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PERSPECTIVE
The journals of Cap’ain Harry Ruffle
Copyright to Rowan Visser

‘Be not curious in unnecessary matters: for more things are shewed unto thee than men
understand’ Ecclesiasticus 3:23
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Chapter 1

Captain Harry Ruffle and his troupe of six men were making their way up the

mountain, avoiding tourist buses and other traffic as much as possible whilst hoping to reach

the summit just before dusk. Complete with flip-flops, backpacks and cargo trousers they

looked like eco-freaks, low on cash but strong on desire to see the sites.

‘Cap’ain,’ it was private Lockey, a gangly youth and a wizard with a compressor. He

could fix it blind and run it on sugar fumes if needed, Harry was sure of it.

‘Yes, Private?’

‘Sir,’ Lockey nervously looked up the mountain side, ‘I don’t think this is a good idea,

sir.’

Harry was surprised. It wasn’t often that the engineers corpse were invited on recon

missions. ‘May I ask why that is, Private?’

‘Well, sir,’ Lockey nervously shuffled his feet and licked his lips, ‘it is just that I can’t

feel my hands, sir.’ Slowly the soldier pulled his arms out of his trouser pockets and showed

Harry the stumps were his hands should have been.

‘Right’, Harry opened his eyes. Above him the ceiling reminded him of that Peruvian

sky, light blue and clear as a whistle, but he knew it was nothing like he remembered it in his

dreams. Not any more. A little hole in a big rock made sure of that.

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He swung his legs off the steel frame bed and walked over to the mirror above the

sink on the far side of the room. ‘Not too bad’, he thought as he glanced at himself and

opened the tap. He didn’t wait for the water to run warm, just cupped handfuls onto his hair

before grabbing a towel off the railing.

‘Come on, Cap’ain,’ he slapped his cheeks playfully, ‘you know you want it… it’s

big, it’s peachy and it’s got your name on it, old fella.’ He walked over to the set of drawers at

the foot of his bed and chose a pair of chino’s and a checked shirt. Nothing with brand names

or slogans, nothing fancy, nothing distracting. ‘It is a psychological minefield out there.’ and

he’d know all about it. Park Moore was a bitch of a place to be spending your summer

holidays, especially when some people don’t take ‘I can’t remember,’ for an answer - several

broken ribs, second degree wire burns on the soles of his feet and three missing toe nails

agreed with him. Park Moore was no Ibiza. It was a brand new kind of hell for a brand new

kind of devil.

He made sure his socks matched each other and his trousers. Then, lastly, as an after

thought, decided that today was the day for underwear. ‘Gotta make an impression. Cap‘ain.

This is serious stuff.’ He smiled nervously and put them on. Seven months of mental

confinement was about to come to an end. Even Chuck Norris would be nervous.

Once everything was on in the right order he walked back to the mirror and checked

himself over. ’All buttons present and correct, Cap’ain. Belt buckle centre and straight. Don’t

forget your watch, sir.’ His wrist watch was on top of the dresser and he got it down. It was

nearly ten past twelve. ‘They’re late,’ he thought and fastened the catch, taking another look

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at himself in the mirror. ‘Should be in the car park right about now, Cap’ain.’ he said to his

reflection and smiled broadly.

‘In that case I think I’ll take a book and sit over by window, don’t want to seem

anxious, do we?’ He glanced over at the door suspiciously before grabbing a book off the

shelf. A moment later there was a knock on the door.

‘Harry?’ the nurse said through the door.

‘It’s open,’ he sang cheerfully, book in hand.

‘We have visitors for you,’ the nurse said as she stuck her head through the door.

‘For me?’ Harry said, surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said and rolled her eyes. He could almost hear her think ‘bloody looney,’

and he did not blame her. People employed in occupations requiring the constant breaking

and humiliation of innocent individuals, like slave owners, torture camp staff, engineers of

apartheid and franchise owners of fast-food burger joints, invariably thought of their

victims/patients/staff as lesser beings. It wasn’t that they were all a bunch of closet Nazis, not

all of them. For some it was a self-defence mechanism which tried to protect them from the

reality of their crimes… rose tinted glasses, if you will.

