Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 5, O. Bucky is Disarmed!

"No-one move," the dramatically-armed O. Bucky Akenbola warned. I smiled.
"Well, just the cybernetically-armed thug I was looking for. Is that what you sprang your little brother from prison with?"
"Why, you..."
I saw him move, and I dived for cover. The huge weapon fired, with a massive recoil. I felt the bar smash into matchwood behind me.
Then I heard a loud clang, and a yell. Looking up I saw O. Bucky Akenbola standing there looking in shock at the huge cybernetic arm that lay on the floor, twitching.
"Well! Looks like a handy way to disarm yourself," I cracked, jumping to my feet. "But I have my weapon!"
My whip cracked across Akenbola's face, drawing blood. With a curse he ran from the bar, followed by his men.
I ran after them. In the street, facing just little me, they seemed to find some of that courage they'd lost in the bar. Someone threw a knife at me, but I easily knocked it aside. My whip tore the knife from another man's grasp.
And then they fled. I laughed as they went, glad that I had seen them off this time. Akenbola would need to do better than that. A LOT better.
"Señorita!"
I ran back inside at the landlord's call. He was standing beside what was left of the bar, on which he had placed the mechanical arm.
"It comes off when he fires," he told me. I laughed.
"Yes, it does. Apparently O. Bucky didn't realise the kick this thing has."
"Si," he agreed. "Look."
On the underside of the device were the words 'Made in Taiwan' printed on the chromed steel. A sticker said 'Warning, this is not a toy.'
"I guess O. Bucky forgot to read that one," I joked. "Say, where did he get this?"
"I do not know, Señorita, but I know a man who can help, Don Diego Carillo. Maria! Take the Señorita to Don Diego!"
Maria, one of the barmaids, led me out into the street. She took me down a backstreet where there was a neon sign saying 'Internet'.
Well, that figured. You can get nearly everything on the internet these days.
"Inside."
I entered. Don Diego, a tall man with a neat grey beard, rose to greet me.
'The Girl in Grey! What is your purpose of this visit, Señorita?"
"I need to find out where this comes from," I produced the mechanical arm.
"Ah yes, I will find it."
It took a simple Google search for 'mechanical arm guns' to locate the dealer, who was located on Oldham Road, Manchester (of all places). It took me two minutes to hack into his files and locate the address O. Bucky Akenbola had given. '2, Hill Street, Viñacos, Almeria, Spain.'
Wonderful. I had my location.
I thanked the Don and ran back to my horse. With a gleeful cry of 'Hi-yo Silver!' (I've always wanted to do that) I rode off into the night.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 4, I ride into town

I rode quickly into town. The locals are a reserved lot, and they respect a girl's privacy. As I tied up my horse I heard someone playing a guitar. Night was just beginning to fall - the time when crooks like the Akenbola brothers do their crimes.
With my broad-brimmed hat on my head, I strolled down the main street, headed for the little chapel of the Holy Spirit. Well, for the area around it. There's a bar there where a girl can get all the information she wants, plus a lot she doesn't want.
Or maybe that's just the result of my wearing a tight grey outfit.
I entered the bar, spurs jangling. People looked up.
"The Girl in Grey!" the landlord exclaimed. "What brings you here, Señorita?"
"Oh, same as last time. J. Bucky Akenbola's escaped. What do you know about him?"
"I know, Señorita, that he is a very bad man who does not like you very much."
"Great. That makes two of us - he tried to blow me up earlier, and he left a great big hole in my hacienda, which I'm not to keen about. So, where are the brothers?"
"The word, Señorita, is that they are in the village of Viñacos, across the plateau from here."
"Do you know anyone in Viñacos?" I asked.
"No, I regret I do not. There is no-one who lived in Viñacos now, it is deserted many years. But I hear from vagabond that there are people there now, people who ought not to be there."

"Yeah, and there are people who ought not to be in you bar here."
The man was huge. He looked like some sort of wrestler.
"Señor?" the landlord queried.
"I mean that kid in the grey suit."
"She is a friend, Señor."
"Yeah, well I don't like your friends. Get her!"
A dozen men jumped to their feet and pulled knives. Great, I thought, a fight in a bar. With knives.
Within seconds the locals had produced knives as well, and there was a real Spanish rough-house going on. I drew my whip and joined in. That's the wonderful thing about knives - they need to be used up close.
I was up against the bar, my whip cracking menacingly.
"Stop!"
There, in the doorway, was O. Bucky Akenbola. His right arm was a huge gun.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 3, The Grey Girl Rides Out

"Señorita! Señorita!"
I heard Manuel's voice like I was at the bottom of a dark well and he was at the top. Slowly the voice got closer, and finally I opened my eyes.
"Manuel! What happened?" I asked. The Spaniard shook his head.
"There was a car on the highway. Someone fires from the back of it. You are lucky not to be killed!"
"Like Samantha, I've got nine lives," I cracked. "Okay, Manuel, I'd better get to work. Is the hacienda badly damaged?"
"No, Señorita. And I know the local workmen. They will repair it."
"Good. I'm going to put on my work clothes, and my riding kit over the top. Get my horse, I'm riding into town. That rocket had to be fired by the Akenbola brothers, and that means they're nearby. Town would be the best place to find information."
"But, Señorita, the places they go, they are not the places for a Señorita..."
"Phooey to that. Have you forgotten I'm me? I can take on anything those two can dish out."
I recalled that J. Bucky had actually cried like a little girl when I told him I was going to make him into a real Spanish Prisoner. As for the local town, I knew it well, a rabbit warren of old streets and alleyways built on a rock in the middle of the local river - a river that was dry most of the year round. The locals call it the Rio Aguas - the river of water. In Almeria they have about a dozen different names for watercourses, a sure sign that water's kind of important there. That's why my hacienda's built where it is - right on top of a well that was first dug by Carthaginian settlers way back in antiquity and then used by the Romans. Yup, my hacienda's built on the site of a Roman villa. There's class for you.
There was a grey horse in the stables waiting for me when I arrived. I had on my riding kit, my bolero jacket trimmed with silver lace, my broad-brimmed hat and my riding boots, all worn over my grey costume. And of course, at my belt, my bullwhip, ready to teach the Akenbola brothers that crime doesn't pay, especially not when I'm around.
I was ready for anything. Even automatic weapons, if the Akenbolas had rockets.
I'd really annoyed them. And I wanted to annoy them some more.
I rode off, towards the town, across the barren desert dotted with esparto grass and the odd clump of prickly pear indicating where a peasant dwelling had once stood - prickly pear makes a wonderful natural barbed wire fence.

