I woke early. At this time of the year it is getting bright around 4:30 and I had not slept well. What had started out as a good day two days ago had developed into a bit of a nightmare all due to an impulsive act involving me in something that wasn’t really my business. On top of that, I had possibly endangered Janet, and maybe my family. I hadn’t called home yet and was a little surprised that they hadn’t made contact with me. I would do it later; first things first. Keeping the lights off, I looked out through my venetian blinds at the roads that were visible from my windows but saw no lurking hitmen or surveillance cars. There was no surface carparking in my field of vision so anyone trying to keep my apartment under surveillance would have been readily obvious. I could not see the underground carpark entrance which was at the back of the apartment block, but would not be exiting that way in any event.

I felt that I had complied with the Detective Inspectors request in that I had remained home for the rest of the day yesterday. I suspected that the DI would rather that I’d checked in with her before leaving my apartment, but reckoned that I’d be back there before she had her first cup of coffee in the Police Station. I quickly packed my small laptop rucksack with my iPad, Janets pistol along with her two ten round magazines and a box of 50 rounds. I put my own pistol into the inside pocket of a light summer jacket, loaded but not racked, with my spare magazine in the left outside pocket. The first inbound train was passing my nearest station at 05:40 so I slipped out the front door of my apartment block at 05:25 and walked quickly to the station; nothing unusual about this, just another commuter heading for an early start in the big smoke. Reaching the station I backed into a corner, pretending to be half-asleep leaning back against the wall, and scanning the platform, my neck and face wrapped up in a scarf, as if against the morning chill. There were very few commuters, none looking suspicious, at least to me. Just to be sure, I got off the train after two stops; no one else got off this inbound train. I got on the next one and texted Janet.

“Chez vous 30 mnts”.

Her thumbs up reply came almost instantly; she wasn’t sleeping either.

I took a tram from the station to a stop near her apartment, got off, stopped to see if I recognised anyone following me, then walked to her apartment block taking a circuitous route. I let myself in, took the elevator to her floor and knocked gently on her door. She let me in: Black rimmed eyes testified to a bad night. She locked the door after me, fastening the security chain as well. I pulled her into a long hug, then sent her to have her shower while I got breakfast. I knocked on her bedroom door when I heard the shower stop and brought her a mug of freshly brewed coffee as she dried herself off.

“Why’d you knock? It’s not like we’re strangers.”

“Just didn’t want to give you a fright, not this morning… breakfast ready in five, ok?”

She took the coffee, sipped it, and nodded. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and headed back to the kitchen to finish the two omelettes that I’d prepared. She came into the living area just as they were being plated and about to be placed into the oven to keep warm. We ate together in relative silence, not even bothering to turn on the radio for the morning news. Eventually I spoke:

“I’ve brought your pistol, some mags, and a box of ammo.”

“Do you think I’m going to need it?”

“No; just nice to have around for a few days. The mags are expanded to ten rounds.”

“Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”

She got up, went to the bedroom and returned in a few minutes with a shoulder bag. She tried the pistol in it. It fitted, just about; the Victory is a range pistol, not really suited as a concealed carry gun, but it was the best we had.

“You going back to yours?”

I nodded.

“At least until that DI contacts me again; she’s supposed to be checking if there’s a contract, or whatever they call it here, on me.”

Janet gave an involuntary shudder.

“It doesn’t seem real; more like we’ve just been dropped into a movie.”

“I’m sorry, really sorry, I’ve dropped you in this.”

“Not your fault, and nothing we can do about it now.”

“Suppose not; will you be OK here?”

She hesitated for a minute.

“Yes; but don’t you think that you should move out of yours? They probably know your name, and it’s not hard to find out where someone lives now. You could move in here.”

“Thanks, but that would put you right in the frame. I’ll stay in my place for a while and see how the police call it”.

“You said it yourself, you’re just waiting for someone to take a shot at you and hoping that they’ll miss.”

“I’ll stay put for a while. I’m more protected than they think; they won’t expect me to have a pistol.”

“They might if they follow you to the range.”

“They’d stand out like a blue rhinoceros.”

That I was very sure of. The range was down a country lane, with nothing else around. Anyone following me there would be more than obvious.

“Any client meetings?”

I was hoping that Janet would have some reason to leave her apartment during the day. Staying in too long is not good for either mind or body.

“Not until tomorrow.”

“OK, we’ll talk tonight so?”

She nodded. Another long hug and I was gone. I stopped in the hall outside her apartment door for a minute and could hear her locking the door, fitting the security chain and a thump as something was pushed against the door. I was starting to get more worried about her wellbeing than the Kingstons following me.

The morning rush hour was over by the time I was back on the streets. I walked around a bit checking for a “tail” before eventually getting the tram to the train station and heading for home. Again, nobody appeared to be following me from the train station or around my apartment block so I decided that it was safe to get my car, drive to the local supermarket and buy some food. Just as I was heading back to my apartment the DI rang. I answered on hands-free.

“Hi, Jos here.”

“Jos, DI Jones here. Can you talk? Are you driving?”

“Yeah, hands-free.”

“I thought you were staying at home?”

She sounded a bit like a teacher talking to her pupil.

“That was yesterday; today I needed some food.”

She obviously decided not to have an argument with me so got straight to business.

“Well, the good news is that there’s no word yet that there’s a contract out on you. The bad news on the street is that it’s only a matter of time before there is one. The Kingstons will be furious that their man was caught and will want to make a point.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Nothing yet; we’re looking at options. In the meantime, we’re asking the local police to step up both uniformed and under-cover patrolling around your apartment area.”

“How’ll I know that your undercover people aren’t the bad guys?”

“I’ll get you a number so you can call the local police station if you see anything suspicious. If it’s one of theirs, they can tell you.”

“Thanks; one other thing. My building has security cameras on each landing, the perimeter, front door, garage and garage door. It’s monitored by Active Watch. Could I get access to this so I can check around before leaving or coming to the block?”

Our condominium management company had installed this security monitoring system almost as soon as the building was occupied and had outsourced the surveillance to Active Watch as we had no permanent concierge on site.

“I can try; there’s GDPR and all that stuff to consider.”

GDPR, the General Data Protection Regulation, had become the goto excuse for anyone trying to be uncooperative.

“HMLL trumps GDPR.”

“HMLL; what’s that?”

“Help Me Live Longer.”

“Look, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, just be cautious. It’s probably too soon for anything to happen.”

I hoped she was right. I wondered about Janet.

“Have you heard anything about Ms Rabbit?”

“Sorry about that; it was a slip of the tongue. No; I think she’s in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about the name; after all she started it. Are you going to ring her? She needs to hear it from you.”

I felt that any messages passed to Janet through me might just seem like friendly reassurance.

“I’ll do that. Speaking of Ms Murphy, and your disguise… am I correct in assuming that that wasn’t your first time? I don’t want to be nosey, but you carried it off very well.”

Of course I did; I’d had five months of intermittent practice.

“You’re not nosey, and you’re right. Jesse is my alter ego. Why do you ask?”

“It just might work to your advantage, but right now I’m not sure how.”

“OK. You won’t forget to ring Janet?”

“No; I’ll call her now.”

“Thanks.”

I rang off; I was almost back at my apartment. I looped around the block, saw nothing, and drove into the underground garage and parked. As I was getting my shopping out of the car, my neighbour from across the hall came out the door heading off to work. An on-site engineer, he normally did his emails and admin in the morning before heading off on site, thus missing the rush hour.

“Hi Jos; did you get my note? Nice job on that guy.”

“Thanks Tom, I got the note. Please, say nothing to anyone; it’s very important.”

His bonhomie disappeared in an instance. Being a smart chap, he got the point immediately.

“Oh, shit! I never though. Are you OK?”

I gathered from his reaction that he’d probably already been telling his friends that I was his neighbour.

“Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way. We don’t want any visitors. Speaking of which, if you see anyone strange, can you call me?”

“Sure, I will. Stay safe!”

He climbed into his truck and pulled off. I gathered up my shopping and rode the elevator to my apartment. Once in, a quick check out the windows, nothing to see. My phone rang; Janet.

“Hi Ms Rabbit.”

“Oh yeah; she apologised for that. She just rang; I’m still in the clear.”

“Great; she told me that. Will you go out tonight with the girls?”

I wanted to get her to leave the apartment; she needed to get out.

“Yes; I’ll send them a mail. Would Jesse like to join us?”

I’d never thought of that. It would probably be a good idea to get some fun time in before things moved on to a more serious threat level.

“Hmmm, not a bad idea; what you have in mind?”

“Just a few drinks; I’ve a client meeting tomorrow. Probably the Palace Bar around 9pm.”

“OK; I’ve just bought some lamb shanks which I was going to freeze. I’ll cook them in the slow cooker and bring them over to yours around 6pm if that suits.”

“Great; see you then.”

Given that she was bringing me out for the night, and I’d be staying over, I thought I could do dinner. I like to cook, but first things first; I rang my parents. My mother answered:

“Are you all right? We didn’t want to ring in case you were hiding somewhere!”

I had briefly worked in Africa and had been given a security course. One of the things not to do is to call someone who might be hiding from an active shooter and I’d warned my parents not to call me if they heard of any security situation on the news, I would call them. They had obviously erroneously transposed this advice to the current situation which explained why I hadn’t heard from them.

“Sorry, I should have called you. I was just busy with the fallout. When did you hear?”

“Well, your Aunt Mary called this morning. We hadn’t heard about all the fuss until she told us.”

That made sense. Neither of my parents bothered much with social media although they were around the Facebook generation. The farm would be very busy at this time of the year with milking getting into full swing.

“Look, I’m safe, but I have to be careful for a while….”

We chatted, and my father came in on the call for a few minutes. They were concerned, although they tried to hide it. They wanted me to come back to the farm for a few weeks where the remote location, the dogs and the shotguns would provide a significant level of security but the very remoteness would mean that I couldn’t work as the broadband reception was inadequate. Besides, it would put them in harm’s way as well. I declined on the basis that the threat was minimal; I wasn’t sure that they believed me. Eventually I got off the call by promising a daily text or call, and that I’d come back to the farm if the threat escalated.

I seared and sealed the lamb shanks on a hot pan and put them in the slow-cooker with shallots, garlic and red wine, I would add carrots later, and finally got down to work.

My solicitor client had emailed: In view of the circumstances, he did not consider it appropriate that I continue to provide services to his firm. Scumbag! I computed my hours, added €1,000 for the inconvenience and breach of our non-existant verbal contract and sent him an invoice. I was sure he’d pay just to keep everything quiet. It also suited me not to have any further work in the criminal legal system; too big a chance of being seen by the bad guys. I worked until 5pm, stopping only at 2pm to add the carrots to the slow-cooker and have a snack of corn and sardine with a small glass of (boxed) dry white wine. Then, a check out the window, nothing there, so I got my overnight bag, put the slow-cooker into a cardboard box in the boot of my car, and drove off towards town. At this time, I would be going against the traffic, and a hot slow-cooker with lamb shanks is hard to manage on a train and tram!

I drove sedately out of the mixed estate of houses and apartment blocks and turned onto the inbound motorway. I would only take this for a few kilometres before turning off towards town. I kept a careful eye in the mirror going onto the motorway. There I put the boot down until I got to the exit, weaving through the lanes of traffic, and then turning off. A grey Ford Mondeo had been with me, at some distance, all the way. Heading towards town, I went right around a roundabout, acting as if lost by indicating to go off and then correcting myself, ending up behind the Mondeo and getting its number, before continuing on my way. It also looped around the roundabout and continued after me. I used the speed dial to call DS White; he answered almost immediately.

“Hi, DS White, Jos McNamara here. I’m on the N32 inbound and being followed by a grey Mondeo, Reg ABC123D.”

“OK; how’d you spot him?”

“Stood out like a parson in a brothel; not one of their smartest thugs.”

He sighed, sounding really pissed off.

“You’re OK; it’s Detective Byrne. We sent him out until the local police took over tonight.”

Shit! Clouseau. I had definitely trodden on their toes now… time to try to make amends…

“Ah, he probably wasn’t trying to stay covert so. Thanks for the escort; I’m heading to Janet’s place for the night.”

“Try to get some sleep!”

He must be remembering Janet’s description of our last night in her apartment.

“Janet and Jesse are going to meet some girls in the Palace Bar for a drink around 9pm. It won’t be a late night so if Detective Byrne is happy that I’m not being tailed by someone else we’re OK for the night.”

“Ah yes, Jesse. DI Jones told me about her. Have fun.”

“Thanks; we’ll try.”

I continued into town and towards Janet’s apartment block. I had some time to spare so I drove around a few loops to check if I had a second tail; I wasn’t confident of Clouseau’s ability to detect one. Not seeing anything, I drove into her block and parked in her underground space. As usual, she’d already moved her car into a visitor’s space to ensure that I’d somewhere to park. I looped the handles of my overnight bag over my arm, picked up the cardboard box with the slow-cooker, rode the elevator to her floor and rang her doorbell; with arms full I couldn’t manage the keys. The chain came off and the door opened; good, no couch blocking the door this time. Janet looked a lot better; she had just showered and her hair was drying naturally in a tousle of curls and waves falling down onto her shoulders. I put the slow-cooker down on the kitchen worktop and pulled her into a long hug and kiss.

“You’re looking great!”

“You’ll be looking good soon, once I’ve finished with you!”

I plugged in the slow-cooker to ensure the lamb was hot while Janet prepared some cous-cous. As it was mid-week, and we were going out later, we restricted ourselves to a small glass of arak, our preferred drink with lamb. Then we got to work. I showered and shaved, face, legs, underarms. This was easy as it was just a top-up. I had long since learned to ignore the sometimes curious stares of some guys in the gym at my lack of body hair. Over my knickers I carefully slipped my legs into a pair of M&S Rose Quartz 10 Denier tights which Janet had left on the bed and a lace, underwired long line bra. I popped in my breast forms, pulled on a robe and sat at the vanity to wait for Janet to dry my hair. This time it was more like a tutorial. She showed me how to towel-dry my hair and add product to give it volume and a natural appearance as it fell in curls onto my shoulders. She was doing us up as a matching pair. As my hair was drying naturally she started on a make-up tutorial; moisturiser, foundation, under eye concealer, eye shadow, mascara, eyebrow pencil and lipstick.

“And now for the pièce de resistance. I was keeping this for your birthday.”

She reached her hand into the wardrobe and pulled out a short, shift dress which was, in effect, a mass of gold sequins. She helped me into the dress and zipped it up. I looked at myself in the mirror; I was delighted at the effect. The dress hung perfectly, coming down to mid-thigh, shimmering as I moved.

“You’ll have no problem picking up a man tonight!”

Janet was looking over my shoulder, leaning in against me. I turned and went to kiss her; she put a finger on my nose.

“Lipstick, remember.”

“What’s my chances of picking up a lovely, sexy woman?”

“Great if she’s a lesbian.”

“Well, that moron on the street yesterday thought we were even though he didn’t appear to approve of us!”

“Come on, watch me doing my makeup… keep learning…”

I sat on the bed and watched Janet intently. We hadn’t discussed this yet, but instinctively we both knew that Jesse was going to have to learn to stand on her own two high heels and that she was going to become a very important part of my, hopefully long, future. Janet talked me through her makeup application, explaining what she was doing and where I would need to do it differently. Eventually, about 8:30pm, both ready, we decided to get a taxi to the Palace Bar. I carried my pistol in a totally unmatching bag; Janet had bought me one to match the dress, but fashion sometimes has to take second place.

The taxi dropped us three minutes away from the bar so we walked the rest of the way, slowly, in our heels. I found that I was enjoying the looks we were getting from passing men, some open, some surreptitious, all admiring. Funny, I’d never envisioned myself with a man, always seeing myself as a man playing a role, so why was I enjoying their attention? Janet’s friends hadn’t arrived so we grabbed one of the booths surrounding a large open floor used sometimes for dancing, other times just as a circulation space, ordered drinks and waited. Tonight I was on mocktails; drinking a lot of alcohol while carrying a gun is simply stupid. I did feel that Janet needed to have a few and, within the limitations of her meeting schedule tomorrow, let her hair down. Her two friends arrived soon afterwards; air kisses all ‘round.

Men and women seem to hunt in pairs so, as a group of four girls, we weren’t approached in our booth by any aspiring Lotharios. Anyway, it was mid-week and most of the patrons were, like us, probably working the next morning so the hunting season was deferred to the weekend. Janet’s friends, Louise and Grainne, knew me only as Jesse and were not fully sure of exactly what Jesse was all about, knowing only that she and Janet were FWB. For that matter, I was equally unsure about Jesse, although I liked having her around, and so did Janet. Leaving all that uncertainty aside, we were just out for a few drinks. We chatted for a while; Louise was sitting on the inside of the booth, opposite me, and looking outwards.

“Don’t look now, but I think there’s two guys eying us up.”

“What?”

Janet and I both had a brief moment of panic and the same reaction.

“Only two? That’s disappointing after spending all that time getting ready. What do they look like?”

Grainne, thankfully hadn’t noticed our discomfort.

“A bit nerdy, one tall, gangly, looks like his mother just let him out for the night, the other a bit older, eying up every woman in the place.”

I looked at Janet:

“Maybe Clouseau and a friend? I’ll check. If I walk away it’s him”

I slid out of the booth, collected my bag as if going to the Ladies’ room, turned around and saw Clouseau and a friend both looking at me. I ignored them and walked off to the Ladies’. As I rounded the bar I saw Clouseau’s friend slide out of his booth and start after me. I continued on, visited the Ladies’, came back out and there he was, loitering in the vicinity of the door. I moved quite close to him and whispered:

“Our friends have spotted you. Don’t follow me back too closely or they might ask too many questions.”

I walked back to our booth, swaying a little provocatively, and sat back in.

“I was just telling the girls how we met Clouseau on a client video call; bit of a coincidence he turns up here!”

Janet had invented a cover story in my absence. I nodded and sat down.

“Why’d you call him Clouseau?”

Louise’s question was reasonable in the circumstances; he didn’t remotely resemble Peter Sellers. I looked over at Janet and winked with my hidden eye.

“We figured after the call that he made as much sense as Clouseau did when he was talking to the accordion player and the monkey.”

Thankfully we moved on. The girls were planning their trip to Algarve and seemed to forget that I was an imposter and Janet’s sometime sex-partner. I didn’t mind; I was enthralled by their conversation about what they would wear going out at night, who was bringing what sexy dress, how to avoid sunburned boobs when sunbathing topless, whether to go the nudist section of the beach this year. I would have loved to be going, but as one of them, not just pretending to be.

We broke up around 11:30pm, more air kiss goodbyes with Louise and Grainne, and we walked along the street to the taxi rank. I noticed Clouseau and his friend following us at a discreet distance. Again, I decided to take the maximum enjoyment from being out on the street, all dressed up, and still being noticed. I was linking Janet; she was marginally tipsy as indeed was everyone on the street at that time, me and hopefully the following policemen excluded. We were almost at the cab rank when I felt my rear being fondled by a guy who passed close from behind and made off down a side alley just as quickly.

“That f***er just felt my ass!”

Janet sniggered.

“Get used to it, it happens! Good job he didn’t go for anywhere else.”

“Yeah; he’d have gotten some surprise. What do those creeps get out of it anyway?”

It was a rhetorical question. We got our cab after a short wait and were soon back at Janet’s. Once inside, I declined her offer of a G&T and persuaded her instead to have a glass of water and two paracetamol. She’d thank me in the morning.

“You enjoyed yourself tonight!?”

I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“Yeah, I did. I like just being out with the girls.”

“As a girl?”

“Yes; do you find that strange?”

She paused for a minute to compose her answer. Definitely the water had been a good idea; I refilled her glass and handed it to her.

“No; I think I like it. I mean you just blend in… a bit of work on the voice and…”

I was sitting on her two-seater. She put a knee either side of me and sat on my lap. I reached my hands behind her, unzipped her dress and opened her bra. She lifted her hands into the air to let me take both off over her head, then leaned in and rubbed a boob across my face.

“Maybe Girlfriends With Benefits?”

I couldn’t reply; it is rude to talk with your mouth full!

I woke Janet up with a glass of water and two more paracetamol. She wasn’t that bad; I just wanted her to be in good nick for her meeting at 11am. As usual when I was there I got breakfast; pancakes with maple syrup and bacon. We ate together and I headed off, going against the incoming traffic. I really needed to get some work out of the way so was planning to just get my head down for the day. I slowed down coming into the cul de sac which led to my apartment block and drove in, keeping an eye out for anything unusual; just what that might be, I hadn’t a clue. I did notice that a car, parked outside one of the townhouses lining the way in, appeared to be occupied; the driver might just have sat in to start his commute. As usual, I circled the block and met the same car on its way in as I was approaching the way out. I still didn’t have a number for the local police liaison so I called DS White.

“Good morning; Jos here again. Another number, WXY789Z, brown old Nissan. Apparently following me around the area.”

