Chapter 13

“Begged you?”

“Yes ... if I had gone to fetch I wouldn’t have been shorted 20 SNJ’s.”

“How many aircraft did you buy?”

“Forty ... forty SNJ’s”

“SNJ? Like AT6’s?”

“With tailkooks and better suspension.”

“But you only got 20?”

I proceeded to expound on the truth.

“You got 20 SNJ’s, 19 F8F Beatcats and a F7F?”

Wait for it.

“What’s the F7F?”

“Why don’t we go out to the airfield and you can see for yourself?”

The tax man said... “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”

“I’ll drive ... unless you want to follow.”

We both drove.

He bought an SNJ. Never said a word about tax.

My alleged ‘little unpleasantness’ with ‘forces unknown’ and ‘unspecified’ was ‘being looked in to.’

The ongoing investigation was being prosecuted by the State Police and hindered by the State.

Eventually Elizabeth noticed the shortfall ... Well ... to be honest ... She didn’t ... but one of her accountants did ... and told her.

She sent the inquisition.

We Australians, dislike the Brits ... the Pommies: Australian & New Zealand Offensive Slang. Used as a disparaging term for a British person, especially a recent immigrant. [Shortening and alteration of pomegranate, Pummy Grant, alterations of Jimmy Grant, probably rhyming alteration of immigrant.]. The sun shines in Australia ... newbies get sunburnt ... they turn as red as a pomegranate.

When the Savile Row bespoke suits show up ... someone in charge in Blighty is unhappy with someone in the Colonies.

“She wants to know,” said the pretty, fit and impeccably dressed young man who drove over Bowen’s hill and down our side. He parked the lifted and four wheel drive British Racing Green Aston Martin Valkyrie in the Visitors slot, opened up and descended to our muddy parking lot.

I, having been warned by surveillance security that, ‘something evil this way comes,’ was waiting at the head of the path.

He approached.

“That’s quite the road,” he spoke.

“That’s quite the car,” I said.

“Well ... yes ... she is ... Daddy, don’t you know,” he said.

I pointed to the Owner spot ... my six wheel drive Land Rover Perentie in Afghanistan desert sand sat there looking dirty.

“Daddy did it.”

“Is he here?”

“Sadly ... daddy is not ... he is where he always is when he’s not here.”

“Who is in charge?”

“That would be me.”