Part 8 of 18

Next morning

Richard groans himself awake. He is stiff and sore. Pushing a car isn't as easy as it sounds! As he sits up and rubs his eyes, he notices Angus is on the floor, rolled up in their spare blanket. He sighs, reaches down and prods the man's shoulder.

Angus rolls over and groans, sits up, scrubs his face and says, "Ah, good morning. I hope you had a better night's rest than I did. Sorry, but the bed got a little crowded so I slipped out."

Richard grins ruefully, "We'd have no trouble sharing this bed with our wives, would we?"

Angus grins back, "No, indeed. More's the pity."

Richard stands and stretches, "Do you think Johnny will let us take a day off for a quick flight home? Even for a few hours?"

Angus folds up his impromptu bed and stows it in the closet, "Unfortunately, no. Once he's on a mission, nothing can deter him. He's totally driven and cannot be distracted. He's a bit like you in that regard, sir, Rich, oh…" He shakes his head.

Richard smiles and finishes dressing. He would never admit it but it's nice to be appreciated. Then he looks at his watch, "Speaking of Johnny, it's odd that he isn't here chivvying us to hurry up, don't you think?" He turns to the mirror and presses his facial disguise into place.

Angus pauses in dressing and looks at his own watch, "Yes, it is. Why don't you bring around the car and I'll call MI7 for an update. Perhaps they will have the information on that yacht. Then we'll find agent English and have a nice leisurely breakfast, hmm?"

Richard snugs his cap down and waggles his mustache, "Sounds like a plan."

The race back to London

They don't get breakfast. They barely manage to get into the car before it is throwing gravel up into the sky and fish-tailing down the driveway. They hang on for dear life as the car screams around hair-pin turns and passes other vehicles where there isn't the slightest chance of actually passing.

Angus tries to focus agent English on the speed limit but once the traffic cop is knocked akimbo he gives up. He casts a worried look back to Richard and yells, "It's those green pills! I knew I should have labeled them! What a fool I am to not have done it!"

Richard is holding his cap and white-knuckling the grab-bar above his door, "Not your fault! Everyone knows red means stop and green means go!" He casts a look at the feverish man behind the wheel, "Except him, it seems! I say, Johnny! Slow down, man!"

"It's no use, sir, Rich, oh… He can't hear you. He's flying on those pills. The only good thing is that his reflexes are also sped up to match. I have to be ready to grab the wheel if the pills wear off before we reach London, that's all."

"Oh, is THAT all?!" Richard gulps. "In that case, I think I'll just lay down here and dream of home. Good luck, Angus." He dives down onto the back seat and covers his head, hoping like hell that they don't die a fiery death.

They don't… but it's a near thing. Richard isn't sure which gods are responsible for road conditions but he's ready to offer up thanks to whatever allows them to arrive safely.

Meanwhile

"Hmm," Dwayne mutters, "This one is tricky. What does 'londonbridge' mean, do you suppose?"

Camille and Fidel fix him with scoffing eyes, "It means they are back in England," she snorts.

"Quick," Fidel turns to his computer screen, "Let's Google 'odd happenings' in England and see what we find."

Moments later they are reading with amazement.

End – part 8