“I’ll call you back. Get back on the motorway and don’t stop if you can avoid it.”

By now the motorway would be starting to slow to a crawl inbound; I needed to head outbound, away from the probable traffic jams. I pulled away, keeping an eye in the mirror. The Nissan followed me onto the motorway, but pulled off at the next exit. I went one more exit and looped back. The ‘phone rang.

“Jos, DS White. Are you OK? That car’s a problem.”

“Think I’ve lost him.”

I recounted the tale: The DS reckoned that the bogey had abandoned the tail once it was obvious that I’d spotted him. They’d be more careful next time. The police would pick up the registered owner and grill him, but nothing much could be expected from this. With this heartening news I headed back to the apartment, circled a bit, saw nothing and pulled into the underground carpark. By this stage I was a nervous wreck and waited with my hand on the S&W until I saw the gate close. I parked in my space, racked the pistol, put on the safety, hid my right hand under a jacket, hung my overnight bag over my left arm, got out with my keys in my left hand, locked the car and pressed the elevator button. I waited just a bit away from the door until the door opened, waited a second or two, then peeked into the elevator. No one there; I got in, pressed the button for my floor and backed into a corner, pistol pointing towards the door under my jacket. The elevator arrived at my floor. Again I waited a second or two, then almost jumped out, trying to look both ways at once. Again, no one there. I opened my door, went in, bolted, chained and blocked the door behind me. It wasn’t even 10am, but I desperately needed a drink. No can do; must stay in control. Now that the threat was real, not theoretical, I felt desperately scared, alone, vulnerable.

I changed into a kilt-skirt and top, made a pot of tea, poured myself a mug, added a half teaspoon of honey along with a thimbleful of milk and got down to work. Work occupied my mind and calmed me down. I worked for about three hours before stopping to break some 78% chocolate into a mug, adding 200ml milk, and zapping it until I had a nice thick chocolate drink. I was sitting back enjoying this with some digestive when the DI rang.

“Jos; DI Jones here. How are you?”

“Frankly, scared shitless. You heard about this morning?”

“Yes; you did well to spot him.”

“Was he the hitman?”

“No; just a low level scumbag. Surveillance.”

“But they are planning a hit?”

“Yes; but it will take some time to set up.

“Look, if you get me the cameras I asked for I’ll have at least a fighting chance of seeing if there’s someone out there waiting for me. They’ll have to do some more of this observation shit before they make a move?”

“Yes. They’ll just send some more low level thugs to do this and we won’t be able to touch them… no evidence!”

“Maybe I’ve an idea of how I’ll disappear for a few weeks.”

“You thinking about Jesse?”

“Maybe, not sure yet.”

She gave me a contact number in the local Police station and rang off.

My immediate plan was, once Janet went on holidays in a week’s time, I would move into hers and live as Jesse for the two weeks. If I got there without being followed, I would be safe, particularly if I used a VPN. I wasn’t sure how technically capable the Kingstons were, but I had to assume that they had some capability, so I needed to cover my cyber footprint as well. The downside to this was that I would not be able to easily meet either of my other two occasional partners.

Anyway, work to be done. I texted Janet and my parents, All Well, and got back down to earning my daily bread. The DI Rang back around 4pm; I would be getting a monitor to view the apartment block cameras; a police technician would be around first thing in the morning. I thanked her and hung up. Progress; once I had the feed into my apartment, I would be able to get it on the web to be viewable from my iPad. No need to tell the police that; they didn’t need to know. Eventually, tired out, I took a bean stew and some ciabatta from the freezer, heated the former and toasted the latter before sitting down to dinner with a glass of white wine. I was “meated out” after the lamb last night.

Was that only last night? What a day! If I don’t get some exercise in soon I’ll creak to a halt. Can I exercise in the gym in Janet’s block as Jesse? I rather fancied myself in a crop top and spray-on shorts, but this was a non-runner, for obvious reasons! I filled the dishwasher, soaked some oatmeal for breakfast, checked the door and got ready for bed. Just as I was about to put the S&W under my pillow I remembered to take the round out of the breech: I’d need to be more careful! I poured myself two fingers of Glenmorangie and slid into bed. The Glenmorangie was still sitting there when I woke up at 5am.

I slid out of bed and did my floor and weights exercises: It was important to get back to routine. I texted Janet at 6am; she was also an early riser when not out the night before. Then my parents; the cows liked an early start as well so they would be up milking. As this was Friday, I would call to the farm tomorrow and collect my side-by-side shotgun; it would significantly enhance my “home-defence” firepower! I did my usual squint through the venetian blinds but saw nothing, had breakfast and dressed in leggings and a long shirt. This was my sole concession to the fact that a police technician would be calling “first thing”; I now normally wore either skirts or dresses in my apartment, sometimes pulling a shirt on over a dress if doing a Zoom call.

“First thing” turned out to be 10AM. Clouseau called to let me know that the technician was outside the apartment block so I let him into the lobby and then into my apartment. He was taciturn, which I reckoned was almost a prerequisite for his line of work, and we barely exchanged ten words before he was finished and gone, even refusing my offer of a coffee. He did leave me a number to call in the event of any technical problems.

I stayed at home for the day; I would have to come to some arrangement with the local police to get some exercise in. At least I caught up with work, even getting two Zoom calls completed. I only realised afterwards that the shirt I was wearing buttoned on the wrong side; none of the clients had seemed to either notice or mind.

The following morning, Saturday, I rang my liaison at the local Police Station. A female voice replied.

“Hi, Jos McNamara here; I’m just checking if you’ve anyone around?”

“Not at the moment; we checked your area a few times last night, nothing seen.”

“Thanks, I’m leaving for my parents’ place for the weekend in an hour, just in case you think I’ve disappeared.”

“Where’s that?”

“I’ll text you the address; it’s just a bit beyond the middle of nowhere.”

“Will you be safe there? Houses in the middle of nowhere, or just beyond, tend to be vulnerable.”

“Farm, dogs, squinting windows, one road in. Will be OK as long as I’m there.”

“You forgot to mention the shotguns! I thought all farmers had them.”

“Well Miss, you know yourself that self-defence is not recognised as a legitimate reason to have a firearm. You guys do all the defending for us.”

“Bullshit; and my name’s Jacinta.”

“Hi Jacinta.”

“Look, I’ll pick up your car leaving the estate and check that you’re not being followed.”

“You on your own?”

“Yes, but I’m a big girl now.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to follow me to the motorway stop for a coffee? Could be useful to meet.”

“OK, am I meeting Jesse or Jos?”

“You’re well briefed; Jos, I’m driving to my folks, remember?”

“OK; pull in when you get there and wait for a blue Ford to pull up beside you.”

I checked the CCTV screen for a few minutes but saw nothing amiss, then prepared a weekend bag, put the pistol into my shoulder bag, and left exactly an hour after my call with Jacinta. I had the camera showing the outside of the garage gate on my iPad as I waited for the gate to open, drove out, looped the block and drove off slowly. There was nothing behind me as I headed for the motorway; maybe I’d left before she’d arrived? I drove normally down the motorway, pulled into the stop, parked, and a blue Ford pulled up alongside. The driver’s blond hair was gathered into a ponytail high on her head and she was wearing a casual jacket over a white vest-top. She saw me looking and waved; I got out of my car and walked over to hers.

“Jacinta?”

“Yep; that’s me.”

I held the door while she got out. She was my age, or maybe a bit older, no ring, a good chassis in tight blue jeans, and altogether quite as attractive as her voice suggested.

“I never saw you behind me.”

“You weren’t meant to!”

We walked into the soulless motorway café/shop and I bought two cappuccinos before we sat down at one of the tables. At that time on a Saturday morning there were few enough people about so we could talk without being overheard. I started with a question.

“Can I check, the number I called, is that your personal work number or do you pass the number around between whoever’s on duty?”

“It’s my number. I’m your liaison officer for our station.”

“So, what happens when you’re off duty?”

“I answer the call; it’s a 24/7 job.”

“Even if you’re out for a drink?”

“Can’t drink, well, maybe one or two.”

“How long will you have to do this?”

“Not sure yet; I might do week on/week off with someone if it goes on for a long time.”

“Are you planning for it to go on for a long time?”

“Don’t know yet; depends on whether you stay in our area and the assessed threat level”.

“Must be a right pain for your partner, family, whoever.”

“You sure you’re not in the police yourself?”

“Me, no, why?”

“I get the feeling you’re asking an indirect question to build up a picture.”

“Guilty!”

“To answer your indirect question, I don’t have a partner. And just in case it matters, I’m not into guys.”

“Hmmm, you might get on better with Jesse so!”

“Seeing as you brought it up, can you tell me about her?”

“I’m really not sure at the moment. She’s always been around in the background, but moved more to the foreground last Christmas. She’s hanging around more and more as time goes on.”

“Like how?”

“Like, when I’m at home on my own, it’s generally Jesse who’s there now.”

“Yeah, our video technician was a bit confused. He said that you were dressed like a girl, but not trying to pass as one.”

“That’s me, confusing, and often confused! Sometimes, going out, I do the whole “pass” thing. It’s a bit of fun.”

“And your girlfriend, Janet, is OK with this?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re old friends who look after each other. It’s not exclusive. Actually, Jesse first went sort of public with her, last Christmas. She was meeting her girlfriends, I happened to be in town and called, so Jesse ended up going out with Janet, Louise and Grainne. Speaking of, they’re all going to the sun in a week’s time so I was planning on moving into Janet’s place in town while they’re away.”

“You’re not tempted to go with them?”

“No way; they are heading off on a two week manhunt. Not my scene, and I’d only spoil theirs.”

We’d finished our coffees and started to walk back towards the cars.

“Will I get to meet Jesse, or will it always be Jos?”

“If you’re available next Friday, call to my apartment, after work. I’ll get dinner.”

“I’m not supposed to socialise with people I’m involved with professionally.”

“Who said anything about socialising? You’re calling around to inspect the security arrangements.”

“You’re on.”

I held the door of her car as she got in; she lowered the window.

“You drive off first; I’ll tail you for a bit to see that you’re not followed.”

I drove away at normal motorway speeds, passed a few exits, then drove off at an exit I knew had a complex series of roundabouts that would both allow me to get back on the motorway and check the cars behind me. Jacinta either avoided my ploy or had already abandoned the tail. No car that had come off after me came back onto the motorway so, doubly reassured, I headed off towards my parents’ house, still fifty miles or so to go.

The dogs were happy to see me. I got the usual enthusiastic jumping and charging until both were satisfied that I still remembered them. My parents both came to the door to greet me; not their usual practice as I normally just barged in. They were worried and I was sorry that I was causing them upset; I would have to try to reassure them. I threw my bag into my old room, hid my pistol in the inside pocket of my casual jacket and joined them in the kitchen for a cup of tea.

This being a dairy farm at the end of May, I was soon in the tractor driving around a field on the first silage cut of the year. This work is either mind numbingly boring, or relaxing, depending on your perspective. I found it to be relaxing. No need to think, just listen to downloaded podcasts on earbuds under the ear defenders, and follow around in ever increasing circles. Most local farmers, and I presume nationally as well, had adopted the practice of first driving into the middle of the field and cutting outwards in a “square circle” towards the hedgerows to give any wildlife in the field an escape route. Eventually I spotted my father waving from outside the house, stopped the tractor, and headed in for dinner. This was normally eaten early, before the milking, to give the cows the maximum grazing time. Life revolved around them!

“Are you cold?”

My mother was looking at me, still wearing my jacket as I sat down for dinner.

“Just cold a bit across my back, hunched too long over a computer isn’t good!”

Not a lie, really!

“Is this business about that witness getting shot finished?”

My father was getting straight to the point.

“I might have to go to court as a witness myself when the shooter’s case comes up, but that’s a good while away yet.”

“And how do you know those fellows won’t be coming after you, like they did to the other fellow?”

“I’ve nothing important to say; I didn’t see the shooting and I never saw the fellow’s face when I tripped him. I mightn’t even be called.”

“So what’s the shotgun for?”

I had told them that I was collecting it, along with a box of BB’s or buckshot.

“I’m going to shoot some clays on the range next weekend; I’ll go directly from my apartment.”

“Shooting clays with BBs? I never heard of that!”

“They’re for a demo for new shooters. We’ll shoot up a few buckets and stuff just to show them how dangerous a gun can be.”

There was a bit of a non-sequitur there; why do a demo with ammo never found on a clay range, but fortunately my father didn’t follow up the point. He didn’t use the range and wasn’t familiar with our routines or practices.

I helped with the milking after dinner, giving my mother some time off. That job finished and the cows turned back out, we sat around for a while chatting before turning in early. Jacinta was right. Sleeping on the ground floor did make me feel very vulnerable. I checked all the windows and doors, trying not to be noticed, made sure my curtains were drawn so nothing could be seen looking in from outside, put my pistol under the pillow, and stayed awake most of the night. Bummer! I probably drifted off around 4am, to be woken by my alarm at 6am. I got up and helped again with the milking before getting ready to travel. As I was getting ready, I heard my mother being busy in the kitchen. I knew better than to offer to help; nobody was allowed cook in her kitchen except her!

We sat down to a breakfast that would give nightmares to a dietician; bacon, sausage, pudding, eggs, tomato, tea and brown bread. I think my mother figured that I lived on a diet of low fat milk, yogurt, granola, fruit and fish and felt the need to restock my supply of saturated fat and cholesterol anytime I came by. Untroubled by the advices of the diet police, I enjoyed every morsel! Breakfast over, I put my bag into the boot of my car along with the cased shotgun and box of cartridges, said my goodbyes, and headed off. Out of site of the house, I took the pistol out of my jacket pocket and left it in the pocket in the driver’s door; I could reach it more easily that way. I did my usual off and on routine at the motorway to check if I was being followed; nothing suspicious. I even filled up the car with diesel before turning off the motorway.

I decided against calling Jacinta; she knew that I was coming back today and would have called if there was any issue. I did take out my iPad and checked the cameras; nothing suspicious there either. I drove in, did my usual loop around, and pulled up to the underground garage door. I kept looking in the mirrors and at the gate camera on my iPad as the gate opened. Shit! A scrambler-type motorbike with two riders pulls up, not quite behind me, I slip the car into reverse, just in case, the motorbike passenger jumps off and starts towards my car, I hammer the accelerator and reverse straight back, on the road now, brake, into drive, the passenger is now at the front of the car, off balance, he’s turning, arms come up in front of him, I know that stance. Hammer the accelerator again, duck to the left, hit the motorbike a glancing blow, straighten up to see and steer, windscreen is shattered. Drive off like a maniac. I ran the redlight at the entrance to the estate and headed towards the shopping centre, people, witnesses, maybe safer. Can’t see the motorbike behind me. Slow down; don’t kill someone else with the car. Breath, deep. Still unwilling to stop, I run another redlight, more carefully this time and drove into the middle of the shopping centre carpark. I pulled up in a laneway, not parked, ready to go again. Breath, deep.

There’s people looking, some filming, some on phones, probably calling the police. I rack the pistol, keeping it hidden, sneak it into my jacket pocket. Out of the car, look around, the crowd is getting bigger, hit the speed-dial for Jacinta.

“Hi Jos, are you back…

“Jacinta, I’ve just been shot at, not hit, in carpark at Greenfield Shopping Centre. Can you send help?”

“Stay on the line…”

I heard her call on a radio, all available cars to Greenfield Shopping Centre, shooting… etc. She came back on the line, I could hear cars responding as she talked.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, but there’s too many people around.”

“Just shout “Police, stand back!””

“I can’t pretend I’m police!”

“JUST F***ING DO IT.”

“POLICE, STAND BACK, STAND BACK.”

The crowd push back a bit. I turn my attention back to the ‘phone.

“Thanks, that worked.”

“Sorry about shouting at you. Any sirens?”

I listened.

“Yes. Look, a motorbike pulled up behind me as I was turning into my apartment garage. The passenger took at least one shot at me. I think I hit the motorbike getting away. If you get one car there, and if the bike’s still there, you’re looking for two on foot.”

“Wait on the line…”

Again, I hear her on the radio…

A police car pulls up, lit up like a Christmas tree; two constables get out, I wave them over… they were coming anyway. Before they get a chance to talk I wave the ‘phone…

“I’m on the line to one of yours…”

They wait, patiently enough. They can hear the radio traffic so have a good idea of what’s going on. One wanders around to the front of the car, looks at the shattered windscreen, comes over to me.

“I’d better call an ambulance; that’s a nasty looking cut.”

“What?”

“Your head, you’re bleeding.”

I hadn’t felt anything. I went to put up my hand to check…

“No, No, don’t touch… infection and all that. You’re not losing too much blood so we won’t do any first aid until the medics get here”

I had forgotten that Jacinta was still on the line. I raised the phone…

“Hi…”

“I heard all that; are you sure you’re OK? I’m on my way.”

“Sorry to f*** up your Sunday. I’m OK, just woozy… shock kicking in…”

“Can you give the ‘phone to one of the police there?”

I passed the ‘phone to the guy who’d spoken to me. I was suddenly feeling very weak as the shock really kicked in. I opened the back passenger door of the car and sat in; the front was covered in glass fragments. I leaned my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes.

“Oh no you don’t! No going to sleep until the medics get here…”

I swung my legs back out of the car and just perched on the edge of the seat. The place was swarming with blue lights now. A medic arrived, looked at my head, came back with a large white bandage that he pressed against it lightly, and wrapped it around like a turban.

“OK, can you walk to the ambulance?”

I nodded. He helped me up from the seat and loosely supported me as I walked towards the ambulance. Jacinta arrived as I got to the step.

“There you go! I let you out of my sight for a few hours and you start World War 3!”

“Sorry Miss Jacinta. I promise to be good next time.”

“Actually, can you give me your jacket? I’ll look after your wallet and anything else you’ve in it!”

I took off the jacket, taking care not to let the inside pocket turn outwards.

“Now that I think of it, there’s a shotgun in the boot.”

She rolled her eyes.

“OK; I’ll get your stuff and bring it to your apartment. I’ll meet you in the hospital.”

“Thanks!”

She checked which hospital the medics were bringing me to and headed off. I got into the ambulance, got strapped in and finally let myself just drift away…

The ambulance stopped at A&E. I went to get up but the medic intervened.

“We’ll carry you in; get seen quicker that way!”

It’s only then I realised that there was a policeman there as well; I hadn’t seen him climb in.

I was carried in and parked in the where the hell are we going to put this one space when I remembered my ‘phone. I needed to get some messages out before the 6pm news.

“Shit, I’ve lost my ‘phone.”

“No, it’s here. You gave it to me to talk to Jacinta, remember?”

Thankfully that was the same policeman.

“Thanks, can I have it? I need to text home.”

He passed me the ‘phone.

I texted my father.

Call me ASAP, DON’T let Mom know.

I was in the middle of texting Janet when the ‘phone rang.

“Hi Dad.”

“What’s up?”

“Look, I’m OK, just in A&E with a small cut from a broken windscreen.”

“What happened, you crashed?”

“No, now don’t panic, someone took a shot at me, a warning kind of…”

“Oh shit! Your mother will go ape when she hears. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Look, I’m fine. Sorry; you’re going to have to tell her. Try not to let her watch the News, distract her.”

“No chance of that; she always watches it and definitely will tonight.”

A doctor was hovering.

“I have to go. Last thing, under no circumstances come here. It’s too dangerous.”

“Ok, Ok, Ok,…”

I rang off and the doctor came over. He unwrapped my turban and had a look at my head.

“Any glass left in there?”

I had to have glass picked out of my leg before and wasn’t looking forward to having to have the same job done to my head.

“No, no glass, not a glass cut from what I can see. How’d you get this?”

He looked curiously at my police escort.

“Someone took a shot at me and smashed the windscreen. That’s how I got cut”.

“I don’t think it was the glass; I think you’ve been very lucky. Another centimetre and you wouldn’t be here in A&E.”

“What?”

“I think the bullet just grazed your head; you’ve been extremely lucky, this time.”

I think that he was assuming that I was a criminal of some sort. He looked at the policeman.

“What calibre?”

The policeman just shrugged; I answered.

“Pistol, centrefire, probably .38, 9mm, that kind of thing.”

“OK, let’s get you cleaned up. Bleeding’s stopped, but seeing as it’s a head wound, you’re with us for the night in case of concussion.”

I looked at the policeman, he looked pissed off.

“Sorry, ruined your evening too. I know Jacinta’s coming by later; you mightn’t have to stay.”

The doctor looked from the policeman to me.

“What’s the story here? Are you police too?”

“No, just a regular good guy”.

The policeman looked up and simply said…

“Witness…”

“Now I recognise you… you’re the fellow on the internet…”

I put my finger to my lips…

“Please… least said, best chance I won’t be back in here..”

He nodded and slipped away, presumably to arrange to have me cleaned up and warehoused. I took the time to text Janet.

