your brilliant knots and let's get this silly boy to the doctor to be rearmed!"

"So, Martin, that was a clever trick, getting Toby to trip over you," said Arthur as they all settled back in the lounge with a cup of tea and with pastries that Toby had insisted on buying.

"Mmm, just a silly thing we used to do at school - amazing how inspiration hits when desperation bowls, as they say in cricket," said Martin, chuckling. "And I just happened to be back here in Croydon with that conciliation work that's going on and on … and, Dad, I've never seen you so ferocious! I'm glad you were on my side, you quite frightened me!"

"Yes, rather surprised myself, I must say," said Arthur, laughing.

"Yes, the fearsome four! Quite a team," said Joan, smiling at Arthur. "Now, Toby, this Mr Gravelly Voice, he seems to be a crucial figure. We need to find out more about him - who he is and who he's working with."

"I wish I could help," said Toby, juggling a cup of tea and food with the one hand not in a sling. "The communication came via my phone. Texts, mainly. And the money is to be delivered by courier."

The Chase
Tuesday, 13th March 2012
 "My gosh, is that really you, Halee?" asked Mary, shocked, as they met, as agreed, outside Starbucks, in Orange Street at 8.30. "You're usually dressed so, well, demurely at work."

"Well, we're out on the town and I thought if I drew attention to myself, you'd be noticed less," said Halee, adjusting her top which revealed a large acreage of ample and hitherto undisclosed cleavage. She was obviously not used to wearing such revealing attire.

"And your yellow coat, where did you get that?" asked Mary, admiringly. "I've never seen one like it before."

"That's because it's actually what the workmen in New Zealand wear," said Halee lowering her voice and moving closer to Mary, conspiratorially. "I just added some pockets and stitching and the groovy belt. The height of fashion in London now!"

"OK girlfriend, you've done us proud and I feel so weird in this get-up, this men's stuff. I suppose this is what it feels like to go on stage." said Mary. Both women giggled. "Oh hell, men don't giggle. I must try to be more seemly and, to be brutally honest, I'm bloody nervous. Would you like a drink … a wine or something, beforehand?"

"That would be nice George … I suppose you have a man's name?" suggested Halee.

"Oh hell, I hadn't thought of that," said Mary. "Now, how about a drink, Mavis my dear?"

"Mavis? Thanks a bunch!" said Halee laughing. "I'd rather keep my head clear so how about a coffee and then a wine afterwards?"

As they sat in the café, looking out at the busy night life of the city, Mary imagined an Indian man nodded to her as he passed. She felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Good, Ahmed's on the case," said Halee, noticing Mary's puzzlement.

"Oh, that was Ahmed? I didn't recognise him out of his pinstripe suit," said Mary as the confusion evaporated and she tried to focus on what she had to do - talk like a man, walk like a man, act in love with Halee, hand over the case at 9 o'clock … and then what?

"I wonder what's in the case," said Halee. "It must be valuable to someone."

"I didn't dare look inside it, though Sam gave me the combination number to unlock it," said Mary, about to reach into her bag for lipstick and then realising she didn't have her handbag with her. What to do with her hands now, she wondered. "I just didn't want to know."

"Gosh, I'd have been into it like a rat up a drainpipe!" said Halee. "Maybe I'm just too nosey."

"Yes, part of me wants to know and part of me doesn't want to know what could go wrong," said Mary, stirring in her sugar.

"Do you normally have four spoons of sugar in your coffee?" asked Halee.

"No, of course I don't! It would be vile," said Mary, confused by the question.

"Well, your coffee now has four teaspoons of sugar in it. It's official!" said Halee with a smile. "You must be nervous alright!"

"Ugh!" said Mary, testing her coffee. "My God, you're right! I think I'm losing it. I'm usually so much in control. I don't know what's happening to me."

"Mary let me tell you a secret, just between you and me," said Halee, leaning over to whisper in Mary's ear. "You're in love!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!" said Mary defiantly. "Yes, I do respect Sam but I'm not in love with him. That's silly."

"How did you know I meant Sam?" asked Halee mischievously.

"Oh!" said Mary, momentarily nonplussed.

"You. Are. In. Love. With. Sam. Lord," said Halee, slowly and deliberately. "And, believe me, when that happens, all logic and control fly out the window."

"Oh," said Mary, unable to summon up any more words.

"Look, just admit it, accept it, and then you have an excuse to be as weird as you like," said Halee, laughing. She sipped her coffee and held Mary's eyes with her own. Mary was stumped. She'd sort-of admitted it to herself in moments of weakness but now it was out in the open, as plain as day and she could not put the baby back, so to speak, once it had been born and was there for the world to see.

