Part VI

Father is a whistle-blower!

That's what mother told me. That's why Badger and Quinn are so anxious to find him.

They work for the Security Services - and, so it appears, does father! Imagine: father, a James Bond! I wonder if he has a licence to kill?

When mother opened the cloakroom door in response to Quinn's knocking, she was very cool.
'If you were bursting for a pee, love, there's another lavatory on the other side of the hall; we don't stint on bogs in this house.'

'No, Mrs Turner. I just want to tell you we are leaving now, and I am taking this with me.'
And, horror of horrors, he had father's laptop under his arm. The one father had text me to throw in the lake. I was aghast - for the second time that evening. 'But you can't take father's laptop,' I protestested, 'It's his private property!'

'Oh, Badger... err Mr Fothergill... will give you a receipt.' Quinn smiled - more like a horrible grin, really.
'Well, we'll be off. I've telephoned for another car - ours slid into a snowdrift. You certainly have bloody awful weather out here in the sticks.'

There was a knock at the front door. 'That will be our driver' said Badger, 'Sorry about all this Georgina - a bloody mess, eh. Never mind, we'll sort it out. But you must ring us immediately if you hear from Cyril.'

And they were gone.

'But mother,' I wailed, 'Father had wanted me to throw his laptop into the lake - now it's too late. That horrible personage, Quinn has it.'

'No, George - Quinn thinks he has father's laptop - actually he has mine. Father's is already at the bottom of the lake.'

'But it was on his desk...' I began.

'I switched them earlier.' smiled my resourceful mother. 'I hope he enjoys viewing all those porn sites.'

I wasn't sure what a whistle-blower was so I looked it up on Google, I found links to You tube and  a woman name Annie Machon. She was a whistle-blower some years ago, along with her colleague David Shayler. She said that Britain has become a Police State. I could hardly believe it: that this green and pleasant land, with its village pubs and church fetes had become like Russia or some other communist country. But she was very persuasive. Apparently there are laws already in force which, although not yet used, could restrict our liberty to a degree previously unheard of. And this made me think that the  government wanting to censor the internet - supposedly to 'crack down on paedophile rings' - could be just the toe of the fascist jackboot. And that unless we stand up to these people we will soon experience the full weight of that jackboot on the neck of our once free society.

I resolved to join in the struggle for freedom, although I was not quite sure how I might do this.

My opportunity came sooner than I expected.


(to be continued)