Chapter 18

"Bill, I think we're fucked ... look down the runway."

A C-130 was winding up ... E'veen glanced at the tower, a light flashed at the transport. The vapor trails from the tips of the props turned into corkscrews.

"Whoa, I think it's time we did something here." Looking at the watch, she punched in the first coordinates to show up when she pressed 'Query, ' they were gone. In the forefront of E'veen's mind was the thought, 'I wonder where we're going?'

'Where, ' was London, September, 1938. Bill and E'veen were both wearing bluejeans, tee shirts and berks.

England ... in the last throws of summer and the last one free from war. Prime Minister Chamberlain had just left to bargain with Hitler ... to the ruination of his party, Elizabeth Bowen had published the definitive novel of the time between the wars, although no one knew there was a second Great War coming. The sun still never set on the British Empire and America was hiding it's isolationist head in the sand.

There was a problem though; they were still in the car. The car, still running, was standing in the middle of Piccadilly. London traffic, never light, ground to a halt.

"'Hear you! You can't park there.' I told them," said the bobby to his audience in the pub after shift. He quaffed from his Black and Tan and continued, "I opened the back door, fully intending to read the riot act to the couple in the back ... they were obviously 'Foreigners.' Outlandishly dressed and quite young. Dressed like so many German youths on holiday, they were. I wasn't having THAT on MY watch ... what ever THAT was."

As he wiped the foam off this handlebar, he signaled the publican to pull another. Today had been rough, fighting his way through the stalled motors and irate bystanders was the last of it ... until he made his report.

"She ... oh, a right fine beauty, but on the small side, gave me her name ... Aoibheann O'Riada Sutherland ... Irish as the day is long ... thanked me politely, flashed me a US Marshals badge and stepped to the front door." He took a pull at his pint and continued, "they drive on the wrong side of the road over there, you know."

Here, he pulled out a big red kerchief and wiped his brow. Another sip and he stuffed the kerchief in his pocket.

"Then HE climbed out of the car ... and out and out and out ... and up and up and up. I've never seen the like. A giant ... he smiled, and showed his badge, stepped round to the operator's side and said ... horrible accent ... a Texan ... not like us at all," he confided. "He said, 'diplomatic immunity, old chum, diplomatic immunity, ' and simply motored off. Well, I wrote down the number plate..."

Here he waved his Incident Book, laid it on the bar and thumped it, he did ... everyone leaned forward to see the evidence and leaned back nodding as if that settled it.

Like puppets they all called for another ... there was a break while the publican and his buxom daughter passed foaming pints ... now there were two pints in front of the constable.

"Aye ... right (thump) here (thump) in (thump) this (thump) very (thump) book (thump). I went to see the Sergeant, he went to the inspector. Nobody knew what to do. Finally the Commissioner got involved ... He called Ambassador Kennedy. Kennedy didn't know a thing. Cables have been sent ... I might know in the morning ... something. Miss Innes! pull me another if you please!"

"E'veen, wait!" Bill exclaimed. "Pull to the curb I want to ask that gentleman something."

Bill got out and accosted a well dressed gentleman ... a discussion ensued ... much hand waving and pointing. Bill shook hands, smiling and re entered the car.

"Left at the next corner, please. Stop at the kiosk ... the newspaper stand."

Bill jumped out, there was a second discussion ... he paid with American money and received a bulky packet.

"That man is going to have some explaining to do."

"Why is that, Bill?"

"I paid him with an American dollar."

"So?"

"2008 date." Bill laughed, "E'veen, watch the road. Right at the next corner."

Bill unfolded an enormous map. and proceeded to direct E'veen to Woolston, Southampton. It's only seventy-five miles from London but it took hours. Even today England has awful roads ... in the late thirties they were a hodgepodge of bad lanes, worse back streets and simply terrible roads. The map was of minimal help. Road signs ... where they were ... but mostly weren't ... made no sense at all. Bill was beginning to think the Germans would start the war before they arrived in Woolston ... the war was only two years away.

Finally; Southampton, they asked directions to the Northham bridge.