The nurse glared at him, ‘You are Harry Ruffle, aren‘t you?’

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He nodded and suppressed a smile.

‘Outside the nurses’s office.’ She didn’t close the door as she left.

‘This is it, Cap’ain,’ Harry said and thumbed his wedding ring. Part of him wanted to

stay in Park Moore where he could curl up under the blankets and convince himself that his

wife loved him and that her screwing what’s-his-name was all in his head, but the other part

of him, the part that had perspective, did not give a left testicle about any of that and wanted

him to stop being such a pussy. Walk the walk, goddamnit. One step at a time.

‘Time to meet the whore, Cap’ain.’ Harry Perspective said and got up off the bed.

‘Don’t talk about her like that, Harry. She’s only human.’ the old Harry protested. The

wedding ring starting to bother both Harry’s now.

‘Whores invariably are, Cap‘ain. Never met one who wasn‘t.’ Harry Perspective

smirked and walked through the door. ‘Come on, Cap’ain. What are ya’ scared of? There ain’t

no surprises, we’ve been through this.’

He was on the main corridor and could see the two women silhouetted against the

window outside the nurses’s office. ‘Calm down Cap’ain, everything is going to be fine -

you’re going home.’ he whispered.

‘Hello, Harry,’ one of the silhouettes spoke, using Esther’s voice - a good rendition he

thought, except that it used to be filled with love, not loathing. He smiled regardless. After

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all, it wasn’t his fault she felt that way. Maybe if her conscience was clear she’d feel a lot

better.

‘Hello, Esther. How are you?’ he smiled.

‘I am fine, Harry.’ she looked at the woman next to her. Relay time.

‘Harry,’ Esther’s younger sister said, ‘do you know why we are here?’

‘To pay me a visit, I’d imagine, Leanne.’ He lied. ‘It is visiting hour, isn’t it?’

‘We are here to take you home, Harry. We had a phone call yesterday telling us to

come and get you.’ Leanne had been practicing this line, he could tell. She should have given

it a bit more effort, he thought. She was insulting his intelligence, or maybe she really

believed that he had lost the plot. Whichever, he did not care.

‘And here you are...’ he smiled at their unflinching faces. He knew better than to

expect a warm welcome, just like he knew Esther had been unfaithful and that the MOD boys

were planning on sending him back to Gomachu. He knew all of this and more, but it did not

faze him, not one bit. He had perspective, baby - bags full.

‘I believe you need to pack?’ Leanne’s voice remained calm, with an Herculean effort,

Harry was sure of it.

‘Well, yes. A bit unexpected all of this.’ he smiled and lied again, ‘If you just take a

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seat, I shouldn’t be ten minutes.’ Leanne raised an eyebrow and looked at Esther who nodded.

‘We’ll wait,’ Leanne said and as one the two women sat down.

‘Splendid,’ he said and turned to his room.

Nine minutes and forty five seconds later he came down the corridor, suitcase by his

side. ‘Ready ladies?’

…..

Esther stared out the passenger window, watching the trees fly past while Leanne

drove, Harry in the back seat. She wished they could drop him off in the woods, just get rid of

him somehow. It was horrible having him sat behind her, staring into the back of head.

Creepy. Steve said that he’d always known there was something peculiar him. She wished

she’d seen it earlier. Even before he went to Peru she sometimes felt like he was being

distant, being different to her. He was always caring and loving, but sometimes he seemed

distracted. He’d get caught up in building extensions to their house, or painting bedrooms,

always busy, always too busy… Steve said that those were the first real signs - finding

reasons to avoid lazing about, as if the mind did not want time to acknowledge that there was

something wrong. She felt so stupid. If she’d paid more attention she wouldn’t have to put up

with having a nut hanging around her house, prone to go off at any moment and embarrass

her. Steve would definitely not put up with him being there for long.

