Breakfast at Buckingham Palace

"Are you sure that it's this way?"

"Andrew, you need to trust me on this one." Newkirk stopped. "I didn't remember that they had so many doors."

Carter stared at him in disbelief. "You were here before?"

"A couple of times."

"A couple of times?"

"Alright, once… Lower your voice."

"Buckingham Palace… Why?" Carter gasped. "Did you break-in?"

"No! Somebody invited me." He pulled at his friend's jacket and intercepted a man in black, pushing a cart with tea through the corridor. "Excuse me, the kitchen?"

"Next door on your left."

"See? We weren't lost," Newkirk tapped Carter's shoulder to signal they should keep walking.

"We were lost, then?" Carter followed the cart with his eyes. "That must be for the colonel," he sighed.

"We'll get ours too, don't worry."

"I don't get it. We came together. We should be there with him, don't you think?"

"I don't think King George would like that. We're not included in the protocol."

"I know, but I'd like to meet him, you know. He's the King of England."

"So I've heard. Anyway, you know what the gov'nor said. It's a secret mission and we're incognito. " Newkirk knocked on the door.

"Yeah, sometimes I feel I'm invisible… being a spy is kind of scary."

"Trust me, Carter, there are scarier jobs." Someone opened the door and several heads inside turned to see them. "Hello… we are-"

"The commoners are here." A man in white let them in and went back to his station by the sink.

"Thank you, Oswald." Another man in white, taller and older than the first one, spoke from the side of the stove. "You were supposed to wait outside."

"And outside we were until it began to rain." Newkirk rubbed his hands together, looking around at all the food the chefs were preparing.

Carter seconded that with a nod. "Then, one of your guards opened the door and invited us in… nicely, really."

"It's all right, Carter, he's got the idea."

"Miss Kinsley, forget the table in the garden, the Americans will have their tea here."

"Head Chef, I gather? He's the American, I'm English."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so. I look like many people. Besides, I have been out of the country for almost three years." Newkirk smiled as the maid set the places for them. "Thank you, love."

Carter sat at the table, mesmerized by the three-tiered tray in front of them. "Wow, look at this. I'm starving."

Newkirk poured two cups of tea and relaxed with a cucumber sandwich. "So, how do you like England so far, Andrew?"

"Oh, it's awesome. To be completely honest, I was expecting some boring hours in a dark office, you know, talking about the mission." He got some tea and biscuits. "I still don't know why they brought us here but wow, the people we've met."

"Yes. That's been something."

Carter frowned as he leaned over. "Did you say you were here once before? That girl, the maid, hasn't taken her eyes off you… and the old chef, he looks mean…"

"Indeed?" Newkirk looked over his shoulder. The head chef was moving closer.

"Weren't you at the Palladium?"

"Today? No," Newkirk stood up slowly. "Okay… Carter, I think we should go back to the garden."

"Now? But the rain… and I haven't finished yet."

"Oh, they can pack that for you. Do you mind?"

"Miss Kinsley," the head chef signed for the maid to take the tray away.

Newkirk motioned silently for Carter to start moving toward the door. Seconds later, Miss Kinsley came back and the Englander received the paper bag with a smile. "Thank you, love."

"You're welc-," she squinted. "Peter?"

Oswald came from behind to put his hands on her shoulders. "What is it, darling? Do you know this man?"

Denying it was useless, Newkirk sighed. "I think we did… a long time ago. We were friends,"

"What a small world," Carter chuckled.

"It was three years ago, have you forgotten? Christmas Eve 1939. We had tea right here. You said you would ring me up and you never did." She frowned.

"So, this is that Peter?" Oswald snorted. "I pictured him taller."

"Hey, I resent that," Newkirk shook his head. "Roxy, I meant to call you but something came up."

"You stood up my wife, you know."

"Really, Roxy, you got married?" he tapped her arm. "Finally, good for you."

"Finally?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, I remember now," the head chef moved forward. "You were the bloody magician that smashed my watch at the Palladium on Christmas Day, 1939."

"Well, I-"

"Definitely a very small world," Carter shook his head, munching a biscuit.

"Hey, I know you too," Oswald pointed at Newkirk. "Boxing Day, 1939. We were at the races, you took my money to make a bet for both of us and never came back."

"There's a good explanation for all that," Newkirk recoiled, looking for the exit. "Unfortunately, we have to go back with our boss… see? He's at a meeting with King George."

"And the Prime Minister," Carter added. "And some other very important men."

"Right, we've got to go now. Thank you for the tea. It was lovely to see you all again." Newkirk pushed Carter out and hurried him down the aisle.

"Boy, I thought spy business was dangerous."

"You can say that again… Let's go wait for the gov'nor in the library. We can entertain ourselves by watching the servants dusting the books."

"Wait," Carter stopped. "You don't know anyone on that side of the palace, do you?"

"Not that I remember," Newkirk kept walking.

Carter followed him, carrying the bag of biscuits. "Good, just checking."

The end