The flight was uneventful and the landing proved the theory again. The bigger the plane, the softer the landing. The airport was unexpectedly empty,
“Where are we?” asked Lela turning to Tom. “I thought we were landing in Glasgow?”
“We are, we’re at Glasgow Prestwick, just thirty miles South of Glasgow.”
“Why here?”
“I thought they might be at the main airport waiting for us and this is just a bit too obvious,” Tom gestured back to the plane. “So I thought it better to land here.”
“OK, so how do we get home?”
“Sorted,” said Tom pointing to a row of Porsche Cayenne Turbo S’s.
“Did you forget one small thing?”
“What?”
“Although we have lots of guys with us, they can’t drive, there are no roads on the island. You have four cars and no drivers.”
“Damn, I never thought of that. I should have asked Colin for some drivers,” said Tom. Colin’s father owned all the Scottish Porsche franchises.
“We can drive,” offered Kisho and Kano. “And so can I,” another islander offered. Those three had learnt to drive during their stint in the army.
“That leaves one spare,” said Tom looking at Lela.
“Why are you looking at me?” she asked.
“Because I know Saki lets you drive the cars and you’re wicked in a go-kart,” replied Tom.
“Yeah but that’s not on the main road.”
“I just flew a bloody plane!”
“Good point, well made. Give me the keys,” she said. Tom knew that Lela was well qualified to drive, she loved cars, especially fast ones.
In less than forty minutes, the cars pulled up at the Estate, headlights off out of sight of the security system. Tom who had travelled in Lela’s car assured her that those forty minutes were more terrifying than his fifteen hours of flying. She told him not to be such a pussy.