On the corner, on Hamilton Hill, where young couples, perhaps old ones too, went to

‘look-out’ over Hartley, a grey Ford Falcon stood facing the village. Esther sat up, craning her

neck as she followed it with her eyes, then she looked up at the rear-view mirror, to find

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Harry smiling at the trees - he hadn’t noticed the Ford Falcon. Crazier than he seems, she

thought. Harry drove that exact same model and colour when she first met him. He had

bought it second hand from a friend of his at the time. She could still remember the smell of

the leather seats and how handsome he looked when she saw him behind the wheel for the

first time. Hard to imagine, but it was true. It was broad, powerful, with chiselled features and

had a seductive interior - suited him. Back then she had a job working at Corner Coffee

during her college holidays. The pay wasn’t great, but the social was good and as long as her

parents were happy with her having a summer job and were letting her spend her money as

she saw fit, she didn’t mind it at all. One day he pulled up in his smart grey car, leaning out

the window.

‘Excuse me, miss,’ he had the most devilish smile, ‘you wouldn’t possibly by needing

a lift, would you?’

It was the middle of her shift, but she put her order pad down and jumped in the car

next to him. Within an hour they were on the coast, pushing their toes through the sand. It

was a whirl wind and it was crazy, but it was so, so exhilarating. Afterwards he dropped her

home safely and made her promise to see him again. Her mother was furious - Corner Coffee

had phoned her up and told her about her daughter absconding - but it was the start of the best

years of her life.

He changed colleges so they could spend their lunches with each other and stayed

behind a year so they could graduate together. Time went by and they got engaged, bought a

house. It was nice, two bedrooms. His father had helped with the deposit and they both

worked hard to pay the mortgage. She‘d found a job as a secretary and he started at a drilling

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company as a labourer, fitting industrial drill bits on heavy mine machinery. The pay wasn’t

great and the social was worse, but he stuck it out until the industry took a dive in the early

nineties. After that he joined the forces, royal engineers. The pay was rubbish, but he

absolutely loved it, plus he looked amazing in his uniform. All her friends were jealous.

They got married in 1998, just after he became a captain in his regiment and life

etched on, sometimes they were in love, sometimes they fought, but mostly they could not

leave each other alone. At night they’d keep each other up talking about their hopes and their

love, how amazing life was in their little nest, so warm and cosy. It was a dream.

Occasionally he’d go away on tours of duty and she hated it. It was lonely and scary,

not knowing if he was safe, not knowing if he’d come back they way he left, but she coped.

The other wives were lovely and they had many tea and cake parties, for no reason, just

because they could. Soon Esther had settled into the life of a career soldier’s wife and

sometimes she was even grateful for it. It wasn’t amazing, but it was good.

One day, after he’d been back for about three months, he came home with a letter and

big smile on his face. ‘Peru baby! Non-combat and top-secret!’ was all he’d say about it, but

she could see how excited he was. She was convinced the boys were partying it up in South

America, until a month later when he came home - in a straight jacket.

Thank God Steve was there to help her pick up the pieces…

‘You okay?’ Leanne looked at her out of the corner of her eye and then checked her

rear-view mirror. Harry was smiling like a fool.

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‘Yes, yes,’ Esther replied, ‘Just lost in my own little world here.’

‘Seems you’re not the only one…’ Leanne said, looking in the rear-view mirror again.

Esther rolled her eyes and opened the cubbyhold in front of her where her sister kept

hard toffees, just like their dad used to. ‘Feel like loosing a filling?’ she smiled and held the

packet out to Leanne. Soon they were both chewing like cows in the front of the Micra while

behind them Harry stared out the window, a stupid smile plastered all over his face. They

didn’t offer him a toffee, but he didn’t mind - he didn’t even notice. He was experiencing an

altogether different thrill, one that made his hair stand up.

Harry Perspective was riding the waves of revolutionary thinking, goddamnit. Wooh,

woo! ‘You and me, Cap’ain’ he smiled through gritted teeth at Harry as he dragged him

along, kicking and screaming. There was no denying it, sometimes the old boy really

weighed him down, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It made him feel useful, like a

goddamn life saver in red swimming shorts dragging Cap’ain Harry Ruffle’s dead weight to

shore against the current. The beach was littered with pink bodies, one of them wearing the

face of Esther Ruffle. Harry Perspective gave her the one finger salute and carried on

dragging his man to shallow water. Whore.

