There being nothing in the Margaret Beaseford College rules about wearing your uniform when caring for your employer’s kidnapped child or children, I had changed into pants and sneakers and sweater, with a thick quilted jacket on top. Mihovil, who was occupying Donovan’s bunk with a basin, was uninterested in my activities. Then back in the cockpit with Zorzi and Petar and Trifun I heard above the noise of the big Mercedes-Benz engines an explosion of sound which seemed to come out of the sky all about us. A moment later there was another loud crack, and then the peaks to our left were outlined twice in a blue sudden glimmer which might have been a major explosion, but was more likely, I thought, to be lightning. A rolling peal, and then another proved me right. Thunder. Another of the first signs of the Bora. By that time I knew exactly where we were, although not yet where we were heading for. I had learned my lesson well, from the books Johnson had supplied me with. I had watched the Rat Porporela diminish on the southern mole of Dubrovnik and the breakwater light open up from Mlini in the bay of Zupski to the south with Strebeno beside it.