The Akenbolas were in for a surprise.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 2, In my Hacienda

I took off to Almeria in my private jet a few hours after hearing the news. I was glad that I keep up the private jet because if I hadn't the next flight to Almeria was in four days, and last time I used that flight I lost my luggage at Almeria airport. Not this time.
There is a private landing-strip at my hacienda, and I used it. There Manuel greeted me. He looked like he'd been beaten up.
"Did someone beat you up?" I asked him. Manuel, a tall, aristocratic-looking Spaniard, nodded gravely.
"Si. Señorita! I am overjoyed to see you! Señor Akenbola he threaten me, and hit me."
"Is he still in Almeria?" I asked. If not it would take months to find the pair. And maybe I'd only find them when they tried their next crime. That would take a lot of time that I don't have.
"Certainly, Señorita. He cannot leave, for every road and every airport and every port is being watched."
"Then I'll find him."
"Si, Señorita. If anyone can find them, it is you."
"Well, I did find J. Bucky before," I reminded him with a smile.
I strolled into the hacienda while Manuel and the farm-hands unloaded my luggage from the 'plane and put my jet under cover. The sun was blazing down from the sky, and after a long flight I wanted to get into a swimsuit and spend a few hours by the pool relaxing with Samantha. She's quite used to flights, unlike some of my other cats, who really hate any sort of journey in the cat basket.
Almeria is practically a desert, a great, hot wilderness of rocks and mountains, scattered with little white villages where the people have eked a living from the land in between the region's booms and busts. The main plant is the ubiquitous Esparto grass, a huge, bushy, prickly thing that they used to use to make high-grade paper. The hacienda was still a working farm, but my grandfather had made the main house into a small palace. Good old grandad, he always knew how to live. All around the house there were groves of olives, almonds, and even a few orange trees.
Inside the hacienda it was beautifully cool. Small windows, high ceilings and thick whitewashed walls kept the interior at a constant temperature. I slipped off both my shoes and walked barefoot over the cool tiled floor. Bliss.
Suddenly Samantha arched her back. At once I knew something was wrong. It took me just a moment to work out what before I dived to the floor.
Then a rocket slammed into the side of the house. There was a roar, a sheet of flame, I felt something hit me, and then all I knew was blackness...

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 1, Escape in Almeria.

It was an ordinary morning at my grey headquarters. Cats were napping quietly on the various sofas, comfy chairs, radiators and computers that filled the large space that was my main control room, and Samantha and I were curled up on a sofa listening to relaxing music on the radio.
It was peaceful. I knew it couldn't last, because it never does, but I was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.
Then the grey telephone rang. The screen told me it was an international call, and I picked it up, hoping it wouldn't just be some Indian call centre trying to sell me something I didn't want. I hate them, and one of these days I might go out to India to do something naughty about it.
"Hello?" I said.
"Señorita! This is Manuel Almederos!"
Manuel Almederos, my contact in southern Spain and steward of the hacienda I inherited from my Dad! It was important!
"This is the Girl in Grey. Go ahead, Manuel."
"It is Señor Akenbola, Señorita. He has escaped."
"Escaped? How?"
I had locked J. Bucky Akenbola in a dungeon underneath a ruined Spanish castle I happen to own as a punishment for working the 'Spanish Prisoner' con. I have that sort of sense of poetic justice. And the dungeon really needed to be used for something. It was just wasteful, leaving it empty like that.
"His brother, Señor O. Bucky Akenbola. The Spanish Prisoner contacted him, and Señor O. Bucky brought a gang of armed men to free his brother. And now they are loose in Spain!"
"Not for long," I promised. "I'll be over there as soon as I can, Manuel, if not sooner. And then I'll recapture The Spanish Prisoner. And his brother."
"But Señor O. Bucky has bionic arms..."
"Then we'll just have to disarm him, Manuel. Look, I'll see you at the hacienda tonight. 'Bye!"
I rang off and jumped to my feet.
"Right, Samantha," I said. "We need to pack. This time to-morrow we'll be in sunny Spain."
I anticipated a quick capture. How wrong I was! For at that very moment, under the shadow of my castle in Spain, the Akenbola brothers were planning their terrible revenge upon me!

When The Green Man's Away, 14. Happy Landing.

