150 | John W. Warner IV And he was in rare form. I was ordered to report directly to BTE after my brain session with Dr. Quackmeister, MI-6s most brilliant moron to date. Alexander and his henchmen deemed my story and me unfit for digestion, McMaster the bastard, too. Then some fat RAF Commodore told me to turn in my blue couture at the desk whilst the entire high command and office corps stood witness in the lobby snickering, their fly whisks and swaggers tucked under their sweaty armpits. Im surprised they didnt cane me the hell out of there. Poppy was right, theyre all soft-arsed brass hatters and ignorant whore-mongering dimwits under it all. Im a civvy now and forever, and that suits me jolly well. An Egyptian boy in a pillbox hat arrived with a note on a silver charger. Bea tipped the boy generously. Thanks, old man. Dont put it in Barclays Bank, theyll steal it from you and loan it to the Germans. He then cleaned up the mess with the waiter. Alice nabbed the missive. Says to meet Uncle Percys nephew Sam in the restaurant. North corner. In a well-padded green silk booth sat Bernie in his tropical-weight white suit, impeccable tie, and pocket square, his spread newspaper covering his face. A forest of potted plants and fan palms partially hid him as well. He recognized them by the sound their shoes made, just as he did as a boy when pursued by his siblings in the family hay barn. Bea snatched the paper down. Guten tag, Herr Sam, she hissed. He laughed, and hard. A civilian, eh? I just knew-w-w it wouldnt last. Love the WAAF skirt, ugly shoes, and the now barren white-shirt look. The newest from Paris? Quiet, you. Its mufti for me. Soon Ill be wearing the big Bergman hat and dress from Casablanca. My new uniform for Le Tip Top Club. Im jealous already. Love all the outdoor cinemas they have for us. Alice slithered up next to him and ate a wispy breadstick. Bernie, why so thin? Gads old boy, you look a bit trodden underfoot. What news have you? He kissed her, then Bea. Not much news. Its really damn good to see you both. Thin? Oh, Ive been on the new Mediterranean diet, you know, cottage cheese, lemons, fruit cocktail, dates, all washed down with cheap bootleg gin. Its an American rage. He snapped a breadstick of his own. A waiter brought his savory lunch and a