In A&E, minor injury, do NOT come, bad guys tried, see News, will text when sorted.

I knew that, unlike my parents, she’d pick up the story from the news feeds.

I was wheeled into a cubicle and a nurse along with a junior doctor came along and worked on me for a while, maybe half an hour, maybe less. They cut away some of my hair, much to my disappointment, put some stingy stuff on my head, and spent a fair bit of time combing my hair out of the way and putting a dressing on the wound. The doctor was a bit of a comedian and kept up a running commentary as he worked, irritating the nurse who tried not to let it show. Eventually, job done, he prescribed some painkillers and left to patch up someone else. Only when he was gone did I realise that the Guardian Policeman had flown off to be replaced by Jacinta.

“How’s the head?”

“Won’t be doing much thinking for a while; it hurts! Are you babysitting me tonight?”

“Only until an Armed Response Team turns up; won’t be too long. I’ve brought you some stuff.”

She showed me what she had repacked into my weekend bag; a towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouth wash, electric razor, underwear (actually black knickers), dressing gown, laptop, power strip and chargers.

“Thanks Ma.”

She gave a fleeting smile and hooked the bag on to one of the bed side rails.

“You can reach it here, and it won’t get lost when they move you again.”

“Move me, to where?”

“They’re going to find a private room somewhere. They don’t like armed police roaming around common areas; it upsets the rest of the patients.”

I nodded.

“While we’re here, can you tell me what happened?”

I went through the story, sotto voce, as there was only a curtain separating us from the casualty, or whatever, next door. She took notes, rarely interrupting. When I was finished I had to ask;

“Did I actually hit the motorbike?”

“Yes, they abandoned it and ran to the train station, ran across the line and disappeared out the far side. No cameras once they got out of the station.”

“So they’ve gotten away?”

“For now..”

She was interrupted by two over-armed policemen coming in, festooned with pistols, tasers, pepper spray, handcuffs and H&K MP7s.

“Ah, here’s your baby-sitters for the night. Give me a call when the hospital is releasing you and I’ll bring you back to your apartment.”

“What about my car? With the windscreen broken it’ll get ruined if it rains!”

“Forensics will look after it; they don’t like getting their nice white overalls wet so they’ll cover it up and bring it to our garage once they’ve done the on-site stuff.”

“Thanks.”

She disappeared out through the curtains. The baby-sitters didn’t look communicative and I was getting too tired to make conversation. I texted Janet again.

OK to talk when you OK to call.

I closed my eyes. As I drifted off I saw Oliver Hardy look, disapprovingly, at me:

“Well, here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into!”

My phone rang; I was jolted awake; Janet. I answered, quite disoriented as I was in another room. I hadn’t even woken when I’d been moved.

“Hi; how you?”

“More to the point, how are you?”

“Fine. I've just woken up; what time is it?”

“7:10pm; did I wake you?”

“Yes; but I’m glad you did. I just wanted to let you know what happened.”

“You’re all over the news… and you’ve been identified from the pictures of where you tripped up the gunman. How’d you get away?”

“That old saying… be alert; your country needs lerts. I was watching in the mirror when the garage gate was opening and saw them coming…”

I gave her the detail of the story.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m in here for the night, then back to my apartment. I have some armed police here now; I’m not sure how it will work in the future.”

“Do you want to move into my place?”

“I thought of that, but now it’s just too risky. I don’t want you to be associated with me.”

I had changed my mind in relation to staying in her apartment. It had seemed to be a good idea when the danger was theoretical; now that it was manifestly real it wouldn’t be fair to her. I continued:

“I’m sure the police will come up with something; I’ll think about it in the morning. I’ve no idea why I’m so tired now.”

“How’d you sleep last night?”

“Bad; I’d forgotten that.”

We chatted for a while then rang off. It was harder for her and my parents than for me: I knew where and how I was whereas all they could do was worry. I decided to call my parents but first things first; I was starving! I got out of bed, tested that I wasn’t dizzy before standing up, went to the door and peeked out. Outside my room there was a short, relatively secluded corridor joining a main corridor after about 5 metres; ideal. As hoped, my escort was there, sitting in a chair, looking bored. He did come alert as the door opened and looked up.

“I’m going to order in some pizza; will I include you?”

“Pizza?”

“Yes; the catering here will be finished and it’s a long time to breakfast.”

“Good idea; I’ll have a Rustica.”

“OK; where do I tell the guy to go?”

“Ward 17, on the third floor, Room 5.”

I ordered a Rustica and a Siciliana along with some cokes. The delivery rider would earn his money on this delivery as he would have a distance to walk. While waiting, I called my father, and, of course, he put my mother on the ‘phone. This was a difficult call as all I could do was try to reassure them that I was now safe and OK. Unfortunately the police press statement had mentioned that I had received a “superficial wound” and was currently recovering in hospital. I had to admit the truth and try to convince them that I really had thought I’d had a windscreen cut when we’d spoken earlier. I used the arrival of the pizzas to eventually end the call. I felt really bad about the trouble I was causing everyone!

I tipped the pizza guy a fiver and invited the policeman in from the corridor. In the room we had a table and a bit more comfort. I pulled the table around so that he was mostly facing the door and anyone coming into the room would see him first. I didn’t explain it to him; I assumed he would know. I would have been more impressed if he had suggested the arrangement himself. He was personable enough once we got talking: Like a lot of people who carry guns for a living he was very much into firearms and we got into a lively conversation about the suitability of his H&KMP7 for use in a place full of civilians like a hospital. In particular, would the higher velocity rounds designed for better penetration through body armour be much more likely to cause collateral damage than the 9mm that the police used to use in their previous SMGs?

I had the TV on mute and tuned to the local news channel. We paused our discussion when the carpark shooting incident came on. As usual, the news reporter gave a half-assed version of the incident leaving the impression that the shooting had happened in the carpark. The pictures showed my car with its shattered windshield, some forensics guys poking around and finally the car being carted off on a police truck. The police were not releasing my name until relatives had been informed but did confirm that the shooting was linked to organised crime. Fortunately my car registration was pixilated out or everyone watching that bulletin and who knew my registration would assume that I was a gangster.

Pizzas finished, my baby-sitter went back to the corridor and, now awake, I decided to get some work done. I reckoned that I’d lose at least half of tomorrow, Monday, and didn’t want to either let clients down or develop a reputation of unreliability. It also gave me something to think about other than my current predicament and, strangely, allowed my brain to develop some solutions to that same predicament, probably in my sub-conscious. Some day I’ll have to ask someone how that works. Eventually I turned in around 11:45pm and surprisingly, slept well until my usual waking time of 5am. Knowing that breakfast would not arrive until around 8am, I did my floor exercises. Not having my weights I tried some press-ups; I hate them! I showered, shaved particularly carefully, got dressed and then texted Janet:

“OK to Call?”

She rang back almost immediately. I picked up:

“Hi, how you? Sleep well?”

“Not great; otherwise fine. You?”

I kinda guessed that that would be her answer.

“Actually quite well; I worked late and tired myself out. You need a holiday! This time next week you’ll be soaking in sun, sand, sangria and sexy senhors.”

“I’m much more classy that that; I drink wine!”

“Can you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to leave here as Jesse. Can you pack all her stuff into something and I’ll let you know where to send it.”

“I can send it to you, there?”

“I’m not sure; it could be a security breach. We don’t know who the courier might be.”

“Ok.”

I rang off and texted Jacinta:

Can you talk?

She texted back:

Yes; learned when I was small.

I called. I had intended to have Janet send Jesse’s clothes to her, Jacinta, at Woodview, her home police station. She had a much better solution: She would arrange for a motorcycle policeman to call to Janet’s, collect the bag, and deliver it to her. That way there’d be no potential dodgy motorcycle courier in the loop. I called Janet back and explained the arrangement; her response was typical:

“Mmmm, I love them in their leather suits. Will he bring his handcuffs?”

“Just make sure you don’t keep him too long!”

It was good to see her mood lighten; she was taking this worse than me. I texted my father to let him know that all was OK and turned on the TV news. Even if often late and incomplete, it was convenient and filtered through a reputable organisation. I was about to stick my head out into the corridor to see who was babysitting me when there was a knock on the door: Catering had come with the breakfast menu. I made my selection, juice, poached eggs with bacon, black coffee. I went out to the policeman with the catering lady; it was a new guy who had come on last night. He was happy to accept my suggestion that he order a breakfast as well and join me in the room to eat. The catering lady had no problem with this; it was a public hospital and the public purse is infinite.

I was half listening to the TV when my attention was caught by one item:

A man has been found dead following what police believe was the second gangland shooting in two days. Police say that the dead man was known to them and are keeping an open mind as to the motive…

I wasn’t the only one on the hit list. I shuddered involuntarily; that could have been me.

Breakfasts came and the policeman joined me. This guy was much more interested in what I did for a living; I suspected he was on his way to a more interesting role than Armed Response. He had no more knowledge of the shooting than what was on the news so no interesting titbits to pick up there. We chatted for a while then he resumed his lonely vigil in the corridor outside my door. Those guys have to have an infinite capacity for boredom.

Jacinta called; she had the bag and would pick me up in about an hour, and, as a girl, understood that I would need some time once she arrived. She was to bring me first to Independence Street to meet DI Jones and we’d take it from there. I realised that the DI had never actually met Jos, only Jesse, and today would be no exception. When Jacinta arrived there was a slight hiccup; I hadn’t been seen by a doctor to be formally discharged, and we didn’t want the hospital staff to see Jesse. Jacinta went to find a doctor and managed to expedite the process on the basis that I had to be moved urgently. I was given a discharge note, a prescription for some horse-strength painkillers, and advised to see my GP in a few days to check if my brains had leaked out through my cut scalp.

With the doctor out of the way, the babysitter policeman was asked to ensure nobody else came in and I got down to the business of changing Jos into Jesse. Jacinta suggested she leave, but agreed to stay on the basis that I would change my knickers in the ensuite! I pulled on my tights, denim A-line mini, ankle boots and padded bra before opening to door so we could talk.

“What’s happening today? Am I going home?”

“Some news first; you heard the bulletin about the second shooting?”

“Yeah; I’m lucky not to have beaten that guy to the morgue.”

“Actually, if you were on a slab right now, the other guy would still be alive.”

“Huh?”

I was concentrating on developing some smoky sexy eyes and didn’t understand her point.

“You can’t tell anyone yet, OK?”

“OK.”

“This morning’s guy was known as Mac the Knife; not very original. He was just a low level thug mostly enforcing debts and such like, and was supposed to keep an eye on you. Only he decided he’d like some promotion, got the gun, and decided to have a go himself. He’d have upped his status to serious gangster if he’d succeeded, but was taken out on the basis that he’d screwed up and put us all on notice that you’re a target.”

“But we know that already; why shoot him for telling us something we’re aware of? And why so quick?”

“They don’t know that we know about the contract; the guys who tell us are hardly going to let the Kingstons know that they’re touts. The failed hit would damage their credibility so they wanted news of their retribution to come out as soon as possible.”

“Does this mean that I’m in the clear?”

“Not likely! Actually, it works the other way. Having failed very publicly, the Kingstons will feel under pressure now to finish the job; show they’re in control. I’m afraid that the target on your back just got much bigger.”

I held onto the sink as my knees almost folded. I steadied myself for a minute until I was able to walk out of the ensuite and sit on the bed; Jacinta was seated in a chair, looking very relaxed. I felt very resentful; it was only a job for her, but literally life or death for me. She took a look at me and her demeanour changed. She came over to the bed, sat beside and put an arm around me.

“Look, if they’re upping their game, so will we. I’m sure the DI will have a revised security plan when we meet her today.”

“I don’t want to seem difficult about this, but it was me saved me yesterday: Your guys weren’t there. All that saved me was my Reserves training.”

I wasn’t looking at her, but could see her in the mirror through the en-suite door; she put her head down.

“Sorry, they never move that fast. All the int. said that it would be a few weeks. We couldn’t have known that Mac would go off to make a name for himself.”

Her head was still down; it was my turn to feel sorry for her. I put my arm across her shoulders:

“My turn to say sorry; I’m just edgy, maybe even scared.”

We sat for a minute.

“On the basis of me being scared, I’d feel a lot happier if I had my pistol. Did you bring it?”

She nodded.

“It’s in my car with your shotgun.”

“Can you bring it up to me here?”

“You know I’m not supposed to? Civilians aren’t allowed to carry firearms for self-defence.”

“And we both know that that’s bullshit, especially in the current circumstances. Anyway, I’m a Lieutenant in the Reserves, so I’m really not a civilian.”

We both knew that that was also bullshit: A Reserve Officer is a civilian unless performing military duties. But a fig leaf was all she needed. She nodded:

“OK, but don’t tell anyone!”

“Deal!”

She headed off to get the pistol. I got back to my makeup; I would need to get my hands on a more suitable gun.

Eventually I was ready, light blue long sleeved shirt blouse over a denim mini, ankle boots, nude tights and shoulder bag. Now to get to the car. We didn’t want the babysitter policeman to come with us; that would have totally blown my cover and, as at least a few in the hospital knew that Jacinta was police, I didn’t want to walk beside her. She described where her car was and gave me the keys. I was to walk ahead of her, taking wide turns around corners so she could keep me in view, while she walked about ten steps behind, pretending to be on her mobile. The policeman would remain visible in the corridor to pretend that I was still in the room; he would drop my bag of clothes and toiletries to Woodview station in about an hour.

“Will I pass?”

She looked at me carefully, up and down.

“Mmmm, not bad at all! Don’t be surprised if some guy tries to pick you up in the lift”.

“No, seriously?”

“I’m serious, now stop worrying and get that ass out there! And don’t take the lift; use the stairs.”

That made sense; I would have to wait for her to get into the lift with me which might have indicated that we were travelling together.

“Any guy that tries to feel me up will get some surprise!”

“Just keep both pistols holstered! Now go!”

I opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. My babysitter, despite knowing in advance that I would be coming out as a girl, was visibly surprised and couldn’t resist looking me up and down as I walked by. For my part, I couldn’t resist wagging my tail a bit as I walked out onto the main corridor. I couldn’t glance around to check; I would just have to assume that Jacinta was keeping pace with me as I tried to adjust my walking pace to a natural, visitor heading out, speed. I wasn’t raising any attention except from the odd male doctor or porter checking me out. I got to the stairs, went through the fireproof door and down one flight. I stopped, fiddling around in my bag as if for my keys or phone until the door opened again and Jacinta came through. The stairs went directly to the underground carpark, past a few landings. We met nobody; most people use the lifts to ascend. Once in the carpark I found Jacinta’s car and sat in the back. Her rear side windows were tinted darker than those in front so I would be less visible. She sat in a few moments later; I passed her the keys and we drove off.

“You certainly surprised that Armed Response guy; I had to tell him to keep it holstered as well!”

“I know girls get a lot of that sort of attention, but girls do check out men as well”.

“Not to the same extent. Anyway, you weren’t exactly trying not to be noticed, swaying that ass! Do you enjoy the attention?”

“I suppose I do, even though I can’t see myself with a man. It’s like a form of affirmation. I suppose it gets tiring after a while?”

She thought for a few moments.

“I suppose that we’re the same: We both get checked out by guys and neither of us are interested in them. Not that that would stop them trying; guys seem to think that they can convert lesbians if we would just give them the chance!”

Traffic up ahead was slowing to a halt; she pulled into a bus lane and continued past the holdup.

“Won’t that give us away? People will wonder about us using a bus lane.”

“You’d be amazed at how many people do that every day. They seem to forget about the traffic cameras.”

She passed the obstacle, a minor fender bender, and pulled back into the traffic: people honked their horns in annoyance. We continued on into the middle of town, to Independence Street police station. Jacinta pulled into the carpark but didn’t get out of the car; she just sat there, mulling something over.

“Jesse?”

“Yes?”

“It’s very important that nobody knows it’s you coming into the station. We want to keep your alter ego a secret on a need to know basis. Our guys might let it out, idle chatter and all that.”

“OK?”

“So if anyone asks, I’m going to say that you’re Jesse Clarke, we’re holding you in Woodview station, and I’ve brought you here as DI Jones wants to interview you in relation to a possible connection to another case, OK?”

“OK.”

“Stay there.”

She got out of the driver’s seat and got into the back with me and took a pair of handcuffs out of her bag.

“Lean forward, put your head on the back of the seat in front and your hands behind your back.”

“What?”

She had already attached the handcuffs to my right wrist.

“If I’m bringing you around as a prisoner, you have to be handcuffed, or it doesn’t seem real.”

I was definitely dubious about this. Of course I’d played bondage games with girlfriends but being walked around in a semi-public place in handcuffs felt a bit humiliating; and I’m one of the good guys girls.

“OK, but you’ll have to carry my bag, and don’t let anyone else lift it, it’s too heavy.”

“I’ll take your pistol and hold it in my bag; is that OK?”

I nodded and leaned forward; she reached behind my back and cuffed my left wrist. I felt strangely helpless, and no agreed safe word!

“Sit there.”

She got out, walked around the car, opened my door.

“Legs out first.”

I pivoted on the seat and got my legs out, on the ground. Naturally my skirt rode all the way up.

“I’ll fix your skirt when you stand out. Lean forward, weight on your feet, I won’t let you fall.”

She steadied me as I stood up and smoothed down my skirt. She picked up both our shoulder bags and closed the door.

“I’ll hold your elbow; if you trip and fall you’ve no way to save yourself.”

She walked me to the same door as I’d first used coming into this station. We went into a type of reception area with a public counter at one end. Some police constables were there dealing with members of the public through a series of hatches. She was allocated an interview room by what must have been the Duty Sergeant, brought me there and sat me in a chair, my arms over its back.

“I’m going to get DI Jones; won’t be long.”

“Can you take these off first?”

I pushed my hands out to indicate my handcuffs.

“When I get back; I wouldn’t leave you here, on your own, uncuffed.”

She went off to find the DI, locking the door behind her as she went. Left sitting on my own, handcuffed, and in a very short skirt, I felt very vulnerable: Even in a police station! I was glad when she returned with the DI and DS White, and removed the handcuffs. The DI got straight down to business.

“Look, I’m sorry Jesse, Jos… actually what will I call you?”

“Maybe to keep in character, we’d better stick to Jesse?”

“OK Jesse, the fact is that you’re in the shit, big time. We’ve got to hide you from everyone, friends, family, the lot. Nobody except ourselves and Witness Protection will know where you are.”

I had figured as much coming over here in the car.

“It’s impossible for anyone to hide in this country; it’s too small. Even as Jesse; the trans scene must be miniscule!”

“We know that, it has to be overseas. Not as far as for a permanent placement; we don’t know how long the threat will last.”

“Maybe when you’ve dismantled the Kingstons?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“I presume you’ll bring me back for the trial; what then?”

“We keep the threat level under review; we’ve never lost anyone on the Witness Protection programme; we know what we’re doing.”

“Can I go to Lisbon?”

“Possibly, why?”

“Far enough away to be safe, near enough to get back easily, great location for digital nomads… I could keep working there.”

“As Jos or Jesse?”

“I’d need to run out my old clients as Jos, try to get new ones as Jesse, maybe get some work from Janet…”

“Janet cannot know where you are; she’s not your partner”.

“I’ll need some contacts back here: How else can I get work?”

The DI hesitated for a minute, then answered:

“Actually, we’ve been thinking about that. Would you be open to doing some state work? Both the military and ourselves, police that is, operate in the cyber security area; we can keep you busy and you’ve no need to get involved with the public.”

That was very interesting; these guys didn’t pay top dollar, but the work would be at the cutting edge and a few months of that would be good for both my experience and CV.

“Sounds OK, but I don’t want a big drop in earnings.”

“We’ll do our best. The Superintendent in Cyber Security will liaise with the military in relation to your security clearance and volume of work. There is a standard rate for outsourcing work, but I gather there’ll be more that you can handle. As a Reserve Officer, you already have a security clearance. It’ll have to be reviewed and upgraded if necessary”

“OK; two other things. I want you to clear my carrying a pistol with the PSP. I gather their licensing arrangements allow for that. I could use either a military USP or SIG.”

“I’ll ask Witness Protection to look into that. Who’s the PSP?”

“The police service that looks after guns out there, and polices Lisbon.”

“You’re well informed. What else?”

I didn’t tell her that I’d looked all this up before the attack outside my apartment block, thinking that I might have to move out to Lisbon at my own expense. I moved on to my final point:

“Do you send one of yours out as a liaison with the PSP, just to set this up?”

“Probably; it’s not my area. Again, one for Witness Protection. Why?”

“This might seem silly, but I know Jacinta now, and she knows Jesse. I’d feel more comfortable with her around than a stranger.”

I looked over at Jacinta; she nodded, almost imperceptibly. The DI responded:

“She’s not my division. You just happened to live in the area her division covers. And I don’t know what the attitude of the Witness Protection people will be.”

