'Is that a compliment?' she asked, eyeing him warily over her glass.
She had already drunk three-quarters of the contents, was thinking it was time the steward reappeared.
'Of course.' Brazil smiled even more broadly. 'A genuine compliment to a unique lady.'
'Steward!' she yelled, having emptied her glass while Brazil was speaking. 'A repeat performance. In record time.'
The steward managed a smile as he took away her glass. He was wondering whether he ought to look for another job if Brazil persisted in travelling with this woman.
'Look, there's the Bernese Oberland.' Brazil said, pointing. 'As spectacular a sight as you can find in the world, including America – where they think they have the biggest and the best of everything.'
Eve didn't bother to look at the distant range of massive, jagged peaks, covered in snow and glinting in the sunlight. Brazil gazed at the Jungfrau, thought it impressive, but no more so than the Kellerhorn. Then he put all thoughts of the Valais out of his mind as the jet sped on, heading for France.
The airport controller had radioed to the pilot of Tweed's jet, as requested to by Beck. The pilot left his cabin, stopped by Tweed.
'I'm sorry, sir, but it will be at least half an hour before we can take off. Scheduled flights have got in our way. The other jet took off on time at 1100 hours.'
'Can't be helped,' Tweed said, amiably. 'I understand. The controller has his priorities.'
'That means.' Newman called out after the pilot closed his cabin door, 'that we'll have the devil of a job catching up Brazil until long after he reaches Grenville Grange.'
'Not necessarily.' said Philip, again sitting opposite Paula. 'I have an idea.'
'Tell me.' Paula coaxed him.
'Not yet. Let's see how things turn out when we arrive.'
Paula took out the cream pastry Beck had given her, which she had kept in the fridge overnight. She began to munch it, using the extra napkins Beck had thoughtfully supplied to keep crumbs off her suit.
'You'll get fat as a piglet.' Philip joshed her.
'No, I won't. I can eat as much as I like and my weight remains constant. You're just jealous because you haven't got one.'
'My mouth is watering.' he admitted.
She selected a crust with plenty of cream, got up, told him to open his mouth, and popped it inside.
'That was good.' he said when he'd finished it. 'Thank you. In my book you are a generous lady.'
Philip then took out from his case a map of Dorset. It intrigued Paula that he was studying it. She called out as he folded it up, put it away.
'I'd have thought you knew Dorset like the back of your hand by now.'
'Just checking something.'
'Connected with your mysterious plan?' she pressed. 'Maybe…'
'England, beautiful England.' said Brazil, peering out of the window.
The jet was coming in to land at Bournemouth International. Eve was more concerned with putting on her trench coat when she should have been sitting with her seat-belt fastened. The plane was descending at a gentle angle so she wasn't bothered.
'I hope the chauffeur is waiting with the limo.' she called out.
'Joseph is off colour, won't be there.'
'Then we have a different chauffeur.'
'Yes.' He swung round in his seat. 'You're looking at him.'
'You mean you're driving?' she asked with a note of disbelief.
'Maybe I should remind you I passed my Advanced Motoring Test.'
'I could drive,' she said. 'I'm a good driver.'
'Maybe later. I'm taking the wheel to begin with. It's a pretty short drive via Corfe, anyway.'
'The roads will be flooded. I looked out of the window. They must have had more rain. The countryside is a lake.'
'We're landing,' he said, swivelling round to face the crew cabin.
The pilot landed the jet smoothly, cruised along the runway, stopped. They waited. A green light came on over the entrance to the crew cabin. Eve got up, buttoned her trench coat, but couldn't be bothered with the last few.
Carrying her case, she alighted down the steps first, her coat flapping all over the place. Brazil called for a porter to take his two cases. Earlier he had lifted Igor in mid-flight and lowered the dog into the bottom compartment of the crate, well padded with blankets, with air-holes cunningly disguised. The huge dog had been quite at ease, trusting his master, knowing he had to keep perfectly quiet until released.
Brazil had then replaced the second compartment holding several large boxes of Spriingli chocolates. Finally, he had attached the lid, held in place by four large screws. All this had been completed when the jet was within fifteen minutes of landing. The steward had been told to stay in the crew cabin while Brazil discussed something highly confidential with Eve, who had sat watching her boss do all the work.
Now, with the jet on the ground, Brazil showed his fitness and strength by carrying the crate off the plane to the waiting stretch limousine himself. The customs officials had joked with him.
'More sweetmeats for your lady friends, sir?'
'That's the trouble with having so many.' Brazil had joked back.
Fifteen minutes later, driving by a devious route into the open countryside, which skirted Bournemouth, he had backed the car into a quiet field in the sunlight blazing out of a clear blue sky. A gusty wind was blowing as he released a sleepy Igor from the crate and resumed driving.
He hit his first snag when he arrived at the car ferry which, crossed the entrance to Poole Harbour. ferry out of use until Thursday, a large notice proclaimed. He climbed out of the limo, swearing.
'What's the trouble?' he asked a workman in yellow oilskins.
'A freighter comin' in grazed the ferry as it was crossin' the exit. It's berthed on the Shell Bay side over there while they works on it…'
Brazil returned to the limo, was sitting behind the wheel when the workman approached him.
'Where you goin' to?'
'Corfe,' Brazil answered through the window he had lowered.
'Only way there is by Wareham. And you'll run into more trouble. Roadworks. Lights, single-line traffic, the lot. Take for ever,' the workman said with satisfaction.
'Thank you for the warning. Why do these people love to give you bad news?' he snapped as he drove off, heading for distant Wareham.
'Because the lower orders love to take a smack at someone driving a decent car,' she commented. 'I'd like a drink. Can't we stop at that hotel over there?'
'No, we can't. We'll just keep going,' he snapped.
'No need to be such a boor.'
'Don't ever talk to me again like that,' he replied in a calm voice.
They drove off round Poole Harbour. Brazil noticed what looked like storm clouds coming in from the west. The wind also was rising.
At Kloten Airport the Controller was as good as his word. The jet was given permission to take off. Inwardly, Tweed sighed with relief. Waiting until the machine levelled above the clouds, he went back to have a word with Butler and Nield.
By now the steward had served coffee and sandwiches on Coalport china he had found in a cupboard. Mr Brazil does well for himself, thought Tweed as he reached the seat where Butler, now fully awake, had devoured his plate of sandwiches, was asking for a second helping.
'Harry, I've been in touch with the Controller based at Bournemouth International. There'll be a car there waiting for you.'
'Not another ambulance!' Harry bridled.
