A Bit of Protection: Tales of Angels, Volume 2

By Jerry H. Burgoyne

Set in a time line that diverged from our own when someone did not follow Plan A, our little story tells part of the tale of those who live at Old Farm as they struggle to enjoy themselves while dealing with the demands of making sure their little plan is not irreparably damaged. Fortunately, they are not too squeamish, nor do they suffer from a lack of technology, so what may seem extraordinary to us is quite mundane for them as they put a bit of bondage into business, some corsets into counter espionage, and a lot of lust into life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781471786051

Book preview

The Prologue

Every story has to begin. Sometimes finding the beginning is not that easy, so let’s start our quest at just about the same time someone invented numbers.

The next stage of our quest occurs soon after this momentous advance. Bursting into life when an enterprising person found that by putting one number with another, they got a different number. Quite remarkably, they found that if they put three barrels of apples, with another three barrels of apples, they got a grand total of about five barrels of apples, and so invented accountancy.

This obviously caused disputes, but as the accountants were the only ones who understood the trick, no one, except the lawyers, lawyers who were also partial to lots of apple pie, could say whether this was right or wrong.

Just after this someone threw a spanner in the works when they invented nothing. Nought. A big round zero. An insignificant little number that sits just before we get to one. Then someone really clever invented mathematics; pronouncing to a stunned audience that if you multiply one with one you get one. Unfortunately, the disbelieving audience, a hard-working bunch of farmers who had taken the afternoon off, knew very well that if you put one goat with another goat, and then let them multiply, even in a darkened room, you always ended up with more than one goat.

This unhappy state of affairs continued for century upon century until a new age of learning, quite literally, exploded across Europe. Gone was the day of the smart knight riding his horse on the left so that his right arm was free to reach across the road. Long-range weaponry had now developed way beyond the reach of a tall knight; even master gunners had just about reached the limit of tapping a wedge to decide where a cannon ball would land. Something new was needed.

The Victorians, ever the innovators, applied their scientific minds to the matter, so, after a lot, an awful lot of very well-mannered debate they decided to invent a mathematics machine. Only one man knew how this could be done, so they got stuck in with some Babbage.

After much labour, and many parties, his mathematics machine was ready to be demonstrated, so the question was asked. With a dignified bow he indicated this honour should befall the tall, slender woman with jet black hair who had been his constant companion throughout the construction of his wonderous machine. With an equally magnanimous curtsey she set some dials, then she pulled some knobs, and then, in a moment that has been lost to antiquity, she turned a handle. Gears revolved, pointers moved, and to almost everyone’s total surprise the correct answer was printed. The age of the programmable mechanical computer had arrived.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, this age lasted next to no time at all as sinister forces, buried deep in the heart of the British Government, leapt into the fray when a simple question was posed. If we have one, and can now predict exactly where a shell will land, what will happen if some scoundrel of a foreign government manages to steal one, or, more worryingly, turn the head of that highly unreliable Babbage?

The question was probably answered by an accountant; an accountant who quite quickly worked out someone could sink their precious battleships very easily. Her Majesty would not be amused. Everyone knew how much she enjoyed looking at long rows of the huge steel monsters, so Babbage and his machine were destroyed, consigned to the dustbin of history, and very nearly forgotten. One World War later, and the prescience of that answer was proven time and time again when strange people from over the sea sank quite a few battleships with remarkable ease.

It was at about this time that a strange chap who had spent a considerable part of his working life looking at other people’s ideas, had one of his own. A remarkable idea really, an idea that would eventually change things quite a lot. His idea was; if you split something that is very nearly as small as nothing, you do not end up with two halves as some of it goes missing. This was not, as you might expect, yet another form of accountancy, but was in fact physics. Fortunately, physics was not recognised as an acceptable profession, in certain circles, so very few of those who actually made the real decisions believed him.

Unfortunately, some of those sinister forces did. The thought of being able to split something in half, and have a little bit left over, was just too tempting; especially if all those little bits could be made to go bang. Eventually, several very clever people were gathered together to work out how, but there was a problem; no one could work out what would happen.

The calculations for this remarkable feat weren’t that difficult, but there were rather a lot. Working out where a shell will land with a slide rule and logarithms takes a long time. To work out what would happen to all those billions of little bits, each fragment acting like a very small shell was going to take much too long. Something new was needed.

The British General Post Office, never renowned as innovators, eventually sent along one of their engineers, and as is the way of all Post Office engineers, several cups of tea were taken before anything happened. Fortunately, a clever mathematician who understood all there was to know about one’s and nought’s, also enjoyed the odd cup of tea, so they became acquaintances; and, in short order, the age of the programmable electronic computer was born.

Sinister forces began to take note, not the Post Office, the other sinister forces. These sinister forces understood the problem having faced the self-same dilemma many years ago, if this got out someone could sink their battleships; and they didn’t have many left.

Several very fraught meetings were held; the accountants wanting their big bang from something that could easily be lost in the books, while the sinister forces worried about their battleships. Unfortunately, the accountants prevailed so the new computer was sent off to be hidden in deepest England. Hidden under a blanket of official secrecy. Hidden so well the blasted thing worked perfectly.

