Pulamania

The gravel spat out from beneath the tread of fast-turning wheels. Brakes squealing, doors slamming, feet rushing in – and then the unmistakable sound of cuff metal clicking over warm wrists. But this was no ordinary raid by Avon and Somerset’s S & M squad. In any case the boys from S & M knew the Whitefield barn too well by now! This was different. This time they had come for evidence. They were piling computers into police vans. They were taking out boxes of strange disguises. The fiends involved clearly liked pretending they were other people. One even claimed to be the Chief Executive. A squat figure with a plummy accent protested his innocence from beneath a regulation blanket as he was led away. He muttered something about having relatives in high places. And all the while my man grinned and laughed in smug self satisfaction. He had laid the trap and these silly little people ( many of whom might well have suffered troubled childhoods ) were going to be made to be sorry. Very very sorry. And then my eyes opened. And all was still. It had been a dream even if AJ had convinced himself otherwise. I wish he would simply stick to the medication.