‘Cap’ain, this is for the best - trust me.’ Harry just stared at him with misty eyes,

clearly not a natural at this sort of thing. ‘Look around, Cap’ain,’ he waved his arm at the

skies over and above them. Millions upon millions of white streaks filled their vision as stars

came down like Noah’s rain, except it headed straight for them. ‘What the…’ Harry flinched.

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‘Calm yourself. This is one storm you don’t want to miss, no siree. When this baby hits,

you’ll probably crap yourself, but it will be the best crap you’ve ever had, Cap’ain - better

than sex… when it used to be good, remember?’

A moment later it hit them, like a boom - a super duper boom which died down after a

moment to a constant popping noise. Harry did not crap himself, although it was a close

thing, but Harry Perspective was right; it was a hell of lot better than sex, any kind of sex,

you name it - dirty, loving, sneaky. This was better. ‘Wow’ Harry mimed. ‘You’re goddamn

right Cap’ain. Wow, fuckity wow! How do you like that for cheese? Whooohooo!’

The moment of impact felt like his head popped open. As if all the knowledge in the

world was in that meteor storm and with each pop the world around them became clearer, like

the biggest goddamn puzzle in the universe constructing itself inside his skull. ‘Incredible,’

Harry whispered, his head bobbing against the window, following the trees as the whooshed

by silently. He suddenly felt tired and he closed his eyes.

When he woke the car was parked in front of the house where him and Esther used to

live. He was alone and it was dark outside. He lifted his head off the window and absent

mindedly wiped at the grease mark his head had left while peeping around the drivers seat at

the ignition. The key wasn’t there. ‘Done this before, Cap’ain?’. He shook his head. ‘Wanna

learn?’. Harry thought about it for a second and then nodded slowly. He climbed between the

seats into the front and looked under the steering column. The plastic panelling came away

easy enough to confront him with a mess of wires. ‘Think, Cap’ain, goddamnit. Think what

you’re actually looking to do here and it will come to you.’ Harry thought and it wasn’t long

before he felt a little light flick on in his head. He smiled as he put his palm flat across the

wires. The car started and he slid it into reverse. ‘Wow,’ he whispered and looked at his hand

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while Harry Perspective whistled in the back round. ‘Goddamn, you’re a natural.’ He

sounded pleased and Harry felt proud, as proud as someone who had just started a car with

the power of his mind. ‘Now, let’s get out of this one horse town, Cap’ain.’

It would be several hours before Esther or Leanne would go outside to see if Harry

was okay. Both Harries knew this, for one it meant they had more than enough time to

disappear, for the other it meant his marriage was over. His mind flicked over images of him

and Esther on the beach, them making love, them getting married and finally in bright hues of

red and black her getting her goof off with a guy called Steve. The same Steve she was going

to phone as soon as they realise he’d taken her sister’s car, the same Steve who was going to

come over to see how he could make her feel better and the same Steve who would end the

nights activities by sticking it in her on the bed Harry had bought. Steve, the friend. What a

guy.

‘Sounds like a cock to me, Cap’ain,’ Harry Perspective chirped in, ‘but don’t feel bad,

better to find out this way. Heard about this guy who was married for fourteen years, had

three kids, except they weren’t his. His goddamn wife had been cheating on him all along and

all the kids were another man’s. In comparison, you just got yourself a ‘get out of jail free’

card, Cap’ain.’

‘Yeah…’ Harry sighed and turned the Micra onto the M1. They were hours away from

being discovered missing, but his mind had already turned to finding a new set of wheels.

Leanne was never going to be happy about loosing her car, especially not to him. Chances are

the two of them would seize the opportunity to call the police and have mad Harry sent

straight back to the infirmary - it is never normal to go stealing your sister in-law’s car,

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especially if the two of you don’t get on. That’s just plain crazy, right? Lucky for Harry he

knew a man with a place to put a car you don’t want anymore.

‘We gonna visit Davey, Cap’ain?’

‘You been reading my mind?’ Harry smiled.

