Sid had entered the secure compound by simply scaling the wire fence at the rear. Then, by climbing up the exterior of the building at the back, he gained access to the roof. By carefully removing one of the domed duct covers, he revealed the single shaft that disappeared into the gloom of the building.
Although not that large an opening, it was sufficient for him to squeeze his small frame down. He had to remove all clothing, except his briefs, a webbing belt with small tool kit, and his shoes. Having smeared grease all over his body, he slithered down the duct, pulling his pack behind him, attached by a cord to his wrist.
Half an hour later, he'd removed the retaining screws of the duct in the ground floor warehouse area and dropped soundlessly to the floor. Within another fifteen minutes, he had removed sufficient memory chips to fill his bag, replaced the duct cover and was making slow progress back up the duct towards the roof.
Somewhere in the bowels of the building he heard an alarm, so knew that his presence in the warehouse had been discovered either by motion sensors or temperature sensors. Confident that his access and egress would be undiscovered, his plan was to remain hidden firstly within the duct, and then on the roof, under a military-spec, heat-retaining blanket that he had brought along for just the purpose.
Sure enough, as he rose from the bowels of the plant, he could hear the familiar and hated chrupp-chrupp of the police helicopter as it made its way towards his location. He simply waited within the duct for the helicopter to hover and use their hi-tech, heat signature camera on the roof and then start to run increasing circles of search pattern away from the location. He emerged as it moved away, slipped under his blanket beneath the over-hanging parapet of the roof, hoping that the blanket's specifications were as he hoped and expected.
The heat signature camera and other technology on board the helicopter were the bane of his life, and he owed the last two stretches inside to the technology on helicopters.
Although they had already checked the roof, they returned for just one more look. It seemed to hover directly above him for what appeared to be an eternity, eventually making larger circles and eventually disappeared to the east. His one hope was that the helicopter's two negative searches of the roof would render any further searching by police or security redundant. His hope seemed to bear fruit. The police cars and people on the ground gradually dispersed, and he was alone again.
He had just dressed once more in his dark clothing, feeling slightly light headed with relief and satisfaction when he felt a slight breeze against his bare cheek. The night was incredibly still, so this breeze cooled him, so he sensed that he was no longer alone.
Spinning round, he saw, much to his surprise, a tall girl standing a short distance away with a smile on her face and her hands on her hips. She looked directly at him, displaying no surprise or fear.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, stepping towards her.
It was only then that he realised that although she was but a few feet away, there was no safe surface between them, for she was standing on fresh air. That is, she was perfectly stationary, but her feet were some eighty feet from the tarmac of the car park below. She was floating in mid-air!
He stopped himself before he fell over the parapet, doing a passable imitation of a man just about to fall from a great height, including the mad flapping of arms and the justifiably terrified expression.
For the first time this evening, he felt fear. Not the apprehension that he might get caught, as he was used to that. This was different. This was the fear of something inexplicable and something he could neither control nor comprehend. This was compounded by the fear of knowing with a degree of certainty that, unless a miracle happened, he was going to go back to prison.
He stared at the young woman, as if by seeing her properly, she might disappear or something equally useful.
She didn't.
Her long fair hair floated slightly as she worked to retain the same altitude. She looked remarkably normal to Sid; in that she was attractive, with a nice figure that went in and out in all the right places although as she was wearing a dark sweater, tight dark leggings and high heeled boots, he wasn't best able to judge in the dark. It was hard to gauge her age, but she was certainly no more than eighteen or nineteen.
The only thing that wasn't dark was a faintly glowing circlet of dull silver or grey metal around her neck. His avaricious eyes were drawn to it, as he subconsciously appraised its value and saleability, despite being in a very vulnerable situation.
“Good morning Mr Burglar. I'm so sorry to disappoint you, as you so nearly got away with this one, didn't you?” she said in an educated and delightfully pleasant voice.
On his belt, he knew there were various tools. One of which was a gravity knife. Half turning away from her, he hid that side from her view and slipped the knife from the belt, opening the blade with a flick of his wrist and throwing it at her as hard as he could.
As the blade headed rapidly for her ample chest, so Sid felt the risings of remorse and not a little guilt as he mentally started to add murder to his list of previous convictions.
He would never forget what happened next. In fact, for the next ten years, as he lay on his bunk in Brixton Prison, he'd have nightmares about it.
The blade was true and directly on course to impact the woman in the centre of her chest, between her delicately rising breasts.
When it was literally a hair's breadth away from her, it simply stopped. She lazily reached up with her left hand and plucked the knife from the air, closing the blade and wagging the index finger of her right hand at him.
“You nasty little man; how dare you?” she said, the tone of her voice sounding remarkably like Miss Pickles, his first primary school teacher.
Floating towards him, she then reached out, grabbed him by the neck and springing with her legs against the parapet, launched vertically off into the night sky with him screaming.
Ten minutes later, the bell sounded on the external door of Slough Police Station custody suite. Bearing in mind that this door was within a secure compound, this was unusual in itself, as no one had opened the exterior gate to enter the compound.
There was a CCTV camera on the outside of the door. Those inside looked at the monitor, and simply saw what they assumed was the top of someone’s head against the camera.
Christopher Smith was the Custody Sergeant, so he opened the door to find the diminutive Sid staring wide-eyed and gibbering soundlessly. In his hand was a large bag with 'SWAG' written thereon. Across his chest was taped a single piece of A4 paper. The sergeant reached out and took the paper, amused that Sid slid soundlessly to the ground. The sergeant smelled fresh urine and was surprised to see that the diminutive burglar had wet himself.
Sergeant Smith read what was on the paper aloud to the few officers that had come to see the commotion.
“I, Sidney Rawlings, have burgled Garratt Electronics. I entered the A/C duct on the roof and gained access to the warehouse to remove the contents of this bag. I used a special blanket to evade detection by the helicopter's thermal imaging camera. This blanket is still on the roof along with a few assorted tools that I used to help me gain access. No one helped me, and I wish to make a full confession.”
It was signed by Sid in what appeared, to Sergeant Smith, to be blood. Actually, it turned out to be red felt pen, but was suitably dramatic.
The policeman looked at the gibbering wreck of a man on the ground, who had just started to steam gently.
“Is this right?” he asked. “You've just screwed the Garratt building?”
Sid said nothing, but nodded. Then he started to weep, so the sergeant helped him to his feet and took him into the warmth and relative safety of the police station.