The
silver grey alouette helicopter approached the village from across the estuary,
it circled twice causing a downward daft with its rotor blades before flying
out over the estuary once more then to turn and land on the lawn by the sea
wall. A white Mini-Moke was parked waiting, as the rotors of the helicopter
slowed the driver got out of the taxi and stood by the vehicle. Eventually the
cabin door opened and a tall acid faced woman, her auburn hair was swept back
and made her look all the more severe, stepped out onto the float and then down
onto the grass, the taxi driver stepped forward.
“I am your driver; I’m to take you to the
Green Dome.”
The helicopter pilot placed a single
suitcase onto the float, the taxi driver collected it and escorted the woman to
the taxi.
“This is the village” the woman said.
“Yes ma’am” the drive replied placing the
suitcase in the back of the Mini-Moke. The woman stood looking about her for a few
moments, taking in her new surroundings “And that she asked?”
“That’s the Old People’s home.”
“I see we had better be on our way” the
woman said climbing into the front passenger seat.
The driver climbed in behind the wheel,
started the engine and drove the taxi up towards the Old People’s Home, round
the hairpin bend and up the hill into the village.
“It would appear the old folk are well
looked after here” the acid faced woman said.
“They are ma’am we have an excellent
welfare service.”
“And that building what is it?”
“That’s the Town Hall” the driver said as
the taxi drove passed.
“The Town Hall, a town council presumably.”
“Yes ma’am, we’re democratic here….in some
ways.”
“Really, that’s rather like putting the
inmates in charge of the asylum, wouldn’t you say?”
“I wouldn’t know ma’am.”
The taxi carried on its way, turning right,
passed the café and following the road towards the imposing building of the
Green Dome. The driver sounding the two-tone horn to warn pedestrians and
cyclists alike of their approach, warning to clear the way. The taxi came to a
stop at the foot of the steps leading up to the Green Dome.
“We have arrived” the taxi driver said.
The woman stepped out “What about my bag?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to carry it
yourself ma’am. I have to drive your predecessor to the helicopter.”
The woman took her bag and climbed the
steps. Standing on the balcony she stood looking out, taking in the local
surroundings before turning her attention to the pair of arches and the door
under those arches. There was a wrought iron bell pull, she pulled it and from
somewhere a deep sounding bell tolled and the front door opened. A diminutive
butler in black tails and gloves greeted her. He bowed and taking her suitcase
led her through the double French doors up a short ramp to a pair of steel
doors which opened leading through into a large purple walled domed chamber.
“Ah good you’ve arrived at last” said the
bearded man sitting in a black globe chair. He got out of the chair and walked
out from behind the grey curved desk.
“And you are?” the woman asked.
“An ex-interim Number 2, your predecessor,
you are the new interim Number 2 my successor, and this is what I liked to
think of as my inner sanctum. It is now your inner sanctum.”
He picked up the two suitcases which stood
next to the desk and made to leave.
“Wait” she said “aren’t you going to
instruct me on my duties?”
“What show you the ropes you mean, oh no
there’s no time for that, the helicopter leaves in a few minutes. If you want
to know anything just pick up an intercom. There’s nothing to it really, just
don’t become too involved there’s nothing much for you to do, after all you’re
simply an interim Number 2 while my permanent replacement arrives. Be seeing
you, well I won’t really, but good luck. Only just don’t get embroiled with
Number 6”
It was as though the ex-No.2 couldn’t get
away fast enough, he hurried up the ramp, through the opening steel doors,
through the foyer where the butler bowed bidding him farewell then outside and
away in the Mini-Moke to take him to the waiting helicopter. The helicopter
lifted off the ground and flew out across the estuary, it was but a quick flip
to the landing stage where the ex-No.2 was transferred to a boat.
It took the interim No.2 a couple of days
to find her feet, relying heavily as she did upon her assistant No.22, a tall
middle aged man, with light blue eyes and brown hair. He sported a light grey
jacket with dark blue piping. He arrived this morning in No.2’s office to find
her reading through a small number of files.
“Good morning Number 2."
“What can you tell me about this man?” No.2
asked holding up a black and white photograph.
“That’s Number 6 ma’am, what is your
interest in him?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“He’s a trouble maker, your predecessors
did not fair too well against him.”
“Is that all you can tell me?”
“He refuses to settle down, he has tried
numerous times to escape, and when he’s not organizing escape plans he’s
putting his nose into business which does not concern him. He refuses to give
any information away. Only on rare occasions has he responded to his number,
which he has always refused to wear, except on the one occasion when it suited
him to do so.”
