American security agents, suspecting Dr Zhang is hacking into U.S. computers, try to abduct him. The Canadian Security Intelligence Service is also interested.
And Murga is back in town with a proposition. I agree to tests of my super normal flyi...
'You need identity cards to get into the project,' Sergei told us. 'Luckily, I stole some blank papers so I can forge some for you. You have photos?'
Beryl rummaged through her purse and found an old black and white passport photograph. 'I knew this would come in useful. It's only thirty years old but it still looks like me.'
'Ah didna think to bring a photo o' mahsel,' Dunc said unsteadily.
Sergei laughed. 'I think you'd be just a little conspicuous. I'll drop you outside the gates and you can fly in like all the other geese. That is if you can still fly.'
''O course Ah can fly. Drunk or sober, Ah can still - hic - fly.'
Kozak found our spare passport photos in his briefcase and Sergei disappeared into the bedroom for an hour came back with our security passes.
As soon as we were ready, Sergei kicked off his slippers and pulled on a large pair of construction boots. 'These are the best boots,' he explained. 'They have steel toe caps and steel soles so I can step on a nail without the nail going through my foot.'
Sergei gave Beryl a white laboratory coat, to wear over her orange leather coat, and an oversized floppy Gatsby cap which she tilted over one eye at a jaunty angle. Kozak was still wearing his bowler hat (which Sergei called a derby) and I remembered to wear my fedora as it made me look older.
Sergei's car was a battered, black Ford convertible with a cracked windshield. It was full of junk and tools. Sergei had to rearrange some of it so Beryl, Dunc and I could sit in the back seat.
As we drove, Dunc shrugged his wings so that his shoulder pack slid forward. 'Ziff laddie, slip this wee earplug in your ear and ah can talk to yeh, and yeh can talk to me.'
'Dunc, are you drunk?' I asked. 'You're slurring.'
'Ah'm no drunk,' Dunc slurred, 'just a wee bit tipsy.'
Some time later Sergei stopped the car to let Dunc get out. He staggered about for few steps and then sat down.
'Dunc, are you okay?' I asked. 'Should you be flying?'
'You can bet your sporran on it,' he slurred. It takes more that a couple o' beers to stop me flying. I just need a minute.'
We left him lurching unsteadily around on the grass and drove away.
We stopped at the entrance check point, a small white building with a roof extending over the road. A large sign read,
MILITARY AREA.
ALL VEHICLES & PASSENGERS SUBJECT TO SEARCH.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Two bored looking soldiers wearing gun holsters and armbands with MP on them, ambled over as Sergei leaned out the open window. 'Hi, Sergeant Poole.'