I fell through space, landing heavily at the bottom of the pit. Derec Vedder Jones and his henchmen (the two sadists) laughed at me.
"Look at her there, so small and helpless!"
I heard a growl and jumped to my feet. Whirling around, I faced the Pit Monster. I had wondered what it could be. As far as I'm aware there are no wolves in Wales, so I was half expecting some hideous mutated sheep with glowing red eyes.
Indeed, I saw glowing red eyes and a matted fleece. I bit my lip, determined not to give Derec Vedder Jones the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Grimly, I pulled the bullwhip from my belt, ready to do battle with the beast.
"And now, my pretty girl, you will die!!!" Derec Vedder Jones cried in triumph as the awful thing came closer and closer to me. For once I wished I did carry a gun. That way I'd stand a chance against the thing. Just like me not to have the one thing that might defeat the beast.
"You're doomed!" Jones mocked as the awful thing came closer and closer. My whip seemed to have no effect on it - its fleece acted as a sort of padded armour. Desperately I searched my belt for something that might work.
"Aha! The product of a crazed sheep-breeder in Breconshire will defeat you, my little grey girl! And nothing in the world can stop me now!!"
"I think not, Vedder Jones."
I gasped in astonishment. It was the voice of the Green Man!"
"The Green Man!" Jones yelled. "Where is he?"
"Right here!"
The 'moster' threw off its fleece and discarded the false head with its glowing eyes. Instead a wonderfully familiar green trenchcoat and hat were revealed - and a gleaming automatic pistol.
"And now, Jones, your little scheme for world domination is over," the Green Man said firmly. "Grey Girl, would you do the honours?"
"Of course!"
I cracked my whip, catching a beam, and pulled myself up while the Green Man kept Vedder Jones and his cronies covered. At the top I relieved them of their weapons and held them up while the Green Man climbed up the whip. Once he was at the top I retrieved the whip and put it back in my belt.
With the arrival of the Green Man Derec Vedder Jones and his gang surrendered quickly. We tied them up and left them for the police before leaving in my hired car.
"Well, fancy meeting you here!" I exclaimed once we were under way.
"I knew you would. You see, I was aware of Vedder Jones' plan, and I was busy trying to get into his organisation - as you can see, it took a lot of doing."
"I'll say! Why the Pit Beast?"
"It was the only job they had going. I have a friend in Breconshire who breeds sheep and has a reputation for being slightly strange... the rest was easy. You?"
"Oh, I just followed a lead," I laughed. "Now, I know a nice quiet place in Cardiff where they don't ask questions..."
"You know Ms Madison insists on a chaperone when I go ANYWHERE with you," he replied.
"Oh, that's fine. I've got Samantha."

We both laughed.


Coming next...

THE REVENGE OF THE SPANISH PRISONER

When something goes horribly wrong an old enemy goes after the Girl in Grey. Can our heroine escape from the evil plan of THE SPANISH PRISONER?
Or will she be rescued by the Green Man?

When The Green Man's Away, 13. Unlucky for some

"Welcome to my home," Derec Vedder Jones went on. "Seize her!"
A dozen Welsh miners burst from the shadows. I drew my bullwhip and cracked it menacingly, hoping to keep them at bay. I kept my back against the wall, and so the miners formed a kind of semicircle in front of me.
"You won't get away with it, Jones," I warned him. "I know your plan. You want to rule Wales, and you're going to use the mainline denominations to do it!"
"Clever girl. But you won't live to use that information!" he laughed. "You fools! Rush her!"
The Welsh miners surged forward, inside the arc of my whip. I thrust it back into my belt and prepared to use my unarmed fighting skills.
The miners were almost as small as I am, but a lot more powerfully built. Still, I know techniques that turn an opponent's strength against him. I just hoped I could use them.
Vastly outnumbered, I fought with hands and feet, until someone punched me in the tummy, hard.
I folded up, and then someone hit me on the head, and the room was full of pretty stars.
"Take her and throw her to the pit beast!" Vedder Jones crowed. My arms were twisted behind my back, and I tried hard not to cry out.
"A shame," Vedder Jones said, "Valerie tells me that you are a rather pretty blonde."
"Get lost, creep," I answered.
"But you will be thrown to the pit beast! Take her!"
The Welsh supervillain led the way, strutting like a short, fat Welsh peacock. I was hurried along behind by a couple of sadists who seemed to be trying to make me scream in pain. I wasn't going to give them their fun.
"You see," Vedder Jones was monologuing again, "The mainline denominations are in crisis. They can't recruit enough ministerial students. There are practically no liberals going forward to train as ministers, only evangelicals. Now, I plan to send hundreds of my own paid men through the theological colleges and seminaries of the mainline denominations, until THEY are the majority! Then I will use the denominations as my armies in my conquest of Wales. I, Derec Vedder Jones, shall fulfill my destiny! I shall be Prince of Wales!!!"
"Dictator, you mean?"
"Prince, my dear Grey Girl. I shall be crowned in St. Davids Cathedral! I shall rule Wales with an iron fist! All shall bow down before me! And then we shall march into England! I shall recruit all the Celts to my cause! We shall conquer the world!!!"
Mad, I thought. Mad as a hatter. Mad as a whole meadow full of march hares!
And I was going to be thrown to the pit beast.
Derec Vedder Jones stopped beside an open pit.
"Throw her in," he ordered.
I was dragged, struggling, to the edge of the pit. Then the two sadists left me on the very edge. I tried to step back, but they pushed me, and I overbalanced and fell forward, into space...

When The Green Man's Away, 12. I'm in a hole.