“I’ll mention it to my Chief Super; will you recommend it?”

Jacinta was looking forward to a week in the sun. The DI looked at her and nodded:

“OK. Seeing as you two get on so well, can you bring her, him, sorry, Jesse, to the temporary safe house? DS White can give you the details; he was going to do it.”

Jacinta nodded.

The DI stood up to leave, then stopped and looked at me.

“You did well to get away; stay safe!”

She headed out the door followed by DS White. Jacinta looked at the piece of paper that the DS had just given her.

“OK; we’d better get going. We’ve got to get across town.”

She went to open the door.

“Not yet; you’re forgetting something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m your prisoner, remember?”

She took her handcuffs out of her shoulder bag, and used her best American cop drama accent:

“Turn around; hands behind your back. You know the drill.”

I turned around and she handcuffed me. When she had the cuffs on she caught my hair, gently pulled my head back to her and whispered in my ear.

“OK girl! No trouble from you and we’ll get along just fine!”

We walked out to the car, Jacinta keeping a loose hold on my right arm. She opened the back door:

“OK, sit in on the seat, then swing your legs in.”

Being a good girl, I did as I was told. Naturally, twisting around into a car pulled my skirt up; she leaned in, caught the hem, and tugged it into place.

“I’ll climb in the far side and take your handcuffs off.”

She closed the door, walked around the back of the car, got in:

“OK, like before, lean forward, head on the seat back in front. Keep your hands where they are until we’re clear of the station.”

She took off the handcuffs and I leaned back while she made a bit of a show of pulling my seatbelt on in case anyone was looking. She returned my pistol to my bag and left the bag beside me.

“OK, don’t say that I knew you had the pistol if the Witness Protection people find it. That would really screw up my chances of going out to Lisbon with you, if that’s where you’re going!”

“No problem, I’ve had it with me all the time.”

She patted me on the leg, just above my knee, sat in the front and drove off. Once clear of Independence Street I took my hands from their pretend handcuffed position, checked the pistol, and pulled the bag alongside me where it would be ready to hand.

“What about my shotgun?”

Jacinta laughed.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to sneak that in.”

“Maybe I could hide it in my bra? No, seriously, I need to return it to my father.”

“I’ll arrange that; I can courier it.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but then dealers regularly courier guns and ammunition around the country.

“Where are we going?”

“Fox’s Grange; there’s a house there that was seized by Revenue as the proceeds of crime. It’s used as a temporary refuge apparently.”

She turned down a bus-only street and continued on oblivious to the furious honking of an irate bus driver.

“Do you try to irritate bus drivers on purpose?”

“If we’re being followed, they can hardly continue down this street; too obvious.”

I looked back, no car behind. It was an interesting ploy, but not one that I could emulate unless very hard pressed.

She drove quickly, dodging in and out of bus lanes, and we were in Fox’s Grange in no time. This was an upmarket area, one of the best in town, and many of the houses were quite secluded behind high, often ivy-covered walls. Eventually we turned onto a gateway and a high gate swung open. We drove into the driveway and were confronted by a second gate, not visible from the road, and waited there, in a kind of lock, until the outer gate had swung closed. I expected the inner gate to open but instead a policeman in casual jeans and shirt came through a side gate and approached the car. He spoke to Jacinta, looked at me, and reverted to her.

“We were told to expect you and a male protectee.”

“I know; she actually is a male; Jos McNamara. Ring DI Jones or DS White if you don’t believe me.”

The constable went back through the side gate leaving us sitting there. He was back in about ten minutes, approached the car, took a long look at me:

“Nice one! OK, come on in.”

He gave a wave up to a security camera and the inner gate opened. Jacinta drove in and pulled up at the front door. We both got out of the car and a middle-aged man, wearing brown cords and a slightly shabby tailored jacket emerged. He walked over to us and held out his hand:

“DS Smyth; I’m responsible for looking after you today.”

We shook hands.

“Jos, I mean Jesse, McNamara”.

“Detective Beirne, Woodview Station”

I hadn’t known Jacinta’s full name before now.

The DS brought us both inside. Surprisingly, we were met by a housekeeper, a middle aged woman, who asked of we would like to have some toasted sandwiches for lunch, which we gratefully accepted. When she had left the room, and sensing my curiosity, DS Smyth forestalled my nascent question:

“She has as high a security clearance as I have. We decided after the first few months that either we get a housekeeper, or the place will fall apart. You know what police are like when it comes to looking after their stations.”

The last statement was addressed to Jacinta; she nodded.

We got down to arrangements. Jacinta would collect a list of all that I would need from my apartment and arrange to collect it and bring it to Fox’s Grange. Essentially, this was all Jesse’s stuff, apart from what I needed to work. DS Smyth would inform his Superintendent of my preferred location; he didn’t foresee any problems with this. He would set to work in the meantime to get me a passport, driving licence, social insurance number and European Health Insurance Card in the name of Jesse Winston. In order to pass through the airport without too many problems, I would need a gender recognition certificate. I would also need to set up a bank account in Jesse’s name and transfer funds, not directly, but through a police account in order not to leave a track from Jos to Jesse. There was quite a bit to do. I would be meeting the Witness Protection Superintendent in the morning in order to formally agree the details of my protection programme.

Lunch over Jacinta headed off and DS Smyth and I continued to discuss arrangements for an hour or so before the housekeeper returned to show me to my room. This was on the upper floor, a large well-lit suite with a dayroom, a bedroom and an en-suite. It was mostly self-contained with even a small kitchenette and not visible from outside the property except by drone. Of course this meant that, other than the house garden, there was no view from the windows either. The housekeeper explained that meals were served in a downstairs dining room at 9am, 1pm and 6pm. This was a pleasant surprise; meals cooked and served to me. Very Downton Abbey!

It turned out that I was the only “guest”. That suited as I didn’t want anyone not connected with the case to know that I was going undercover as Jesse. It wouldn’t be very difficult for someone to put two and two together based on the timing of my disappearance from my apartment. I had dinner with the DS and one of the police guards; apparently the “control room” was constantly manned so whoever was on had to eat there. They were both curious about me; was this just a good disguise, or was I really trans. It was a bit tiresome, as I did not have a clear answer, and, of course, they thought that I didn’t want to answer the question. Maybe, in a way, they were right?

Jacinta turned up after dinner with a carload of Jesse’s stuff as we were having a coffee after dinner. She stuck her head into the dining room.

“Well, come on. You don’t think I’m going to carry all this myself!”

I went out to her car and grabbed an armful of bags, including the bag that I’d left at the hospital, and trudged up the stairs. She brought some more and followed me into my room.

“Your wardrobe needs a makeover!”

“I don’t disagree; but I’m hardly in a position to go shopping now, am I?”

She had a look around the suite, almost the size of a small apartment.

“Nice place.”

“Yes, not bad; I suspect I’ll be fed up of it by the time I get away. In a way, it’s more like a comfortable prison. And it’s lonely; I don’t suppose that you can arrange some conjugal visits for me?”

“Sorry; not unless you fancy some of the lads downstairs.”

“Not my type I’m afraid.”

“We never finished that conversation, remember?”

I nodded. Our conversation in the car was only this morning, but it seemed much longer ago.

“So what is your type?”

“Girls, particularly blond policewomen who like to handcuff me.”

“It was you who reminded me to do it the second time, remember?”

“Only keeping our cover story intact”.

“Of course; what else!”

“And you, what’s your type?”

“Girls, same as yours, except I’m the boss!”

“Naturally, I wouldn’t have expected it to be anything else. Like you said, if I’m a good girl, we’ll get along just fine!”

She grinned and then got serious. We both knew that our banter could not progress beyond that in the current circumstance with three of her colleagues in the house.

“I’ve asked if I could be released to Witness Protection for this assignment. My Superintendent is willing if a formal request is made. You’ll have to raise it this end.”

“I’m going to ask the Superintendent tomorrow. Will you be around for that?”

She shook her head.

“No; unless you can get me drafted in, I’m out of this from now”.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Remember, you’ve a lot of power in this situation, more than the Super would like to admit. The last thing she wants is this programme attracting any negative press so you can push her a bit. I’d better go now, before they decide that we’re too friendly!”

“But they know that you’re gay and that I’m male; how could they think that we’d be getting too friendly?”

“They don’t all know I’m gay, and anyway, look in the mirror!”

I did; and got her point.

“Don’t come downstairs with me.”

I nodded. She turned towards the door, then turned back, put her hand around my neck and kissed my forehead.

“Even if I don’t get back on this job, I’m glad I’ve met you. Stay safe.”

“Me too.”

She was gone before I could return the kiss.

I started to unpack and file my clothes away in the built in wardrobes and bathroom cabinet; there was more than enough room. I did find my bottle of Glenmorangie which I left in the locker beside the bed. I wasn’t sure if it was approved to have on site and didn’t want to get Jacinta into trouble. I finished my unpacking, set up my laptop and iPad, checked my emails, answered any that were urgent and decided to leave any further work until after I met the Superintendent tomorrow. I would need to extricate from any current jobs in good grace as I might need to rely on these for future work or references. Work sorted I texted Janet and my parents, both getting the same message:

Safe; in hiding with police escort. Will contact again when I know what’s happening.

That done, I went downstairs to the sitting room where I found the DS and one of his team doomscrolling and told them that I was turning in. I hoped that they would get the Do Not Disturb hint. That done, off to bed with three fingers of Glenmorangie, fell asleep watching Endeavour, a somewhat cerebral cop drama, feeling both safe and confined at the same time.

There was a new DS and team on the next morning when I met the Superintendent: The DS sat in on the meeting. The Super was old school, in her fifties, probably nearing the end of her career, the type that felt that the police should be in charge. In fairness, given her age, she would have joined at a time when it was a difficult job for a woman so had probably developed a rhinoceros hide along the way. She didn’t appear to be too impressed with me either! She started off on the wrong hoof, or whatever a rhinoceros has:

“OK, I’m Superintendent Campbell. We’re checking out a placement in France, probably Paris. We hope to get you out there in about a month.”

“Have you spoken to DI Jones?”

“No.”

“Has she sent you any messages about this? Email? Memo?”

“No; not that I’ve seen.”

I said nothing, just looked at her, expectantly. She looked at me for an instance, then shuffled through her papers.

“Ah, yes, here it is.”

She read through the printout of an email, presumably sent by the DI, shook her head.

“Too late for that; we’ve the wheels in motion for France already.”

“OK, we’re done here so. Can I ask to stay for a week until I make alternative arrangements?”

“What do you mean, alternative arrangements? We’ll have this set up in a matter of weeks.”

“Don’t; I won’t be going. I’ll make my own arrangements.”

“That’s simply unacceptable. Don’t you realise the danger that you’re in?”

“Yes; and the only reason I’m still in danger and not on a slab is because of my own actions and a lot of good luck.”

The DS was smirking at the Superintendent’s discomfort. I hoped she wouldn’t see him; that would get her back up even more.

“You can’t expect to be able to look after yourself in the longer term; it’s just too risky”.

“I will ask the Army to recall me to active service. If I move into an Officer’s mess on base I’ll be quite safe there, I’m sure I can work out something in relation to off-base security.”

I knew that the police, like many public servants, were territorial to an absurd level and would strongly oppose any involvement by the military on their turf.

“You can hardly go on active service dressed like that.”

This statement was accompanied by something resembling a sneer.

“Oh, I’m not so sure; the military has joined the 21st Century. And if they had a problem, I could revert to being Jos on base.”

Another dig at her barely concealed transphobia.

She picked up the email printout from DI Jones and pretended to read it again. I decided to nail my conditions down before she thought of proposing a part compromise.

“I mentioned to DI Jones that Lisbon works as it’s full of digital nomads and I can disappear there. The PSP will allow the carrying of a personal firearm for self-protection in rare circumstances; this fits the bill, particularly if you formally request it. And finally, I asked to be accompanied by Detective Beirne as I know her, trust her, and together we can appear to be friends going on a holiday.

At the end of the day, it’s my life on the line here.”

She looked from the memo to me, then back at the memo, and finally put it down.

“OK; we’ll check if we can locate you in Lisbon and whether the PSG will authorise a gun. Detective Beirne is in another division so I’ll have to request that she be released to us for this assignment.”

Victory; time to let her save face.

“Thanks very much Superintendent; I appreciate your help. I’ll feel better working with you than the military; it’s not really their turf. It’s PSP, by the way, Polícia de Segurança Pública, Public Security Police in English.

I’ve been told that I’ll be doing some Cyber Security work for the state while I’m hiding away; do you know who I’m to liaise with in that regard?”

“Not at the moment; I’ll have someone look into that”.

She picked up her papers and headed off without saying goodbye. In what looked like police protocol, the DS accompanied her to her car and waited until she had “locked out” then came back to the sitting room where we’d met, barely concealing his glee.

“Well, you’re some stroppy bitch!”

I shrugged and pouted:

“Well, a girl’s got to look after herself in this world!”

I texted Jacinta:

Looking good; expect request for assignment.

She sent me back a thumbs up.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind.

I was given a security clearance and contact points in both the military and the police Cyber Security teams, both of whom wanted first call on me: I would have to manage that situation on an ongoing basis. I had to visit both and each gave me a laptop for sole use on their network; I would now be bringing three laptops to Lisbon. If I’m a digital nomad, I’ll need a digital camel to carry all my stuff! I indicated the I needed at least two weeks to untangle myself from existing contracts before I could start working for them.

I passed most of my work to Janet and, unfortunately, could not accept her invitation to rendezvous for a “goodbye shag”. I wondered how I was going to arrange this aspect of life once I got to Portugal; I wasn’t aware of any clubs that catered specifically for TV males and female admirers. Maybe there was a trans scene? Would going to a trans club blow my cover? Time to think about that later; I might be back home soon anyway.

Jacinta called by; she had been temporarily transferred and was shortly going to Portugal with a more senior and experienced colleague to arrange matters with the PSP. In the meantime, she was going to “refresh” my wardrobe and makeup kit. She took my measurements and I had to promise to repay the state for her expenditure. She couldn’t use my “Jos” credit card as this could have been a security breach (buying women’s clothes therefore in hiding as a woman) so she would use her own, reclaim her expenses from the state, and this to be deducted from my fees for state work.

She returned mid-morning the next day, unusually wearing a dress herself, with an array of bags, most thankfully from normal, middle of the road, high street shops. I was working in my suite when she barged in:

“Honey; I’m ho-oome.”

Fortunately I wasn’t on a call! Keeping with the spirit of her greeting I responded in kind:

“OK dear, I’ll have dinner ready soon. You just help yourself to a nice gin and tonic.”

“Not bloody likely; I’d love one.”

“I suppose a glass of Glenmorangie is out of the question?”

She shook her head.

“Not working; the guys might smell it! Time to get you dressed.”

She pulled a green cotton, button up dress from a bag, unfolded it.

“This first. Look, it’s all dresses and skirts. You don’t have the hips to wear jeans or trousers.”

I pulled a face:

“You got a problem with my ass?”

She caught my hips, turned me around, looked at my rear, then gave it a slap.

“No honey; you do. You’ve got to wear full skirts, A-lines, pleats, that sort of thing. No sexy tight minis I’m afraid!”

I unbuttoned my blouse and hung it on the back of my chair. I was just about to try on the dress when she stopped me.

“Hold on.”

She rummaged about in a bag, took out a box, opened it, took out two silicone breast forms, and popped them into my bra; they were cold!

“You’ve got to lead from the front”.

I looked in the mirror. The forms were a little too big for the A cup; I mimicked a shimmy.

“Think I’ll pass in a lapdancing club?”

“Not even with the lights out.” She lifted her own boobs: “Won’t feel the same.”

“Can I check?”

She smiled:

“Not right now. We’ve work to do.”

I pulled on the dress, turned my back, slipped off my skirt and buttoned the dress up. It fitted OK, just above the knee, and the half sleeves sorted one issue; my arms were generally too long for dresses with long sleeves.

“Try these.”

She was holding out a pair of sandals, practical, heels about an inch.

“This is good for casual, around town wear. We need to get your nails done later; they don’t look right.”

I worked my way through the bags; casual dresses, one LBD, some minis and tops, some dressy sandals, one pair of court shoes, pink runners and invisible socks, sports bras and running skirts. I was dreading my bill for all this. As items were tried on, inspected and approved, Jacinta was busy hanging them in my wardrobe. Eventually we got to the last bags.

“Here, try this.”

Something black and lacy came sailing through the air; I grabbed it and held it up. A bodysuit, lots of lace, suspenders.

“Hmmm; when would I be wearing this?”

“With your LBD of course!”

As it could still be returned, I left my knickers on and tried to figure out how to get into the bodysuit.

“Bra.”

I had forgotten: Funny, I felt half-naked when I took it off. I sat on the bed, slipped my legs into the body suit, got it past my hips, up to my waist and finally managed to get it on. The straps were too short; Jacinta adjusted them to their maximum length and then they fitted OK. She popped the breast forms it; the bodysuit was underwired so they stayed in place. I looked in the mirror. The suspenders were superfluous so I checked to see if they were detachable. They were; I started to remove one.

“Not yet.”

She passed me a pair of white cotton gloves.

“So you won’t snag your stockings.”

I put on the gloves. By the time that I was finished she had opened a package and extracted a pair of stockings with a nice lace trim at the top. I was well used to putting tights on; stockings were so much easier. I fastened them to the suspenders, stood up, and looked in the mirror again. I liked what I saw. Jacinta had now retrieved a pair of black, patent sandals with two inch heels from where she had already put them away in the wardrobe. I put them on, looked again, the improvement in my stance was obvious. Next, I unzipped my new LBD which had magically appeared in front of me, stepped into it, and Jacinta zipped it up. We both looked in the mirror again, she was standing right behind me, very close, looking around me. The dress came to about four inches above my knee and was very flared; I could see it fly up dancing. That would be quite a view with stockings and suspenders. I put my hands on my hips and pushed out my right hip.

“Do you like?”

“Very nice; very sexy; I could fall for you myself.”

I turned around, slowly; she didn’t back away. I put my hands on her hips.

“Why don’t you?”

She didn’t answer, just put a hand behind my head and pulled me into a long lingering kiss. Just as we surfaced for air, I was caught by the torso, pushed back, tripped and landed on the bed with Jacinta sitting on top of me holding my shoulders. She hadn’t forgotten her unarmed combat, or whatever police call it. I reached down and caught her hips to pull her into a more comfortable, and interesting, sitting position but she bent over, kissed me again, and whispered in my ear.

“Can’t afford to be caught!”

I knew she was right. She would have been taken off the case immediately and returned to her home division. She climbed off me, straightened her dress, checked her hair and lipstick and headed for the suite door, opened it and spoke loudly.

“I’ll be back after lunch to give you a makeup lesson.”

It was nearly lunchtime already. She walked down the stairs and I could hear her talking to one of the police guards. I looked in the mirror again, twirled around, watching my dress lift to give more than just a flash of the top of my stockings and suspenders. I was beginning to emulate Narcissus; time to change into something more prosaic. Reluctantly I undressed and hung up my LBD and body suit, put my stockings and shoes away, and redressed in my normal bra, blouse and mini. After a moment’s reflection, I popped the silicone breast forms into my bra: I told myself it was to get used to wearing them.

I went downstairs to find Jacinta still there; the duty DS had invited her to stay for lunch. They had agreed to take pictures of me for my new documents once Jesse had me all made up in the afternoon. Lunch was fun. The DS didn’t know Jacinta and rather fancied his chances with her. She appeared to me to alternate from amusement to mild irritation as he flirted, testing the waters. Eventually, tiring of the game, when a suitable opportunity arose, she mentioned something about her last girlfriend being into skydiving and had once brought her for a tandem jump. Fortunately the DS didn’t try to ascertain if she was bi!

Lunch over, we returned to the suite and both rolled on the bed laughing, trying not to be heard. A quick kiss and Jacinta got to work, having first asked… more like ordered… me to wear my bodysuit. She professed herself to be an amateur but did a good job, maybe a bit overdone as for a night out. All made up, I slipped into my LBD and we headed downstairs for the photos. The DS had a camera and blank background screen already set up; this wasn’t their first time taking pictures for new documents. He mainly ignored Jacinta and gave me the head to toe lookover before gesturing for me to pose in front of the screen. I couldn’t resist doing a quick, skirt-flipping turn; if he was going to undress me with a look, I might as well give him a flash. I was finding it strange that guys who knew that I wasn’t a girl would still check me out. Photos over, I decided to go back to my suite to do some work and excused myself on this basis. Jacinta was having none of it:

“Just clean off the make up and I’ll talk you through doing it yourself.”

“Yes Ma’am”.

The DS, who like all the team was aware of my facing down Superintendent Rhinoceros, looked on curiously: How come Jacinta could boss me, a stroppy bitch in their reckoning, around like this.

