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Deke somehow got mediocre smoked salmon and a fairly decent yogurt from the hotel restaurant. I’m glad it’s not the good stuff, so I don’t have to feel guilty about snarfing it in our dismal room while scanning flight information, trying to figure out the quickest landing in London Heathrow while still leaving time to get Nancy and Will to a safe house.
A lot depends on our equipment. I’d bought three bags of gear from Mall, and we’d only needed about half of it. I not only overpaid, I’d overbought. I’m tempted to ship the whole lot to England ahead of us. I know brokers that can almost guarantee a package will pass through Customs without inspection.
Almost.
And those three bags contain enough mayhem to level an airport.
I call Mall and inquire about the availability of gear in Lo