Still worried about their precious battleships, the sinister forces showed the computer some really strange messages, terrified that someone was talking about their increasingly rare, huge grey monsters. The computer churned the ones and noughts for hours, before letting on, amongst other things, which Generals took sugar in their tea.

It wasn’t long before the accountants got their bangs, so the sinister forces decided to follow plan A, protecting their battleship by disposing of the computers, and all who knew how to make them; especially the very unreliable mathematician who had, so it seemed, given up drinking tea just after the tall, slender woman with jet black hair left his side.

Unfortunately, this time plan A was doomed to failure as at least one of the beastly things had been secreted in the wild wild west, and was being protected by some very unscrupulous sinister forces; sinister forces who were getting very concerned about a country that spends its time worrying about what colour the floor is under a bed.

Fortunately, the recent nastiness was now behind everyone, so the conversations the sinister forces had with many of the losing Generals were far more civilised than they should have been, in part because they knew who took sugar in their tea. In fact, some of these conversations were so civilised that quite a lot of them became good friends.

Over the next few years these friendships developed into an interest in fireworks, and for some the idea that bigger was better took hold. Some of the accountants even had the wonderful idea of putting a big bang on top of a firework so the whole world could join in. Fortunately, someone was thinking of far more important matters so, while the villainous parts of Europe dallied with the Orwellian concept that all animals are equal, he decided to secure a second source of cheese; just in case his precious supply line from the old world was interrupted. This would need a very big firework indeed, and just so it wouldn’t have to tow a computer the size of a small house some very nice ladies stitched together something that would work like a microcomputer.

Several attempts to replenish his cheese store were launched. Unfortunately, no cheese was found so the huge fireworks were laid to rest and the determination to ensure the strategic cheese route from Europe stayed open was redoubled.

It is in this heady mix that the foundations of this tale can be found. A geek, who should have been encouraged by his parents to go out more, has arrived in the heart of one of the oldest, and most prestigious seats of learning anywhere near Oxford. For most of his life an obsession with Babbage, and the mathematics machine, has had an unnatural hold on the lad. Unfortunately, this unhealthy interest has come to the notice of the sinister forces, sinister forces who are becoming worried that his genius could threaten their battleship. A battleship that has just been moored in the Thames as a permanent reminder that plan A will always be the way to deal with things.

The trivial task of dealing with this inconsequential geek, when he considered his colleagues were hard at it making sure the cold war didn’t suddenly end in a blinding flash, fell to someone who seemed to have been there forever, someone who had quietly kept himself to himself for years, someone who hadn’t aged a day, someone who now knew he needed to make his move. It took him a matter of moments to discard plan A, no one remembered he had set plan A in motion before so it wasn’t a huge intellectual leap to work out no one would remember in future; no, our unsung hero needed something else.

This something turned out to be a someone; a cousin or was that second cousin. It mattered not as she had managed to stay on the right side all the way back to before Charlemagne himself. Her views on the mission Stephen so eloquently laid out were short, and far less than positive. Her Mummy had plans, and these plans did not include a geek, no matter how clever. These plans did include the eldest son of a certain Lord who was very nearly at deaths door; the father that is, not the eldest son. A door that Samantha’s Mummy felt sure would, quite miraculously, open once marriage was confirmed, and so go a long way to making sure this geek didn’t do anything untoward when the title changed hands and made sure this new Lord didn’t have enough spare time to be a nuisance.

However, the sinister forces had chosen well. Stephen was not averse to resorting to dirty, stinky tricks so he managed to have her agreement in writing after telling her this was for Queen and Country. Something had sparked deep in her mind as that immortal phrase flowed across the desk so her hand signed before she could even think to refuse.

Samantha had to admit her concept of a geek, and the person she met was somewhat at odds. Sure, he had a brain the size of a small planet, but he had the sparkliest pair of eyes, and a beautiful smile. Her maturity meant this did not totally distract her from her task, but it did make spending so much time with him considerably easier.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. Samantha, unreasonably intelligent for her circle, where the ability to produce an heir and a spare was considered all a woman needed, became fascinated at how the geek, and the two other nerds, seemed to be able to make sense of what they were doing.

One day, her interest piqued, she finally plucked up enough enthusiasm to ask. Somehow, as the geek explained what line was what it all made sense, and then, suddenly, she understood where they were going wrong.

Having never been inclined to really use her knowledge before she was a little hesitant, but she finally said something. The geek listened. Smiled. Jumped into the air, and as he landed he kissed her; a little something she found annoyingly unforgettable. Now they could track any microchip anywhere in the world, all without leaving the safety of their lab.

Time passed, she could see the geek and his nerds were onto something special, so, in a moment of clarity, she accepted an offer from the geek of a date. Perhaps Samantha should have gone out more, but her Mummy had warned her that the right one will just sneak up on you so she’d kept herself to herself, as far as she could; being snuck up on was not her idea of fun at all.

The date started badly, the geek out of his laboratory was worse than a fish out of water; at least a fish moves its mouth. The geek was terrified; this was its first date ever, and it had no idea what to do so it suggested a meal. Samantha was quite impressed that this geek knew which knife and which fork to use, a bonus on what was fast becoming a very forgettable evening, but she noticed it hardly drank anything except water so as the coffee arrived she asked if there was anything it wanted to do.