"Being in love, Mary, can be unnerving, scary, illogical, badly-timed and everything else that's skew whiff but if it's there, it's bloody there. Just accept it, will ya," said Halee, patting Mary's hand. "You see, love knows no age, race, gender or anything else logical - it just moves in where it does and denial only makes it painful. Acceptance allows it and us to flourish. Let it grow. Let yourself grow and watch the magic happen."

Crooked Lives Straightening Out

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but life - our lives - don't actually seem to go in a tidy, straight-line sequence. We do one thing and then another and then another and then something happens that connects to the first event and then something connects us back to event 21 and then event 16 rears it's head again. Things we do that seem so inconsequential or irrelevant at one time have a lovely way of returning and showing us their consequences and relevance - we just don't ever know when that will be.

Writing a book is a bit like that, I've found. I found myself happily writing away for days or weeks on end and then, when I come to read it all back to myself, I realise the whole sequence of events is stuffed up. So, over the last two weeks, I have written nothing - I've just been rearranging the whole book so it runs in a tidy sequence, time-wise … and now I feel better, untwisted and ready to write again!

Merry Christmas to you all!

And now to the next gripping 1,000 words in Arthur's story, continued from the previous blog ...

"Martin! Martin!" came Joan's voice through the small cocoon of maleness. "Stop Martin. I think he's badly injured."

"And what was he about to do to you, Mum?" Martin shot back angrily.
"Martin, he can't do us any harm now," said Joan standing up. "Have a little compassion, son."

"But he's …"

"But he's in a lot of pain, he's tied by the feet and his arms probably don't work," said Joan, pointing out the logic of the situation. "Help him on to this chair, tie his feet to it and we can see what's next."
Martin and Dalek were obviously ready to inflict more pain on this bad man. They looked at each other in brotherly connection, shook their heads sadly and lifted Toby to a sitting position on the chair with less gentleness than they could have managed. Toby's legs were tied to the chair and when Dalek grabbed his left arm, Toby let out another ceiling-rattling scream.

"Stop! Stop!" yelled Joan, pushing Dalek aside. "We've gone far enough. Here, Dottie, you were a nurse. Can you look at Toby's arm, please?"

"It's my shoulder," whispered Toby, looking ashen and pained.

"You be careful, lady, he bad man," said Dalek, hovering helpfully behind her.

"No Dalek … is that your name, Dalek?" asked Joan. "I'm Joan, this is Dottie and my son Martin." As Dottie gently manoeuvred Toby's arm on to his lap, Dalek and Martin shook hands.
"Please meet you," said Dalek, his ferocity softening a little.
"Now Dalek, he's not a bad man. He just did a bad thing and he won't do it again," said Joan with obvious conviction.
"Not bad man, just bad things," said Dalek as if chewing the new idea over. "So I stay if another bad thing he do."
"Yes, it's great to have your protection," said Martin, alternatively rubbing his sore cheek and tenderly checking his painful finger.
"Ah, Mr Arthur, I have paper for you in van," said Dalek.
"Paper?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, paper on Mr Atkinson … Lord Atkinson," said Dalek. "You know, paper in bag."
"Ah, the Atkinson file!" said Arthur as the realisation hit him. "You took it out of the bag?"
"Yes, I think bad thing to happen so I take from bag when you no look," said Dalek. "For your protection, Mr Arthur."
"Ah Dalek, you're a genius!" said Arthur.
"Me genius … genius, what is this word?" asked Dalek.
"Oh, ah, you're brilliant, big brain, Dalek! Said Arthur, tapping his head.
"Ah, me genius, big brain!" said Dalek beaming as he gave Arthur a bear hug.
"Oh Dalek," said Arthur, his words muffled by Dalek, "can you get the file now, please, now that Toby is disabled?"
"Yes Mr Arthur, I go now," said Dalek as he bounded out to get the papers.
"Whew!" said Arthur as he collected himself and got his breath back. He could hear faint sobbing and turned to see Toby looking distressed.
"Dad, I think he's in more pain than we thought," said Martin, sounding worried.
"I think it's a dislocated shoulder - painful but not fatal," said Dottie efficiently. "I'll put him in a sling and we'll get him down to the medical centre. Do you have material for a sling, Joan?"
"Mmm, probably," said Joan as she led Dottie off to find something suitable.
"I'm really sorry …" came a murmur from Toby's direction.
"What?" asked Arthur and Martin in unison.
"I'm really sorry, guys," said Toby, weakly. Joan and Dottie returned with a table cloth and Dottie had it quickly folded and tied up to hold Toby's arm, with accompanying grimaces from Toby.

"Thank you Dottie," said Toby, falteringly. "Thank you all for being so kind. I was not so kind to you at all."

