pointless ones. I rechecked it against our reality’s list; to make sure a better invention didn't exist to do the same job."
I looked down and saw it. Our golden ticket to easy street, it wasn't much. But it was a start. "A better way of protecting car doors against criminal activities. Well do we have to approach Ford or something?” "I think we should make an effort to trace that fellow who left the case. Or all this may blow up on us." Jerry was right. I thought for a second, and had it. "The DZ27, his name and address were on it."
Drinking up, I set off back to work. Where an afternoons search found the relevant paperwork behind a radiator. A moment of inspiration led me to recall I had filed it there, in a moment of distraction. So this night, instead of pulling a double shift at the office, Jerry and I met up in the Lamb and Flag. After a stiff drink to brace us for the night's jaunt, we got a taxi to Henwick crescent, where we stood facing the dark facade. "Should we ring the bell or something?” I suggested.
Just then a man popped his head out of the window next door. "You looking for the old fellow at number thirteen?” I looked up and flashed my I.D. card, in the hope he would take it for a police warrant card. I spoke in a bold tone. "Yes I'm inspector Tom Moran, and this is sergeant Jerry Watts. We are making enquiries into Mr Venrockics whereabouts. Have you seen him recently?" He seemed satisfied at our appearance and called down. "No not for a few weeks, but then he did keep him self to him self." I thanked him, and said we would need to gain entry. "That I can help you with. I have a back door key for his place from when I had to feed his cat, bless it's soul. He'd been into hospital for a hernia you see." And popping his head back in for a moment, he returned with the key which he threw down to us.
I thanked him and we proceeded round the back. "Why did you give him our real names?” hissed Jerry. "I can't think of every thing. Anyway we got a key, and the old goat thinks were bona fide cops." Then I turned the key in the lock and we were in. I jumped back with a start, as two green eyes stared back at me. Then Jerry strode passed the stuffed cat laughing. "Scared by a dead moggy, some inspector you'd make."
We crept around the house looking in every room and cupboard we could find, but there seemed to be no sign of life. "Perhaps he's gone on a holiday" Jerry mused. "Doesn't strike me as the beach loving type, ah here's something." I had found a workshop in the cellar, and neatly stacked on a bench were a pile of papers. They were clearly marked as technical notes. "He kept it neat didn't he" my friend observed, as he made his way round the well-equipped room. After a brief inspection, we had come to the conclusion that apart from the stack of notes on the table, there was little evidence of his final achievement. "We'd better take them for safe keeping." "In case of fire." “He may return and want them, so they’re better off with us and the case." Finding a suitable hold all for the notes, we locked up and I deposited the bag under my own bed. Then I slept on the night's revelations.
The next day we did find the professor, or at least Jerry did. "Have you read page sixteen yet?” Jerry asked from my mobile, and I turned to the relevant page. There at the bottom was an insignificant story. "Still no clues as to the identity of an elderly gentleman knocked down on East Finchley Street. The only piece of evidence was that he was wearing a size seven and three quarter bowler hat." There was a reconstructed picture of his face, as the original was too badly damaged for identification. I could just make out the features. "Yes I think your right Jerry", and we both breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Over the next few weeks we managed to get several more new patents. No biggies, but enough perhaps to make us a good living. "Better sit on them for a while" suggested Jerry, as we put another one away, after registering it in both our names.
It was on a Thursday afternoon, and I had decided to cut down on my cigarette intake. When the door opened, and a thin reedy man entered. "Mr Thomas Moran?” He reeked of officialdom, from his shinny pate to his shinny shoes. "Come come now my good man, no need to stand on attention. We've been keeping an eye on you for some time." I fell off my chair and emerged from behind the desk, somewhat at a loss as what to say.
He continued approaching the desk, and lowering his voice so only I would be privy to his speech. "You've been doing a bit of over time haven't you?" Seeing the shock on my face, he pressed his advantage. "You see you may not know it, but all government computers are equipped with a device to detect out of hours use. We can monitor any flagged machines, to find out what filthy practises they are being put to. Usually it's porn, but on yours all we could see was static when you were on." I sank back in to my chair and lit up. "I'd rather you didn't" he coughed, and I stubbed it out. "So we took the liberty of installing a remote camera, on a weekend." He pointed over my shoulder; I followed the rigid finger up to the wall and noticed the device.
