On and Off – Bentley 45

[For back story go here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and definitely this one.]

[Relevant back story also in embedded links.]

– It's on. Again.

Squawked Shiela.

Bentley was mystified this time. It was already 8.30 in the morning. Why were they even trying to make the journey today? At this time? Surely it was a lost cause from the start? The trains would be a nightmare to get to link up and even if they did he could give no guarantee how far up the country the ring would get before all the shops closed. If indeed they were even open.

Ah, thought Bentley, right. Not a shop. Not in the usual sense. Jewellers are not open at the moment so this must be heading for a collector. Maybe.

Whatever, he made two phone calls:

"Don't ask me why it's on now," he said. "I've just been told. You wanted to know, right? I shall expect my..."

"You'll get your reward," said Knowles. "Somehow. If this works."

The second call:

"You just need to be at the station," he told Natalie. "Act inconspicuous or even hide and watch and tell me who turns up. Take a picture and send it to me. If I recognise them I'll know what's going on. Maybe. Somehow.”

"What if I don't recognise them or don't see the right person?" asked Natalie.

"Go to the station," insisted Bentley. "I can tell you the platform and the time. It can't be that difficult."

Natalie reluctantly agreed and Bentley returned to his timetables and the squawking phone.

There was a quiet patch of around fifteen minutes before he received a message from Natalie. 

– What if I'm asked where I'm going? It read.

Bentley sighed in exasperation. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Surely she could just pick a destination and go with that?

– Doesn't matter. He texted back. – Anywhere you like.

– Need a back story. Texted Natalie.

– Whatever you want. Texted Bentley, beginning to crack.

Jemima Entwhistle was going north to check on her elderly relative who had sadly had a fall a few days ago. There were very few family members around and Jemima was really the only person, fit, able and in existence to be able to make the trip and help out. 

Except that wasn't good enough.

Jemima was an emergency services person, an undercover policewoman – yes, that time with Lawrence would pay off after all – and she was on a case of supreme importance to Crown and country. She was unable to disclose the full details of this, of course, because, well national security for heaven's sake. 

Except she didn't have appropriate ID. Lawrence had always been a stickler for ID to back up any plan or back story. Without it you just looked like you were making things up.

So Jemima was actually employed by the railways. She was an area/regional manager – a position meaningful enough to enable her to travel, meaningless enough to ensure no one would challenge her. She was required up north – possibly even in York – where her expertise would help the local rail network there adapts to these strange circumstances. OK so they've been working under strange circumstances until now, but now it was particularly strange because...

– It's off. Again.

Squawked Shiela.

"What was the excuse this time?" asked Knowles, later.

"Not been given one," said Bentley.

"Look, I don't want to get on your case unnecessarily, but are you in fact winding me up?" snarled Knowles down the phone.

"I am being straight with you and regaling you with the facts and actions as much as I can," said Bentley, controlling his own frustration, but only just. "Believe me, this is as maddening for you as it is for me."

"Not entirely," said Knowles. "I probably have a better idea of what's going on than you, to be honest. And right now I'm learning loads."

"What exactly is your interest here, Jeremy?" asked Bentley. "I still don't get it."

"Money of course," said Knowles.

“Is there money in this?” said Bentley doubtfully.

"It's not the money that’s in it, it's the money that's been taken away," said Knowles. “I want to find it and I want it back. I'm doing whatever it takes to do that, you get my drift?"

Bentley felt his blood run cold. His eyes flicked over to where he had stashed the box of notes and shoes. Now hidden with a blanket on and topped by a purring cat.

"Right," he said. "I see."

Jemima Entwhistle walked back home, never truly having understood or discovered who she really was.