"This isn't a plane—it's some kind of UFO! It takes off and lands like a helicopter, flies at rocket speed, and damn it, it's invisible too!"
"That's not all…"
Richie paused meaningfully. Only after everyone had climbed out of the plane did he point his wand at the aircraft. Under the effect of a nonverbal spell, it shrank down to the size of a small toy.
Scott, Stephen, and Harry froze like statues. Their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as they watched Richard, wearing a smug grin, casually pick up the miniature airplane and toss it into his satchel.
Scott dropped his backpack onto the ground and, to calm his nerves, finished the remaining cognac in the mug he was still holding in his right hand with several large gulps.
At that moment Stephen couldn't hold back and exclaimed indignantly:
"Richi, you can't treat machinery like that! An airplane is very fragile!"
"Nonsense, Stephen," Richard replied calmly. "This plane has so many enchantments on it that nothing will happen to it in its reduced form—even if an asphalt roller runs over it. Well then, gentlemen—shall we walk or ride?"
"Ride what?" the slightly swaying detective asked.
"There's a car and there are bicycles," Richard answered.
"Kid, tell me—does your car have British plates, or none at all?" Scott asked.
"No plates, Mr. Potter. But it can also fly and turn invisible."
"Then bring out the bicycles. We don't need trouble with the local cops."
"As you wish Mr. Potter. You're more experienced in these matters than I am."
Two adults and two boys pedaled energetically along on off-road cross bicycles with front suspension forks and multiple gears. At first the ride was difficult, but once the cyclists left the field and reached the highway, things became much easier. Single-story houses began appearing on both sides of the road.
The adults stopped beside one of the local residents and asked for directions. It turned out the Britons had arrived in the town of North Chatham.
After another fifteen minutes of riding along quiet green streets, the travelers reached the Old Harbor Inn, where they rented four rooms. Even though each room was technically meant for two people, each contained a large double bed. Richard found the idea of several gentlemen sharing a single bed inappropriate. He wasn't used to economizing, so he confidently paid for the rooms a week in advance using a platinum credit card.
Young Grosvenor chose the most luxurious room for himself, one with a decorative fireplace and a small jacuzzi. Otherwise, his room was no different from the others: a single room with a large bed, a spacious bathroom with a shower, a nightstand, a television, a telephone, air conditioning—and that was it. Well, almost. His room also had two armchairs, while the other rooms had ordinary chairs with backs instead.
The time difference between London and Boston—whose time the inhabitants of the peninsula followed—was five hours. The travelers had set out at ten in the morning and spent a total of two hours on the road, yet they checked into the hotel at seven in the morning local time.
Everyone rested for about an hour before heading downstairs for breakfast. The food was simple but delicious, with seafood dominating the menu.
Scott Potter had become quite drunk, so it was decided to leave him at the hotel. Harry, Richie, and Stephen mounted their bicycles, armed themselves with a map of the peninsula provided free by the hotel, and set off for Harwich Port, located less than six miles away.
Six miles along a flat asphalt road is only about half an hour of relaxed cycling.
At the harbor, Stephen arranged the rental of a small motorboat for a week. The man turned out to be even more talented than Harry Potter had thought. During the rental process it emerged that Stephen's last name was White, and in addition to piloting small aircraft and driving cars, he could also operate yachts and boats—and even possessed the proper licenses. Without his certification, they would only have been able to rent a boat with a sailor, and it was best to avoid bringing any unnecessary people into their adventurous undertaking.
The two young adventurers and their pair of escorts were able to set sail only the next morning, once Detective Potter had fully recovered. But the boys had plenty to keep them occupied in the meantime—for example, exploring the peninsula.
Cape Cod consists of many small towns that resemble large villages more than actual cities. There are no skyscrapers and no overwhelming crowds. People come here for quiet and peaceful vacations. There are no strict boundaries between the settlements—you can calmly ride your bicycle through one town, pass a sign, and suddenly find yourself in another.
The main principle of the locals is that everything should look as it did two hundred years ago: houses covered with shingles or built from wood and brick, modest shop signs, no neon or flashy lighting effects, flower pots even on the beaches—in short, simple rustic beauty.
Cape Cod's greatest treasure is its beaches. There are about thirty of them here, not counting the very small ones. Naturally, Harry and Richie couldn't miss the chance to swim in the sea. They spent the most time at the beach.
When the afternoon had long passed its midpoint, Richard led everyone out for pizza. Some might find it strange that the most delicious Italian pizza is made by Greeks in a small American diner—but that's actually how it is. Richard, accustomed to meals prepared by a professional chef, was pleasantly surprised. Harry and Stephen appreciated the pizza just as much and planned to return again.
Life by the sea has its own advantage—fresh seafood all year round. Fish restaurants exist all over the world, but the local establishments had their own special charm. After visiting the local museum, the adventurers decided to have dinner in one such restaurant, joined by the somewhat rumpled Detective Potter.
Cape Cod isn't known for gourmet cuisine or delicate haute dishes, with the exception of lobsters, which are quite inexpensive here. All the seafood is prepared simply and heartily, but that only makes it taste even better. The main secret is that only a few hours pass between the sea and the plate.
All four uninvited guests in the United States thoroughly appreciated the famous seafood soup—clam chowder. The dish originated as a stew cooked by poor fishermen from shellfish, fish, cream, and herbs. In the novel Moby-Dick, an entire chapter is devoted to this soup.
Night passed, and the next day arrived. Harry eagerly awaited their departure to sea. Richard, with no less excitement, longed to discover the enormous treasure.
The old fishing boat rattled as its motor started and headed out into the ocean.
"Richie, how are we going to search for the treasure?"
"Harry," Richard replied calmly, "magic can do anything!"
(End of Chapter)
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