<b>28th Marc, 2021<br/>
 11:55 AM<br/>
 Unknown Warehouse, Middlesex, UK</b><br/><br/>It wasn't like waking up after a good night's sleep. Actually it was more like waking up after spending the entire previous evening drinking a mixture of wine, beer and spirits in equal and far too great proportions.  The last thing Amber remembered was something hard and painful hitting her in the midriff. She'd already been feeling wobbly after drinking whatever was in that bottle as she stood outside cell 201 as instructed. She hadn't expected to be grabbed from behind and she certainly hadn't expected the shiv that appeared in the hands of the woman who came out of the cell.<br/><br/>Being shived didn't hurt as much as she expected. She was spinning down into unconsciousness even before she hit the floor.<br/><br/>And now she found herself lying on a bed of some sort. Somewhere that had oddly open acoustics. She risked opening an eye and winced as pain lanced into her head "Mnhhf!" Sitting up was painful too, there was, she noted as she pulled up the lane white prison issue tee shirt, a clean dressing on her tummy, just where she remembered being stabbed. She looked around and noticed the box on the table.<br/><br/><i>Okay, passport, driving licence, birth certificate, credit card, cash, address and keys... And the bastard who framed me too? Well well, Mister Gizzlebert, you think of everything. </i>She read the note and laughed. Or tried to; It turned into a dry cough.<i>Everything except a bottle of drinking water. Arsehole!</i><br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/><b><b>19 Bleak Lane, Lyndhurst, Hampshire.<br/>
1st May, 2021<br/>
 08:42</b></b><br/><br/>The taxi from Ashurst Station pulled up outside the place and Amber handed the driver a tenner. "Keep the change," she told him, waited until he drove off, then turned and surveyed the house. Her boots crunched on the gravel as she made her way to the imposing front door. She imagined that there were security cameras watching her, and Mister Gizzlebert already knew she was there, but she paused and looked for a doorbell or knocker. "Oooh, I do love big knockers!" She muttered to herself as she lifted the heavy metal loop and bashed it noisily against the plate it was attached to on the door.<br/><br/>Then she waited. She half expected an ageing retainer to open the door with a loud, slow creak, or it could be a sexy young bimbo. She'd prefer the latter of course, except that the bimbo would most likely belong to the man who signed himself "The Professor", and therefore would probably be straight. The rattle of the door lock pulled her out of her daydream.<br/><br/>"Hi. I'm here to see Professor Gizzlebert?" Truth being, she'd only seen his name in Morse code and had no idea how to say it!