"It was nothing. In fact, it didn't happen, if we're to believe A Course in Miracles," said Joan, smiling.

"Oh it happened alright! Look at Dalek's eyes - both black," said Toby with a little force than before, as Dalek returned with Arthur's file. "My punch to his kidneys damaged them, temporarily, making it black round his eyes. It happened alright!"

"So you little man punch big man and I go down?" asked Dalek with obvious admiration as he handed Arthur the file. "So you teach me that trick or I break your face!" Dalek burst out laughing.

Arthur was shocked but realised it must be Dalek's rough good humour. He was still wary of the big man and so were the others, judging by the way they obediently laughed along with him.

"No problem, Dalek mate, when I get my arm working again, said Toby smiling uncertainly. "But … but I feel so stupid causing all this, thinking I could take advantage of you folk for a quick and large buck."

"A quick buck?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, after we had those two chaps apprehended at work, the word must have got around and a chap with a rough, gravely voice asked me if I would like £2,000 for a morning's work."

"And you have no idea who this was?" asked Martin.

"Not sure … ow! But he put half the money into my account immediately as a show of faith," said Toby shifting on the chair as the others sat down round him. "He paid two thugs to get the files from the office … oh, of course, Arthur, you were there and escaped!"

"Ah, those two," said Arthur as a tremble up his spine accompanied the memory's return.

"Yes, those two," said Toby. "Well, they didn't get the files and I guess this Mr Gravelly Voice thought I had inside knowledge, coupled with discovering I disarmed his two bovver boys with knife and gun."
"You disarmed two armed men?" asked Martin with surprise.

"Well, sort of," said Toby, smiling. "Actually, they kinda' handed the gun and knife over and I took advantage of their clumsiness."

Missing Files and Bondage

"Killed him? Goodness no!" said Toby, laughing. "Just a wee prod in the kidneys. He'll be awake in five minutes or so. Just enough time for me to get the files and finish here." He opened the tool bag and Arthur felt sick all over again - all the work he'd put into the case and all the details he'd amassed … to be taken by Karate Kid here.

"Where's the damned files, Bayly?" demanded Toby, tossing tools out of the box with increasing ferocity. "Another of your diversions, huh?"

"Uh, oh, they were there … should be there … I promise you," said Arthur in confusion. He knew he'd put the files back in the bag at Lord Atkinson's house, he was sure of it. He stood up to help looking in the bag.

"Get back!" yelled Toby. "Stay there!" Don't move!" Then he stopped and looked at the two ladies whose ropes were off. He had the look of a parachutist when he realises there is a rip in his parachute that's growing wider with alarming speed. This was obviously not going the way Toby had planned.

Arthur felt a small surge of pleasure, despite Toby's ability to inflict pain. Toby now had, Arthur realised, three unruly children, a sleeping monster about to wake any minute and no files … something that still mystified Arthur. He knew he had put them in the bag. Then, through the net curtains, he saw something flash past the window. It was gone in an instant but it gave him hope. In his fear and panic he had forgotten that there was another world out there - neighbours, passers-by - and he was not as alone as he had imagined.

"You're so clever, untying everyone, Arthur, I guess you need to be trussed up first," said Toby wearily. "Now, get your hands behind your back and your feet together."

Arthur did as he was commanded, while Toby looked in vain for the ropes he'd used on the ladies. Arthur could see, out the corner of his eye, Dottie was trying very hard to suppress a smile. It infected Arthur who felt at huge giggle rising up, knowing Toby could not find the ropes.

"This is not funny at all!" said Toby in frustration. "Now, where did you put those ropes, Mr Clever Clogs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure now," said Arthur, hoping Toby would not look at the floor behind the curtain.

"Not sure? Not sure!" said Toby looming over him angrily. "You were very sure where you put them a few minutes ago."

"Uh, yes …" said Arthur.

"Look Arthur, there are two ways to do this - the easy way or the painful way," said Toby, obviously working hard to calm his troubled nerves. "Whatever you choose, I'm going to get those files out of here and so you'd better decide which way; that way of pain or the way of gain."

Arthur knew he should have felt threatened but, somehow, he didn't feel Toby really had his heart in the job. He just didn't seem to be a bad or evil kind of person. However, as Arthur reasoned, in the split second it takes to reason anything, he didn't actually know any evil people and how would he know what they were like. Dalek, for example, looked tremendously ferocious and threatening but he gave his all to combat bad men. It was a conundrum - should he stand for good or should he take the easy way out?

 "Under the couch. The ropes are under the couch," said Joan quickly. He looked at her and she smiled and winked at him as Toby dived to the floor and fished around for the ropes which weren't there. Arthur's eye was taken by a flash of movement in the doorway and it was gone. He wondered, with all the stress, if he was losing his grip on life, if he was seeing things that weren't there. He didn't have time to wonder long as Martin's head appeared around the door, cautiously.

