‘Hello fella, have you had a good day?’ asked Sam.
‘Car.’ replied Jack and thrust a chunky blue plastic car into Sam’s face.
Sam smiled and put Jack down just as the waft of chicken jalfrezi entered his nostrils. At the same time, a face with a beaming smile and sparkling eyes poked out from the kitchen doorway. Sam's wife Julia.
'Hi hon.' she said, still smiling. 'It'll be about ten minutes. Good day?'
'I could tell you.' Started Sam as he strode down the hall toward the kitchen.
'I know,' Julia cut in, 'but you'd have to kill me.'
They laughed as Sam once again scooped Jack into his arms, entered the kitchen and kissed his wife. It was the same every night. Their little in-joke. But his family was what Sam lived, and worked for.
Sam and Julia met at a bowling alley five years ago. Sam had downed a few pints and finally found the courage to go and chat to her. They spent the evening bowling, chatting and playing pool. At the end of the night, Sam gave Julia a business card and they went their separate ways. Sam never expected to hear from her again, but a few days later, he received an email thanking him for a lovely evening. They started dating shortly after.
Two years later, they were married and Sam’s house finally became a home. The icing on the cake was Jack.
‘Are you going out tonight?’ asked Julia?
‘Yeah, going to meet Dave and Mickey at The Mills.’ Came Sam’s reply. ‘Was going to try and get half an hour training in, but don’t think I’ll bother now, time’s a bit short.’
‘Well don’t let Dave get you into any trouble,’ Said Julia, a cheeky grin forming. ‘I know what he’s like.’
Chapter Three
Sam walked into the pub. The Town Mills. It sits quite literally over the River Anton. Once a grain mill, it straddles the river, the water wheel just inside what was once the front door, behind a viewing window. The pub is quite susceptible to flooding.
When the last bag of grain left the premises in 1974 The Town Mills was turned into a nightclub. It’s been a pub since the 1980’s.
‘Alright 007?’ came a shout from across the crowded room.
Sam spotted Dave and headed to the bar where he was waiting.
‘Alright Top Gear?’ replied Sam.
Dave Sykes, Sam’s best mate since school. Though work and personal life had seen them drift apart from time to time, they were mates for life, and tried to keep in touch. They were now both working and living in Andover, so tried to catch up once a week for a pint or two. Dave was a Jack-the-Lad. A joker. A loudmouth. A bullshitter. A world champion at using obscenities, and usually on the receiving end of all the jokes and wind-ups. Sam wouldn’t have it any other way.
Dave was also a genius when it came to telecommunications. He could have gotten any job in the field, at any number of massive multi-national corporations, but that was too much like hard work. Dave chose to work as an engineer for the local mobile phone and cable TV company. He also had a tendency to repeat himself. A lot. Hence the nickname Top Gear. It just seemed fitting for a repetitive bloke called Dave. Sam likened him to Wally from the Dilbert cartoons. A short, work shy, slightly balding, slightly overweight, coffee addicted pain in the arse.
‘The usual Bond?’ asked Dave?
‘Stop calling me that, Dave.’ Implored Sam.
‘But you’re my own personal 007. The birds love it when I tell them my best mate’s a spy.’ replied Dave.
‘But I’m not a spy Dave, I’m just a data analyst.’ Said Sam.
‘Yeah, but if you were a spy, you wouldn’t be able to tell me anyway. Official Secrets bollocks and all that. So I figure you have to tell me you’re a data analyst because you can’t tell me you’re a spy. Anyway, can’t computers analyse data?’
Sam sighed. The same old ground being covered again.
‘Yes Dave, computers can analyse data. As I’ve told you before, many times, I analyse patterns that computers find difficult to spot. Now, can we change the subject please?’
‘Fucking hell Sam, keep your hair on, I’m only having a laugh with ya. Anyway, is Mickey coming tonight or what?’
Right on cue, Mickey Purver walked through the door. Mickey made up the last of the usual group. The self-proclaimed Geek Squad. Occasionally there would be more of them, sometime fewer, but Sam, Dave and Mickey would nearly always show up.
Sam met Mickey at his first job; they were both trainee computer programmers at the insurance company. They instantly became mates — drawn together by their love of house music — and had been ever since. Mickey moved on from their first company around the same time Sam had started freelancing. Mickey, however, had taken a path leading into the world of Personal Computers. He was a natural with PC’s. He could explain how electricity flows through a chip. Well it seemed like that sometimes. Sam was tech savvy, but Mickey was on another level. Mickey struggled when it came to simple things though, like catching a bus or boiling a kettle.
Sam suspected Mickey’s lack of common sense was a trade for his intelligence. Sam applied the same theory to Mickey’s good looks too, explaining that it wasn’t possible to be so good looking and intelligent, and yet have common sense as well. It just wouldn’t be fair. In a fair world, a person could only have two of the three attributes. It was a theory they discussed often, usually after a pint or two.
Mickey was what most people would expect an MI5 agent to look like. He was straight out of the pages of a Fleming novel. Tall, good looking, in good shape. Never short of female attention. Which Dave liked. But unlike Fleming's character, Mickey was totally unaware of his own looks, wit and charm.
‘Mickey, how are ya mate?’ asked Sam.
‘Yeah, not too bad cheers. Nearly didn’t make it. Was in the middle of trying to breach Barclays mainframe security.’ replied Mickey.
‘Jesus, Mickey, why do you keep doing stupid things like that?’ Dave asked. ‘You’re gonna get yourself arrested one of these days. Get yourself banged up and become someone’s bitch.’
‘I do it because it’s a laugh.’ said Mickey. ‘And a challenge. And nobody else has done it yet. The hacking forums are full of tales of woe. Of desperados who have tried and failed.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Said Dave ‘Somebody shoot me. Take me away from this bollocks.’
The barmaid put the first pint on the bar. They didn’t need to order, Faye knew exactly what they’d be having.
‘Anyway,’ said Dave ‘I was just telling the lovely Faye here about the time I was Robert Plant’s security.’
‘Not again.’ muttered Sam under his breath.
‘You what mate?’ asked Dave genuinely.
‘I said “Oh cool”.’ Lied Sam. ‘Are you sure Faye hasn’t already heard the Robert Plant Story?’
‘Yeah pretty sure.’ said Dave in a serious tone. ‘I haven’t told that many people. Don’t like to brag.’
Sam and Mickey looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘Fuck you.’ said Dave as the other two pints arrived. He paid Faye.
A couple of minutes passed as they all supped their drinks, each downing over half in no time at all. It was always the same. They stood in silence. The type of silence best mates were comfortable with, until Dave let out a belch and said
‘Come on dickheads, let’s get a table.’
‘As eloquent as ever, Dave. I often wonder why you’re single.’ Said Mickey. Sam grinned as they walked over to a corner table.
‘Fuck off.’ snapped Dave. ‘Anyway.’ He continued, ‘Something really interesting happened at work today.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ interjected Mickey, ‘a woman spoke to you.’
‘And you didn’t wet your pants.’ Added Sam with a laugh.
‘Yeah, yeah, very funny.’ Replied Dave. ‘No, we started getting calls from our customers, only a few of them, but they were complaining about interference on one of the shopping channels. A bit like when your mobile interferes with your car stereo.’