I slowly and carefully raised both hands, having no desire to be shot in the back. My captor reached around in front of me and removed my equipment belt.
"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I was a walker who got lost?" I asked hopefully.
"Not after the stunt you pulled in that church."
Well, I knew who she was - the woman who had run out of the church when I saved Wynn Wynn's life.
"Oh, you remember me?"
"Of course. Walk."
She prodded me with the gun to emphasise her point. I began to walk.
But I don't give up that easily. Well, not usually. As I walked I looked at the floor ahead, not so that I wouldn't trip over, but because I knew there had to be things I COULD trip over there.
I saw a piece of timber and seized my chance, allowing myself to trip up and fall forwards, onto the floor of the tunnel. It was a realistic fall, complete with yell of surprise. I lay there for a second, waiting for the right moment.
"Get up!" my captor barked. I acted at once, rolling onto my back and kicking the gun from her hand. Then I was on my feet, ready to fight.
I won easily. My captor seemed to prefer using a gun to unarmed combat, which worked in my favour. I left her lying in the coal dust on the floor, her smart suit rather spoiled.
My suit looked decidedly messy with black coal-dust all over it, but I couldn't help that (much as a girl likes to look her best when fighting criminals). I moved silently forward, hoping I would be able to reach the nerve-centre of the place unobserved (since Derec Vedder Jones seemed not to have many guards).
Then I stepped through an opening, and to my surprise I found myself in a huge high-tech control room.
"Welcome, my dear, I have been waiting for you."
The man in the centre of the room turned in his huge black chair, and I recognised at once the face of Derec Vedder Jones.

When The Green Man's Away, 11.

As the runaway truck crashed through the flimsy wooden barrier and into the open mineshaft, I jumped for the strong steel cable that ran down the shaft. I caught it, and hung on for dear life as I heard the truck crash to the bottom.
It sounded a long way down, but down I would have to go if I wanted to find Derec Vedder Jones. Slowly I started to make my way down the cable, glad of my sturdy costume.
At last I reached the bottom of the pit, just when I was starting to feel that even my athletic body could not take much more of this.
It was dark, but I had a torch in my belt that quickly dealt with that. It illuminated the tunnel beautifully. The floor was black with coal-dust, and everywhere water glistened on the tunnel walls.
What was better, there were tracks in the coal-dust on the floor.
I began slowly to follow the tracks. Although there were several, I could make out the tracks of a woman in high heels very plainly. I followed those, figuring they would lead me to Derec Vedder Jones.
It was a heart-stopping journey down the tunnels, for if I met anyone coming the other way there were very few places to hide. At last, however, I came to a section of mine tunnel that was illuminated by electric lamps. I knew I was getting near Derec Vedder Jones's hideout.
Hearing voices, I stopped dead, ready to silence anyone who found me with a quick kick to the jaw.
"Aye, Derec Vedder Jones says he's going to rule Wales, Boyo," a Welshman said.
"He's a clever man, is Derec Vedder Jones. They say he's going to use the chapels."
And no doubt the evangelicals would do their best to stop him if he tried! I was beginning to see the light. Now, if I could just...
At that moment someone pushed a hard object into my back and said in soft, Cheltenham-educated tones:
"Reach, sister."

When The Green Man's Away, 10. Trouble at the Pit.

The Llancorwenidris coal mine was located in a remote spot, not a house for miles. I let Samantha out of her basket and got out of the car. The two of us moved silently through the blasted landscape towards the ruins of the pit-head. The huge steel frame of the winding-gear loomed over us menacingly.
"Stay here and watch," I told Samantha. "I'm going in."
I ran across the open, exposed ground by the pithead, into the derelict building.
I don't make a habit of wandering around derelict Welsh coal-mines (I have better things to do with my life), but I've been in a few, and this one looked much like the others. Everthing was wrecked. The casual observer would have assumed that this building was indeed abandoned.
Not me. The other three I've been to were also being used as hide-outs by baddies, and I knew that the real base was probably underground, excavated inside the coalmine itself.
I moved through damp, rotting passages, into a large room filled with decaying equipment. A small railway ran inside the building, used for hauling coal-trucks from the mine. The rusty iron trucks made good cover for a slim grey figure who moved quickly through the space.
Somehow, I had to get down the mine-shaft.
Crack!
I heard the pistol-shot and rolled under the truck. Now, I don't actually carry a gun (they're nasty things that make a loud noise and kill people), so all I could do was take cover. I looked around the huge space, trying to see where the gunman was. There were catwalks high above me, and he might have been on any one of them.
Carefully, I picked up a lump of coal and threw it. As I hoped the gunman fired, disclosing his position.
I acted at once, pulling my bullwhip from my belt. With one crack of the whip I tore the pistol from his hand, and then, wrapping the whip around a steel girder, I swung up onto the catwalk to fight the man.
As I expected, he had a knife. One kick disposed of that, and then he was unarmed.
But he was still larger than me, and he thought to use that against me. The guard rushed me, and I neatly sidestepped.
But the plank under me was rotten. It gave way, and I fell into a coal-truck. My opponent jumped after me, and as he landed the truck started to move.
As we fought it gathered speed. Heading, I realised, towards the mineshaft. If that was open, it would be a very nasty experience.
I punched the man in the jaw. He tred to hit me, but I dodged and he slammed his fist into the iron of the truck. While he was swearing I knocked him out with a Karate-chop to the neck.
Quickly I jumped to my feet - but not quickly enough, for as I did so the mine-truck careered over the edge of the pit, and fell into the deep shaft below.

The Secret Origin of the Girl in Grey

People have asked how it was that I became the Girl in Grey. Well, for their gratification I print, for the first time, the story...

There was a time when I was a fairly normal girl, just an ordinary, rather shy blonde student whose greatest excitement was shrugging off drunken advances at the College bar, and whose greatest worry was finding student digs who'd take my cats. All fifteen of them.
Daddy was a millionaire who had divorced my mother when I was five. He had a new wife, and had as little to do with little me as possible, even after my mother was killed in an air crash while trying to fly the Atlantic solo. I liked things that way. Me and the cats and a little allowance.
One day everything changed. A letter came to the flat telling me that my Daddy had been killed in action. That surprised me, as I always thought he owned a factory. I wondered if he had all the time been a British Secret Agent just pretending to be a lazy millionaire. Later I discovered that it was actually just a misprint. It should have said he was killed in Acton, which is where his factory was. That made a lot more sense.
What was more, he hadn't changed his will to favour the peroxide floozie he'd married, so I got all the money.
I discovered that his killers had been hired by a business rival who wanted to take over his company and, donning a close-fitting grey costume, I fought the killers and won.
Now I use the fortune I inherited to fight crime. And to keep my cats in the style to which they have become acustomed.

