Free London Wild by V. E. Shearman Page B

can tell me where I might find a magnifying glass of my own I’ll be most grateful.’
    ‘One of the stationers on the first floor ought to have what you want,’ the shopkeeper replied as he made his way back behind the counter to ring up the bill.

3
     
    The Professor And His Pet
     
    Professor George Lomax, late of the University of London, sat in the back of the patrol car watching the two police officers in the front calmly. The driver seemed quite angry, almost frantic. His partner, fingering a laser pistol that sat on his lap in the passenger seat, was trying to talk to him calmly.
    ‘Stop it, Steve!’ he was saying, almost shouting, ‘There’s no way of knowing how many cats there might be.’
    The driver seemed to ignore him, but there was burst of speed from the vehicle , showing the driver’s annoyance with his partner.
    On the road ahead the Professor could see the article of the driver’s anger. It was a small yellow van of the sort that might be used to deliver to small , privately-owned shops. There were words on the side of the vehicle, but it never turned at the right angle for George to see them clearly. There were also a number of burn marks across the rear doors that had been made when the current occupants had first stolen it. A face peering through the rear windows of the van at the pursuing vehicle in which George was sitting confirmed that it had been stolen by Herbaht.
    ‘Steve, please, there are special units trained to deal with cats, and there are only the two of us. Please stop!’ He continued to finger his pistol nervously, sure he would need it at any moment.
    George leaned forwards as far as he could to get a better look at the two officers and the weapon that one of them was playing with. He didn’t get any better view of the actual vehicle they were pursuing, no matter where he moved to on the back seat.
    The driver, Steve, continued to ignore him and, if it was possible, actually gave the vehicle yet another burst of speed. In fact, they didn’t seem to be going much faster, but the engine roared as if to suggest it was laboring at a faster pace.
    Then everything changed. Suddenly George was no longer in the back of the patrol car. Now he sat on a hard wooden bench in the back of the yellow van that the police were chasing. There were four Herbaht in the back here, all of them heavily armed and wearing some sort of body armor. Three of them sat on benches similar to the one George sat on; the fourth was peering out the back of the van towards the pursuers. As well as these four, there were two more up front, the driver and the one driving shotgun.
    ‘They’re still following!’ the one at the window said. ‘Surely they must know they’re no match for us?’ There was a kind of snarl to his voice, making him sound more like a cat than Herbaht usually did.
    George sighed audibly as the conversation continued a little more inane ly than he’d hoped. Sometimes he wondered why he’d ever bought the holoviewa; there was never anything decent on. He reached to the small control pad on the arm of the bench, ignoring the fact that this bench shouldn’t have an arm, and turned it off. Perhaps he just wasn’t in the mood to be entertained these days, not since they’d kicked him out of his lecturing job at the university. He was only forty-two, far too young to be thrown on the scrap heap. But someone had decided that the material he taught wasn’t vital enough to keep him on, and when the university had been told to make cutbacks, he had been one of those cut.  
    George enjoyed the silence that turning off the holoviewa had brought. He allowed his mind to wander , and eventually, as they always did, his eyes alighted on the portrait of his wife that adorned the wall furthest from the entryway to the room. It would be the first thing anyone saw when they entered the room, and it was big enough that they couldn’t miss it. She had died in childbirth, and the baby had died with