‘It‘s all I ever do, Cap‘ain. All I ever do.’ Harry Perspective felt chuffed, like a dad

watching his son play football. Davey and Harry went way back, in fact they were friends

before they could talk, which probably explained why they didn’t talk much, but that didn’t

matter. Davey was Harry’s best man and would have been godfather to his first child, which

was never going to happen now. Nope, the most important thing about Davey at the moment,

at least to Harry Perspective, was that Davey was the sole owner of Davey’s Scrapyard and,

goddamnit, the proprietor of Davey’s Firearms. Davey was King Davey at this particular

moment in time. The only thing King Davey could not do for them was arrange their new

identity, not the way they needed it arranging. He wasn’t too concerned about that though,

because of the thousand ways to kill that particular cat, he knew the best. Not quite as simple

as calling on an old friend, but good none the less and the way things seemed to be going

he’d be doing everyone a massive favour.

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Black Diamonds

Ted stood in front of the door shifting his weight from foot to foot, a habit he picked

up from writing too many exams. A subliminal string ran between images of doors and that

box in Ted’s mind, the one with great big letters painted on it - S T R E S S. He rubbed his

hands together and tried to concentrate on the job at hand; Palmer. He could smell Palmer, his

yellow-brown cigarette smell creeping through the crack under the door and up the wall on

the other side until it reached Ted’s nose. Fuck the smoking ban, this was Palmer. Not

Sergeant Palmer or Colonel Palmer, just a nondescript Mr. Palmer who had walked straight

out of the nineteen fifties, with his chauvinism, bigotry and general disregard for sanctions or

‘the way things are done’ to come and take up office with the Ministry of Defence just

because he could. Years of being handed the dirty and the impossible had taught him how to

survive. Now, like some sort of madly evolved experiment gone wrong, the MOD was stuck

with him because no-one else could do his job. No-one else had his cockroach like ability to

survive the worst of worst damnations as if he had been born to do it. He had even developed

a certain flare which came from natural aptitude and enjoyment. See, Palmer was the kind of

guy to whom the end always justified the means, especially when the means gave him his

thrills, like a chef making omelettes all day long because he freak’in loved break’in ’em eggs.

And no matter how dirty it got, no matter how many villages got bombed by his bombs or

how many soldiers died in a rain of friendly fire, his friendly fire, shit just did not stick to

him. What ever happened, like asking ‘who farted?’ in a lift full of pathological liars, the only

thing you could be sure of was that the hapless non-person taking the fall for the smell had

sweet F.A. to do with it all and it definitely was not Palmer.

Ted knew that Palmer saw him as a hapless non-person. He could feel it every time he

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walked past that door, as if it was a great scale weighing him - ‘You have been weighed and

found to be a yellow belly, Theodore Barker. Now fuck off before I turn you into grade A

scapegoat meat.’ it seemed to say. Ted wiped his hands on his trousers, leaving wet patches

where his palms had run across his pockets. He briefly thought how Elma would have told

him off if she had seen him doing that, but he quickly put the thought aside. He didn’t want

any of his family near that door or the person sitting behind it, even if it was just in his

thoughts. He steadied a shaking knuckle against the door before striking it twice, harder than

he had intended.

‘Come in,’ Palmer shouted and then coughed violently.

Ted opened the door and stepped into the smoke filled office. It was like a cave

compared to the corridor, the only light a dim reading lamp on the desk casting light on

Palmer’s nicotine stained fingers.

‘I understand your brainiacs have made some developments.’ A hand under the lamp

indicated for Ted to sit. His heart sank. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down. He

wanted to be as far away from that office as he could possibly be.

‘We have, sir.’ Ted sat down.

‘Well…’

Ted cleared his throat and took a deep breath. ‘Well, we searched the clothes Captain

Ruffle took with him,’ Ted said, ‘and we found something in the seam of his cargo trousers…

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We found something that resembles a diamond chip, only a lot smaller than any I’ve ever

come across. Even industrial diamond dust particles are humongous compared to this

fragment.’ Ted felt the palms of his hands getting sweaty again.