Arthur stared, unbelieving, then Martin's vigorous waving reminded him to act a little more moderately, even nonchalantly, which, given the tense circumstances, was a challenge for Arthur.

Toby stopped his frenetic activity and just stood there. Arthur looked at his face and he seemed about to cry or something.

"Bugger damn bugger, Arthur. I'm just not cut out for this," said Toby wearily. "This is just not working and I'm sorry, so very sorry, Arthur … Joan … all of you. I can't do this … Please forgive me …"

To Toby's side, Arthur saw Martin gesturing, again, but Arthur wasn't sure of the message, momentarily, then realised Martin wanted him to stand up. Unsure of why this was a good idea Arthur nevertheless did as bid, prompting Toby to take a step back. At the same time Martin had dived to the floor, on hands and knees, right behind Toby, who toppled over and crashed to the floor on the other side of Martin. Martin leapt upon the prone and stunned Toby and Arthur wondered what to do.

"The ropes, the ropes!" yelled Martin, trying to tame four very lively limbs below him. Arthur faltered, as well he might, considering his lack of fighting and tying-up-criminal skills.

"Sit on his knees, Dad, and tie his feet," yelled Martin as he struggled with the tossing sea of limbs below him.

"Uh, oh, of course," said Arthur, obeying his son immediately. He grabbed the ropes from behind the curtain and leapt upon Toby's flailing knees with considerable panache, got kneed in the testicles, felt an unaccustomed anger arise and fought back with the ferocity of a man with his back to the wall. He received a boot in the face, a twisted and painful finger and his determination (or was it his panic?) lent him the force and agility to have, in double-quick time, the young man's legs trussed up in rather a pleasing combination of ropes and knots. Meanwhile, he was aware that the top half of Toby was faring better than the bottom as Martin let out several oomphs and ows. Flushed with success, Arthur got up to help Martin with Toby's more dangerous zone, just as a shadow filled the doorway.

"I get bad man", said Dalek, quietly, determinedly. His eyes looked black and threatening. He fell to his knees with his shins crashing over Toby's upper arms. Arthur fancied he heard a crack and he definitely heard Toby scream in pain. "You bad man. I give you punish."

"No Dalek! No!" said Arthur, realising what could be in store for Toby. "Just tie his hands behind his back. No need to hit him, Dalek!"

"But he bad man. I punish," said Dalek flatly.

"No punishment, Dalek, just restrain him," said Arthur, with growing apprehension.

"Here Dalek, help me turn him over," said Martin, quickly deflecting Dalek's offensive to something more gentle. There was a shuffling of bodies, screams from Toby and he was quickly on his front with his arms behind his back.

The Karate Kid Appears

His heart wanted him to skip lightly across the twenty yards to his door, to escape the rather unnerving Dalek, and to fall into the welcome arms of his familiar home again. He sauntered, as best he could, and was about to ring the doorbell when a deadness, a dread, filled his stomach. Something was wrong. He just knew it, though he didn't know why he knew. The street, his house and all about him looked perfectly normal but something was amiss. He fumbled quietly in his pocket for his keys and opened the door into the small foyer slowly, very slowly.

The main door was already open, thankfully, and he took the five paces up the passage with a thumping heart. All was quiet. Eerily quiet. He peered round the door and saw Joan on a kitchen chair - hands tied behind her back, ankles tied together and with a mouth-gag tied around her head. Her grey-tinged blonde curls looked as if someone had grabbed hanks of it and her eyes were wide and frightened. She nodded to her left and Arthur looked further round the door to see Mollie, their neighbour, trussed up similarly. Joan was then indicating to him furiously and he determined that she was trying to tell him about something upstairs. He listened and could hear rustling, probably in his office. He dropped the bag and rushed to Joan, untying her gag as the phone rang.

"Get it!" she whispered urgently and he fled with the wings of Pegasus into the living room and picked up the phone.

"Help! hel …" he yelled, then the phone went dead. There was a curse from upstairs and then the sound of someone running along the passage and clattering down the stairs. Had there been time for Arthur to panic or react, he would have done the former and not the latter. As it was, Toby burst into the dining room, wrenched the phone from his hand and twisted him around in an arm lock before he had time to do either. He was then pushed, rather rudely, into the lounge and pushed onto the couch.

"Don't you move an inch!" commanded Toby as he disappeared and reappeared with another dining room chair. "Sit!"

Arthur got up and sat in the appointed chair.

"Now, where do you keep rope?" asked Toby, looking around quickly as if it might be stored in the lounge..