She can still recall the look of terror, the blanching of the skin as the geek squeaked, ‘tie you to a tree.’

They laugh about it now, but her reply sums up so much of what happened later.

‘And then what?

‘Rescue me?

‘You’d better not until you’ve ravaged me.

‘I will not be treated as some helpless damsel in distress Seymour!’

Word soon spread around the campus, ‘Samantha and the geek,’ was whispered. She cared not a jot, as far as she was concerned it was Samantha and her geek. No one else’s. Hers and hers alone. Now and forever. This was far deeper than just love at first sight. Then, one day, it dawned on her just what Stephen, the cold-hearted old sod, had in mind for her man.

It was over a very boring meal that she confessed of her involvement with all those sinister forces.

Seymour hardly batted an eye as he replied airily, ‘no matter.’

‘What?’ wailed a distraught Samantha, thinking it was all over; only for her heart to skip a beat as she heard.

‘I’ve seen your soul Sam. I knew something was tearing you in two, if that’s all it is, no worries.

‘Shall we make a toast?

‘To mixed loyalties, loyalty to us and then loyalty to our undiscovered country,’ as a remarkable relationship was, at last, cemented.

Samantha’s natural guile now came to the fore. She really did know what Seymour and his group were on the cusp of perfecting, even if they did not. She also knew that Stephen would do anything to get hold of the keys to their fully functional tracking system, so her cunning plan began; she felt she owed her cousin something for allowing her man to sneak up on her.

First, she insisted all the simple discoveries were patented, immediately, if not sooner. Then she brought in Mummy’s choice, the eldest son who she knew had a first-class brain hampered by a rare talent; he could remember anything and everything, permanently. Just as well really, because this was where they stored all their hard-earned knowledge. It’s difficult to steal a man’s brain.

It took all of her considerable powers of persuasion to convince Stephen that the group should remain together until one last project was complete. All the while new, and ever more exciting discoveries flowed from the lab to the patent office, and then away to be hidden from sight once again. All the important discoveries buried in a plethora of meaningless mumbo jumbo as they worked out how to interact remotely with all those microchips.

At last, little more could be gained at that university so Stephen, totally unaware he was being manipulated by Samantha, discovered a very explicit film of her and Seymour doing something highly pornographic under a huge old oak tree with a few instruments that wouldn’t have been out of place at an inquisition, and enough rope to moor the ubiquitous battleship.

They thought the whole thing was marvellous, but the Chancellor of that ancient seat of learning did not, so they were hurriedly expelled; the whole campus now aware that the snide remark, ‘Samantha and the geek,’ hardly did them justice at all.

Meanwhile, totally unknown to Stephen, a rising star from a different part of the same sinister force was beginning to recognise his own path from obscurity. A path that had little to do with technology, and a lot to do with being able to turn certain gifted individuals into super-soldiers. Not quite superhuman, but as near as would make little difference to you or me.

The genius behind this lunacy really, really should have been encouraged to get out a lot more. Maybe the blame lay with his parents. Maybe it lay with his teddy bear. It mattered not, the damage was already done.

Not that the well-dressed man from the sinister forces cared. He cared not one jot for the peccadilloes of that genius, peccadilloes he could easily cover up. All that mattered to him was the thought of being able to accomplish with ten men, missions that would have taken his father a whole plethora of regiments; a little something the accountants found very attractive. The accountants knew very well that the country was beginning to implode as the empire evaporated, so cost would soon become very, very important.

At least a couple of decades have passed since those fateful days. Seymour and Samantha have survived many adventures, after being very nearly conned into working for Stephen in return for giving him the keys to their tracking system. A tracking system that almost everyone who needed to know knew was the absolute limit of their research.

The accountants rejoiced, very happy to have something that made their sinister forces even more powerful. Almost all seeing. All for virtually no cost, and as the icing on the cake, none of their friends had even the vaguest idea such technology could exist.

Unfortunately, this joy was tinged with sadness, Samantha’s insistence on patenting almost everything had resulted in corporations the world over, paying Seymour a royalty every time they manufactured something that used any of his more public discoveries. If the accountants had realised, when the deal was done, just how firmly the world would embrace things digital, they may not have been quite so overjoyed at the price Samantha extracted for the tracking system; neither she nor Seymour paid any taxes.

Over the last few months, the complement at Old Farm has been swollen by the arrival of Symphony, a rather odd creature that Destiny has only just admitted to herself that she does in fact love. Sir Stephen is more than happy, his fears have recently been reduced as the operation at pony island, an operation sponsored by his opposite number at the foreign section of the sinister forces, has been infiltrated and neutralised with vast amounts of incriminating evidence now firmly in the right hands, Sir Stephen’s hands.

Sir Stephen is still keeping his cards close to his chest, so his last little job, a simple case of checking someone out, or so he’d said, had turned into something really rather worrying.