Oh, and ever since I met The Green Man, I've wanted to marry him. Together we would be the world's greatest crime-fighting team. But I don't think he'll ever say 'yes' to me.

Why grey? It blends in well in the dark. Actually it was originally meant to be black, but I made a mistake with the dye.

When The Green Man's Away, 9. Deacons to the Third Degree

After the service I retreated to the Deacons' vestry, where the six burly rugby-playing deacons had the two failed assassins tied up. Samantha was standing guard over them.
"Hi," I said brightly. "So, you tried to poison Mr. Wynn Wynn."
"I never..."
"That wasn't a question, it was a statement. I overheard a conversation in the antiques shop. Oh, and I landed on you last night," I added, addressing myself to the injured man.
"We're not talking."
"You are," one of the decons said, flexing his muscles. "We don't like men trying to poison our pastor..." he left the rest to the men's imaginations. I just smiled.
"I'll talk!" the injured man yelled.
"Where's the boss?" I asked him directly.
"The boss?"
"Derec Vedder Jones."
"His base is in the old Llancorwenidris coal mine!"
"Traitor!" the other man said. One of the deacons hit him.
"Thank you," I smiled. "I'm glad you boys co-operated, otherwise I would have had to hang one of you off the top of the highest point of the castle, and you wouldn't have liked that."
With that I left, followed by Samantha.
"Result?" Rev. Wynn Wynn asked me anxiously.
"Result. The man I landed on last night didn't feel like being kicked around the floor by the deacons."
"I'm glad to hear it. Will you be able to stay for lunch?"
I decided I would. Free food is always welcome.

Refreshed by the food supplied by Rev. Wynn wynn's charming wife, Gwynn Wynn, Samantha and I set off for Llancorwenidris in the car I had hired (my own grey car being in dock). I had a map showing me where the abondoned mine was. The whole thing was supposed to have been sealed up long ago, but I knew enough about Derec Vedder Jones to know that he was more than capable of re-opening it secretly.
I had no idea what I might find there, but I was well-equipped. Dressed in my close-fitting grey suit, blonde hair covered, my equipment belt stocked with such things as breathing equipment, flares and a small, powerful torch.
Derec Vedder Jones ought to have been very worried.

When The Green Man's Away, 8: I Swing Throught the air with the greatest of ease

Instantly I sprang to my feet and pulled the bullwhip from under my coat (I rarely travel without it). Rev. Wynn Wynn paused, and the criminals in the pew looked annoyed.
I wielded the whip, it curled around one of the beams of the chapel roof, and I launched myself into space, towards the pulpit.
Someone fired at me, but he missed. At that moment Samantha burst from her basket (I had left the door unlocked) and jumped down from the gallery to fight the criminals.
My left foot slammed into Wynn Wynn's glass and sent it to the floor, where its contents spilled harmlessly on the carpet (well, relatively harmlessly - the poison discoloured the carpet slightly). I landed lightly in the pulpit beside the pastor.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked as six burly deacons carried out citizens' arrests on the two male criminals and their female companion, badly scratched by Samantha, fled.
"They were trying to kill you," I explained. "Your water was poisoned."
He looked down at the carpet, where the glass had fallen. Sure enough, the water was busy foaming on the carpet.
"You're right! You just saved my life. But I'm afraid you've disrupted the service too."
"Less than your dying would have," I pointed out, not wanting to be thrown out by the deacons.
"You're right, of course. And it would have been a terrible thing for our poor denomination. There are so few left in it who really preach the Gospel..."
That was it, I thought. Derec Vedder Jones had some evil plot that involved killing all the conservative evangelicals in at least some denominations. Everything was falling into place!"
"And while you're in the pulpit, would you mind giving a children's address?" Wynn Wynn asked me quietly. "I'm no good at them."
"Samantha!" I called. She came running up the pulpit steps. I picked her up and put her on the book board. Then I smiled and started to speak to the children.
All in a day's work for little me.

When The Green Man's Away, 7: Taking that Cat to Church

Relieved that I had not endangered a man's life by oversleeping, I took a stroll in the park, returning to the chapel in time for the service. To my slight concern, instead of being seated downstairs I was shown up into one of the side galleries. There I went to one of the front pews, set Samantha's basket down on the pew and sat down myself.
It was one of those large chapels with galleries on three sides, an organ behind the pulpit, and a large, tall pulpit. In my grey dress and hat (it was a conservative sort of church), I looked just like many other young women.
"I haven't seen you here before."
I lokked and saw a girl in a smart blue dress.
"I haven't seen you here before either," I told her frostily.
"Is that a cat basket?" she looked suspiciously at Samantha's basket.
"Oh, yes," I smiled. "I didn't think the deacons would let my cat in if she wasn't in a basket."
"You've got a CAT in there?"
"Of course. What else would I have in a cat basket? Be careful, she's been known to scratch."
The girl drew back. I went back to scanning the floor of the chapel for suspicious faces.
Then I saw one, the man who had tried to stamp on my hand the previous night. He was rather obvious because he was heavily bandaged. Fortunately I had been wearing my mask the previous night, and there was no way he was going to recognise me.
There were two other suspicious-looking men there with him, and a tall, slim dark-haired girl in a long green dress who looked just the most poisonous woman I ever saw.
The organ began to play. Idly I looked up at the exposed trusses of the roof. It was a pretty good bit of timber work, in my opinion. But then I know very little about makings roofs. Somehow builders never appealed to me.
Then I started dreaming about the Green Man. I thought I wouldn't mind what sort of place the wedding was in.
The pastor gave out the first hymn, and I realised I hadn't noticed him enter the pulpit.
And he was due to be murdered in such a way that he'd die in the middle of his sermon!
Knowing that made it hard for me to concentrate. I was thinking what sort of weapon it would be. Not a gun or a knife - that would be too obvious. So were blow-darts. So what?
Poison. I looked down at the pulpit and saw the glass of water by the preacher's left hand. His hand moved towards it...
If I shouted he might ignore me - and the deacons would throw me out. I had to get to the pulpit before he drank.
Rev. Wynn Wynn lifted the glass in his hand...