I went upstairs, hung up my dress, and cleaned off the makeup, first eye makeup remover, then cleanser, finally rose-water, then sat down at the vanity mirror. I rang my finger along my forehead; need to moisturise again. I had just finished this when Jacinta came back into the room, wheeled my office chair into the room and sat behind me on the left side. As I suspected, she was a demanding teacher. Eventually I got my face on, only because I decided to bite my tongue a few times: She’ll definitely be the dom. I picked up a cleanser pad and she reached out and caught my arm:

“Can I take a picture first?”

“No problem, I’ll get my dress.”

“Not yet; first like you are.”

“OK, is that a police ‘phone?”

“Yes; why?”

“If you take my picture with that, and it’s being backed up to a server or is ever checked, you could be in trouble. It’s both a bit risqué, and risky in that it might be viewed by your people as a security breach. Use my phone and I can transfer the pictures to you some time.”

I gave her the phone and posed in my lace body suit, suspenders and stockings. Enjoying the process, I did a number of coquettish poses, then slipped on the dress and repeated the process. I was rewarded with another long kiss; this time it was me who broke it off. With the DS no longer her fan, I didn’t want to give him a chance to cause her any problems. She would call by tomorrow, early, with her iPad before flying out to Lisbon and I could transfer the pictures to her by airdrop.

The same DS was still on duty when she called in at 07:30 so we could not spend too much time together. A quick transfer of the pictures, a quick kiss, and she was off to Lisbon for two weeks to make the necessary arrangements and secure accommodation. When she came back, we would expect a quick turnaround, then we’d be off to Lisbon together. I was already looking forward to that!

The next two weeks dragged…really dragged. I spent most of the time on my own as my desire and ability to interact with my guards was limited. Did I say guards? It felt more and more like a prison, comfortable, but still confining. I wasn’t even interested in trying to engage with the female police members; I must be losing my touch! Actually, it was probably more that I was fed up trying to explain my position to each individual who arrived on site. There was somewhere in the order of 12-15 police force members rotating through the job, each of whom seemed to be curious as to whether I was trans or just well disguised. They didn’t seem to be the most nuanced lot and again, like the initial security team that I’d met on arrival, couldn’t seem to take my indefinite answers at face value.

I made a point of getting up, dressed, and fully made up each day before appearing for breakfast. This was increasingly more than just practice; I was getting more and more comfortable in the role of Jesse as the two weeks passed to the point of starting to feel irritation when some of the more recalcitrant cops called me “Jos”. I fairly quickly declared myself as “available” for State Cyber Security work as my own work quickly wound down. I was surprised how quickly that happened.

I secured a P228 from the Military and some range time on a military range, but masquerading as a police force member with some of my protection detail. I was hoping that nobody would recognise me, although there was little chance of that. Apparently I needed the specific gun in order to get a licence under the tight Portugal system. I would need to return my S&W Victory, still hidden from my security detail, to my shooting range for storage when Jacinta returned.

Then came the various ID’s: Passport, Driving Licence, Bank Cards, European Health Insurance Card, Gender Identity Card. I was now Jesse legally, but still Jos: I would have to check with the state solicitor whether I would be giving evidence as Jos or Jesse. Adopting another identity brings unexpected problems, let alone changing gender. All my old documents were taken by the police who would store them pending my reversion to my old identity; they explained that this was necessary as their discovery in my possession would compromise my position. It also meant that I could not, for instance, travel to the US as I could be accused of misrepresenting my gender if I used Jesse’s passport. I would have to settle for staying in Europe for the moment.

Jacinta called and texted from time to time; she seemed to be enjoying Lisbon! She had secured accommodation by the end of the first week and my firearms permit shortly after. She seemed to be having fun; she also had scouted some venues for clubbing and some good venues for eating in the general vicinity of my new accommodation. Whereas I was now anxious to get going, I was also conscious that I was leaving my parents with them having no information of my whereabouts. And they knew nothing about Jesse. Thankfully facetiming meant nothing to them; we’d get by on voice calls. And Janet; whereas we were never an item, we had been good friends and partners of a sort since college. Now it seemed that we were to have our longest break yet.

Eventually Jacinta arrived back, landed in my room unannounced carrying a large Samsonite case:

“OK girl; get packing.”

“Now that’s some way to greet your devoted admirer, waiting patiently here for you as you swanned around Lisbon enjoying the sun, wine and women.”

She closed the door, put down the case, and came over to where I was still sitting at my work-desk. I went to get up but she put a hand on my shoulder, pushed me back into the seat, straddled me and sat down on my knees.

“I’ll have you know that I was very busy, and I only sampled the local wine and women on a purely professional level, to ensure your comfort and safety!”

She caught my head and kissed me, a nice long, tongue-probing kiss. We broke off:

“And were the local women tasty?”

“Very; you’ll find out yourself. Now, time to get to work.”

“I’ll need more than one case; you can’t expect to send a girl away indefinitely with just the single case!”

“Relax babe; I’ve another in the car. I’ll get it now.”

“When are we off?”

“Tomorrow; 13:10 flight.”

“Wow; that’s fast. I’ve stuff in Janet’s, and I need to get rid of my S&W.”

“You haven’t told Janet that you’re disappearing as Jesse?”

Her voice was a little sharp, disapproving. I shook my head.

“Good; what’s there will have to stay, otherwise she might figure it out. Gimme the pistol.”

I got the S&W Victory and unloaded the magazines. That done, I stripped down the two magazines and replaced the restrictors. Jacinta was looking at me curiously.

“Making them civvy legal; can’t have magazines holding more than five rounds.”

“I never knew that.”

“I suppose you don’t need to; the firearms licensing officers know.”

She took the pistol, magazines, and box of rounds, hid them in her bag, and disappeared. She was back in a few minutes with the second case.

“OK; I’m off now: Need to repack. And get rid of your peashooter.”

I handed her a typed address on an A4 sheet.

“Thanks; here’s the range address.”

She reached out to take the piece of paper and suddenly grabbed my wrist, twisted my arm and knocked me to the floor. She knelt down behind me, still holding my arm behind my back, reached her other arm over my shoulder and down the front of my blouse and bra, then whispered in my ear.

“You need to learn to be more careful. There’s lots of bad girls out there waiting to take advantage of sweet innocent little things like you!”

I leaned back and gave a soft stage moan, enjoying her nuzzling my ear and neck:

“Sounds like heaven!”

“See you here for breakfast at nine.”

She stood up, released my arm and helped me to my feet. A quick hug and kiss, and she was gone. I did realise one thing; I had let girls “overpower” and pin me down before. I wasn’t letting Jacinta; she was probably almost as strong as me, but also had a range of techniques to use. It probably reflected the difference in the unarmed combat I’d learned in the military, and her police training. Military unarmed combat is about how to kill or seriously injure; police learn how to restrain and pin. I was finding her ability, and willingness, to dominate to be almost erotic… actually, delete almost!

Concentrate! Concentrate! Time to pack.

I decided to pack all my laptops, power leads and a powerstrip. The local airport had recently eliminated the requirement to unpack electronics and liquids, but I didn’t know if that expended to three laptops, an iPad, charging pack and ‘phone. Anyway, it would weigh far too much. I decided to leave my toiletries until after my morning shower. I would travel in my green cotton dress and sandals; it should be warm when we landed in Lisbon. I folded almost all the rest of my clothes, packing what I could with the electronics and leaving the rest in a neat pile on a chair ready to pack on top of my toiletries. Then I realised that I did not have a weighing scales; I texted Jacinta.

Need weighing scales for Luggage. What about Jesse phone?

I had just realised that Jesse would need a separate mobile phone. The answer came back:

Will bring scales. Have to buy Jesse phone in Lisbon.

I noticed that she didn’t say who’ll pay for it! I had hoped the State might pick up the bill.

Packing organised if not exactly finished, I headed downstairs to try to be sociable before dinner. My current protection squad consisted of a DS, a female and a male constable. The DS and the policewoman, Annette, were in the sitting room when I entered.

“I hear you’re off tomorrow?”

“Yes; thanks for looking after me while I was here.”

“No problem; it was all good overtime!”

“So what happens when there’s no one here to mind?”

“Not much; the housekeepers are the only permanent staff. We use it for visiting police force members when we’re not baby-sitting a witness, but they don’t need the same security.”

“Well, glad I could make some money for you.”

“Just think of us when you’re sunning yourself in Lisbon!”

The housekeeper announced that dinner was ready so we repaired to the dining room.

“So what happens when it’s safe for you to come out of the programme?”

Annette didn’t elaborate on her question. I guessed what she meant, but decided to play dumb.

“I don’t know; I thought that you’d be telling me?”

“No, I don’t mean operationally. About this… your dress…disguise…being a woman.”

“Oh; do you mean to ask if I’m trans?”

“I guess so.”

“I don’t know; what do you think?”

“How could I know? It’s just… you do it…do it so well.”

“I suppose I should say thanks. But if I did say ‘thanks’, you’d know from my voice that I wasn’t a cis woman.”

That didn’t make sense… I was just having a bit of fun. Annette was getting red; the DS was enjoying the show.

“OK, but I suppose you can work on the voice?”

“Probably; I need to work on something between soft and husky. Voice excepted, what would you prefer me to be; trans or just disguised?”

As Annette pondered her answer, the DS chimed in:

“She’d need to give you a trial run in both modes to decide!”

Sounded good to me:

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Oh; very smart!”

Annette had tired of the sparring. The conversation moved on and the rest of the evening passed relatively smoothly. I didn’t have any work to do and didn’t fancy staring at the walls so, unusually, I stayed with them chatting for an hour or so before taking my leave at 8pm.

“See you guys in the morning; Jacinta will be here for breakfast at nine.”

“G’dnite.”

I headed upstairs, hung up my skirt and blouse, and took off my makeup. I had just dressed in a black satin nightie when there was a soft knock on the door. I opened it to find Annette leaning casually against the wall outside the door.

“You’ve got time for that trial run?”

I opened the door fully, stood back, and she stepped into my room.

“I’ll check my calendar, but what about your DS?”

“He’s happily married, and I don’t think he’s your type.”

“In that case, I think my calendar’s free.”

“I’m due to take over the cameras at ten; until then I can do close protection.”

I caught the buckle on the belt of her jeans and pulled her over to me.

“I think that just about gives us enough time for that trial run…”

**********************************************************

I was up early and had showered, dressed, packed and was fully made up by the time Jacinta arrived at 08:40. I heard her chatting to the DS and Annette for a few minutes then she came bounding up the stairs, carrying a portable luggage scale. It was a matter of only a few minutes to transfer some stuff from the heavier case so that both came in around 19.5kgs. I picked up one to carry downstairs; Jacinta picked up the other one.

“Jacinta; thanks, but I don’t expect you to carry my case.”

She put down the case, came over to me, put her hand around my waist from behind as I dropped my case, caught my hair with her other hand and pulled my head back. She seemed to like to do that.

“Just thought you might be tired after your trial runs last night!”

I reached my hands back, caught her tail, and pulled her closer.

“Just getting back into practice for tonight.”

“Oh, I’ll be much more demanding!”

She let go my hair, gave me a slap on the ass, and we carried the cases downstairs. The male PC and the DS joined Jacinta and me for breakfast; Annette’s turn to be on the cameras. As well as keeping to a schedule for this role, I had noticed that the constables alternated for every second meal. Made sense, and I wasn’t entirely displeased not to be sitting with both Annette and Jacinta at the same time. Breakfast over, I did stick my head into the security room to say goodbye.

We were dropped to the airport by the DS; Jacinta would pick up her car at the house on her return. I was surprised when the car bypassed the normal terminal entrance and drove into a small, secluded parking space. We got out, collected our cases from the boot and stepped into what I realised was a private departures and arrivals area for VIPs. We were given a small room with some lounger chairs, coffee tables and a small conference table with chairs. There was a flask of coffee, teabags and water, a drinks tray and some snacks. So this was a small taste of how the other half live; to mangle mathematics, a very small half! Unfortunately the whiskey was of indifferent quality, blends rather than single malts, so we both settled for G&T’s, but not before we’d packed our pistols into our hold luggage and checked our cases through the private luggage system. For the next few hours we would have to put our trust in Airport Security as we couldn’t access them again until we retrieved our luggage in Lisbon. It was my first time unarmed in around a month; not a nice feeling. We settled down to wait; a car would bring us directly to the steps of the aircraft about fifteen minutes before the flight.

“Did you set all that up with Annette?”

She gave a slightly mischievous grin.

“Now why would I do that?”

“OK; put it another way. When and why did she tell you?”

“Are you sure you weren’t in a police force? Military Investigations?”

“No; why?

“You seem to have a knack for questioning.”

“Nice deflection; now back to my question.”

Jacinta was still grinning; enjoying herself immensely.

“Well, she was asking me about you yesterday, so I told her that she had all night to find out for herself. I guess she did!”

“And the DS? Were you not afraid he’d report her?”

“No; he was there when I challenged her. He’s sound. Anyway, you can’t say I didn’t warn you!”

“Warned me?”

“About all those bad girls waiting to take advantage of you!”

“You little minx!”

“More leopard than minx; you’ll find out!”

I had no doubt about that.

The car arrived and we had to pass through the private security scanners before going airside and being driven to the ‘plane. Most of the passengers were already embarked and the driver stopped behind the tail of the aircraft so that we would not raise too much attention with our unorthodox arrival. We boarded and settled into our seats. Jacinta was in the aisle seat and I was stuck in the middle; I hate the middle seat. There was a middle aged man in the window seat who was doing his best to appear nonchalant as he swivelled his eyes around to check us out. I decided to ignore him for the time being at least.

He was still at it about an hour into our three hour flight; I whispered into Jacinta’s ear:

“My next door neighbour’s eyes are out on stalks.”

She nodded imperceptibly, then reached her hand over to caress my knee. Taking my cue from her, I reciprocated. Old swivel eyes beside me could hardly drag his eyes away. She glided her hand up my thigh under my dress and we kept up this play for a few minutes before both getting a fit of the giggles, which put paid to our activities.

We eventually landed in Humberto Delgado airport and deplaned via an airbridge. In order to avoid being too obvious, we were not met at the airbridge but proceeded to the passport control area. There was a massive queue of Brits; BREXIT had ended their facility to travel to and from EU countries without border controls. We headed for a door at the side of the hall where an airport employee and a lady in a business suit were waiting. We were quickly ushered through the door and Jacinta and the suit lady exchanged ceremonial air-kiss greetings when the door was closed. She was introduced to me as Isabel, an Intendente in the PSP, the Civil Police. This was the first time I’d heard this term: It was a rank just below Superintendente, logically enough. We were ushered into a side room and she took our passports, disappeared for a few minutes, then returned and gave them back, immigration formalities completed. She accompanied us as we collected our cases from the carousel, brought them back to the room and retrieved our pistols. She had indifferent English so our conversation was necessarily limited; in fairness, neither of us spoke a word of Portuguese so we could hardly complain. I was impressed by her demeanour. Despite knowing my situation, and my voice was still a giveaway even had she not, she simply dealt with me as Jesse. We spoke briefly; she confirmed that Jacinta had the numbers to call in an emergency, the location of our accommodation, and offered us a lift there. She also provided me with a resident’s card and a licence for my pistol. As a visiting member of a “friendly “ police force, Jacinta didn’t need one of these.

We were dropped off at an oldish looking apartment block in the Principe Real locality. The lift, evidently a retrofit, was too small to take more than one person and one case at a time so Jacinta went first with one of my cases, sent the lift back down and I brought the remaining case along with her small case to the top floor. One of the two doors on the landing was open so, assuming this to be my place, I went in to find Jacinta already running the tap in the kitchen to clear out any stagnant water. Relieved that I hadn’t inadvertently invaded the premises of an unsuspecting neighbour, I closed the door and took a look around at my new abode. It was much more modern than the exterior façade suggested, had reverse cycle air conditioning, essential in Lisbon, a bathroom, bedroom, living room and another room which might pass for an elf’s bedroom, more likely a storeroom. Overall the place was too small to swing a cat, even if swinging cats to test room sizes wasn’t already outlawed by the EU Directive on Cats.

“Well, how’d I do?”

Having long since learned the benefits of economy, most of all with the truth, I responded judiciously.

“Great; I love it!”

“Lisbon is expensive and we wanted to put you in town among the younger set so you’d blend in. We wanted a top floor, no easy access from the roof or adjoining balconies, and here we are.”

“What’s the neighbourhood like? I’ll have to do the grand tour soon to see what’s around.”

“All in good time. It’s an old part of the city, significant population of younger people, digital nomads like you, gays, cool.”

“Looks like I’ll fit right in!”

“I’ll show you around.”

It took all of five paces or so to inspect the apartment. Two features stood out: The front door had been replaced with a high tech security door which could probably withstand a charging bull elephant, and I had a screen view of the landing outside.

“That’s probably in breach of Data Protection legislation as the camera is hidden in your external light, so don’t let your neighbours see the screen.”

“OK.”

We moved about two paces.

“The bedroom”.

“I’d never have guessed!”

“Smart arse!”

Out of habit I pressed on the mattress on the heavy, wooden frame bed: It felt nice and firm. I didn’t have time to straighten up before I was propelled onto the bed on my face and Jacinta was sitting on top of me. She moved around a bit as she hitched up her skirt to get her legs fully down on each side.

“Now, let’s see if I can remember what I was intending to do to you once we got here.”

She remembered.

*****************************

“OK, let’s get dressed. Time for dinner.”

It was rather late by my standards, I was more an early bird diner. But when in Rome… or rather in Lisbon… follow the local customs, one of which is to dine very late. I rolled off the bed and headed for the shower. Jacinta called in after me.

“I’ll take your LBD out and hang it up for you”.

I gathered we were going somewhere nice: Not knowing the area I was content to just drift along. By the time I’d finished my shower and makeup, she had caught up with me, being much more practiced in the art of makeup. She was in a silver, seiquined, shift dress; suggesting that our night out was not going to end with dinner.

“We’ve a bit to walk, not your highest heels.”

I settled for dressy, black, kitten heeled sandals. Then I ran into a problem; with just a small dress purse, I couldn’t carry my P228. Neither could Jacinta carry her pistol. This wasn’t such a big deal as we had hardly been followed to Lisbon already, but was something that I’d have to consider in the future. For tonight, we left the two pistols in the safe and headed off on foot. This was an old part of town and I had to be very careful not to fall off my heels on the cobbled lane just outside our apartment building. It made progress very slow so she linked me. The night was warm, comfortably warm in early summer, as opposed to the real heat that I would experience in the coming months.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re booked into a restaurant in Barrio Alto, then on to Purex Club.”

“You don’t waste time!”

“Remember, unlike you, I’ve only two weeks left here. You’ve probably got a year at least until the trial of the shooter, and probably a lot longer after that.”

We dined in a very nice Indian restaurant and headed on to the club. As I suspected, it was a gay venue which seemed to be quite cosy and upmarket. At 10:30pm, we were relatively early and perched at a small table near the bar sampling the cocktails for which the venue is famous and watching the couples, almost all same sex, as they filtered in. As the place filled up, “perches” disappeared and eventually two girls, standing right beside us, asked if they could leave their drinks on our table. We started chatting, they were locals, sharing an apartment in the locality, college friends now working in the city. I thought of Janet; I guessed their circumstance was probably similar to ours. Eventually, cocktails finished, Jacinta suggested we make our way to the now-busy dance floor and we offered them our seats.

They were still there when we returned some ten or fifteen minutes later an offered to relinquish the seats to us. We declined, and we got to chatting. Like most younger college-educated denizens of Lisbon, they had good English; I would have to learn some Portuguese soon. We shared names, they were Lorena and Adelaida. Inevitably, once we got to talking, and once they felt that it would not be rude to mention it; the expected question:

“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind me asking… your voice… are you Trans?”

This was a dilemma for a number of reasons. In the first place, I wasn’t sure. Secondly, I could hardly tell them that I was on the run from some bad guys and had just drifted into being Jesse. I tried to be as indefinite as I could:

“I guess so.”

Fortunately they didn’t seem to mind and managed to discover that I was a semi-permanent resident, and Jacinta was out for a short break and staying with me, before joining us on the dance floor. It seemed almost natural for Jacinta and I to accept their invitation back to their shared apartment and we ended up paired off with them, as opposed to each other, as we made our way, carefully, back to their place. They opened a bottle of wine and we rather flopped down in their living area on a rug and the one, two-seater couch. I’m not sure how they made their selection between us but in reasonable short order Jacinta and Lorena were paired off while Adelaida was engaging me in a manner which made it clear, should I have been in any doubt, where this was going. I had one obvious concern which I voiced when she surfaced for air following a nice, long, introductory kiss.

“Adeleida, you know I’m trans, OK?”

“Mmmmm…”

She was only half paying attention as she lifted my shoulder to get access to the zipper on the back of my dress.

“It’s just that I haven’t had any work done… I’m still fully male under the dress…”

She had the zipper down by now and was working the dress off my shoulder, showing my lacy bodysuit.

