13. YOU’VE HAD YOUR CHIPS

At the Motorway services waiting with his tray Glen Mower was still trying to digest the bizarre occurrences that had prompted his arrival there and the further strange phenomena that punctuated the journey.

‘You didn’t pay for the petrol,’ he proved Diamonde in the queue. ‘For a car you stole, too. Yet, when the police nabbed us, they done some checks then apologised to you, and let us go?’

‘We have friends in high places,’ Kai Diamonde responded.

‘We had pursuers in high places too when that Met Police helicopter was on our bloody trail,’ Glen fired back.

‘Now you’re using words I don’t understand,’ Kai replied.

‘Eh?’

‘Ah, at last,’ the Teflon type bandit said upon reaching the serving station. ‘Get a decent portion of everything, Matey, there’s a lot to take in. Obviously, you won’t want chips.’

‘Chips? This doesn’t double up as a casino does it?’ His companion’s remark made Diamonde smile and he was still chuckling as he made his way to a vacant table and sat down with his meal. Glen was shaking his head and looked on disapprovingly as he was left to foot the bill.

‘Do you ever pay for anything?’ Glen ventured as they sat at a basic circular table.

‘No point,’ Kai replied, cutting open his fried egg and directing a mushroom towards the small yellow puddle on his plate formed as a consequence.

‘Yes, the point is you’ll get in trouble with the police,’ Mower responded but as the words left his mouth he realised that despite deploying a helicopter and seven cars only an hour earlier it was the police who apologised for having troubled him! Furthermore, mention of police had drawn another blank expression from Diamonde. So as he mixed his curry into the rice on his plate he chose to change tact. ‘Where are we going next?’

‘Brabazon Lodge where amongst other things Past Words the publishers are located.’

‘I know them,’ Glen explained feeling like he was now, at last, batting on a sound wicket. ‘Publishers of historical biographies, though never seen anything in the shops. I sent them my biography of Napoleon.’

‘Yes, they were most impressed, Matey, and that’s why they know of you now,’ Kai declared reassuringly as he began dumping mushrooms, beans and the dissected egg on his buttered toast.

‘Yeah, so impressed that they rejected it,’ the budding historian scathingly replied.

‘There was just one major flaw with your biography of Napoleon,’ Diamonde disclosed, ‘you had Napoleon in it.’

Glen Mower had been about to engage his fork full of food with his taste buds but instead paused the mechanics of the process and remained open mouthed.