August 9, 2015 by helenwaldron
The penny dropped.
Sitting in the hotel foyer, Writewell held out a glossy magazine and tapped with her finger on the photo of a man with his arms around two beautiful women.
This man is dangerous, said the headline. He can sell chocolates to Belgians, hamburgers to Germans and he might just want to marry your daughter.
“Robert Leclan”, read Speakeasy, leaning across to see. Oh, yeah. He’s always on television. Apparently he’s a really nice man. I didn’t recognize him because he wasn’t smiling.”
“Jean-Claude didn’t like him much,” commented Writewell.
The King of French Fast Food. Speakeasy continued reading.
“Well there’s your answer. What Frenchman likes fast food?”
“Let’s google”, said Writewell. “There’s got to be more to it than that.”
Mr Google had pages and pages on him.
“Entrepreneur of the Year every year since 1971“.
“He seems to be involved in every field of business.”
“Wonder what he was doing here.”
Ken was supposed to be in his room, learning his alphabet.
As a matter of fact he was in a very busy nightclub sending encoded messages in Cyrillic script and in the Korean and Chinese alphabets on three different devices. He knew that Writewell’s joke was not a joke. The hotel rooms were really bugged.
“What are you writing?”
A woman appeared beside him in a sparkly dress. She tossed her long blonde hair behind her shoulders and smiled at Ken.
Good, thought Ken. I’m in the mood for blonde. He made a sign to the bar that clearly meant your best champagne and plenty of ice, then led the blonde to a table for two.
First he poured the champagne for them both. Then, after noticing the ice was beginning to thaw, he plunged all three devices into the silver bucket of water.
Jean-Claude had a video to help him practice his vowels.
“Open your mouth wide like a lion. Don’t be afraid,” said the woman in the video.
Jean-Claude was a quiet man. He had no wish to roar like a lion.
And then he got the signal that told him that Leclan was still in Berlin and he jumped in a taxi, found Leclan and ROARED at him in the sort of French he normally only heard on television.
Only Oscar was working at his English.
“What’s the point of you saving the world all the time, if you can’t speak English, which is the world language, to enjoy it?”
Diana, his wife could be very insistent.
“Every year I take the trouble to organize this seminar and every year you all go off and do something spectacular instead. Can’t you just learn your pronouns for once?”
“Yes, dear,” said Oscar.