“I suppose we’ll just have to work with what we have for now.”

Jacinta and Lorena had already departed for the bedroom; Adelaida and I would have to make do with the rug on the floor!

*******************************

Jacinta and I left at first light, passing on the offer of a coffee but exchanging ‘phone numbers with our two new friends, and walked back to our apartment. It wasn’t a long walk, but every early morning delivery driver and commuter seemed to take a second look at the two of us, obviously heading home after a good night. Unlike when Janet and I had walked to the police station on Independence Street what seemed like an age ago, nobody commented even though we were walking arm in arm. Lisbon seemed more accepting and maybe a little more civilised in that respect than home.

There was a small coffee shop at the corner of the street where our apartment was located, just opening, so we stopped in for a superb coffee and an indifferent croissant. I was curious.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask; I mightn’t answer.”

“Both you and Adelaida are gay, right?”

“Stop! Hold the press! Jacinta Beirne is a Lesbian!”

“No; please, I’m being serious here.”

“OK… go ahead.”

“So, how come you’re both interested in shagging me? Am I missing something? Are you both Bi?”

“You’re very black and white; aren’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Sexuality is at least 50 shades of grey. I wouldn’t describe myself as Bi… the question is really about your gender.”

“I’ve no interest in men; only girls. Remember our discussion back at home?”

“The question was about gender; not sexuality. You’re not exactly a standard male, are you?”

I didn’t know whether to be hurt, offended, or simply curious. I didn’t answer, and Jacinta continued on.

“You’re not just in disguise, are you? You are taking to being female as if it’s right for you, almost as if it’s what you are.”

She paused to let this sink in.

“You don’t have to answer me now. Assuming reincarnation exists, would you prefer to come back as a girl?”

Winter had not been pleasant. I had expected the hot Summer, then the warm Autumn, not the miserable, wet, stormy, Winter. The Azores High had decided to move South dragging down the Jet Stream and giving us the succession of winds and weather fronts from the West that is normally experienced in the climatically challenged islands anchored off the Northwest corner of Europe. Up there we know how to deal with it; our houses are better, roads are designed to carry water away quickly from the surface, our shops even carry a better range of Winter clothing. Lisbon was different and I rarely experienced such a miserable few months in my quarter-century as a living organism on the surface of the third planet from the Sun.

And I was lonely, cut off from the friends that I had built up in the latter few years of that same quarter-century. I worked hard at the language, which is renowned for being particularly difficult, but of necessity my facility was still limited after only nine months. This was no great issue with the group of friends that I met through Adelaida and Lorena; they all spoke good English, so good in fact that it inhibited my learning Portuguese. Nor was it an issue in going out as virtually all front-of -house hospitality staff also spoke English. It was a barrier at the shooting club that I joined, as was my uncertain gender. All my documentation and my presentation said female; my voice, especially when struggling in a foreign (to me) language, said male.

And the legal situation was changing. Since 2018, a medical report was not required to register a change of gender. A bill now working its way through the Portuguese legislative system would reinstate this requirement. Parallel legislation would prevent under eighteens from taking puberty blockers or legally changing their gender. Whereas probably none of this would directly impact me, it all contributed to a feeling that a backlash was in the making and I had perhaps not chosen my location well.

But my biggest problem was uncertainty. I had never answered Jacinta’s question about my gender, and the more I considered the matter, the less able I was becoming to give a coherent answer. I was still confused about the difference between sexuality and gender, but was coming to the view that my place was with Jacinta, Adelaida, Lorena and the rest of their Sapphic sisters. I was increasingly coming to feel that I was a woman, not simply acting the part, and had no desire to return to being a full-time male. One significant drawback to my current situation was that my target market for partners had dwindled to what appeared to me to be the very small number of women who were prepared to “date” a pre-op trans-woman.

Counselling and the medical profession were of limited assistance in resolving my uncertainty. The counsellor simply returned the problem to me; at the end of the day, it would be what I really wanted to do. The medics were happy enough to prescribe hormones but did warn me that this would have deleterious effects on my ability to raise the flag. Torn between two desires, I floundered and flopped around, and avoided making a decision.

Christmas was the nadir: Fortunately it is not such a big deal in Portugal as in the Anglo Saxon world and I ended up having Christmas lunch in a restaurant with Lorena and some of her friends who did not feel they would be welcomed at home, or simply preferred to spend the low-key holiday with likeminded friends. Before going out, I had a lachrymal telephone conversation with my parents & had to remind myself that, in many ways, this situation was harder on them than on me. At least lunch was good: I avoided the cod, dearly beloved by the Portuguese, settled for duck, drank too much wine, before we all retired to one of the girl’s apartments. The following day was Friday and, unbelievably for me, they were all working, so we ended up walking each other home around midnight. I ended up staying with Lorena and heading back to my apartment as she was heading off to work. I was glad that I didn’t spend the night alone.

Then Jacinta called on 29th December. This had to be important; most routine work would be deferred to the New Year.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Good, and you?”

“Good; we have a date.”

I suspected that she wasn’t telling me that we were going out to dinner or the movies.

“What date?”

“Trial date for the shooter.”

“When?”

“March, 19th. Criminal Courts.”

“So, when do you bring me home?”

“Not sure yet. In the meantime, I’m planning to come out to visit you. I’ve been moved to the Witness Protection team and we normally visit once or twice a year.”

“OK; will look forward to that. When?”

“Tomorrow; can I stay with you?”

“Of course. How come so soon?”

“Ground handling strike New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day!”

We chatted for a few more minutes and then rang off. Her sudden decision to visit didn’t seem warranted so I reckoned that either she had to make sure to visit me before the end of the year to fill some nearly neglected Department quota, or she was at a loose end and had decided to have a holiday at the expense of the State. Either way, I didn’t mind; she knew that there was only one bed in my apartment.

*************************************

Jacinta arrived at the apartment at around 5PM, looking tense, parked her wheeliebag in the corridor and flopped down on the couch: I reckoned that she had had a bad trip. We were almost a matching pair; both in denim minis, opaque blue tights, just different tops. I joined her with two glasses of Glenmorangie.

“OK; what’s the real story?”

“Other than that I wanted to see how my favourite protectee is doing? Aren’t you pleased to see me.”

“Of course I am… any time; but it’s all very sudden.”

“Well… I do have some news as well.”

“Go on, tell me.”

“Well, the case against the shooter is open and shut; we could do without your evidence.”

“It doesn’t much matter; that’s not why they’re after me. But why bring me back so? It’s very expensive if I’m not needed, not that I don’t want some time at home.”

“The Defence might call you anyway, just to cast doubt, just to get you to say that you don’t recognise the defendant. But that’s not why we want you back.”

“I’m waiting; if you don’t tell me I won’t refill that glass.”

She had already demolished most of her whiskey.

“Well, you know we’ve arrested a lot of the Kingston gang over the last year.”

“Yes; I've been following the news on that… actually with more than just a passing interest.”

“They have very few guys left who could carry out a hit, and we’ve most of them under surveillance.”

“What’s all this got to do with me? Are you telling me that it’s safe to come home?”

I refilled her glass and topped up mine. I sat down on the arm of the couch.

“No, but that’s the point. If you were at home, one of the immediate family would probably try to… eh… try to …”

“Kill me? Is that what you’re dancing around?”

She nodded.

“Because they are on the ropes, and need to try to reestablish credibility, they might try. And they would likely have to do it themselves; we’ve really thinned them out.”

“Are you seriously asking that I go back as a target so that your lot can catch them trying to get me?”

She nodded again.

“Look, it’s not my idea, way above my pay grade. You don’t have to… it’s just they thought, you being a Reserve officer and all, that you might be prepared to… eh … help.”

I said nothing for a few minutes; she knew that I was thinking and left me at it. Eventually I broke the silence:

“I might agree, but I’ll need to sleep on it.”

“Who said that I was going to let you get any sleep?”

She leaned back her head; some of the tension was gone from her face.

“You were worried how this conversation would go?”

“Yeah; ever since I heard the plan.”

“Why’d you have to tell me? Surely the genius who thought it up should have come out here him or herself.”

“Then you’d have to talk to the invisible man, or woman. Unless it’s wildly successful in which case it’ll have been the idea of at least a Chief Superintendent!”

I went around the back of the couch and started to give her a neck rub. She was a bundle of knots. After a few minutes she opened her blouse to let me get further down her back. Naturally I opened her bra…

*****************************

We woke late the next morning; we had no pressing engagements and had gotten to sleep rather late. I stayed in my nightdress as I prepared breakfast while Jacinta had her shower. Eventually we both sat down to pancakes with maple syrup, bacon and a pot of coffee. I reckoned we’d need it. Breakfast finished, we got down to business.

“How would all this work? I presume I’ll have to revert to being Jos?”

“Yes; the Kingstons have no knowledge of Jesse.”

“None that we’re aware of at least.”

“Well, we know that they have a contract on Jos, with no mention of Jesse.”

“OK, I go back home. What then?”

“We challenge them.”

“ÒK, we all line up, at the Joust and I hit the Boss with an armoured gauntlet across the face!”

“Exactly! Alternatively, as there is no joust scheduled for the next few centuries, we might simply tell the press that you’re back. We’ll explain that we’ve degraded the Kingston organisation so badly that you’re no longer in any real danger.”

“That’ll get right up their noses!”

“Either they move on you, or they’re toast. They can’t operate without the element of fear.”

“So Jos comes home, moves into his old apartment, it’s all set up with buffalo-proof doors, cameras and bullet-proof glass, and you tail him in his armoured car whenever he goes out. Won’t the Kingstons see the tail?”

Jacinta didn’t answer; she was looking at me, half smiling, half curious.

“You know you’ve talked about Jos in the third person… like he’s someone else? Are you really Jesse now?”

My turn to pause.

“I don’t know, seriously, I don’t. I’ve been living with the same question for months now… tried counselling, visited a doctor who deals with Trans. To put it crudely, I need to either pee or get off the porcelain. In fairness, you did see it coming.”

“OK, maybe we deal with the Kingston problem now, then we can talk about Jesse and Jos afterwards?”

“Suits me.”

“Right, Jos goes back to his apartment; cameras, yes; buffalo-proof door, yes; windows, no, you’re not overlooked; car, we’ve no access to that type of kit. You’ll have a bullet proof vest and close protection at all times.”

“Close protection will be obvious!?”

“Not if it’s your new partner.”

“Partner? Girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

I was hoping that this question was superfluous. She looked a bit nervous.

“You OK with me doing that?”

“What do you think! Of course I’m more than happy with that. But won’t you be known to the Kingstons?”

“Not really. Before you turned up they had no profile in my division area; more Inner and North City types. They are no more likely to know me than any other detective in the force. Most importantly, no pictures of me were published after the car park incident.”

“Internal leaks? Your colleagues will recognise you.”

“We’re putting about a casual story internally that you and I hooked up when you were in protection, and I’ve now left the force under a bit of a cloud and am working with you in cybersecurity.”

“At least it has the virtue of being partially true. Why you? I thought that they would have tried to pass this to Armed Response.”

Jacinta laughed.

“Well, they had to try to persuade you to cooperate, and given that you’d demanded that I be involved in your Protection arrangements, they figured that I was best placed for the job. I was even sent on a close protection course.”

I poured some fresh coffee; if I keep drinking it at this rate I won’t sleep for a week.

“If I’m officially back, I will have to visit my family. Would that put them in danger?”

“Same as before, there’s no track record of these guys going after family members, partners, friends. They have occasionally mistaken friends for accomplices, but that’s hardly likely to apply to you.”

“Two more questions: First, what happens if they simply ignore me?”

“Well, that’ll prove the case in relation to it’s being safe for you to return. If there’s no hit, it’s probably only a matter of time until they either leave the country or get hit themselves.”

That sounded eminently logical; I had probably foreseen the answer.

“Last question for now; what happens if they try and fail? How can you be sure that you’ll have enough evidence to put them away?

“I don’t know; I’m not included at that level.”

Again, I had expected this, but was not prepared to live with that situation if I was to play ball. Time to take a break:It’s good to refresh the mind when grappling with problems.

“Fancy a walk? There’s a nice walk along the river close by.”

“I will need to get back to the Superintendent sometime.”

“Tell him or her that I’m very nervous and thinking about it. I’ll have a lot of conditions if I do agree.”

“It’s a he; I’ll call him while you’re getting ready.”

I was still in my nightdress, the same black satin nightie that I’d been wearing when Annette called to my room back in the safe house.

“Just add that you were working on me most of the night and that you’ll send him the overtime bill!”

“I’ll wait until I’ve it all consolidated; should be a good paycheque!”

I slipped off for my shower. Shaving was getting easier as I had managed to work an almost weekly electrolysis session into my routine. This hadn’t been easy as I had to attend each session with two days beard growth which required my remaining in purdah for the two days and sneaking out of my apartment re-disguised as a male. It was worth it, whatever my eventual decision would be. This time I shaved carefully, showered, and spent some time over my makeup. Besides feeling good when well turned out, I was also conscious of maintaining an illusion when with Jacinta. Eventually, all made up, I opted for a tan tunic-dress worn over a green blouse, opaque tights and brown, kitten-heeled, ankle-boots. This height heel worked well for me, not so high as to make me too tall, not so low as to leave me flat-footed. The day was warm enough; in case it rained I put my lightweight waterproof jacket into a small rucksack along with a bottle of water, my phone and wallet, and carried my SIG in a small Delsey bag worn across my right shoulder. Jacinta didn’t have much gear with her so came in her denim mini and her normal shoulder bag.

It didn’t take us long to reach the river and stroll along on our outbound leg. We knew that we could not talk business out-and-about like we were and there was an elephant walking with us that needed some attention. Jacinta broke the ice asking for news of her friends:

“Any word from Lorena and Adelaida?”

“I see them from time to time; actually spent Christmas day with Lorena and some of her friends.”

She didn’t ask where I had stayed that night, not that that would be a problem.

“And is Jos ever around?”

“Only when I sneak him out to go to electrolysis.”

“Electrolysis?”

“Yes; I’m getting rid of my beard. Takes forever”

“Painful?”

“A bit.”

We strode along in silence for a while longer. Unusually for this winter, the weather was warm and calm; Lisbon at its best.

“Will you miss Jesse when you go back?”

“I’ll bring her with me, or maybe Jesse will go home disguised as Jos.”

“Are you really Jesse now?”

“I think so, but it would be very difficult to be her full-time back home.”

“What’s the most difficult part?”

“Parents; I’m their only child. They would be so disappointed, both with me and for their no-longer-possible grandchildren.”

“You know the grandchildren issue can be gotten around?”

“Technically, yes. But there’s also the issue of needing a woman to make it all happen!”

“A female partner perhaps?”

“Maybe; all very theoretical at the moment.”

We walked along, closely, like partners or lovers. A light breeze was blowing along the river, some small clouds floating overhead.

“Beside the parents, what other problems would Jesse have?”

“Besides the usual prejudices you mean?”

“It’s not really an issue now for us LGBTQIABCXYZ folks; it’s not like twenty years ago.”

“Probably right for everyone except Trans folks.”

“Gender recognition is simple enough now.”

“Legally, yes. But look what’s happening here. There is a new requirement for medical confirmation for instance. There could be a backlash at home yet. And there’s a part of the feminist movement that’s completely anti-trans. But that’s not my main issue.”

“OK, tell me… or maybe I can guess.”

“Go on so, guess.”

“You like girls, not like the macho types, building up a body count. You like to hang out with girls, be with girls, sleep with girls. Have you any really close male friends?”

“Not really.”

“Female?”

“Yes.”

“Can I diagnose you?”

“Yes; but I think I know the answer.”

“Lesbian?”

“Exactly!”

“Just in case you hadn’t noticed, girls can have a lot of fun with girls. You don’t need to hang on to it.”

We walked on for a while and passed a small café that I liked.

“Fancy a hot chocolate or something? If I’ve any more coffee I’ll be wired.”

We got two chocolate quente sem natas (hot chocolate without cream) and sat outside watching the world go by. Actually there was not a lot of walkers around. Two men, tourists not locals, sat down outside the café as well so we couldn’t really discuss anything serious. We made some small-talk as we enjoyed our hot chocolate, then, quite out of the blue, Jacinta leaned over and gave me a deep kiss. As she was surfacing she whispered into my ear:

“Those two guys keep starting at us; hopefully they won’t feel the need to try to chat up two lesbians!”

I had my back to them and couldn’t turn around to check them out. We stayed for another few minutes then got up to resume our walk.

“Did we put them off?”

“Nope; stayed focussed on us all the time. Creeps!”

I leaned on her shoulder and pretended to adjust my boot, taking the opportunity to glance behind.

“Even creepier; they’re following us.”

We walked along, checking billboards and posters, pretending to take pictures, all to give us a chance to keep track of our pursuers. They weren’t getting closer, just maintaining their distance.

“What the f*** are they up to? I made sure I wasn’t followed from the airport to your place.”

“Nobody would have known to follow you from the airport anyway; you’re not associated with my case and only your lot would have known that you were coming here.”

“Maybe they’re just creeps.”

“Will we check? I could call the PSP.”

I had an emergency number to call as part of the Protection arrangement.

“Let’s check first; this way.”

Jacinta turned suddenly away from the river and started to walk towards the city; I followed suit. We checked behind us; nobody following.

“Are we getting paranoid?”

She thought for a moment about my question:

“Maybe a little bit of paranoia will come in useful when we get back home.”

We made our way back to the river walk and retraced our way back towards my apartment. When we turned into the city again we doubled back twice in the streets to ensure we weren’t being followed and finally returned to the apartment. Breakfast had been rather late and long so we decided to skip lunch and go out early for dinner. As it was New Year’s Eve, most places would be fully booked, but I was relying on the Portuguese habit of eating late and getting in before the main rush. Eventually I got a place on the strict understanding that we would have vacated the table by 7:30pm.

I texted Adelaida and Lorena,

Jacinta in town for a few days if it suits to meet up

Then we got back down to business.

“OK; here’s what you tell your Superintendent. I’ll do it on the following conditions: First; we’re both to be brought into the intelligence loop. I’m not going to be the bait unless I know whether it’s a wolf or a hyena that’s after me. You need the same information to do your job as well.”

“OK; they won’t like that but we’ll see.”

In reality I actually expected the police to lie about this point and assure me that we would get all the information, but only give as little as they thought that they would get away with.

“Secondly, I want to be activated in the military. It gets around the issue of my being armed, gives me a salary, and means a payout for my family if this goes pear-shaped. I know the military will have no issue with this.”

“OK.”

“Thirdly, I will start to rebuild my client base, so I will only do half-time working for the state in return for my military salary. It’s not a great deal for me but I’ll see how it goes.”

As an IT contractor serving private sector clients I had been earning at least three times a Lieutenant’s salary, but the military and police experience would pay dividends when normal business fully resumed and I wanted to stay current in this area.

“And finally, we need to develop an understanding on how long the close protection arrangement is retained and what the criteria are for termination.”

“How about until I get fed up living with you?”

“Hmm, that could work either way!”

A text had come in from Adelaida:

How about dinner and a club tomorrow night?

I showed the text to Jacinta before replying with a thumbs up; we could work out the details later.

“Are you going to contact your Superintendent?”

“At this time on New Year’s Eve?”

“Sorry; forgot the day.”

“You did notice the fireworks display being prepared at Praça do Comércio? We did walk right past it!”

I could only shake my head; truth was I was a bit distracted. Maybe more than a bit; was I mad agreeing to be the bait in an operation which could prove to be dangerous, possibly fatal?

The restaurant was nearby which was fortunate as we would be coming back to the apartment for a few hours before making our way back to the river for the fireworks display. I opted for steak, Portuguese style, Jacinta had slow-cooked lamb. She made the better choice. We had a bottle of Ribera del Duero; good wine is very reasonably priced in Portugal and we reckoned the more of it we drank, the more we saved. As usual we skipped dessert and were comfortably finished by 7:30. Back in our apartment by 7:45pm, we had some time to kill before heading back out at 10:30pm for the fireworks. Jacinta decided to pass the time by showing me some of her skills in detaining and restraining suspects, telling me that my repertoire of neck jabs, eye pokes, groin kicking and shin-scraping didn’t meet the police definition of minimum force.

We almost missed the official fireworks.

“Looks like your neighbour got lucky last night.”

It was 5:30am and Jacinta was sitting at the dining table scrolling through last night’s video recordings from the CCTV, one of her daily jobs; she paused the video to take a look.

“Hmmm; and she’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

I fount this hard to believe.  Whereas Tom was a nice guy, and very bright, he was not exactly a babe magnet.  Shy and awkward around women, he rarely seemed to bring one back to his apartment.

“OK, but don’t start getting any ideas!”

“Nor you!”

Jacinta was right, the girl was hot, if a bit tarty.  A standard bottled blond, she was pushing the limits at the upper and lower end of her scant apparel.  Maybe she was an escort or a working girl?  I turned to Jacinta:

“Can you have her checked out?”