Sorry

Sorry. I feel SUCH an air-head! And just after I'd revealed I'm blonde too! I made a mistake with the comments settings. Silly, silly me.
I HOPE everything's the way it ought to be now.

From the Grey files: The Spanish Prisoner!

One morning I was sitting around in my grey headquarters, dressed in my grey pyjamas, while Samantha was helping me deal with the mail and the other cats were doing their best to get in our way, Samantha picked up an odd-looking envelope. I slit it open with the small dagger I use as a letter-opener and read:

"Dear One

I do appologise for approaching you in this manner but my present condition has made me to desperately seek your help.My name is Mr Raymond Blanc. I was a first year medical student of the university of cocody, Abidjan in Cote d'ivoire until october 2004 when the rebels in my country struck our town and on the process i lost my parents who are my source of joy and inspiration.

My father Dr Jean-Quassi Blanc was before his untimely death a serving director with the national cocoa Exporting board and the chairman board of trustees Nacope Cocoa farmers Co-operative society.

Before his death, he informed me of a foriegn account he has with a bank here in my country where he deposited the sum of 9.5million US Dollars. According to him, the money will be used to construct an ultra-modern medical complex where i will start my life after graduation. After the burial i approached the bank director where the money was deposited to find out how i can have access to the money but was told by the director that my father has an agreement with them. The money was deposited in a suspense fixed account with a clause attached to it for onward transfer into a foreign account. That the bank will follow the agreement written and signed by both (the bank and my Father).The director adviced me that my father stated in the agreement that in his absent,i should seek for a foriegn guardian from any country of my choice who will stand on my behalf as my guardian and the new beneficairy of the fund to enable the bank make the transfer.He said that my father warned i should not invest the money here because of the raging crisis and fear of his enemies.

Why I contacted you.

Due to the agreement my late Father had with the bank during deposit coupled with the fact that my secuity here can not be guarranteed,I hereby ask you to do me a favour by standing as my foreign Guardian and the new beneficiary of the money to enable the bank effect the transfer. Precisely i need your help in the following ways

1.To provide an account where the money will be transfered to.
2.To stand as my guardian and the new beneficairy of the fund to enable the bank make the transfer to your foriegn bank account in line with my fathers agreement with the bank.
3. To accept me in your family as your son since i do not have any body to take care of me.
4.To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to start a new life especially for me to complete my studies.You will also be the one to invest and mange the money for me until i'm able to handle it myself.

I have plans to invest this money in continuation with the investment vision of my late father, but not in this place again rather in your country.

I will give you 25% of the total sum for compensation after the sucessful transfer of the money in your safe account overseas.

Dear, if you will be kind enough to assist me, kindly indicate by replying back.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely

Raymond Blanc "

Then I laughed out loud. As a mysterious avenger of crime, I recognised the nature of the letter immediately. It was a version of what is called the 'Spanish Prisoner' con, one of the oldest in the book.
Just to make sure, I checked my files (and the internet), and sent the following reply:

"Bucko, you'll have to do better than that. a LOT better. Medical student? Perhaps 'Spanish Prisoner' would be a better description. This con is so old that it has a very long white beard. Your name is not, nor has it ever been, Raymond Blanc, and your father sure as anything never left any money in a bank account for you, since you are in fact an unsavoury little crook, and if your father had any sense he disowned you long ago. Your father was not Dr Jean-Quassi Blanc, as such a person never existed. The Nacope Cocoa farmers Cooperative is also a non-existent organization. What is more, the university you claim to have attended has no record of your ever being a student there. So, bucko, you're caught on the horns of a dilemma. Did you really think I'd just take your word for it? You'll have to get up one heck of a lot earlier in the morning to con me, you cheap swindler. Fancy thinking I'd fall for the old 'Spanish Prisoner' routine! You must think I was born yesterday! Or maybe you thought I was someone else.
Unfortunately for you (Bucko), you reached me, not some fat, juicy little pigeon who'd gladly allow you to take her for a long walk off a short pier.
No deal. I'm wise to you, and justice is on its way. It will strike when you least expect it.

The Girl in Grey."

My contacts and my technological expertise enabled me to quickly track down 'Raymond Blanc' (his name's not Raymond, and he's not Blanc) in a souk in Algiers. Once in my power the criminal, whose real name proved to be J. Bucky Akenbola (brother of the more famous crook O. Bucky Akenbola), confessed all and begged for mercy while weeping like a girl. I was not moved. Instead I locked him in a rat-infested dungeon in Spain superintended by a couple I once saved from a vicious killer, with instructions to feed him on bread and water, while supplying him with unlimited writing materials.
Now he really IS a Spanish prisoner!