"Oh dear, rope …" said Arthur, pondering. "It's not something we usually carry here …"

"And where's the stuff for the Atkinson case?" interrupted Toby.

"Ah, I took it with me …" said Arthur, instantly regretting his helpfulness. He made a mental note to tell more lies.

"I know that, Arthur!" said Toby. "You must have stuff in your computer …"

"Not much, really, it's all in the files, I'm afraid," said Arthur, thankful he'd taken the precaution of regularly downloading all the Atkinson files onto computer sticks, now hidden in Joan's underwear drawer.

"My god, you old codgers, just not computer savvy are you!" said Toby, obviously impatient at yet another impediment.

"No, I suppose not …" said Arthur.

"So, where's your rope, now?" demanded Toby, returning to his initial problem.

"Ah, it should be in the back shed, behind the mattress and freezer against the back wall," said Arthur, thinking of the most inaccessible place he could imagine.

"Right. So, move a muscle and you're dead. Got it?"

"Oh, yes, dead," said Arthur, trying to look submissive.

Toby fled out the back and Arthur leapt up immediately. In his panic, Toby had obviously not noticed Joan's gag had come loose and she's acted suitably statue-like for him not to notice. Arthur struggled to untie her hands and, when done, bend down to untie her ankles.
"No, no, I can do that," whispered Joan. "Get Dottie's."

"Yes, just a minute," said Arthur, rushing from the room. He quietly opened the front door and motioned frantically to Dalek, who was watching, with great intent, as two young girls walked past. Arthur didn't want to be seen out of his seat or to make any noise before Dalek arrived. He continued to wave frantically and, just as he was about to give up, Dalek looked his way and then burst from the van like fireworks.

"Yes Mr Arthur, trouble?" asked Dalek, obviously relishing some action.
"Yes, aah, bad man out the back," said Arthur, pointing down the passage.

"Right suh! Me deal with bad man then," said Dalek, squaring his massive shoulders and walking purposefully, though cautiously, into the dining room. Arthur turned right into the lounge to see the two ladies fully untied but sitting as if they weren't.

"So Arthur, what now?" asked Joan, constantly peering out the door.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," said Arthur, knowing that was what the two ladies did not want to hear. "Perhaps I should help Dalek and you two could rush up the road and get help …" He was interrupted by yells, thuds, crashes and bangs. Then there was an "Umph!" in a distinctly Czech accent. Arthur felt sick and immobilised. He looked at Joan who shrugged with a quiet resignation as if she knew everything would be alright. Dottie, on the other hand, looked stricken and Arthur was about to go over and comfort her when Toby appeared in the doorway, panting.

"So, where did you get that oaf, Arthur Bayly?" asked Toby. "Any other tricks up your sleeve I should know about?"
"Aah, no, not …"

"And, mysteriously, there's no rope in your wee shed, Mr Bayly," said Toby, his frustration obviously undiminished.

"But what about Dalek? Have you killed him?" asked Arthur, relieved to have the thought of a diversion from his previous diversion.

Arthur Bayly Meets His Czech Mate

"And, most important of all, Arthur, George, is that none of this matters," said Sarah. An unexpected silence fell on them. "It doesn't matter if this all ends in some stupid tragedy or just a whole lot of nothing or in some amazing success. We don't know how this will end up but, in the end, we're actually doing something that fires us all up. We're trying to make a difference and our hearts are on fire!"

"Yes darling, you're so right," said George, quietly, as if recalling something long forgotten. "I used to have such plans for this place, for my career, when I took over the title from my father. And then, somehow, the dreams faded. I hadn't realised how many of them I'd forgotten, till now. Ah Arthur, you have done more than you can imagine."

"Oh, thank you, both of you. I don't quite know what to say," said Arthur. "I feel as if I've done so little …"

"And maybe you have done so little," said Sarah, interrupting. "Big or little, you've got us back to where we belong, back to a sense of … I don't know … a sense of the warrior rising, as if we can actually make a difference and see a better world through us being here. I don't know the words but I certainly have the feeling. I know I'm not just here to attend endless cocktail parties and fill in the space between my birth and death with nice chat. I now have a reason! I'm sorry, Arthur, I could go on! Let's get you back to your family and we'll all keep in contact and have a meeting with all our knights at the round table soon."

"Yes, absolutely!" said Arthur, relieved that the emotional moment was over. Arthur gathered his papers, put on his tradesman disguise and drove off with the butler, this time, beside him. His heart felt like popping and he couldn't get the silly smile off his face.

"Oh Arthur, sir, you think you be going quite fast?" asked the butler solicitously.

"Oh, oh dear," said Arthur, "just a bit excited, I daresay."

