Indian Teen Girl
Only to have the phone ring again. The caller identified himself as a Police officer by name and number, though I wasn't really taking note, and told me they had enough basic information and to just keep up a running commentary as best I could so they knew where I was. The Golf passed me, but was now keeping to 70 or so; presumably to avoid attention. I kept it in sight over the Orwell Bridge and saw it turn off onto the A137 slip-road. I closed up a bit as I didn't know whether it'd turn north into Ipswich or south towards ManningtreeThe junction is one of those funny ones with two small roundabouts, one each side of a bridge over the main A14. The Golf turned right as I started up the slip-road, but as I got to the top, it came back over. I let it go before pulling out after it. I suppose he must have had his suspicions of me as he started pushing the limits and I was hard put to keep him in sight. But I did ... until I hit what I suppose must have been a diesel spill, because I. The English Captain laughs and, after translating for the Indian, he too roars with laughter. Gerda boils with rage."A frisky mare isn't she, Daffadar?" he tells him in English, "I wouldn't mind training her in a bit of 'dressage'? What do you think, what?" If she was an Indian wife, she would not be talking so!" replies the Sikh, shaking his head.Gerda understands what they are saying clearly. She sees a red flash before her eyes, senses the bitter taste of absolute hate rising in her mouth and nose.Leutnant Spangenburg returns with the Wachtmeister to Rungwa beside himself with guilt and rage. I have rarely seen him so het up. I too am angry, angry with the pair of them. Gerda, because she has lost our aeroplane, which I have come to regard as a valuable asset, and above all, I'm angry with Spangenburg. Thanking the Wachtmeister for his loyalty and bravery for ensuring the Leutnant's return, I invite Spangenburg into a spare room at the Fleischer's, my command post."That was.
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