Lion, Tiger, Bear 1.141 I awoke. The end. Happy? Alice flushed, wiped, hoisted up her panties, and kissed her softly. Tm so dreadfully sorry about your chap, truly, and your mothers in the metaphysical fight, so no worries. Do you really not believe me about Siwa? Alice smiled and hugged her. Oh, of course I do. If you said you saw a tan- painted Bismarck with signal flag mizzen masts sailing in the desert sands guns blazing I would still believe you. Thanks. Time? She picked up her Hamilton from the small arabesque bureau inlaid with fine ebony. Zippedy-zap. Half past eight. Shitting hell! Weve missed breakfast with Rodgers at his hotel. Havent seen him forever. Alice began to dress in her Royal Navy Wren uniform. Hes here? Here. Hes got something for us in the works, but you know him, probably just a routine job rooting out local Jerry spies using MI-6 hired harlots and hidden cameras. But I need to visit the brain chap at nine sharpish. McMasters a horse pill on this one. Says I need an evaluation or some such. Bloody old codger, he could use one too. T thought you were sacked from the WAAF. Not quite yet but Im on the mat, five charges. Frankly, I like your uniform better, maybe Ill switch. Wheres my other shoe? Under the bed. A psychological evaluation? Alice opened a jar and rubbed moisturizing cream on both their faces. You look dog-old. Feel it too. Yes, a window-licker test or something equally suspect. Put extra here. Its supposed to smell of papaya and mango. Stinks. Blast, where are they? Anyway, the brain doctor is fashionable these days, a requirement they say. Maybe itll do me some good. Alice found Beas watch and ID card. Doubtfid. Sharing a small chicken sandwich, they fast-walked through Soliman Pacha street with its old-world architecture. It was crowded that day; they stood apart amongst the many locals in robes. Cars and carts bustled about, one jackass-drawn cart held fifteen women in black robes, a humble taxi for the poor. In the distance the Mohammad Ali