When The Green Man's Away, 6: Another Wynn Wynn Situation

As I felt my feet leave the roof and slide off into space, I made a desperate grab for the guttering, hoping that it was the sturdy cast-iron sort, not the flimsy plastic sort that would break even under my weight. To my great relief it was made of cast-iron, and I hung on tight. The jerk on my arms was unpleasant, but it was a lot nicer that breaking a leg on the concrete-covered back yard of the house.
I found I was hanging from the guttering outside someone's bedroom window. The bedroom, however, was unoccupied. I was rather glad about that, as it looked like it belonged to the sort of teenager who'd make sarcastic comments about my rather uncomfortable predicament.
"Well! What have we here?"
I looked up and saw a Welsh criminal looking down at me. If there's one good thing about Welsh gangsters it's that they're all nearly as short as I am, and with high heels I can even be taller than them.
"Hi," I said. "I'm the Girl in Grey." Then he tried to stamp on my right hand. Just my luck. When the Green Man's in a situation like that he just has to say his name, and the criminal flees in terror screaming, 'l'Homme Vert!' Even when he's not in France. Me, the guy just tries to hurt me.
But this man's plan for doing it wasn't clever. I just grabbed his ankle and pulled, and he fell from the roof with a yell of fear. I dropped from the roof onto his fallen body, ensuring myself a soft landing.
"Thank you," I said mockingly as I jumped over the wall of the yard and into a back alleyway. Up on the roof I heard some of Derec Vedder Jones' men shouting rude things in Welsh.
"Dim Parcio!" I shouted back, before running off with a mocking laugh.
Having left my coat and hat behind, I had to get back into my room in the boarding-house through the window. Samantha greeted me by rubbing against my legs.
"Whew!" I said, "Samantha, you have NO idea what an easy life you lead."
Pulling off my mask, I shook out by bobbed blonde hair and lay down on the bed. I only meant to take a catnap, but it was already light when Samantha woke me up by licking my face.
"Samantha!" I cried, "You were meant to wake me earlier!"
Too late now. I took off my costume and had a quick shower before dressing for chapel. Taking Samantha with me in her lovely wicker cat-basket, I left the boarding house just after breakfast and walked around to the chapel. When I saw a Trinitarian Bible Society poster up I knew I'd be lazy and go there. Idly, I looked at the church notice-board. The name of the pastor almost knocked me flat - Rev. Wynn Wynn.
The answer to my question had been just around the corner all the time!

When The Green Man's Away, 5: Night on the Tiles.

I lay on the roof of the shop, hoping no-one would look up and see the mark of my diamond-tipped cutter on the skylight. I could not move for fear that I would make some noise and alert the criminals to my presence.
I thought I needed to teach Samantha how to be a look-out for me so I'd avoid this sort of situation again.
"Where's Jones?" a man's voice demanded. I hoped that meant Derec Vedder Jones and not one of the other million or so Joneses in Wales.
"He's in his own base, Williams," another man said. "But he sent this weapon. It should kill Wynn Wynn right in the middle of his sermon to-morrow morning!"
What evil plot was Derec Vedder Jones working out? More importantly, I thought, where was Wynn Wynn the pastor? Because unless I found out soon, he'd be dead.
The criminals in the shop below me laughed.
"Meow."
I looked up and saw the cat on the other side of the skylight. It was a stranger to me, but cats seem to like me anyhow.
"Hi," I whispered to the cat. "Look, I'm kind of busy..."
The cat moved towards me and, to my horror, it stepped on the skylight. Usually the skylight would have held, but this one had the best part of a circle of glass cut out of it.
"NO!" I called to the cat. But the cat took no notice and stepped onto the circle.
There was a snap, and with a yowl of surprise the cat vanished through the skylight. I heard breaking glass, and the sound of a cat hitting the floor and running off.
"Look!"
That tore it. The men in the shop had seen the suspiciously round hole in the glass.
"There's someone up there!"
No more time for subtlety, I thought. I jumped to my feet and started to run across the row of shop roofs.
"There! It's a girl!" someone cried behind me. I ignored him and carried on running, hoping that my small size and athlectic abilities would save me from being captured or even killed.
Behind me, I heard heavy footfalls on the roofs, and I hoped one might give way behind the men. Seeing a chance I jumped up, onto the roofs of the terraced houses in front of which the shops were built. There, up above the city, I ran.
The crooks wouldn't start throwing lead about lightly, I told myself. One gunshot and every cop in Cardiff would be headed for the area. I didn't want that, and the crooks didn't wat that either.
Suddenly a slate gave way under my right foot. I felt myself slip, tried to grab something, but found only smooth slates. I slid down the roof, towards the edge...

When the Green Man's Away, 4: A Wynn Wynn Situation

"The next victim of our campaign will be Rev. Wynn Wynn of the..." He was about to say where Wynn Wynn was minister when a large man barged into the shop and rang the bell.
"That's what you do to get service here," he told me. I replied with a dirty look.
"Who's first?" a man came through from the back of the shop and I presented the Art Deco cat.
"Me," I said. I handed over the money and left the shop. But not very far. I looked carefully around the building. It looked like it was going to be fairly easy to break into.
Then I went to find something to eat, wishing that the Green Man was there with me. It would be so romantic, I thought, a table for two, a candle...
But no, there was just little me at a table by myself. Unfortunately I only know three restaurants who'll let me take a cat along to eat with me. I carefully put part of my lasagne in a plastic bag for Samantha. She appreciates good food.
When I left the restaurant it was getting dark, and I moved silently through the streets of the city, past the huge neo-Arthurian fantasy of Cardiff Castle.
At last I reached the antiques shop. The front window was dark, and it looked like there was no-one home.
Just the way I like it.
I left my hat and coat in the alleyway and, clad in my close-fitting grey suit, I threw my grappling-hook up to the roof and climbed up.
The roof was pretty flimsy, but fortunately I'm rather light. I found the skylight and started to cut the glass with my diamond-tipped tool.
Then the lights came on inside.