"I understand sir, with today decisions," said the butler, "and if you like, I have idea."

"You have?" asked Arthur and then remembered himself. "Look, I'm Arthur. And you are?"

"Oh, my name's Dalek, sir," said the butler.

"Yes, pleased to meet you, Dalek," said Arthur, extending his hand awkwardly in the small van.

"Yes, sir, I have idea. We just scare these people a little. Just a little."

"Oh dear, what people are these," asked Arthur, his concentration on the road wavering as he imagined bodily harm on someone, somewhere. He brought the van back on track and tried to think only of driving.
"The ones who come here. They tell others, the good police, to go away," said Dalek.

Oh, you mean the MI5 chaps?" asked Arthur. "Why them?"

"Well sir, we know there be lots of people doing this … ah, how you say, um, involved?"

"Yes, involved," said Arthur.

"So lots involved but only these we know about, yet," said Dalek, with unshakeable logic.

"Right, so we scare these particular MI5 men?" asked Arthur. "What exactly do you mean by scare?"

"Ah, you leave that to me. That is my speciality!" said Dalek, smiling broadly.

"Oh dear, I don't think we need to have any violence," said Arthur, shivering a little, trying to focus on the road as he imagined this bear of a man breaking necks and doing other dreadful things to people. "But how do we find these particular people?"

"Ah, that easy!" said Dalek, winking at Arthur. "They come to my brother's club and Andrej he check the list and know where they live. Easy!"

"Oh dear, I'm not sure all this is necessary at all, Dalek," said Arthur, with the feeling he was trying to stop a steam roller by leaning against it.

"It safe too!" said Dalek, trying to twist in his seat towards Arthur, with little success. "We be, ah, how you say … discrete. Nobody know we do scare thing and nobody connect to anybody else."

"But, if they don't know who is scarring them, as you put it, they won't know why they're being scared and they won't know who to stop harassing," said Arthur, desperate to intervene with unassailable logic.

"Mmm, yes, that problem, yes," said Dalek, looking out at the surrounding mist.

"And, if they do know it's us scaring them, then they might go after us more determinedly," said Arthur, ramming his point home.

"Yes, you right, Mr Arthur," said Dalek, thumping his fist on his knee with a grimace.

All was quiet as Arthur negotiated his way through Croydon and he could tell, by the facial contortions and knee thumping, that Dalek was not letting his idea go. As Arthur manoeuvred into a parking space near his home, he really wanted to ease the pressure Dalek seemed to be putting on himself - diffuse the smoking cordite, so to speak.

"Well Dalek, it has been a pleasure to meet you and thank you for your great idea of scaring people," said Arthur, offering his hand, which disappeared into Dalek's massive paw. "Leave it with me and I'm sure I will come up with a way round it - a way to make them listen."

"Oh Mr Arthur, that be good if you think for it too," said Dalek, his face relaxing into a smile. "There many bad men out there and they should be stopped. I know these things."

Arthur had the impression that Dalek had dealt with many "bad men" in his life and he knew, from the frowns and lip-chewing, that Dalek had not totally delegated the solution to him. He stepped out of the van as casually as he could, while his mind wanted him to flee as quickly as he could, from this maniacal bear beside him.

"Mr Arthur, your bag!" said the grinning Dalek.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Arthur, reaching to grab the proffered bag.

When You're In A Hole, Stop Digging

Arthur just seems to get himself in deeper and deeper, no matter how much he would like to be out of it all ... contunied from the previous blog ...

"See dear, just what Sam said," said George. "Decisive thinking, cuts through the mess with a hot knife."

"Darling, let Arthur continue," said Sarah.

"Oh yes, yes, just so," said George with the thought of action and clarity obviously energising him. "Do go on, Arthur, please do."

"Well, we can either carry on being secretive, as we're now doing, everybody sneaking about in disguises and having whispered conversations in safe places," said Arthur, "or we can follow Mr Adams' example and go public. It seems, for him, that secrecy played into his aggressors' hands and his disclosure, his article, reduced any danger to him altogether."

"Hmm, right, so what do you propose we do?" asked George.

"Me? We do?" asked Arthur shocked, realising that a Lord of the realm should be asking for his advice - advice that could save or endanger a number of people. "Oh dear, I have to say I have no clear plan of action but, as I speak, I do keep having a picture of you standing up in the House of Lords where, I understand, you have a measure of legal immunity, and telling your complete story."

"By Jove, that sounds very cavalier and dashing" said George, laughing. Then he became serious. "But might it not endanger us in some way?"

"Well, they tried to endanger you when all this was in a cone of silence, so to speak," said Arthur. "I daresay they could have shot you in your own home, here, if they'd wanted to but they didn't, by choice."

