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The thugs with guns marched Harv and Biggles away. The Goose sat on the tarmac, as if dejected.
"Hello?" came a plaintive voice from inside the cockpit. "Is anyone going to tie the plane down? Or park it properly? Or, failing that, at least turn off the autopilot? Anyone? How typical."
The M.A.R.V.I.N. sat inert, since he had no other real choice. He thought about firing up the engines and flying into the surrounding mountains, but decided he hadn't the energy.
BZZZZZZSST! POUF! Suddenly the smell of ozone and the air, or at least a small part of it was filled with smart wool socks.
One was wearing Harv's sunglasses, which had been left behind. "Hugo?" it said.
"Yeah, Lefty?"
"I think we're too late to hit our marks."
"Probably comes from using the JordanAire contractor, rather than Air Adrian. Didn't have the temporal displacement guarantee."
"Do you think Adrian will be upset that we went with a competitor?"
"Nah. He said that he was too busy rigging some sort of election for Germany, so he referred us to JA."
"So what do we do, now, Hugo?"
""Well, it looks like we missed all the action, here. I guess we go and see what we can dig up in the way of Talavera Pottery. And Mexican hats."
"I like plates. Can we get some postcards, too?"
"Yes. We can get some postcards."
The Goose sat on the tarmac. "I don't suppose you could bother to turn that switch on my panel to 'off,' could you? Hello? How typical."
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