Then with a sinking feeling; I brought my attention back to my nemesis. "So where is the case?” I froze, and then stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about." He just pursed his lips and continued. "Very funny. Perhaps you are not looking at naughty images, but tampering with government devices so we just pick up static, holds a mandatory visit to the stripy hole, for a very long time. So if you and that friend of yours Jerry Watts, don't want to be locked up with some slavering perverts, I suggest you start playing nice."
So we sat in the Rose and Crown. The morose figures of Jerry and myself nursed our pints of stout, while this fiend in grey sat between us, as he sipped his pink gin. "Now gentlemen we are about to embark on a new age. We at the department of a Greater Britain are proud of the input you are willing to add, to the advancement of our great nation." We both raised our glasses in mock salute as he continued. "You see the nineteenth century brought the birth of our global empire. Where the sun never set on the land protected by British invention, industry and arms. The twentieth saw the cultural node. When we drew in talent from the colonies now too expensive to keep, and then pumped it back out promoting the British way of thinking. And now in the twenty first century, your patents will revolutionise the world. Bringing Britain once more to the fore front of supremacy." "Yay." Jerry and I gave the monotone toast, and drowned our sorrows.
"Now you seem to be overdue a tax bill. I've taken the liberty of correcting the amount you owe, and you both seem to be in debt to the tune of several patents. This X27 allows me to collect payment in the form of assets owned, so if you just sign here and here. Your misspent nights will at last be of profit to the country."
The next night the three of us assembled at the White Rose, and after our tormentor Mr Penrose had bought a round. We headed to the office. "Tonight gentlemen I would like you to dial up this probability." I was a little stunned that he had a specific request. Our forays had been random, but always keeping above one per cent. So setting up the case below my desk, I input the numbers onto the dials. When I rose up again I gasped, there was a swastika on the screen.
"What's the meaning of this", I turned angrily to our tormentor. "Don’t worry", he reassured us. "I took the liberty of working out how probable it was; that the Germans won the Second World War. It's a wide margin of a low probability, but my number was the centre of the range, and we seem to have hit target. Now those clever Jerrys had a number of projects, which got flattened when we beat them. So why not nick there ideas now come to fruition, and use them for ourselves."
I tried the usual set of passwords. Luckily I'm not too imaginative on that front. So it usually worked, but this time I was stumped. With a told you so look on my face, I turned to the tight-lipped official. "Make it work or else" he ordered. I tried again, but this time Jerry butted in. "Oh shove out of the way" and he started tapping away. "I did some hacking at uni, knew it would come in handy someday." Half an hour later we were in.
The next day over lunch, in an up beat bistro on the strand. Jerry shared our night's takings. "There were a number of patents, some military" he frowned at Penrose. "But most were pretty neat transport and communication advancements." "Good" beamed the grey suited gent,
and popped a sprout in his mouth. But just then his eyes started to bulge. I thought he was chocking, so I leant back to enjoy the show. But he just swallowed involuntarily, still staring over my shoulder. I followed his gaze. It was then that I saw the giant of a man. He was bearing down on our table. I looked about for witnesses to the scene. The place seemed to have cleared. On the exits stood stony faced solders, rifles at the ready.
"Penrose" the big man growled. "What this about the department for a Greater Britain? Why aren’t you back at your desk at the tax office?" Penrose stood to go mumbling, "yes sir." The other let him rise then bellowed. "No, you'd better stay. After all, it's you who's been playing cat and mouse with Tom and Jerry here."
Then a grip like a ton of bricks, the man mountain held my friend and I down. "Yes," continued the impressive figure above us. "You're getting a promotion Penrose. I think you'd better head up this department for a Greater Britain, with these two fine lads. And I've just the office for you to work in."
So now I'm on easy street. All the booze and entertainment a fellow can take. It's just that I have to spend eight hours