‘So, you found a bit of diamond.’ Palmer surmised, ‘Goddamnit, that’s wonderful

news technician. If you were a prospector you’d be havin’ a party right abouts now, I’d put

money on it.’ Ted felt a smile coming, but cut it short just in time. ‘But, technician, you are

not a prospector and Gomachu’s not made of diamond. So why, the fuck, are you telling me

about a bit of diamond?!’

Ted looked at the fingers on the table in front of him and wished he‘d stayed on the

other side of the door, but he swallowed and braved on. ‘Sir, we didn’t find a bit of diamond,

we found something that resembles diamonds in some respects, but is completely the

opposite in others. We’ve called it a diamond because of it’s frequency. It’s huh… it’s so

high, actually higher than that of diamonds, but we haven’t got a clue what it is. We can’t see

what it is made off.’ Ted fought the urge to wipe his hands on his trousers.

‘Why is that then, technician?’ Palmer asked.

‘Because it swallows, sir.’

‘It swallows…?’

‘Our beams. It swallows our beams, sir.’ Ted quickly explained.

‘I see.’ Palmer said, ‘it swallows your beams…’

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‘To establish what elements it consists of we fire…’ Ted said, before Palmer

interrupted him.

‘I know about electron beams, technician. Thank you.’

‘We don’t understand it, sir. Its like an inside out diamond. Where diamonds reflect

near perfectly, this… thing absorbs perfectly. Our beams just don’t come out the other side.’

‘Anything else you can try?’

‘No, sir. I can do nothing more than confirm that an anomaly has been found on

Captain Ruffle’s clothing, possibly from the site, and just log it’s qualities. It’s not a patch on

the proof we have in the sky above the site, but it’s something, I suppose. Until we find a way

to do further tests there is no way of telling what this black diamond actually is.’ Ted said and

wiped his hands on his trousers.

‘So, that’s that then, technician.’ Palmer paused for a second as if he was waiting for

Ted to say something, but when he didn’t he added. ‘Thank you for coming.’ and pointed to

the door with one finger raised off the table.

‘No problem, sir.’ Ted said and turned to leave the room.

‘Technician,’ Palmer said as he reached the door.

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‘Yes, sir?’

‘If you are hiding anything from me…’

‘Sir, I wouldn’t…’

‘Don’t interrupt me! I am not asking if you would hide anything from me. I am saying

that if it transpires that you are… don’t worry about loosing your job.’ Ted couldn’t see

Palmer’s face, but he knew what he meant - he got the message loud and clear.

‘Sir.’ Ted said and left the room. He walked as quickly as he could down the admin

corridors and made his way to the lifts where he punched the ‘up’ button repeatedly. ‘Come

on… Come on!’ he huffed. His thumb left a big sweaty stripe on the elevator button and he

wiped his hand on his trousers again. When the elevator arrived it was empty. ‘Brilliant.’ Ted

whispered and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor. It felt like a lifetime, but twenty

seconds later the doors opened and he sped down the bright corridors of Military Research. A

couple of right turns and a left brought him to the office of Professor Theodore Barker, his

office, where he stopped. ‘Breathe Ted, breathe.’ he reached for the door. Inside everything

was exactly as he had left it, drawers locked, lights switched on, computer off and unplugged.

His daughter Maggie looked up from the picture frame next to his computer screen, her smile

crooked and eyes laughing - daddy’s little girl, even at the age of twenty four. ‘Has anyone

been in here, Maggie?‘ he asked and ran his fingers under the edging of his desk. Nothing. He

removed the drawers, emptied them onto the floor and searched them inside and out for

wires, but they were also clear. ‘It must be somewhere.’ He grabbed a set of mini

screwdrivers from where they lay strewn on the floor and set upon his computer. Five

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minutes later Ted sat back on his haunches and shook his head. Next was the plug sockets,

then the ventilation grill, even the telephone, which was the last place he thought to look

because it was just so bloody obvious, but he couldn’t find any tap wires anywhere and after

an anxious moment he set about putting the room back together. ‘This job, hey?’ he winked at

Maggie’s photo as he put the drawers back into his desk. ‘All smoke and mirrors, never sure

of who you can trust… it’s so bloody tiring.’ It wasn’t like his old job, teaching particle

physics to university students.

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