“I would anyway, we check out most of the new faces we see in the block, and this one is on our floor.  Why, are you concerned?”

“I’ve never seen Tom pull someone like that; it’s just not him.”

She took some stills from the video and emailed them to whoever looks up strange hot blonds in the police establishment.

“Fancy some porridge?”

I had just gotten up and needed to eat something before settling down to work.  I had adapted my day to match her habits developed over some years of working from a police station; a light breakfast and an early lunch, or brunch, whatever one wants to call it.

“As long as you promise not to dress; I like you in that nightdress.”

I was wearing a blue, slip-type nightdress, short, with a small slit and lace trim.  Jacinta hadn’t dressed yet either.  I measures the oatmeal into a pyrex jug, added light milk and popped it into the microwave while I got some bowls, spoons and honey ready.  The microwave pinged just as I had the water and coffee added into the coffee maker; I stirred the porridge and put it back in for round two.  I’d have to watch it this time; it had a habit of expanding out of the jug if I wasn’t careful.

Porridge eaten, we sat on the couch with our coffee and iPads to plan the week.  Now that we were settled into a routine, this was useful both for us and it also enabled the police to plan back-up surveillance if resources were available when we were going out.  This was only guaranteed for our four gym nights in the week.  These were done, deliberately, as a matter of routine.  The Kingstons, or anyone interested in delivering on the contract, could identify this routine relatively easily and would hopefully walk into a trap if they made a move to take advantage of this apparent breach of security.  Jacinta and I had solved the problem of bring our pistols into the gym by each carrying a small draw string, duffle-type bag, which apparently carried our water, weights gloves, mobile ‘phones, etc.

Client meetings were relatively rare and were always carried out late morning, or early afternoon.  This was both to ensure that we were not driving in heavy traffic and it suited our domestic routine.  Jacinta attended as my “apprentice”, a former public servant who had changed career and was now starting a new career in cyber security.  It suited her personally as well; she seemed to enjoy working with me on my private business but, ironically, did not have security clearance to help me on my military projects!

This week would be straightforward enough; two client meetings and one visit to the Military Cyber Security establishment.  Then domestic issues:

“Shopping Thursday, 12pm?”

What I’d just proposed was almost becoming another routine.  Jacinta shook her head:

“Can’t be guaranteed cover, and we’ve done that the last two Thursdays.”

“Can’t we just change location?  Go to a different shopping centre?”

“No; we might be followed.  If they’ve picked up the routine, they might opt to tail us there and get us a traffic lights.  That’s what I’d do.”

“Jacinta?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not tempted to try and deliver on the contract yourself?”

“I’ve thought about it; money’s not bad.”

She rolled on top of me on the couch and we got into a very pleasurable wrestling match.  Later on, lying together in bed, I whispered in her ear…

“We never finished planning the week!”

“After we shower.”

When we sat down again, with fresh coffees, I picked up my iPad and opened the calendar.

“I need to visit my parents soon.”

“This weekend OK?”

“Yeah, we could go to the range and continue on from there.  Do another practice on the way back?”

One of our allowable expenditures was training ammunition, not an inconsiderable benefit when it was possible to expend a few hundred rounds each over two days.  This was OK for 0.22LR ammunition, the 9mm for our SIG’s was very expensive.

“OK; I’ll be on show!  Will I get the thumbs up?”

We had joked about the reception Jacinta would receive.  My mother tended to see each girl that I’d brought to visit them as a potential daughter-in-law.

“Hmmmm, not sure.  Once a copper, always a copper….”

“If they ever find out that you actually brought a serving policewoman into their house, you’re probably toast!”

“Well, you know us country folks; a still in every barn.”

Our week was now full, and we still hadn’t bought food.  We settled on a stop on our way back from a client meeting on Wednesday.  We would eat out that evening and not drive back home until after the rush hour.

We had pretty much finished our shopping on Wednesday evening and were packing the boot of Jacinta’s car when her ‘phone rang.  She left me to finish and took the call.  I finished packing the groceries away and waited for her.

“From Europol, Russian, mob connections, arrived in the country last week.”

She didn’t need to explain that she was talking about Tom’s new girlfriend.  She had featured on our cameras  for three nights in a row now.  I felt really sorry for him:

“Ah!  And he thinks she likes him. Poor Tom.”

“F*** Tom; if she’s looking to collect on the contract she’s already got access to our floor.”

“I presume she’s looking after the f***ing piece so we needn’t worry about that.”

“Don’t be such a bloody smartarse; this isn’t funny.”

“No; but now that we know what she might be up to, it could be useful.  We know, but she doesn’t know we know.  We need to talk to your Department of Funny Tricks.”

“Bugs?”

“Yes; both ways.  Can your guys detect a bug placed against the adjoining wall of our apartment?”

“Don’t know; will have to ask them.”

“Actually, if she is bugging us, she already knows that we’re suspicious of her.  If she sticks around, it probably means that she hasn’t overheard us, yet!  Probably no point in bugging Tom’s place; she’ll hardly discuss her business with him!”

Jacinta demurred.

“No; but if she’s there when he’s out, we might want to listen to her ‘phone calls.”

“Just as long as we don’t have to listen to them making out.  Can you set up a meeting with your team?”

“And this started off as an easy week!”

“Let’s go eat.”

********************************************
The technical people had our apartment swept by Thursday afternoon, and a funny funnel-shaped apparatus installed in the back of one of our kitchen presses, the wide end pressed against the wall separating our apartment from Tom’s.  They could not guarantee that there wasn’t a similar arrangement on the other side of the wall, but thought it unlikely; Tom would notice it!  We should not hold any sensitive conversations in the living area as this was where the two apartments shared a common wall.  It did mean that we had to spend more time in the bedroom.

Friday passed uneventfully and Saturday morning rolled around.  Instead of just rolling around in the bed for a while, we had to roll out to get a slot at the range.  I had to remove my earrings and hope that my parents would not notice the piercings under my hair; it also helped to ensure my ear defenders didn’t hurt.  I also removed even the clear nail varnish from my nails; that would cause greater consternation than the earrings if detected.  Jacinta was amused:

“Hope I don’t call you Jesse by mistake!”

“You do than and I’ll spank you!”

“Sounds nice; dare you try though!”

I filed that one in my mind for later.  Eventually, fully de-feminised, on the outside at least, we headed off with the boot full of pistols, ammunition, overnight cases, ear defenders, safety glasses, wellington boots, and probably a kitchen sink if we searched hard enough.

This was my first reappearance at the range in around nine months, so I was greeted effusively by the owners and my fellow shooters but eventually we managed to take our place on the shooting line.  Our Walker PPKs, mine secured immediately on returning from Lisbon, caused great hilarity with us being called James and Jill Bond, until we started to shoot them.  The accuracy was spectacular considering that the barrels were only about three inches long.  As Jacinta/Jill remarked to one of the leading jokers:

“It’s not the length; it’s how you use it!”,

to which a woman further down the line remarked,

“Not sure about that, Honey!”

Further ribaldry ensued, quickly silenced when we swapped our Walters for our SIGs; centrefire pistol licences are as rare as hens’ teeth.  This time all the slagging was about the excess sound of our “cannons”.

Eventually we left the line, cleaned our pistols, reloaded them and tucked the SIGs away in our shoulder holsters.  We replaced our ammo; we didn’t want to have excess direct contact with the police just to replace ammo.

There was occasional police surveillance of our apartment which would continue in our absence. Having informed Supt. Smyth-With-a-Y where we would be overnighting, and as countryside camouflage is way outside the skill set of police forces, he had reluctantly agreed to my suggestion that the military provide surveillance using the personnel currently on a Sniper training course. Besides providing security, it served as a live exercise and the personnel involved would receive a security duty allowance.  We agreed that we would keep an active lookout and, if we spotted any of the surveillance team, we were to provide feedback. We also did some standard anti-pursuit stuff on the way to my parents’ farm; it would be better if they were not associated directly with me, although the relationship was easy to discover on open sources.

We pulled into the farmyard to receive the usual enthusiastic greeting from the dogs.  Well, I did at least; I had to go around to the driver’s door to ensure Jacinta didn’t receive more than a friendly lick.  I introduced the dogs to her and they took my word that she was not on the menu.  Grumpy dogs were essential: In an otherwise idyllic location, the very remoteness left the farm vulnerable to machinery theft. It would be fun if someone tried their luck tonight!

Dogs sorted, my normally undemonstrative parents had arrived out to greet us.  They both hugged me and, somewhat unsure, shook hands with Jacinta.  Even in jeans, boots, a polo neck jumper and a sheepskin coat, she looked great.  As we were coming, lunch, normally taken around 1pm, had been deferred until our arrival so we left our gear in the car, washed up before dropping our coats in the guest bedroom with our SIGs and slipped our Walter’s into our jeans under our shirts.

Conversation was a bit difficult at first. As well as this being my return from nine months of absence, and with a background of past and possible future danger, there was also the presence of my “new girlfriend.” They understood that I couldn’t divulge where I had been in hiding on the basis that others might use the same place: I didn’t tell them that I might have to use it myself. Things picked up after dinner when Jacinta asked if she could see the farm, truthfully saying that she had never been around one before. There wasn’t much happening as calving and milking had yet to start, but my father was delighted to bring her around while I helped my mother clear up after dinner.

“You’ve known her a while so?

Maybe I should have gone on the farm tour; the interrogation had started.

“From soon after the trouble started; she was my contact point both before and after I went away.”

“She must have visited you out there so?”

“Yes, quite a bit. That’s how we started dating.”

“And you say she’s left the police now. Why did she do that?”

“They didn’t approve of her seeing someone she was protecting.”

“It must be serious so; her giving up her job for you.”

Good job Jacinta and I had foreseen this line of questioning and had agreed our story.

“She was thinking about leaving anyway, go to college and get into IT work.”

“Handy so you can give her some experience.”

I was tempted to remark that we were giving each other experiences, but thought that would not be appreciated. We tidied up and I got our bags from the car. On the pretext of having a look around the land I walked around the outside of the farmyard, trying to spot our surveillance; I couldn’t, even though I had a good idea of where I would locate myself if in the same role.

Things became more relaxed as the evening progressed; my father and Jacinta appeared to have gotten on well. Unexpectedly two cousins called in after dark, having heard that I would be there and not having seen me for almost a year. Jacinta slipped out to text our surveillance that these were “friendlies” and we ended up having a game of one-hundred-and-ten before they departed and we all turned in.

“Are all your family practiced in interrogation?”

It was the first time that Jacinta and I had a chance to talk since her farm tour.

“You’re lucky, my father is a pussycat compared to my mother!”

“You got the same?

“Of course; good job we’d sorted out our story.”

We refrained from any nocturnal exercise; somehow it wouldn’t have felt right!

The following morning, before breakfast, I volunteered to take some hay to the cattle. The grass hadn’t really started to grow yet but the ground was hard enough to let them out around the land. Feeding involved picking up a roller bale of hay on a front lifter and driving it to whatever feeder the cows had decided to wait at that morning. Jacinta hopped into the cab beside me and we trundled off carefully as the front load can cause uncomfortable pitching if driven too fast over rough ground. Two of the dogs, Satan and Lucifer, ran along beside us. The cows had decided on a nearby feeder so we had a short drive. I climbed down to break up the bale in the feeder with a pitchfork and was helping Jacinta climb down when I noticed that the dogs were on alert, hair up on the back of their necks, fixated on a small copse of hawthorn bushes on a nearby hillock. They were doing their “let me tear their legs off” low growls; any encouragement and they’d be off. We had no leads with us so all we could do was catch their collars, walk them to the copse and introduce them to our surveillance. The two lads were dreadfully embarrassed, but it was a good lesson. A good canine nose can defeat most camouflage, no matter how skilful. Hoping we hadn’t been seen we broke up the bale for the cows, strictly enjoined the dogs not to tell my parents, and Jacinta drove the tractor back to the farmyard.

We showered, and had a light breakfast of porridge and some fruit . My parents were going to church; we turned down their invitation to attend with then on the grounds that I wanted to keep a low profile. Jacinta and I offered to cleanup after breakfast and to get lunch in order to let them get away early. As soon as they were gone, I cooked up some sausages as quickly as possible, made sausage sandwiches, and brought them to our guardians with a flask of tea. Rather than break their cover again, I walked around the back of the copse, left the bag with the food on a rock and walked away, speaking softly into the air:

“Leave the flask back on the same rock; I’ll pick it up later.”

A voice from the copse, equally softly, responded:

“Thanks Sir, will do.”

By the time I was back in the kitchen Jacinta had everything cleaned up. I turned on the oven and dressed a half leg of lamb with garlic and dried rosemary, added half a bottle of white wine to the roasting tray, covered it with aluminium foil and slipped it into the oven to cook slowly over the next four hours.

“White wine with lamb?”

“I know, but it gives a lighter flavour if you’re eating early. Don’t worry, we’ll open a bottle of red for the meal!”

No time like the present. I opened a nice bottle of Douro which I had brought with me to give it time to breath. Then we set to chopping vegetables to roast later, tossed them with some Italian herb and oil and left them to marinade until we ready to put them in the oven.

“Well, how would you like living on a farm?”

I was wondering what Jacinta had thought of her experience.

“For all the good bits, being your own boss, out in the air, it’s very isolated, and likely very hard work.”

“Once milking starts, it’s unrelenting. No paid holidays, weekends, or eight hour days; that’s why I’m into computers.”

“But, not to be nosey, won’t you inherit this place?”

“I don’t think I want to.”

Church for country folk can also be a social occasion and it was almost lunchtime by the time my parents were back. Jacinta and I let them sit back with a sherry for my mother and a can of draft Guinness for my father while we finished preparing the meal, and then called them to the table. This was a much more relaxed meal; as well as having their apéritif and a glass of wine, my parents were more accustomed to Jacinta, even if she couldn’t yet tell a cow from a bull.

 I wondered if there were bulls who would have preferred to be cows!

After lunch, on a pretext of going for a walk before our drive home, I collected the flask and sneaked it back into its place following a wash. It was then time for us to push off and we departed to a chorus of “goodbyes” and “ come back soons”.

“What did you think?”

I was wondering what Jacinta thought of our weekend.

“They’re going to be upset.”

I wasn’t sure with what: Jesse turning up; Jacinta still being in the police; finding out that Jacinta and I were only in a relationship of convenience, someone taking a shot at us, all of the above? Without clarifying I responded:

“Yep, they are.”

As Jacinta was driving, I texted our surveillance team; they could pull out at their own discretion.

Being now too late for a second session on the range, we drove directly home.

********************************************

“That’s interesting; Nadya is suggesting that they invite us out.”

Jacinta had managed to pass the job of listening to our neighbours’ conversations to Supt. Smyth-With-A-Y’s team on the basis that, as we might actually meet them, she should not be in a position where she could inadvertently let slip something that she should not have known.  She received a daily update; anything urgent would be communicated immediately by ‘phone or text.

“What’s her reason, or excuse?”

“Get to know the neighbours; Tom hasn’t really met me; she hasn’t met you.”

“Did Tom agree?”

“Of course; he would agree with anything she asked.”

“What’s your team saying?  Do we accept the invitation when it comes?”

“It’s possibly, even probably, setting up the hit.”

“And still nothing from the surveillance?”

“Not a word.”

This was bad news; the police believed that the Kingstons had not discovered their surveillance, as they continued to discuss low level criminal matters. They just said nothing about me.  I wasn’t so sure; they might have discovered the surveillance and were engaged in an elaborate deception arrangement to pretend that they hadn’t.  On the other hand, this could be a Russian gang freelancing just for the reward.  It’s one of the problems with partial intelligence; you can read almost anything you want into it!  With this level of uncertainty, accepting an invitation that might be a setup seemed, on the surface, mad.  On the other hand, if there were shooters in town, would it not be better to engage them when we expected them to make an attempt as opposed to simply waiting for them to take a shot sometime, somewhere. 

Jacinta was looking at me; she knew my thinking face and waited for me to answer.

“If your people are up for it, we should accept.”

“You sure?”

“Yep; it’s too dangerous just to leave them out there looking for me.”

**********************************

The invitation arrived two days later in Tom’s usual method of communication, a note pushed under my door.  He had my ‘phone number and email address; I never understood why he choose to communicate in this way.  To try and break the habit, I responded by text.  To pick ground of our own choosing, I nominated a location and suggested that it not be on a weekend as it would be easier to get a table.  Tom responded by text after an hour or so and nominated the following Thursday, two days away.

That evening we met with the Superintendent and some of his team. We had some planning to do.

 

“She hasn’t said anything interesting on her mobile since we started listening in. Why would she try to use it at the most critical juncture in the operation?”

The Technical Sergeant had a point. Either Nadya was totally innocent of being involved in nefarious activity, or she and her compatriots were real professionals.

“Well, if I can give her sufficient reason to need to contact her friends, she might just be tempted to break the rules. And we don’t want that; we need her to bring your guys to them.”

“OK, we can block her mobile.”

Supt. Smyth leaned back in his chair.

“And just what reason are you going to give to make her need to contact the shooters?”

************************************

“Tom is going to fall over when you turn up like that.”

“As long as he doesn’t fall for me.”

“Not likely with Nadya around.”

Jacinta and I were getting ready in the safe house for our night out with Tom and Nadya. We had turned down his suggestion that we take a taxi from the apartment block with him on the basis that we would be coming from a friend’s house. Unsurprisingly, to us at least, Nadya was also travelling directly there.

Jacinta was wearing a blue dress which went really well with her blond hair. I had an almost-to-the-knee A-line green dress and a dark green jacket. As a compromise between style and functionality, we were both wearing kitten heels and our Walters were hidden in our clutch bags. Dangler earrings and discreet makeup completed the look. It was nice to be going out as Jesse again. Jacinta slipped her hand under my skirt and up along my thigh; I playfully slapped it away.

“All that’s for the celebration after.”

She did a pretend pout:

“I wonder what Nadya will wear?”

“I’d say she’ll be toned down; she won’t want to be noticed.”

The taxi driver was almost too dishevelled to be believable. About thirty, stubbled, wearing a casual jacket over torn jeans, I wouldn’t have gotten into his cab had I not known that he was one of Supt. Smyth’s team.

“Where to?” he joked in a broad Fordtown accent.

“Piss off.”

Jacinta’s nerves were showing; he changed tone immediately.

“Look, we’ll be all over the place. You’ll be OK.”

“Sorry; pre-show nerves; thanks.”

I reached over and took her hand. I was probably even more nervous, just better at hiding it.

We arrived early in order to get the best seats around the table where we could watch the room and the doors. The booking was in Jacinta’s name; had Jos made the booking we would be doing Hamlet without the prince. The place was already reasonably full of couples and foursomes; this was costing the police department a fortune as we knew that eight of the diners were Jacinta’s colleagues. They even had bottles of wine on the tables; a room full of abstainers would not look right.

We were shown to the table, deliberately chosen to allow us both to sit with our backs half against the wall and with a view of both the entrance and the kitchen door. The corridor leading to the toilets was out of our field of vision, but was covered by one of the other tables. We ordered Erdinger Zeros; pretend to get tipsy, stay real sober.

Tom arrived before Nadya and was shown to the table. Jacinta stood up and introduced herself as Jos’ girlfriend. He shook her hand and looked uncomprehendingly at me. I stood up, extended my hand;

“Hi Tom, I’m your neighbour, Jesse.”

He shook my hand and stayed standing, staring. I gestured to him to sit down; he just sat, tried to speak, failed, tried again, failed again.

“I’ll explain when Nadya gets here, otherwise I’ll have to go over it all again. Great idea to meet like this; yours or hers?”

I needed to get him talking; the poor man was still in shock.

“Her’s.”

We needed to get beyond monosyllabic.

“Where did you guys meet?”

He explained that they’d met at a club; they’d started chatting at the bar when her date had stood her up. Apparently she had had to leave Russia when some of her friends had been arrested for anti-war agitation and was looking for a role in marketing. He became animated when he talked about her; poor guy was going to get some surprise.

Nadya arrived and was shown to the table. As expected, she was toned down, in a simple black calve-length dress. Tom stood up and kissed her before introducing first Jacinta, then me…

“… and this is our neighbour…”

“For tonight, Jesse.”

I stood up and shook her proffered hand. I looked straight into her eyes and smiled; her mouth smiled in return, her eyes did not. We sat down.

“Now you’re both here, time for an explanation. Nadya, I don’t know if Tom told you that I had a run in with some bad guys? (she nodded). Well, we think that that’s all over now, but I do this as a disguise when we’re letting our hair down, just in case.”

“Why you think it all over now?”

“It’s like this Nadya, the bad guys (I lowered my voice), the Kingstons, (back to normal tone) are too broke to pay for a hit and most of their heavies are locked up.”

“How you know they no money?”

