There were times when Chief Inspector Tom McRae hated his job and just about now was one of those times. He was investigating the murder of a young woman, barely into her twenties, and he was getting nowhere through no fault of his own. He had the murderer in police custody ready for questioning: an interrogation he knew would be entirely fruitless. The suspect, the only one, was a wealthy businessman called Dimitry Askovich; an entrepreneur from Russia whose background and income were mysteries to all but him. McRae knew he had done it. There was no other person who could have possibly committed this crime, but there was no hard evidence and no witness for the prosecution. A thorough search of his house had found nothing and further investigation was impossible due to his wealthy status. Askovich was about to get away clean unless McRae could pluck something out of this next interrogation.
 

McRae strode purposefully into the interrogation room. Askovich was already there seated next to his lawyer, a severe pain in the backside of the operation thought McRae. Detective Inspector Thornton, McRae’s partner, was stood against the far wall.

“Ah, good afternoon inspector.” Askovich greeted McRae
“Less of that.” replied McRae.

He was going for the direct approach. He thought he might have something.

“I would like to know about your accounts Mr Askovich.”

A calm face greeted him, as ever.

“I believe I have already cooperated fully on that matter.”
“Not quite. Tell me about this £500,000 that withdrawn from your account to an, as yet, unknown location. A mere business expense I suppose?”
“No. Unfortunately my account was hacked into and that was the sum of money taken.”
“Yet you failed to alert us to this breach of security.”
“I did not want to cause you any trouble over the matter.”
“Right, or for yourself. You wouldn’t want us poking around would you?”

McRae exited the interrogation room almost as troubled as he had entered it. At least now it seemed to him that he had found a slight chink in Askovich’s armour. It was just a question of the leverage he could find to prise it open.

“Get the IT department onto this.” He said to Thornton “I want to know where that money went, who to and what for. We can’t continue to hold him with just this, but it should keep the case open”
“Yes sir.”

As Thornton left him, McRae carried on towards his office. He didn’t believe Askovich for a second. There was something behind this bank transfer, but who was he paying, and why?

McRae awoke next morning on his sofa to the sound of his phone ringing. He answered it and heard Thornton’s voice.

“Sir, we’ve found where the money went.”
“Excellent. I’m on my way.”

One quick change of clothes and a wash later found McRae back at the police station.

“Turns out the money was transferred to an account in Nottingham, sir.”  
“Any idea whose account it is?”
“Not yet. For some reason, access to the account, and its details, has been encrypted. Even the bank couldn’t access it.”
“That’s odd. Did you have IT hack into it?”
“Yes, but they had no luck apart from discovering a coded message.”

At this, Thornton handed McRae a piece of paper upon which was printed:

“Loxley? What the hell does that mean?” said McRae after a short silence. “Find Loxley? This Loxley must either know Askovich or know someone who does, but how are we supposed to find them?”

McRae put the paper down on his desk and looked up at Thornton.

“Run a search for anyone with the name Loxley, especially in the Nottingham area, and get Askovich back in. I want to talk to him, for all the good it will do.”

That afternoon saw McRae pacing his office bad-temperedly. He was woken from his thoughts by a knock at his door. It was Thornton.

“We’ve got the results from the search, sir.”
“Well they had better show something. Askovich wasn’t saying a word, though that lawyer of his was, whining about the lack of charges and evidence against his client. I’ve a mind to do him for noise pollution. So what have we found then?”
“Not much.”

At this McRae sighed in frustration and he sagged into his chair while Thornton continued.

“Nobody named Loxley in the Nottingham area and any others outside that can’t possibly have hacked into the bank’s system.”
“Well that’s it then. There’s no case against Askovich.” McRae was despondent.
“Not quite, IT are still working on that account and there was one thing that came up, sir. An internet chat room identity was found as one of the results.”
“But what’s that got to do with Askovich?”
“It seems that this identity has appeared in more places than it’s supposed to be.”
“You mean this could be our hacker? Have you managed to find any details?”
“Nothing apart from that the identity’s signal comes from the Nottingham area and the identity’s name is Robin of Loxley.”
“What? As in Robin Hood?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well that would explain the location, but what’s it got to do with Askovich? At least we’re getting somewhere wherever that place is. Keep searching. Check if Askovich has had any involvement with this Robin of Loxley.”
“Yes sir.”