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right, old chap," said George. "Though it all sounds a mite dangerous … though, I must admit, it does get the blood boiling. A little bit of excitement, dear!"

"Mmm, yes dear, it might be fun but I really do think we'd need to plan it properly, cover all our bases as they say," said Sarah. "I'd hate it to go off half-cocked and it just ends in a fizzer."

"Absolutely m'lady … uh, Sarah," said Arthur. "Now, my son's a lawyer in the law firm, Shaftsbury Burton …"

"By gosh, that's our law firm," said George, interrupting, his palms on the arms of his chair, his elbows up as if he was about to launch himself somewhere. "Dashed good chaps, they are."

"Yes, I believe they're quite a prestigious law firm," said Arthur, "and I feel we need someone good at advertising or public relations … I'm not sure, but someone who can organise the publicity with the newspaper and television people properly."

"Oh George, how about Lord Blunt?" asked Sarah. "Doesn't he own the Herald or the Mirror or something … and that television station?"

"Yes, you're right my dear!" said George, still in launch position, eyes wide. "He's quite busy at the moment. He's buying up some American magazine or newspaper chain or something, but I'll certainly ask him. He may be a mite cynical about all this environmental, free-energy stuff, but he does love a good scrap, a good controversy, whatever it is."

"Hmm," said Arthur, his mind seeing all sorts of possibilities. "So, what else do we need? We should start amassing some evidence - we could get copies of that, ah, what was it, Next magazine?"

"Nexus magazine," corrected Sarah, helpfully.

"Oh, Nexus, thank you," said Arthur. "And can we contact this Mr Bruce Cathie - would your son-in-law be able to organise these things?"

"Why, yes Arthur, I'm sure he could," said George.

"In fact I know he could and, what's more, he'll be at it like a rat up a drain pipe, as he's wont to say!" said Sarah. "Oh, my gosh, of course, he's a publisher and will know others in the publishing world down under. This could spread like wildfire."

"Oh whew!" said Arthur, feeling like he'd grabbed at a small branch and found it was the tail of a snake. What was he getting into, he wondered with dread. "So, we have the start of a battle plan - you talk to your people, as they say, I'll talk to mine and we could perhaps get together somewhere as soon as we can."

"Right, Arthur, that's absolutely spiffing," said George, leaping up with more vigour than his age would indicate. "Gosh dear, I suddenly feel like a teenager again!"

Arthur stood up and had his hand shaken ruggedly and then Sarah had a turn with a strong and lengthy hug. She seemed to have tears in her eyes. She stood back a little with her hands on Arthur's shoulders as if she had something to say. He waited uncertainly, awkwardly.

"Oh Arthur, oh Arthur," said Sarah as tears rolled down her cheeks. I feel all choked up …"

"Yes, it's alright dear," said George, obviously embarrassed by her tears.

"George dear, I must say this. Please," said Sarah, not taking her eyes from Arthur's. "This probably sounds a bit weak or something … I don't know what you've done here, Arthur, today, but I feel so released, so clean, somehow. We've let the cat out of the bag, told a complete stranger, one we can trust, and that feels better, having it out. And now, at last, we have a plan of action, as you said, something to do."

"Oh but …" said Arthur, finding this all a little confronting.

"No Arthur, I must say this," said Sarah, wiping her tears and smiling. "I'm not one to beat about the bush and what must be said must be said - by me here, by George in the House, by all of us. We must have our secrets out, cleanse our souls, if you will, and, well, with this battle plan … I don't know, I've felt paralysed, helpless ever since we got those plans from John, three years ago, and more so since the burglary. I felt impotent, so useless and angry at that. Now, we all have something to do, a ray of hope."

"Absolutely dear!" said George, thumping Arthur on the back. "It's so dashed annoying to have the hope for a better world, of helping people, but no way to get it done …"

The New Zealand Connection

Now that I'm busy writing spreadsheets, in an attempt to help turn failing businesses around, there's not much time for writing. Anyway, here's the next 1,000 words in the story of Arthur Bayly, continued from the previous blog ...

"Absolutely, Arthur, that's what we thought," said Lord Atkinson. "But a few year ago a chap from Hamilton, in New Zealand, invented a car battery that never went flat. He needed money to manufacture them, couldn't find any investors and eventually sold his patent to Mitsubishi for a tidy sum. And we've never heard of the Never Flat battery again - Mitsubishi had no intention of manufacturing them for who can make money from a product that never wears out?"
Oh gosh, obviously," said Arthur.

"So, what we're saying, old chap, is that nowhere is safe but, in a large place like Europe, it may be easier to be a little more anonymous," said Lady Atkinson.

