(a) walk further up the hill to the church, fetch some gas in a can and bring it down to your rental

Panting, you reach the top of the hill and knock on the door of the church.

A monk opens the door and bows low but says nothing. (The monks here observe a vow of silence.)

The local Greek Orthodox priest's face appears at the window. He starts to make funny faces.

You explain what you need. Another monk bows and brings you the gas. You bow and thank him.

The local rabbi's face appears at the other window and he starts to make funny faces. Every time the Catholic priest turns to one window or the other, the holy man at whom he's looking bows and the one at the other window starts doing reindeer impressions and going cross-eyed and the like.

The Catholic priest bows and chants the price for the gas in Latin. You bow and give it to him in Canadian dollars. He bows but tells you, in medieval plain chant, that they only take Euros. You bow and give him the money, ignoring the Orthodox priest and the rabbi, both of whom are putting their open fists in front of their eyes as though they were binoculars while the Catholic priest's attention is taken up with talking to you.

The Catholic priest bows and thanks you. You bow and thank him. A monk bows and opens the door in silence. You bow silently and leave.

You ignore the rabbi and the Orthodox priest, each of whom now has one fist next to his left eye and is winding the right one round and round pretending he has an invisible camera.

You descend the hill, refuel your car, get in it and start the engine. It starts to rise up off the ground. You travel to Cyprus ready to meet the contact you were supposed to be meeting some hours ago and hoping she's not left the Greek restaurant there.

On your way you see a statue of Apollo being winched up into the air by a crane. You are a little higher than he is. He appears to look at you but that can't be, you think - he's merely made of stone. You watch in silence. He disappears into the mist behind you as though he'd never been there. The sea appears below you and, like a passing thought, it's gone again.

You arrive in Cyprus and descend 20 metres or so away from your rendez-vous point. You feel that landing a flying car immediately outside the restaurant would be a little ostentatious and anyway this clandestine meeting is supposed to be top secret - you wouldn't wish to attract attention.

The End

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