Carl looked at Harald. ‘Oh dear,’ he whispered. ‘I think we’re in trouble, my young friend. Big trouble.’
Harald agreed. ‘We certainly are. The Government won’t set those men free. They tried to put a bomb on a plane last year, didn’t they, sir? They’re in prison for thirty years!’
‘I know,’ Carl whispered. ‘No one could set them free. So what about us?’
‘What about you, you mean,’ whispered Harald. ‘I’m not important. Look, sir, you’d better give me your passport.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Ssh!’ Harald put his hand on the older man’s arm and stopped talking. Carl looked up and saw the young air hostess staring at them. Her machine gun was pointing at them too. He stopped talking and looked out of the window.
After a few minutes she stopped watching them. ‘Give me the passport, sir!’ Harald whispered, very quietly. Very slowly and carefully, Carl took it out of his pocket and gave it to him.
There was still some coffee in Carl’s cup. Very carefully, Harald put the passport on his tray and poured the coffee onto it. When the passport was very wet, he tore it slowly into little pieces. He was a strong young man and because the passport was wet, it did not make a sound. Then, one by one, he put the pieces of wet paper into his mouth and ate them. In ten minutes, the passport had disappeared.