"Ah, I've just got it!" said Arthur, as a light went on in his brain. "You had the plans, or the motor, and they were stolen in the burglary?"

"Absolutely, Arthur, a rotten blow to our plans," said Lord Atkinson, quietly, as the butler refreshed his cup of tea.

"But I still don't see where I come into all of this," said Arthur, if you don't mind me asking."

Yes, a perfectly reasonable question and the truth of it is that you're just a pawn in the whole game, as are we all," said Lord Atkinson. "Initially, I didn't let on to Sam, or anyone else, that the plans had gone and we submitted it as a normal insurance claim."

"And so I got the job and, later, Mr Lord found out the full implications of it," suggested Arthur, as pieces began to fall into place.

"Absolutely, old chap!" said Lord Atkinson, suddenly smiling. "They did say you were good at puzzles … you know, piecing things together."

"Anyway, we had to tell Sam, eventually, 'fess up as the Americans would say," said Lady Atkinson. "There was nowhere or no one else to turn to so we entrusted Sam with the information."

"And then things really started to go haywire," said Lord Atkinson. "The word got out …"

"You think Mr Lord leaked the information?" asked Arthur, thinking that the explanation didn't go with his gut feelings.

"Good heavens no!" said Lord Atkinson. "We don't know who but the chief suspect is Sam's rather dotty … pretty but dotty secretary who may not be as dotty as we all suspected. We're not sure …"

"So, Sam had you on the case and he wanted to make you safe so he fired you, hoping the heat would come off you," said Lady Atkinson.

"Oh gosh!" said Arthur. His mind went blank after thoughts of the enormity of the situation and thoughts of gratitude to Mr Lord flashed through. His brain was now full and it was all a bit much.

"So, the plans were gone, Sam disappeared and we were desperate for the investigation - any investigation - to continue," said Lord Atkinson. "Sam had appraised us of your loyalty, discretion and ability with puzzles, as he put it."

"Oh gosh!" said Arthur. This phrase was becoming an automatic response and all he could mutter right now.

"So we prevailed upon Mary, Sam's deputy, to have you back on the case," said Lady Atkinson.

"Mmm, prevailed might be an understatement," said Lord Atkinson. "She was most insistent that you not be put in any danger so we put rather a lot of pressure on her and, being in the House of Lords, I can do that. I exercised my royal prerogative, if you like, for what we considered the common good."

"Oh gosh!" said Arthur, wishing he could form new words.

"So, Arthur, old chap, you now know why you're here - it's a conspiracy to keep you out of trouble!" said Lady Atkinson, happily. "A nice conspiracy."

"A nice conspiracy," Arthur mused, not feeling totally out of trouble.
"Mmm, a nicely intentioned conspiracy that may have somehow backfired, dear," said Lord Atkinson gravely.

"Yes, dear, I daresay you're right," said Lady Atkinson, blushing a little as she looked at her husband. "We all volunteered for this mission, so to speak, but you, Arthur, seem to have been volunteered by accident. Oh dear, we are sorry we've somehow got you into this mess."

"Yes, hmm," was all Arthur could manage, knowing he should really say something gracious but not sure what it was.

"Anyway, here we are, all probably being followed and Sam and the plans gone … oh, my gosh!" said Lady Atkinson, with a stark realisation. "What a time for Belinda and John to be here! I do hope they'll be safe …"

"I daresay they'll be safe, dear, they're holidaying in Scotland and it's unlikely anyone knows it was he who brought the plans to England a few years ago … I hope," said Lord Atkinson, with the conviction in his voice fading noticeably.

"Look, what you don't know …" said Arthur.

"Oh Arthur dear, please tell us," said Lady Atkinson interrupting. She started to look very tired.

"Well, it's nothing much but my son and Mr Lord's daughter are both on the lookout for Mr Lord as well," said Arthur, "and I've got two of my best repo agents … repossession agents, look for him too. The agents have their ears in all sorts of devious places we'd never know about …"
"But can we rely on them?" asked Lord Atkinson, interrupting.

"Oh yes, I've used them for years and, of course, Martin, Emily and the agents know nothing of the burglary or of Sam's connection to it," said Arthur. "They're just looking for a man who has disappeared."

"So, Arthur, can you piece together any of this?" asked Lady Atkinson.
"No m'lady …"

"Oh, Arthur, please call me Sarah," said Lady Atkinson, smiling. "We know each otjer well enough now, don't you think, George?"

"Oh yes, absolutely, my dear," said Lord Atkinson. "No need for titles and all that. We have a job to do!"

"Oh, thank you m'lady … Sarah, oh, no, I have no ideas on where things or people are or who took them or even why," said Arthur, clearing his brain of all the drama and clutter. "But it does seem to me we have two alternative courses of action open."