The train came to a halt as it had reached its destination at Vladivostock, leaving confectionary matters to one side for a moment Bunty and Lola liberated the Bently which as they knew full well, had the Tenna Lady clinging to its underside, however they didn’t realise that Miss Marbles had secreted herself in Bunty’s travelling cake case, which may well have turned out to be her final chapter.
Lola reloaded the Fabergé pistol and they followed the surprisingly helpful signs to the gulag.
“He’d better not be enjoying himself!” growled Lola as Bunty deiced the windscreen.
It was strange that even though it was minus 40 degrees celsius or something, it was, as Lola’s Siberian friends had reassured her, rather a dry pleasant cold.
There was little for the eye to see except snow.
“I say Lola,” said Bunty, ” do you remember when we were the first people in space-ever-and I dropped that enormous scone out of the space ship’s window and they thought it was a meteor!’
“Yes, silly buggers, we should write about it some time. It was dark in the day time all the way to London. It did cause rather a stink.” said Lola.
They came to a high perimeter fence guarded by burly chaps and ladies in fur hats and great coats.
“I say Lola, what do we do now? Leger de main, charm? Or should we just fly?” asked Bunty.
“Oh I don’t know Bunty, the lady guards look deprived of lipstick and scent, and the chaps looks, well just deprived..”
Lola opened one of her vanity cases in the absence of a maid and started to throw bottles of Midnight in Paris and Chanel lipstick at the “ladies” and all hell broke loose.
“Don’t worry Bunty, I only gave them cheap stuff, it’s 100% proof and full of stoat pheromones.” said Lola.
They drove through the gate, which was rather superfluous as the fence didn’t enclose the gulag.
Lola cocked her pistol, but it was mainly for effect, and they soon heard the sound of klezmer music and dancing.
“I knew he was having a good time!” seethed Lola, “And to think I was worried about him.” beginning a sentence with a preposition.
“So why are we rescuing him?” asked Bunty.
“He has a microchip inserted in his brain which has the detonation codes for all the nuclear missiles in the world-and I’m out of lightbulbs.”
They asked directions and found Sparky Aka Mr Amp ensconced in a palatial dacha in front of a blazing fire smoking a hookah pipe and gargling vodka of a purity that Lola could scent.
“You fiend! ” she cried, swishing her hair and pouting in a theatrical manner, “Why are you not suffering?”
Sparky adjusted himself in his throne and blinked at Lola.
“Hello darling,” he said calmly, hiding his bewilderment, “I’m just capitulating to local demand and supply for the comrades. Making a nice profit too as it happens.”
“This is communist country!” hissed Lola, ‘How much money exactly?”