“I have.” “And you want me to wait until noon?” he asked. “Yes, I do. And don’t get a speeding ticket driving home. Just drive normally an... I’ll meet you in the bedroom. Can you do that?” she asked. “I’ll be out of here at noon,” he answered with assurance. “Bye Baby,” she whispered and hung up. For the next 45 minutes he tried to concentrate on something work related, but it was simply impossible. He finally took a stack of papers from his desktop and pretended to be checking them in hopes. He wasn't sure how she'd take it and didn't want any dramas. The reply merely acknowledged his letter and that the Royal Australian Air Force had nothing to offer him. It was even more terse than the French reply. He still flatly refused to see the British Consul in Marseille. 'It'd be a cold day in Hell before he'd have anything to do with British.'He began to think about his old friends, in particular John Greenhaugh. He hoped he'd got away on that Soviet ship. He imagined he would've been. More

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