Just thinking about all this now makes me wince, but I went on anyhow, gradually fuzzing right out into my fantasy/history/concussion-fueled mystical time warp again. “My ancestor Drystan sank his ship, or the British Navy did, him being a pirate and all, but the Germans got my plane. And by the way, where the hell are we? You didn’t answer me last time. What happened? Is this Germany?”
“What do you think happened?” asked one of the cops, catching on quickly that, obviously, something wasn’t quite right. He shot a quick glance at Frederick and then turned back to me, a patronizing but amused smile hiding his confusion.
“Well, we f*****g crashed, didn’t we?” I answered bluntly, like it was obvious. “It’s partly my fault—the navigator was shot and I turned to miss the—and we got lost in th
