D | E  

Beagle Channel

Scene 8

For the boat ride to Chile, to the isle of Novarina, Maille rented seat on a motorised dinghy – that was all that his department, the Lemusan Secret Service, could afford. At least there was no overwhelming scent on the boat, no room freshener reeking of roses, peaches, spruce forest or provincial lavender field without which, no taxi boomed through the region – quite as though it was an olfactory obligation to mark where the realm of civilisation begins and where, consequently, fresh air must end.