Later that evening McRae sat at home searching for clues to the hacker’s identity. He felt he must know everything there was to know about Robin Hood and his band of merry men, but it was still getting him nowhere at all. He was on the verge of sleep when his computer emitted a loud beeping noise. He was brought crashing back to wakefulness and looked at his computer. An e-mail had been sent to him and as he opened it, the screen became a swirling mass of letters. He could make no sense of it all until the letters began to arrange themselves into a strange message:

As suddenly as it had appeared, the message vanished. McRae’s computer switched itself off leaving him in darkness.

“The outlaw…”
“…the sheriff…”
“Of course!”

Realisation dawned upon McRae. He knew where the hacker was hiding. He also knew he had to go alone.

Finally, he was there, the legendary hiding place of Robin Hood himself. McRae stood in front of the Great Oak of Sherwood forest waiting for his quarry. He did not have to wait long as a shadowy figure emerged from the forest becoming more visible in the spotlights that surrounded the tree.

“So you’re Robin of Loxley.” McRae stated rather than asked.
“I’m impressed inspector.” replied the figure. “I rather thought I was going to be alone tonight.”
“So why have you brought me here with all of this Robin Hood nonsense? Are you planning to give your fraudulent earnings to the poor?” he asked sarcastically.

The figure laughed with derision.

“Nonsense? Hah! You still don’t know what you are really dealing with here do you? You think that I’m some everyday hacker with a romantic idea of Robin Hood. You thought that I was gathering riches from people who didn’t really deserve them and was about to distribute them among the poor and needy didn’t you?”
The figure began to laugh to himself and McRae could stand no more.
“Then what are you doing here then? Who are you and why have you taken so much trouble to steal this money?”
“Who am I? Who am I?” the figure asked quizzically to himself. “I’m not sure you would believe me, but…ah well you will soon anyway.”

He turned to McRae.

“I am who I say I am. I am Robin of Loxley, Robin Hood or whatever you wish to call me. No, don’t say anything.” as McRae was about to interrupt. “I speak the truth. I am not from here, not even human. I am a being from another dimension, Loxley it’s called, but I was exiled here a long time ago. I thought I was doomed to spend eternity on this hellhole, but I found a way to get back and that is what I have spent my entire time here working towards.”
“What?” McRae was stunned. “So how do you intend to get back to this other dimension?”
“Simple, really. I just have to have enough gold to pay the gatekeeper of the portal. Then I can go back through. Back home.”
“What portal? What are you talking about?”
“The tree you fool. Why do you think I was in this forest to begin with? I came out here and explored until I found a way back. Then I got some help from my ‘Merry Men’ and stole a bunch of gold. I’ve also been storing the gold back here until I have enough. Isn’t it great that National Heritage have been keeping people away from my secret hiding place for me?” he laughed again. “Most countries now have their own ‘Robin Hood’ story, all of them me. Tonight, I have finally got enough and am going home.”
“So where did the giving to the poor come from?” McRae was stalling for time until Thornton and the others arrived.
“Oh, I gave enough away to look convincing while keeping back as much as I could. That way I would be seen as a hero and nobody would suspect a thing.”
“So how come you haven’t managed it this time?”
“Ah. Now that is mostly your fault.”
“Me? What have I got to do with this?”
“You were starting to catch up with me. You were closer than anyone has been so I decided to cover my tracks instead. I believe you will find out how soon enough.”

With that, the figure stepped towards the tree and muttered something that McRae couldn’t understand.

“Wait! You’re not going anywhere. You’re under arrest. I have reinforcements on the way…”

McRae was cut short as the tree in front of him erupted into a swirling mass of coloured light. The figure stepped towards this light and turned to McRae.

“Somehow inspector, I doubt they will be here to arrest me.”

He walked into the light and McRae lunged forward to grab him, but grasped only air. He fell to the ground at the foot of the tree onto something hard.

“What was it” he thought.
“Gold! But what was it doing here?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder pull him to his feet.

“Thornton! You’re too late. He’s gone.”
“I don’t think so, sir. We found out who the owner of the bank account was: A Mr Tom McRae of Nottinghamshire Police Force. You’re under arrest, sir.”