I loved her accent and slightly imperfect English; in another world Jacinta and I could have had fun with her.

“Apparently a Balkan gang offered to do the job but wanted money up front. They couldn’t deliver.”

A complete lie, of course, but she wouldn’t know that.

“You very brave. You like dress as girl?”

“Except when guys try to pick me up; Jesse is strictly lesbian.”

She looked at Jacinta.

“And you no mind?”

Jacinta smiled:

“Oh, I can be lesbian as well.”

Tom was getting red. He was rescued by the waiter arriving with menus and the usual spiel about tonight’s specials. We listened and spent a few minutes perusing the menu before resuming our conversation. This time we stayed away from our sexual preferences and quizzed Nadya a bit about her anti-war activities. She was vague, explaining that it would be dangerous for her to say too much as some of her friends had not gotten out yet.

The waiter returned and we put in our orders, both Jacinta and I opting for fish, Tom for steak and Nadya for slow-cooked lamb shank. Tom ordered a bottle of red; we explained that, as we’d been drinking already in our friends’ house, we would just have a glass of white wine each. It would be too risky to abstain fully; Tom was aware of my partiality to a good bottle and we wanted everything to look as normal as possible.

Orders in, Nadya excused herself and went to the ladies. A female diner from one of the other tables followed her in. We chatted with Tom, mainly about his work as an on-site engineer for a housing construction company. Not great at small talk, he needed to be focussed on something that genuinely interested him in order to become animated. Nadya returned from the ladies’ room, sat down and casually asked Tom:

“You have phone signal?”

He looked at his phone, shook his head. We checked ours; no signal either.

The waiter returned with the wine: I asked him about the signal.

“Apparently a network problem Ma’am, the whole locality is down.”

Unfortunately, it had been necessary to block all ‘phones: To just block Nadya would have been too obvious. I turned to Jacinta:

“How will we get our taxi back?”

“The restaurant will have a landline.”

“Yeah, but if he’s in this area, he won’t have a mobile signal either.”

“Hopefully they’ll fix it before we finish.”

Our chatter had two purposes; to appear mildly concerned about the outage and to let Nadya know, if she hadn’t already realised it, that her accomplices were also incommunicado if they were in the area. Our meals arrived and conversation slowed for a minute as we savoured the food, then Tom, more at ease now with some wine taken, broke the silence.

“Still shooting, Jos, I mean Jesse?”

“Don’t worry about the name Tom, and yes, I still shoot a bit.”

“What you shoot?”

I hadn’t expected Nadya to display an obvious interest in firearms.

“Smith & Wesson Victory mostly, I’ve tried others and might change it later this year?”

“No, I mean you shoot animals?”

Either I had genuinely misunderstood her or she had reconsidered and decided not to display any knowledge of guns.

“No, not animals, targets only. I like animals alive.”

The conversation moved on and by the time our main courses were finished Jacinta and Nadya were talking about the best hairdressers and beauty salons in Fordtown. Then Nadya caught Tom’s arm.

“Sorry Tom, must go. Expecting call, need signal. You stay. See you later in apartment?”

Tom looked surprised, but nodded. She kissed him and left quickly. Behind her back, one of the female diners reached into her handbag, fiddled around for a minute, then put it back on the floor.

We stayed for another half an hour as the place slowly emptied then, deserts finished, I looked over at our sole remaining guardian table and noticed a brown leather handbag left on the table itself. It looked incongruous, a clutch bag maybe, not a big bag like that. Time to go. We paid, Tom insisted on sharing the cost, and stood up to leave. I checked my ‘phone; signal back, so I called our driver. As we were going to the same apartment block, naturally Tom was invited to share the ride. As we were walking to the door, the male diner got up from the guardian table and approached Tom.

“Tom, isn’t it?”

Tom, taken unawares, nodded. Jacinta interjected.

“Tom, we’ll get the taxi and hold it until you come out.”

Before Tom had time to demur, the man caught his arm.

“You’re the engineer on the South Bank project? I’m with the QS team…”

We disappeared out of earshot leaving Tom to be temporarily detained by the undercover policeman, stepped out the door, turned right and walked about ten paces. There were very few people in view. A car door opened, a man stepped out and faced us, raised a revolver and fired twice. Jacinta gave a very realistic scream as I fell to the ground, then she dropped down beside me and broke a sachet of fake blood against the front of my dress. Tom and the “QS” came running out; the “QS” pulled Tom back while his “wife” said “I’m a doctor” and knelt beside me.

“Call an ambulance, quick!”

Jacinta was very convincing. The “Doctor” responded:

“No time, we’ll use that taxi.”

It’s very hard to play almost dead when being lifted into the back of the taxi; there’s a tendency to try to help but I managed to pull it off. Jacinta, apparently with blood all over her hands, was in the front while the “Doctor” was in the back with me.

“You go home; I’ll see you there”,

she shouted to her “husband” as the taxi screeched off…

Of course, as witnesses, nobody could go home.

**********************************************************

“One person has died following what police believe to have been a gangland shooting in Fordtown last night. The victim was rushed to Fordtown General Hospital but was pronounced dead on arrival. Police have not released the victim’s name for operational reasons but relatives have been informed.”

The hospital part had been the most difficult to organise as I had to lie still while I was rushed in, seen by a doctor, pronounced dead, covered over and removed immediately to the state forensic lab. Only the doctor was officially in on the ruse but I suspected that the senior casualty nurse and maybe others had also been briefed by him.

Jacinta, as would be expected, was driven immediately to my parents’ house (after she had cleaned off the blood!), to tell them that I was OK, but they were not to tell anyone as an operation was ongoing. This would look like her calling to announce my demise in the unlikely event that the house was being watched. We met up in the safe house when she returned.

“How’d it go?”

“They’ll kill you for real when they see you again.”

“Yeah, it must be a shock for them to find out that the hunt was still going on.”

“That, but more importantly, you brought a real, serving, policewoman into their house.”

“But you never found the still.”

“They were curious though.”

“About what?”

“That we were sleeping together; was that more than just work. Of course I said “yes”.

I went to give her a hug; she pushed me back.

“Not with that bloody dress on!”

As the blood had dried, and I was thinking of going to bed to catch some sleep, I hadn’t changed.

“Any word from the Superintendent?”

“Nadya’s playing ball, or should I say Katerina. She doesn’t fancy doing ten years here for conspiracy, then being extradited to whoever looks for her next. Funny, when she does her time, she’ll have to go into witness protection.”

“And the hit squad?”

“Two. Staring at the wall, not a word.”

“Ex-military or intelligence so?”

“Probably, we don’t even know who they are yet. It doesn’t matter; Katerina is the contact with the Kingstons. She has already confessed to that, and will cooperate with getting them to meet her to handover the cash.”

“Cash? Not Crypto?”

“They said that they were best able to provide Euro. Probably because they can’t provide either; they’re lucky that we’ve got the Away Team locked up.”

“When? Are you in on that part of the operation?”

“Soon, a day or two, and no, I’m out other than babysitting you.”

It was now almost midday and we hadn’t slept in over thirty hours. We fell into bed, and were quickly asleep.

*****************************************************

The next two days were an anti-climax. Adrenaline is a potent drug and I’d definitely OD’ed over the past year, and especially the last three days. I woke on the first day at about 6pm after around 6 hours sleep; Jacinta was still asleep and I just wrapped myself around her and lay there until she was awake. Eventually we got up, dressed and wandered downstairs to look for some food. The housekeeper had finished for the day so one of the security team headed off to the local Indian takeaway. He returned with the food and some cans of beer; normally alcohol was not a feature of the establishment but he figured we needed a few. We stayed up and chatted with the guys on duty until about 12 midnight, went back to bed and slept again until morning. We woke early, feeling much better and much more attentive to each other before eventually joining the team for breakfast. They had already changed over and Annette was on the incoming team. As Jacinta and I were now openly together she gave us a coquettish little smile and asked how we’d slept.

Time was dragging. I didn’t have either my mobile or my iPad so I couldn’t do any work or even idle browsing. To have used either could have betrayed the fact that Katerina’s assertion that it was me who was dead was not exactly true. Not having the money, the Kingstons refused to pay, saying that they wanted to see me buried first. Me not being partial to this, the police decided to proceed on the evidence they had to hand, which was substantial.

*****************************************

“Police have arrested the Kingston Brothers, George and David, on serious charges including attempted murder. It is believed that they were involved in an attempted assassination of a witness last Thursday but that this assassination was foiled and an elaborate sting operation subsequently netted the two notorious crime lords. Police sources have refused to confirm or deny these reports saying only that they have arrested two men in their forties on serious charges and they are expected to appear in the Fordtown Criminal Courts later today.”

“Will we go?”

I wanted to look at these two scumbags who had caused me so much trouble for nearly a year. Jacinta shook her head.

“Too provocative; anyway, the press would have a field day. And Katrina would definitely recognise Jesse and maybe try to say something to us.”

“Let’s go home so.”

We got into Jacinta’s car and she drove back to my apartment. We were silent for a while, both conscious that this was the end of an era. Eventually, she remarked;

“I reckon they’ll be taking this car back soon. It’s too grand for a mere Detective Constable.”

“And I suppose they’ll be taking my Detective Constable away soon as well, given that I’m no longer the quarry in the Kingstons’ hunt.”

“’Suppose so; I’ll probably hear tomorrow.”

“Jacinta?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to stay?”

She turned the car off the main throughfare into a small housing estate and pulled over. She reached over and enveloped me in a hug.

“Yes.”

We held on to each other for a few minutes until a car beeped its horn; we were blocking the relatively narrow laneway. She extricated herself and drove away.

We eventually arrived at our apartment block and drove into the garage. Tom’s truck was parked in its usual space, right beside my own space. We took our bags and pressed the lift button. Eventually the doors opened and Tom walked out; he looked at me, blanched, rolled his eyes and I just dropped my bag in time to catch him before he fell.

“He’s fallen for me; I have that effect on men.”

“Shit; no one’s told him you’re still alive!”

We lowered him to the ground and he slowly came around. It was like when he’d first met Jesse, trying to speak, but words failing him.

“Sorry Tom, it was all a ruse. The Kingstons had to believe I was dead.”

“You knew about Nadya?”

I nodded.

“Her name’s Katerina. She’ll be appearing in court today with the Kingstons. She’ll get off light; turned state’s evidence.”

This would come out in court today anyway so no point in not telling him. He made to get up so we helped him to his feet.

“Some bitch; she really fooled me!”

“Come on, we’ll bring you back up to your apartment; you’re not safe to drive now for an hour or so.”

***************************************

I texted Janet:

Fox, 2; Hounds, 0. Hunt terminated on basis of abandonment of traditional outcome.

She texted back:

Can I call over this evening, catch up?

I showed this to Jacinta; she nodded. I texted back:

We’d love that; we’ll get dinner. See you then.

I thought it a diplomatic way to let her know that Jacinta was still there; she probably knew that anyway from a previous conversation.

I called home. My father was on the tractor; I could hear the loud ticking over of the engine when he answered.

“Are you OK? Was that piece in the news this morning about you?”

“I’m OK and yes, it was about me. Where are you?”

“I’m at the bottom end; one of the cows calved early and I’m bringing the calf back with me in the transport box. The mother is following on. Here, can’t you hear her?”

He knocked off the tractor and yes, the cow was mooing urgently and the calf was bleating back.

“You best get going; call me when you’re in the house.”

He called back in about half an hour; cows and calves cannot be rushed. I had just taken a large lasagne that I’d cooked the previous week from the freezer and was defrosting it in the microwave; not ideal but it would work. Jacinta was squashing some garlic to prepare some garlic bread. She had already opened a nice Italian red.

My mother was with him.

“Are you sure all this is over now? You thought that before when you came back.”

“Yes, I’m sure. They’ve caught the ringleaders so the whole gang will fall apart now. We’ll call down this coming weekend if that’s OK?”

“Of course it’s OK; any time.”

“I’ll need to catch up on some work for the next few days so I’ll leave it until then. We’ll be there around 12 mid-day.”

“You’re not going shooting first so?”

“No, we’ll come directly down. We’ll show you some of how I stayed hidden when I was away; wouldn’t be suitable for the range.”

“Grand so; we’ll see you then.”

I rang off; Jacinta looked at me:

“You’re not?”

I nodded.

“Best start to let them know now. It’s going to come out in court anyway.”

She leaned her head against me.

“Let’s hope it goes well. There’s the dogs, and the shotguns…”

“Just don’t let slip that you’re mainly lesbian, or they’ll think that you’re the cause!”

Janet arrived at the station just before 6:45pm. I had walked to meet her train, just 4 minutes away on foot. This was my first time walking anywhere unescorted since I’d arrived back from Lisbon; it felt strange and I instinctively kept my hand on my SIG buried in my coat pocket. I did remember to let go of it to receive the hug and kiss I received when she saw me at the station. She held on to my left arm as we strolled back to the apartment.

“You sure Jacinta’s OK with me calling around?”

“Of course; we’ve all got pasts and sometimes presents as well.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t mind me; Jacinta is not likely to get jealous of you if that’s what you mean. She may even be attracted to you.”

“Oh!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

We arrived at the apartment and Jacinta greeted Janet with a hug, so the evening started off on a positive note. Janet did notice me taking the SIG from my coat and slipping it into the holster attached to the underside of the table.

“Still not over?”

“Habit at this stage. I suppose we’ll wind down slowly. Anyway, Jacinta’s still in the business of catching crooks so she’ll stay armed. You still shooting the S&W?”

“Yeah, I mostly keep it at the range now.”

When I was holding onto Janet’s pistol for her, she had a key to my apartment. That arrangement would not work now and she didn’t expect it to be continued.

We enjoyed the meal and shared some of the facts around what I was beginning to call the Fordtown Hunt. Janet knew that I’d lived as Jesse when away; I had facetimed her occasionally. We told her that we knew that the hunt was still on when I’d returned.

“So that’s why you told me to stay away?”

“Yes; it would have been too dangerous.”

With the court case months away, we could not tell her much about my apparent death and the denouement of the operation but promised to give her chapter and verse once the case was over. The last train was at 11.10pm and this time we both walked her to the station; she kissed us both goodbye.

“She is nice”, Jacinta remarked as we strolled back. “You’ve a good eye for women.”

I gave her a slap on the backside.

“Definitely!”

**********************************

The rest of the week was hectic as I tried frantically to catch up with work and Jacinta prepared to revert to normal work with the Witness Protection team. Although not as convenient as her former home station, that work was generally routine and predictable with only occasional future travel to set up a refuge or visit a protectee to be anticipated. She had to give back her Audi and revert to a standard unmarked car. It mightn’t be for long; she was considering leaving the police and retraining in Cyber Security.

Saturday morning arrived and I was almost floated from the bed by the butterflies in my stomach. After our standard light breakfast we showered and I shaved my legs particularly carefully. My face was not too bad; a few more electrolysis sessions would see my beard gone completely, if painfully. Jacinta towel dried my hair and worked some Moroccan Curl through it to leave a cascade of curls falling over my shoulders. I carefully did my eyes, eyeliner, eye shadow, some concealer underneath the eyes to hide the dark circles which had not yet faded. Day cream, foundation, lip pencil and lipstick finished what was supposed to be an understated but sophisticated look. I wore my dangler earrings; they made me feel more feminine as I felt them move around. Time to get dressed. Jacinta fastened up my longline bra and tweaked my nipples before popping in two breast forms. I donned cotton gloves to pull up my heavy blue tights; I had put on my nails last night and wanted to protect them as much as the tights. I put on my brown, kitten-heeled ankle boots before standing up and slipping on a cream blouse, relatively plain except for a long, pointed collar and three-button cuffs. Finally I buttoned up a sleeveless denim dress, length between mid-thigh and the knee, made sure the blouse collar came out over its plain V-neck, put on my necklace, and looked in the mirror. It took a bit of work, but Jesse was looking well today.

Jacinta was in her farm uniform, long boots, tight jeans, a cream polo-neck and a suede waistcoat matching her boots. Our colour schemes were very close, almost a matching pair. We even both had over-the-shoulder bags, fortunately not too similar; we didn’t feel safe without our SIGs yet. We looked at each other; I took a deep breath:

“OK, time to go.”

We picked up our overnight bags and coats; Jacinta would drive as I hadn’t gotten around to buying a car yet. Out of habit, or caution, she did some anti-pursuit manoeuvres but we spotted nothing of concern and were pulling into the farmyard by 11:45. The dogs formed up to receive us; they didn’t know this car.

“Will I chance it? Will they remember me?”

Jacinta was rightly nervous.

“Open the door slightly and call them.”

She partially opened the door:

“Satan, Lucifier, Macki, good dogs, I hope.”

Like soldiers dropping their rifles from the challenge position, the three dogs relaxed and came to her door, tails wagging. She opened the door fully to give each a rub.

“Who’s Macki?”

“Machiavelli, but that was too long for calling him.”

I had climbed out to be greeted in turn by three slobbery jaws and tongues before the dogs turned to do what dogs generally do, sniff the car, pee on the wheels, come back for another rub, the usual dog stuff. My parents appeared at the door; they must have been looking out the window and wondering where I was. Leaving our stuff in the car, except for our shoulder- bags, we both walked towards the house. Jacinta spoke first:

“Hi, we’re just spending some time with the reception committee.”

My turn.

“Hi Ma, Hi Da.”

They both looked very confused.

“Remember, I did say that I’d show you how I managed to hide away….”

“Jesus Jos, is that you?”

My father sounded incredulous.

“Yep, me, though I don’t use the Jesus part normally.”

“Come in, come in, quick.”

My mother couldn’t get me into the house fast enough.

“It’s OK, the dogs recognised me immediately. They’re not bothered.”

My mother disappeared into the house, my father stepped aside to let us in. Out of habit I stepped back to let Jacinta in before me.

“Don’t do that, it blows your cover…. a man thing.”

I went in first and she followed.

My mother was very obviously busying herself in the kitchen; Jacinta sat down to chat with my father and I went to help my mother. She was cooking beef sirloin with roast potatoes and vegetables. The meat was resting so I poured some juices from the roasting tray into a separator jug and put it standing on an ice block while I measured out some Bisto and opened a bottle of red wine, a nice Spanish Rioja. I noticed that Jacinta and my father were pouring cans of draught Guinness into pint glasses; she wasn’t normally a Guiness drinker, but had figured that this was the only beer in the house.

“Hi, Jacinta, can you pour one for me and a sweet sherry?”

My mother didn’t object so I thought she was persuadable. I poured out four glasses of wine, from a height to aerate it as the bottle was being opened late, and kept some for the gravy. The fat was now separating from the meat juices so I could pour off the juices, mix the Bisto, add the wine and start to slowly heat the mix to make the gravy. Eventually my mother spoke:

“Did you really dress like that when you were away?”

“Yes, I lived as a girl for the whole time. And it was an important part of how we trapped the Kingstons.”

“I don’t know how you ever got involved with that lot: There’s been nothing but trouble since.”

“Well, if I’d known what would happen, I’d probably never have tripped the gunman when he shot that witness. I didn’t even know that someone had been shot.”

“Well, now that we’ve seen you, are you going to change before dinner?”

“Well, other than this dress, I’ve only my work clothes for feeding the cattle tomorrow.”

I was mimicking her speech pattern, not out of malice; I was trying to establish some rapport. We had a strict rule that work clothes could not be worn into the kitchen: Farming is a healthy life, but bugs and bacteria abound in the farm environment.

“Huh, stir a bit faster; that gravy will go lumpy.”

Progress; she was talking about something else. Jacinta brought the sherry into the cooking area; my mother took it from her and took a sip. Another good sign; she would not have accepted the sherry if she wasn’t mellowing.

Everything was ready and she started to carve the meat and put it on a well-warmed platter. I poured hot gravy over this and put it on the table. While I was pouring the rest of the gravy into a sauce boat my mother had the roast potatoes and vegetables tipped into a warm bowl and on the table. I took the four plates from the oven and we were ready to go. It was a meal we could serve up in seconds in our sleep.

We all sat at the table and tucked in; saying grace was not in out tradition, even though my parents were churchgoing folk. My father was already relaxed; he liked Jacinta and she knew how to manage him. My mother was thawing, though dinner did have its moments.

“And Jacinta, what did you think when you met him all dressed up?”

This wasn’t the time to stand on ceremony about pronouns!

“It was good to have a girlfriend to wander around town with. Jesse and I had a great time.”

“Jesse?”

“I couldn’t use Jos now, could I?”

My mother hadn’t expected that answer and Jacinta had very skilfully introduced my girl-name.

My father hadn’t spoken for a few minutes and I looked over at him. He was looking at me, not staring, almost in a daze.

“Hi Da, you OK?”

He shook his head, waking from his reverie.

“Sorry; I was just thinking that you look like your mother when we met. Over thirty years ago now, you know.”

My mother looked at me, at him, reached over and took his hand:

“She does, you know.”