Maybe the dastardly Sir Stephen had failed to warn Seymour. Maybe Seymour had failed to listen, something Samantha thought far more likely. Maybe Seymour had planned the whole thing. Maybe it was just coincidence. It mattered not as Symphony and Seymour had reinvented themselves as the cavalry before bursting in and spoiling the kidnapper’s day no end; spoiling his day so much that his macho peccadillo of kidnapping fairly willing women, women whose fantasies included a few cuffs and lots of rope, was now a lot less masculine.

One

Seymour’s household and guests were relaxing in the lounge at Old Farm after a particularly good party, guests who he felt deserved some sort of an explanation of what he’d been doing over the last few months, even if it was an explanation he really didn’t want to share. So far, as far as he was aware, none of his friends had been recruited by the British, not been conned into working for one of the most cold-hearted men in that most cold-hearted of all businesses, the spy business.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, just as his first words were forming a small bell started to tinkle. Saved by the bell, he thought, as Samantha lurched to her feet, dashing out of the room as he levered himself out of his comfortable chair, thoughts of explanations coming to an abrupt end just as a rather startled Destiny was very nearly dumped on the floor as Symphony leapt to her feet and was gone in the twinkling of an eye, following her Master and Mistress through the door at the far end of the room.

‘Sorry about that,’ she began, picking herself up and smoothing down her skirt as a deep fear began to surface, ‘perhaps it’s best if you all stay here. That little bell is a warning that someone who shouldn’t, has just stepped onto our land.

‘Don’t worry,’ she smiled, trying her best to keep the fear from her voice, ‘it’s probably just a poacher looking for some rabbits, but until we know it’s best if we stay here.’

Along the corridor, in the room under the stairs that was normally locked, Seymour was bringing a whole bank of computer screens to life.

Samantha, who already had her end up and running was peering intently at a small screen.

‘Looks like three, and at least one chip is military spec.’

Symphony arrived just in time to catch the last few words, so she asked quite simply, ‘where?’

Samantha clicked an icon, so her screen changed from a data display to a plan view of Old Farm where three white dots stood out clearly. Then, her thumb resting on a small trackball, she moved an odd shaped icon to the middle of the three dots and clicked a key, causing the view to change as the screen zoomed in.

All the while Symphony was peering intently at the screen, watching the pattern as the dots moved.

Seymour now had his end of the console fully operational so, looking up, he enquired calmly, ‘Special Forces?’

‘Looks that way,’ as that hated feeling started to well up once again, her eyes clouding over as a quiet, ‘bugger!’ passed her lips; and all the while her beast, so recently sent back to its lair, was starting to rise.

‘Any cameras down there?’

‘Just coming on,’ chirped a happy Samantha as three of the screens flickered, the images starting to show an eerie view of the woods.

They were little more than bystanders now as the computer controlling the whole thing took over. The images flickering several times as the computer jumped from camera to camera, its electronic brain now searching for any signs of the correct movement; now it wasn’t whiling away the days searching for squirrels. Several nerve jinglingly long seconds dawdled by before the first screen steadied, displaying one of the intruders. A few more interminable seconds passed before all three intruders were clearly visible, each taking centre stage on their own screen, and as they watched they could see the intruders moving warily, slowly creeping deeper into the woods.

As the system got into its stride the images became ever more focused, the screens now showing each intruder wearing low light goggles, full camouflage and all the expected accessories of a Special Forces assault team in remarkable clarity. 

Seymour, completely enthralled by the scene being so openly displayed by his very high technology, pressed a few more keys and a low hum started to emanate from a small speaker. After several hisses and crackles a fairly clear voice was heard to say, ‘Alpha command. Alpha one. Do we have a go?’ followed soon after by, ‘all Alpha units, execute.’

Samantha looked over at Seymour saying, more in shock than anger.

‘This is not on!

‘Those are British accents. We agreed with the Government this sort of thing would not happen, ever!’

‘Quite so my dear,’ replied a very annoyed Seymour.

‘Think we can teach them a lesson Symphony?’ an evil grin beginning to crease his lips.

‘Not on my own, no. These three yes, but there will be a command vehicle somewhere. I can’t get these three and the command vehicle at the same time.’

‘Command vehicle?’ enquired Seymour, looking a bit worried.

‘Yep, those communicators will be quite short range, makes them difficult to intercept, so there will be a command vehicle, or a UAV fairly close, not within our perimeter but close.

‘Probably a van,’ she mused, ‘something able to carry those three at least.’

‘Not a UAV?’

‘Nah, you’d spot one of those dead easy with this, so it must be a van.

‘Stationary or mobile?’

‘Could be either, but I’m guessing stationary.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they’ll think this is an easy one. We’re a civilian target in the middle of a farm. They’ll go through the motions, but they won’t be too careful.’

‘Any ideas?’

‘Oh yes,’ as her trademark enigmatic smile returned.

Samantha hadn’t said a word, this was the first time she’d witnessed Symphony turning into that other person; and she was finding the transformation remarkable.

Samantha stayed silent as Symphony continued, trying hard to sound as reassuring as possible, ‘we have a good hour before they reach the house so there’s plenty of time.’

She knew what she was capable of and to a lesser extent the limits of Seymour’s abilities.