When The Green Man's Away, 3: Grey Girlie will play

The body of the strangled reverend had led me straight to Wales. On the way Samantha and I caught up with a bit of correspondence: I wrote the letters, she licked the envelopes.
We arrived at Cardiff Central station a little after three in the afternoon and stepped out into blazing sunshine. I looked down at Samantha in her catbox and smiled.
"Well, Samantha, this is Cardiff. I hope this is where we'll be able to start to track down Derec Vedder Jones."
"Meow," Samantha said in reply.
It had been difficult for me to find a guest-house in Cardiff that would take Samantha and me. Most of them were quite willing to take Samantha on her own, but were less sure about me. I'm not sure why, but there you go, Samantha is so much more popular than I am.
My guesthouse was on a corner near a chapel. Since I arrived on Saturday I arranged to go to the chapel on the Sunday, hoping that we would find some important information at the chapel. Once we had settled in I put on my Girl in Grey costume and my raincoat and hat over it. Leaving Samantha to keep watch, I went out into the street.
Row upon row of terraced houses lined the street. I strolled along, trying not to be noticed. This is difficult when it's a hot day and you're wearing a raincoat. Contrary to everything I'd heard it seemed it didn't rain all the time in Wales.
I turned onto a street lined with run-down shops. On an impulse I entered a junk-shop that called itself 'Cardiff Grand Antiques' - I'd seen a beautiful Art Deco cat sculpture in the window.
There was no-one at the desk, and I was about to ring the bell when I heard voices.
"You got the clergyman?"
"Yeah. It was easy. Just wrapped the tie around his neck and throttled him."
"And the dog?"
"Dog came easy. I just gave him that steak you supplied. So, who's next?"

I had walked right into one of Derec Vedder Jones' hideouts!

When The Green Man's Away, 2: The Tie that Chokes

The lead had taken me to a quiet house in Olive Avenue. The address was embossed on the leather of the lead.
I rang the doorbell and waited, humming a little tune to myself while I did so. It was a nice sort of house, the kind of place I could settle down with The Green Man if he'd only start thinking of me that way rather than as a sort of glorified understudy. There were roses round the door, a big garden, a large dog-kennel. Well, that would have to go. My cats wouldn't like it...
A dog kennel. And I was carrying a dog lead. But there was no barking. Yet there were lights on indoors, and I could hear the television.
Quickly I peered through the letterbox. It's a bad habit lady vigilantes get into.
I saw the front hall. Everything was in order.
"Hi?" I called. Still no answer.
Probably most people would have posted the lead through the box. Not me. Leaving my grey raincoat on the gate, I ran round to the back of the house and started to climb the trellis that supported the rose. Sometimes being small is an advantage. Just not when you want to see over the heads of a crowd.
I made my entrance through an open window and in the room I abandoned my civilian clothes, revealing my Girl in Grey costume underneath. Silent as a cat (I learned from Samantha), I moved to the door, onto the landing. I hurried down the stairs and into the living-room of the house.
There I saw the man who was the owner. But he was dead, strangled with a necktie. Which was odd, as he was an Anglican clergyman and they don't wear ties. Quickly I examined the tie. It had a monogram on it, 'D.V.J.'
Who could that be? Quick as a flash my photographic memory furnished me with a name - Derec Vedder Jones, notorious Welsh master-criminal. What could Jones be up to? All I knew was that, with the Green Man away, I had to try to find out. And while he has his mysterious agents of vengeance, I just have some cats.

when The Green Man's Away, 1:The Girl in Grey has a lead

It started as an ordinary evening home, I was feeding my seven cats and trying to stop them figting over food when my white telephone rang. I snatched it up at once, taking care not to tread on anyone's tail.
"Hi?"
"This is the Green Man," the voice said. I smiled.
"This is the Girl in Grey. What's cooking?"
"Something big. Very big. So big that I have to go into deep cover for a while. So will you hold the fort while I'm gone?"
"Well, of course, Green Man," I replied. "On one condition. A date when you're OUT of deep cover."
"Deal. Goodbye."
"Au revoir!" I called, but he had already put down the 'phone. Typical of male crime-fighters, I thought.
I turned to my trusted side-kick, Samantha.
"Well, Sam, I'll have to leave you in charge for a bit," I told her seriously.
"Meow!" she replied. After all, she is a cat.
Leaving Samantha and the other cats in the living-room, I hurried into my bedroom and quickly donned my grey costume. A sweater and jeans went on over the top, and finally a large wide-brimmed hat.
Thus dressed, I left the building, heading for the garage where my grey car was parked.
I had a lead. Someone had left it on the pavement outside my residence, and for starters I wanted to return it. With my cats roaming the streets I don't want dogs running about without leads, they might hurt them. That is, the cats might hurt the dogs.
Soon I was in my grey car, headed across town. Little did I know what I was letting myself in for.

A Date with the Girl in Grey

Hi. Welcome to my blog. With the Green Man in deep cover for a while, sniffing out a dark and terrible conspiracy, the crooks of the world think they are safe. How wrong they are! For, despite Ms Madison's terrible disapproval (make that BECAUSE of Ms Madison's terrible disapproval), I, the Girl in Grey, have taken the field (and I've hidden it).

Crooks beware! No conspiracy is too deep-laid, no crime too well-concealed to escape me.

And I'm not kidding.