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Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 98

“Or not,” said Filly, “they would say Big Kahuna I think.” She smiled and slapped her husband’s thigh playfully.

        “Yes, that too, it’s the big question and we need to know the answer quickly. I saw details of your journey at Spinky’s place, which the police had planted, so not only are we up against some extremists, we’re up against a police informer too.”

        “Oh, that makes things so difficult,” said Alex rubbing the ginger stubble on his chin, “how do we work out who we can trust, Mr. Tompkins?”

        “Well, I think we can trust the people at Aunt Jemima’s place. Apart from them, though, it’s difficult to say, old boy, because I haven’t assessed, or re-assessed them, in person since I realised this is what we’re up against.”

        “And who is the police informer?” asked Filly.

        “Well, Miss Scarlett, aka Ethel Warburton, seduced a man I captured outside The Glitz Bar, who turned out to be a Russian tourist. He provided a description of a man listening to myself and two pals who were in the lobby, trying to see what had become of Spinky Mills. The description matches someone we all know, but I don’t want to say anything until it’s proved.”

        “She seduced him, this Russian tourist, but didn’t muffle him?”

        “Yes, Filly, Dimitri is still alive and is a lot happier now than he was earlier today, although he should now be back in circulation. He didn’t want to leave – he was hoping Ethel would come and visit him again.”

        “I’ll bet he was – I hope you’re right about him. Is someone tailing him in case he and Ethel Scarlett or Warburton are in league together against us?”

        “Someone is shadowing him back to his hotel and to the airport where he’s due to take off tomorrow morning, back to Russia.”

        “Good,” replied Filly, looking in the mirror to see whether they were being followed, although this was unlikely as Tompkins was travelling at around 100mph.

        “How far is it to our destination?” asked Alex, “I’m getting a bit parched.”

        “It’s about 30 minutes, old boy, but there should be water in the boot, I’ll just pull over at the next parking,” replied Tompkins indicating a ‘P’ sign with ‘1 mile’ written underneath it.

        “Thanks,” said Alex licking his lips in anticipation.

        Tompkins smiled and increased speed. Closer to the safe house he would have to take some evasive action for a few minutes, just to make sure there were no people in hot pursuit or even lukewarm pursuit.

        He stopped, and Alex got out. Tompkins unlocked the boot and whispered, “is he kosher, old girl?”

        Filly nodded and replied in a hushed voice “He is, but like me he’s wondering how we benefit from repatriating people like this.”

        Tompkins smiled and raised his eyebrows. Alex re-entered the vehicle clutching a litre bottle of water. Tompkins looked in his mirrors before leaving the parking at high speed.

        “Well, we’re a few minutes away,” began Tompkins, “and I am convinced that we are not being followed, but there might be police up ahead or in the air, can you look out and see whether there are any helicopters around? I will stop again in about 10 minutes and double-check.”

        As Filly and Alex looked to the skies, Tompkins looked in his mirrors and watched the cars coming in the other direction, to see whether any of them took an unusual interest in them. None appeared to and none of them turned around to follow. After 5 minutes, Tompkins made a hard right and headed down a narrow road through some trees. He stopped by a gate and got out of the Jaguar.



This post first appeared on Julian Worker Fiction Writing, please read the originial post: here

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Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 98

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