Unfortunately, she thought, the only other person I know I can trust on this sort of caper will be tucked up in bed, probably more than a little drunk.

‘Mistress, could you call the pub and see if they can get hold of Bungey’s butler?’

‘Certainly, my dear.’

‘Will this contraption of yours triangulate on radio signals?’

‘Indeed it will!’ replied Seymour proudly.

‘Any chance of finding that command vehicle?’

‘Don’t see why not,’ as he tapped away at a keyboard until another screen burst into life showing a detailed map of the area.

Samantha reached over, tapping Symphony on the arm, indicating that she should take the telephone. Feeling it would be easier if everyone knew what was planned, she pressed the speaker button.

‘Morning Sergeant, sorry to wake you so early but we are having a spot of bother. Three Special Forces are on the ground heading towards the house. The command vehicle is parked just outside the farm.’

Jenkins, suddenly very awake, he was his Lordship’s butler after all, asked, ‘is he secure?’

‘Yes. Everyone is secure at the moment. I’m expecting them to be in assault position in about fifty minutes. Any chance of you having a go at the command vehicle?’

‘Certainly Miss. Still can’t place you but I will, any clues?’

‘No sergeant, none whatsoever.’

‘So, Miss, timeframe?’

‘Standby sergeant,’ and then she realised she didn’t have a watch, so she looked around, searching as embarrassment began to grow in her eyes.

Samantha looked over, grinning quizzically.

‘Something wrong dear?’

‘Yes, I need a watch.’

Samantha nodded and left the room, still grinning from ear to ear.

Symphony almost cringed as she heard Jenkins chuckling quietly in the background.

‘Sergeant. The command vehicle is parked about fifty yards east of the entrance to the farm. About one hundred yards further to the east is a sharp bend, and just before the bend is a sign for the sharp bend. Think that will be far enough back as an IP?’

‘Yes Miss. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to reach the IP, say another ten to reach the command vehicle. Van you think?’

‘I’m guessing so but I can’t be sure, no visual at that location. Umm… are you contemplating what I think you are?

‘All I had in mind was for you to bump into it with the car.’

‘With his Lordships Rolls! You must be joking Miss; I polish that car every day.

‘No, I’ll just go and have a quiet word thank you Miss.’

‘You sure?’

Just then Samantha returned with one of Seymour’s watches, she’d decided that if a watch needed to be sacrificed to the greater good it would not be one of hers, so she handed it over with a cheeky grin.

‘Sergeant, we will go for twenty-eight minutes on my mark.’

‘Very good Miss.’

She waited a few moments so that he could adjust his watch before adding, ‘on my mark, mark.’

‘Got it Miss,’ as the phone went dead.

‘I’ll be off in a moment. Please don’t do anything unless I call you.’

‘I’ve got an old shotgun out the back,’ replied Seymour helpfully.

‘No… it’ll only annoy ‘em,’ as she slipped out of the room grinning from ear to ear.

Samantha, who had listened to all this in silence, looked at her lover, friend and soul mate of so many years and muttered ‘bugger.’

‘Quite so my dear. We are seeing a Symphony who is not quite as we envisaged, however she does seem to know what she’s doing. Perhaps you should pop along and reassure our guests that everything is alright. Oh, and ask Destiny to keep them in the sitting room for the time being.’

‘You sure?’

‘No I’m not!’ he replied quite sharply before continuing in his normal manner.

‘I’m sorry Sam, I don’t really know what to do for the best so please just ask them to wait in the sitting room.’

‘This just seems so unreal,’ as she composed herself before heading off.

The moment she strode through the door all their friends seemed to ask at the same time, ‘what’s going on?’

Samantha smiled as she replied, ‘there are a couple of trespassers loose on the farm so please stay here and don’t go wandering off.

‘Our… ummm…’ and then it suddenly dawned on her, ‘security device will take care of it but please don’t wander off. Perhaps Elizabeth and David could pop along to the kitchen to make some tea?’

Destiny, still looking very shaken, made her way over, ‘it’s not it is it?’

Samantha shook her head and gently pulled her out through the door before saying, ‘no dear it is not, thankfully!’

Destiny was shaking as she said, ‘when the alarm went off it brought it all back.’

‘I know dear, bloody kidnappers!’ so with a gentle tug, she guided her into the little room where Seymour was still studying the screens in rapt concentration.

Back in the sitting room, Bungey was the first to fill the vacuum of the deepening silence. ‘I’ve known these two for a long time, and Samantha is not a very good liar. Whatever is happening seems quite serious so perhaps we’d better stay put.’

They all agreed that sounded about right but instead of returning to their seats they headed in several different directions. The Doctor stuck her head around the door, listening to the muted, interesting sounds coming from further up the hall. Bungey, Gail and Becky walked over to the window and peered, a little nervously, around the curtains.

It wasn’t long before Elizabeth and David returned bearing a tray full of anything they thought might be useful, including some tea. This soon had them huddling in the middle of the room, all whispering nervously, all except the Doctor who grabbed four mugs and set off up the hall.

Meanwhile, a little further up the hall, Samantha ventured shyly, ‘I hope you don’t mind but I had to bring Destiny, she was worried it was him and well…’

‘Come in you two, sorry, hadn’t thought of that. Guess it’s a bit too soon to say you are both back to normal?’