“I want to see this Number 6.”
“You can ma’am at any time” No.22 told his
superior “may I?”
The large wall screen was switched on at
the touch of a button displaying No.6 in his cottage, he was pacing up and down
in his study, a half eaten ham sandwich in one hand and a cup of coffee in the
other.
“Tell me, does he do that a lot?”
“Frequently."
“I want to talk to him.”
“That is easily arranged, simply pick up an
intercom and have a call put through to his cottage ‘6 Private.’
“I mean face to face, bring him to my
office.”
“I don’t think that would be terribly wise,
after all you’re……….well there’s no need."
“Interim……I still want to talk to Number 6”
No.2 said sternly.
“Yes Number 2, I’ll have him brought to you
at once.”
No.22 marched smartly across the floor, up
the ramp and out through the opening steel doors. It was but a short walk down
the steps, across the street, across the square to ‘6 Private.’ He was
accompanied by two burly set men in striped jerseys, guardians. Approaching the
door to the cottage it opened automatically and the three men went inside.
No.6, a man of medium height with dark hair
was lying on a recliner listening to music “What do you want?”
“You Number 6, you are to come with us”
No.22 ordered.
“What if I don’t want to, after all here I
am nice and comfortable listening to a little Purcell, you come barging your
way into my cottage demanding I go with you. Where are we supposed to be going
anyway?”
“Number 2 wants to see you.”
“What if I don’t want to see him?”
“Her.”
“Her, oh I see there’s been a change in
command, well it won’t be the first time, shouldn’t be surprised it’s not the
last” Number 6 stood up, stopped the record playing and put on his blazer
“right, shall we go gentlemen?”
“Where?”
“To the Green Dome, I hear there’s a new
Number 2 in office, I think it’s time I made her acquaintance” No.6 said
joyfully and led the way out of his cottage, across the square, across the
street, up the steps to the Green Dome.
The pair of steels doors opened No.6 walked
in to No.2’s purple walled office followed by No.22, the steel doors closed
behind them>
A woman sat in the black globe chair, she
had an open file on her lap and was drinking tea.
“You must be the new Number 2, I’m………”
“Number 6” the woman said “I know all about
you.”
“What from my file?”
“You can go 22, I won’t be needing you.”
“If you’re sure Number 2, I mean you’ll be
alright on your own with him?”
“Why is he dangerous? Would you like some
tea?”
No.22 could tell when he wasn’t wanted, and
made to leave the office while No.2 poured out a cup of tea for her visitor.
The steel doors closed.
“Milk and sugar?”
“Two lumps” he said.
She offered the cup and he drew close to
her “You, of all people, what are you doing here?”
“If I told you there would be a submarine
off the mouth of the estuary in two days time at
“Yes.”
“We’ll talk later, here you never know who
might be listening” she told him “enjoy your tea, and while you’re about it
tell me why you resigned.”
“Are you trying to earn Brownie points, if
you are, you’re talking to the wrong man, and I’ll tell you nothing!”
Of course someone had been listening, and
watching as it happened, No.1 wasn’t at all impressed. “Where do they find
them” might have been one question on his mind, another what to do…..what to
do?
It was after curfew that No.2 finally got
to be in a somewhat elaborately decorated room in the Town Hall. Something was
on her mind, it having been easy to get into the village; it would prove rather
more difficult even for a No.2 to get out. Perhaps together she and No.6 might
just make it by stealing one of the jet boats at night under the cover of
darkness.
The next day when No.6 came to call on
No.2………
“Number 6 is it, well what do you want?”
A white haired gentleman probably in his
early 60’s sat in the black globe chair. No.6 walked across the floor and approached
the desk “I want to see Number 2.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Number 2?”
“I’m a busy man, state your business if you
would be so good. Otherwise
get out!” No.2 said sternly.
“I want to see your predecessor.”
“You mean the one who was sent here to get
you out.”
No.6 tried not to let the expression on his
face give him away.
“Oh you needn’t try to hide it Number 6,
she has told us all we needed to know, and more."
“Where is she?”
“In the hospital where she is being well
looked after.”
“What will happen to her?”
“There is a price to pay for conspiracy.
She’s being given the best treatment, and will be released back into the
community……as a prisoner.”
A life time fan and Prisonerologist of the 1960's series 'the Prisoner', a leading authority on the subject, a short story writer, and now Prisoner novelist.
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Monday, 30 November 2020
More Tales From The Village
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