"Lord, I will go with you," Blade said. "I am responsible for your safety."
- And your car, sir?
- Our colleagues will pick us up and accompany us.
- Let's go.
Richard sat in the back seat next to the unconscious house elf. Alex settled into the front passenger seat.
As soon as the Bentley left the farm, a black Range Rover pulled up in front of it, and Blade's Jaguar pulled up behind it.
Richard folded down the armrest and pulled out the telephone receiver. He dialed his father's cordless phone.
"Richie, is that you?" Gerald replied.
"Dad, yes. We're fine. I'm bringing a surprise, so you have half an hour to dismiss the staff early."
"We'll talk at home," Gerald said in a displeased tone.
Returning the phone receiver, Richard turned to his companion:
"Mr. Blade, does your service have any special needs? For example, do you need a plane that can become invisible and fly at 4,500 miles per hour, or a flying car?"
"Hmm..." Mr. Blade looked thoughtful. "We could use some technology like that, as well as camouflage suits that make a fighter invisible and much more. Why?"
"I suppose we could discuss the possibility of supplying one-off items... dare I say it, exclusives. Provided we can agree on a price, of course."
- I will pass your proposal on to the management, Lord.
"Wonderful. But it's a risk, so the price, you understand, will be indecently high. But if anything happens, in eleven years, I can, for my part, lobby in the House of Lords for increased funding for Her Majesty's Secret Service."
- And I will pass this on to the management, Lord.
Richard began calculating how much he could earn selling artifacts to the intelligence services. It came out to at least seven figures, which was quite a lot. The key was to keep the deals secret, to avoid falling under the weight of magical legislation, and MI6 was doing a good job of that. There simply wasn't a better buyer for the artifacts. If everything worked out, the investment in creating the artifacts would pay for itself many times over.
- Mr. Blade.
- Yes, Lord?
"I need a radar. Small, compact, laboratory-grade, you could say. It's designed to test radar stealth for aircraft."
- Radar?
- Yes, radar.
- Okay. Anything else?
- A powerful wind turbine will be installed in Scotland by mid-June.
- Lord Rich, we haven't come to an agreement yet...
"And three planes of your choice," Richard continued calmly, pretending not to hear the objections. "I confess I know nothing about aircraft technology. The only condition is that the planes must be small enough to fit in a fifty-meter hangar, and reasonably fast, with relatively simple controls. And a pair of Squib pilots."
"This is impudence, Lord!" the intelligence agent said indignantly.
- Okay, okay, so be it, I'll buy the cars myself.
- And why do you need planes, Lord?
- I'll give it to the wizards for leveling up.
"Why three?" Alex asked curiously.
- As is usually the case, sir, if one breaks, the other will be lost, so you need to take a reserve.
- I will convey your wishes to the management.
"We also need specialists who can explain to magicians how the devices and equipment work. And also..."
"That's enough!" Alex said.
- Then a joke. The Scots are the most strong-willed people... They keep their moonshine in barrels for ten years and not a drop comes out!
The driver and Alex laughed at the same time.
"Ha-ha-ha! That's right!" Mister Blade exclaimed.
"Can you imagine what Mr. Creevy would have done with the 'alien' if we hadn't arrived?" Richard asked.
"I can't even imagine," Mr. Blade shook his head.
- I'm sure the farmer would hit the alien over the head with a shovel handle and force him to pick Colorado beetles from the potatoes.
"He doesn't have any potatoes," Alex chuckled.
"I'm sure that wouldn't have stopped Mr. Creevy. He'd have planted potatoes especially for the alien. And he'd have walked proudly before his neighbors, saying, 'Look at my alien! Ha! You catch your own.' And within a year, the county would have seen hundreds of farmers crawling through their fields with shovels, searching for their 'alien.'"
"Lord Rich, please stop," Mr. Blade said breathlessly, laughing. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. "Oh-ho-ho! The last thing we need is a bunch of ufologist farmers with hundreds of 'aliens' catching Colorado beetles in their fields."
Soon the entrance to the Eaton Hall estate came into view. The conversations in the car died down.
You should have seen the look in Rich Sr.'s eyes when Steve and Alex carried the now rope-free, but still unconscious house elf into the house.
It is worth giving credit to the Duke's composure; apart from his twitching right eye, nothing betrayed his surprise and state of shock.