‘Back to normal! It was only ten days ago you rescued us you oaf!’

Seymour covered his embarrassment as he raised a finger to his lips, ‘shh. Symphony’s nearly up to the first one.’

Destiny smiled, relaxing as she recognised her lover’s rather unique outline in the flickering image, the sight somehow calming her nerves.

While Symphony had been organising things in the little room she had been studying the movements of the intruders intently, and now her beast was in its element, free to use her body as it wanted. It didn’t need lots of high technology. Instead of relying on something artificial it drove her senses to their limit, a rustle here, a swish there as it brought all the details of the scene into her brain. It had worked out the pattern. It had also learned the lay of the land over the last few months. Details most forget were stored, ready to be used if needed; it was as if it could see a very detailed map in her head, and a lot more beside.

So, with cold calculating menace her beast drove her body to a particular tree where she waited, silent, deadly, ready to protect the three people she had come to believe were much more than just friends. Fortunately, her beast agreed with her, as far as it was concerned the four of them desperately needed all the protection they could get.

Seymour, Samantha, and Destiny watched the scene unfolding on the screens. The intruder seemed completely unaware that Symphony was waiting just behind the next tree, and although they were well over a mile away, they held their breath. Then, with a blur of movement, an arm shot out before the intruder fell into Symphony’s clutches to be lowered gently to the ground.

Samantha shattered the eerie silence with a loud, ‘yes!’ as she punched the air, before lapsing into an embarrassed silence as the others looked at her quite sharply.

Two of the screens showed the remaining intruders continue, completely unaware of the fate of their comrade. Another screen showed Symphony bending over the unconscious soldier as she began removing equipment. Some she put on, some she placed on the ground.

In moments the invader was naked, wrists and ankles secured with plastic cuffs extracted from the pack he had been wearing. As soon as she was done, Symphony was off, moving with a speed and grace that needed to be seen to be believed.

Seymour clicked a few keys as he slaved a camera onto the downed intruder and zoomed in further. A few more clicks and they could all hear the soldier breathing as he lay unmoving, completely unaware of what was going on around him. However, the computer seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty keeping a camera slaved onto Symphony as she covered the distance to her next rendezvous.

Her beast was much happier. Now it had a communicator in one ear, listening in case the enemy spoke. It also had a set of night vision goggles, these it left in their pouch hanging over her back. What made her beast even happier was that it now had a weapon. The intruder had been carrying the normal Special Forces assault rifle. It took a twinkling of the eye to check it was loaded and a few more moments to check it was functional. Her beast was a bit puzzled that it was temporarily disabled but it soon had that sorted out so in virtually no time it was happy it would work.

Symphony was puzzled about the rifle as well, but her beast was in control, so she was, to all intents and purposes, just a bystander as her beast stalked its prey.

The screens in the little room showed Symphony was now circling behind the remaining intruders. Again, she seemed to be heading for a particular tree. None of the watchers in that little room had any idea how she knew where she was or how she knew where the intruders were, but she seemed to know.

Seymour had seen her beast in action once before, nothing like this but at least he had seen her beast, so he had a vague idea what was happening. Samantha and Destiny had never seen anything that compared to this, not even in the movies, so both watched in awed silence.

The computer seemed to be able to focus on Symphony once she reached her chosen tree, so the screen showed her absolutely motionless as the second intruder approached. Then the screen blurred, flickering, as the computer tried to keep up. When the screen cleared the second intruder was lying on the ground.

A quiet cough destroyed the silence in that little room as the Doctor asked, ‘anyone for tea?’

Seymour, Samantha, and Destiny turned in unison, seeing her standing by the door, struggling to hold two mugs in each hand.

Seymour, trying to remain calm, just smiled and waved a hand indicating she had better come in.

No one said a word as some of the screens flickered once again, each showing glimpses of Symphony as she dashed off, heading, they guessed, towards the last intruder.

Something prompted Seymour to look at the clock as he realised, so far, this had taken only minutes. It seemed like hours, but the clock said otherwise, however only a few seconds remained of the twenty-eight minutes he had set on Symphony’s mark; and no one said a word as the second hand ticked remorselessly onwards, even the computer remained silent. 

As the clock ticked to twenty-eight minutes the speaker crackled into life as a voice that sounded a lot like Jenkins announced, ‘command is down.’

Another voice was heard, different, slightly higher in pitch.

‘Alpha one respond.’

Silence.

A heartbeat passed before the same voice, now a little less certain, was heard again.

‘Alpha two respond.’

More silence.

As they looked, the screens showed the last intruder crouch low to the ground, swivelling, balanced, assault rifle raised, scanning the surrounding area. Another screen flickered, showing Symphony stationary, perhaps fifty yards away, as she used a large tree for cover. The speaker remained silent as the last intruder, staying close to the ground, moved towards a large bush.

Symphony’s beast knew where the prey was. It knew the soldier was confused and concerned that command was down. Her beast knew why Alpha’s one and two had failed to respond, but it was still hunting, and it knew where the game had gone to ground. All the while it listened, hearing the sounds of the woods, filtering out layers of background noise until it could hear only the intruder, each breath, each tiny shuffle now as clear as a bell.

Symphony reigned in her beast, just a little.

‘Alpha three this weapon is armed. If you do not strip and move away from your equipment I will disable you. It is a dark night so if I miss I might just kill you. Alpha three, you have thirty seconds to appear naked.’

‘I don’t know who you are, but this is a military frequency.’

‘Twenty seconds.’

Her beast listened but could hear nothing. It knew what it expected to hear as the intruder stripped but it heard nothing, nothing except a few rustles and some sharp breaths.

‘Ten seconds.’

Silence, no sounds of the intruder removing its equipment reached the ears of her beast. Fortunately, it had chosen its hide with care as its assault rifle inched along a branch, pointing at the intruder’s lair. Then, as the time expired, it squeezed the trigger so a shot, a deafeningly loud shot shattered the silence of the woods.

Symphony whispered once more, ‘Alpha three, I am being kind. When I collected this rifle it was disabled. As you can see that is no longer the case.

‘Throw away your weapon or I will shoot you.’

A rifle clattered through the bush.

‘Alpha three, you will strip, then use your cuffs to secure your ankles and wrists.’

A few moments later some clothes tumbled out from the bush followed by the zipppp sound of plastic cuffs being secured.

Symphony spoke once more.

‘Seymour, can you see if the intruder’s wrists and ankles are secure? Switch on the flood lights around the farm if you’re sure.’

Her beast was not content, not yet. The zipping sound could just as easily have been someone closing cuffs on open air as wrists and ankles, so it never moved; the aim of the rifle never wavering as it waited for the sign.

Seymour slaved the nearest camera onto the intruder and peered intently at the screen, unwilling to switch on the lights unless he was absolutely certain the cuffs were secure, but he couldn’t be sure, the image just wasn’t clear enough, so the lights stayed off.

Her beast was not happy so it raged at Symphony that it should have shot the intruder in the first place. Now it would have to approach the soldier not knowing whether it was disabled or not. Her beast was not happy at all.

Symphony allowed her beast a little more freedom and it moved slowly away from the tree, circling silently away from the intruder; it wanted a clear view and that meant moving. Not happy at all, it moved, circling the intruder once, right around, but could find no clear view from any cover.

Symphony wasn’t happy either. Her beast was right, she should have allowed it to shoot. One shot to disable the intruder but she had allowed her humanity to interfere, so she had put herself in danger once again.

Her beast was now listening intently, using Symphony’s body as it had once been trained to do, so, accepting the inevitable, she reluctantly released her body to her beast.

Her beast now had complete control as Symphony’s mind retreated into the background. It now knew where the intruder was, right in the middle of a bloody great bush. So, looking for something heavy, her beast searched the ground, searching for something to throw into the bush before it drove itself in, something that might just give it a moment’s advantage.

Eventually it found a stone, not quite big enough but it would have to do. Then, moving silently, slowly, imperceptibly, it shuffled towards the bush, unwilling to rush in case it gave away its jealously guarded position until it was happy. Happy it was close enough to lob the stone and reach the bush a merest moment later.

After enough heartbeats it lobbed the stone in the air as it leapt. The stone landed with a rattle of leaves, and the beast wasn’t far behind. Searching, using Symphony’s senses to their limit, her beast sensed the intruder reaching up with both hands, so it shot out a foot.

Reacting far faster than the speed of thought, her beast twisted in mid-air as it threw a fist, hammering the wind from the intruder’s lungs as it landed, and then it sprang once more. Symphony delved deep and wrenched back some control, turning the killing blow into one that merely left the intruder unconscious. Still feeling no remorse her beast spun the intruder over onto its front, grabbed an arm and, with a vicious twist, heard the bone snap.

Symphony heard herself say, ‘Alpha command. All Alphas down. Clear the area. Out.’

‘Roger,’ and the earpiece was silent.

The silence was broken a few moments later as a new voice announced in Symphony’s earpiece.

‘This is Alpha Control. All Alphas stand down. I repeat all Alphas stand down. Alpha Control will be on scene in six zero minutes.’

After a huge struggle with herself, Symphony finally regained control of her body, and, as she knelt, making sure the person lying naked in front of her was breathing, she started to sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her beast retreated to the dark recesses of her mind, leaving her feeling devastated as she saw the havoc she had wreaked once again.

The four watchers, in that little room, looked on in open mouthed disbelief at what they had just seen and heard.

Seymour, who had seen Symphony like this at close hand, was the first to say anything.

‘She was like this last time. Let her cry for a while and then we will all have to bring back the Symphony we know and love.’

Destiny, tears in her eyes, said, ‘she told me about the beast, well her and Jenkins, I didn’t realise it was anything like this. It must rip her to shreds, poor thing. No wonder she seemed such a lost soul when she came here.’

Samantha said nothing, the sights and sounds of the last half hour or so had left her feeling excited, numb, aroused, and shocked all at the same time.

After several minutes Symphony’s voice came through the speaker, this wasn’t the self-assured voice of a few minutes ago, now she sounded tired and quite frightened.

‘Seymour, ask Destiny to bring the tractor down. I’ll get these three out to the meadow so we can get them up to the house, the Doctor had better have a look.’

Destiny was out the door like a shot and over to the stable in seconds. Fortunately, they’d been out on the tractor not many days before so, for once, it started first time.

Seymour looked up, his face hard and his eyes cold.

‘I don’t want them in my house! Will the stable suffice my dear Doctor?’

The good Doctor was quite taken aback by Seymour’s expression, but she agreed the stable would do.

Symphony was distraught when she realised she was carrying a young woman. As she lowered the soldier into the link box, Destiny was out of the tractor and had her arms around her lover, holding her tight, whispering that it was alright.

Symphony’s tears returned, ‘did you see any of it?’

‘Yes.’

‘How can you love someone who can do all this?’

Destiny pulled her lover into her.

‘Symphony, I will always love you.’

‘You’re not frightened of me?’

‘Oh you silly bugger! Of course not. You’d stand in front of a bullet to protect me, how on earth can I be frightened of someone like that?

‘Come on let’s get the others.’

Symphony smiled and kissed Destiny, a kiss that was returned by an affectionate slap on the rump.

‘Go on, I’ll move the tractor.’

Symphony shouldered the rifle once more and tramped off into the woods. The first intruder she came to was just coming around, so she smiled as she pointed the rifle at the chap.

‘You look too bloody heavy to carry so you can walk. Oh, and I’ve fixed this one so if you don’t want to get shot, do as you’re told. Alpha control has issued an all Alphas stand down and will be on scene in about an hour.’

Symphony never let the rifle waver as she threw the chap a knife.

‘Ankles only.’

The chap scrabbled around with his cuffed hands and cut the ankle cuffs, so Symphony directed him to the last of the intruders who was wide awake and struggling to free himself. She stood back as she told the first one to drop the knife so that the one on the ground could cut his ankle cuffs.

Now they were together the soldiers seemed to collect a little more courage, but her patience was beginning to run out so she, quite nonchalantly, squeezed the trigger, firing a round into the ground.

‘Look, don’t mess me around. I’ve had a long day so the last thing I want is to clout you two again, but I am starting to get a bit pissed off. So, please stop messing around.

‘See those lights? Your colleague is in the back with a broken arm. The longer we stand here the longer it will be before she sees a medic.

‘Let’s go.’

The two intruders, wrists still cuffed behind their backs, and quite naked, began walking towards the lights with Symphony following on behind starting to feel a little better.

As they emerged from the woods Symphony pointed the rifle towards the drive, telling them they had better get a move on.

As the strange procession reached the end of the drive, Seymour waved them to a halt and instructed Symphony to lock them in the stable. She smiled and soon had the two, as she thought, idiots, locked in the stable with a chain round each neck tethering them to the wall.

The Doctor looked at the young woman, still apparently unconscious, lying on the floor of the link box, and after confirming the arm was most definitely broken, decided that she had better stay with her until she came round.

Symphony had been completely distracted by the Doctor so was quite surprised when Jenkins appeared, quite silently, in the Rolls.

As the Rolls glided to a halt Jenkins lowered the window, with a silence that can only happen after spending a lot of money with Mister Rolls and Mister Royce.

‘Good morning Miss. I’ve got another one in the boot, if you would be so kind as to point your rifle at it, I’ll just open the catch? He’ll be a bit lively by now.’

Sure enough as soon as Jenkins pressed the button the boot lid flew up and a rather angry chap in an army uniform leapt out.

‘Good morning,’ called Symphony, her rifle pointing straight at him.

The silence was shattered once again as she squeezed the trigger, firing a round over the top of the stable block.

The soldier froze, stammering, ‘we disabled all the weapons, orders from the top.’

‘Yes,’ smiled Symphony, ‘and I’ve made this one work.’

The shot brought the rest of the party goers out of the house where they stood in open mouthed amazement at the scene in front of them.

As was becoming normal for Bungey, he was about a week behind everyone else.

‘Jenkins! What on earth are you doing here?

‘And that’s my Rolls!’

‘Yes m’lord,’ smiled Jenkins, grinning from ear to ear.

Symphony, smiling for the first time, asked ‘Seymour, any cuffs handy?’

‘Certainly,’ as he scuttled back in doors.

A small moan from the tractor dragged everyone’s attention back to the young woman who was now sitting up cradling her arm.

Seymour was back in a matter of moments, so he handed a pair of handcuffs to Symphony who threw them towards the chap who had so recently lurched into view from the boot of the Rolls. Still smiling, she instructed him to put them on before he was herded into the stable where a chain was locked around his neck.

The Doctor was soon tut tutting about the young woman’s arm so she sent her young beau, David, off to fetch her ubiquitous black bag. The poor woman looked a bit worried as the Doctor gave her an injection but relaxed a lot as the morphine got to work and a temporary splint was inflated around the break.

Samantha had by now recovered most of her normal poise so suggested, quite sweetly, that as it was now so early, some tea and an early breakfast would be a good idea, and, still grinning, helped the young woman off the link box, guiding her into the house.

The rest of the household followed on in dribs and drabs until only Seymour and Symphony