When Beckland was taken out of the Table Mountain Hotel, he did not know what he had done, and then Beckland was taken directly to the airport, at which point Beckland was told that his partner Leslie had transferred the patent rights to phenolic plastics on behalf of Brooklet to Swinburlet, founded by Sir James Swinburn.

"And then, just for this, you dragged me out of the hotel and took me straight back to the police station, you have got what you wanted, what do you want me to do?" Bakeland's body trembled uncontrollably, and the pain of betrayal almost made Bakeland lose his mind.

"I'm sorry, it was the police who misunderstood me, I took them to apologize to you, there is a plane to Nyasaland in the early morning, although it is not so comfortable, but it is faster than a civil plane, if you don't mind, you can go with me." O'Connor said sorry, but there was no apology on his face.

Before Beckland could speak, a police officer dragged Beckland's luggage over and sent him directly to the plane parked on the tarmac.

Beckland stopped talking, and even if he minded, there was no room for objection at all.

O'Connor was right, the comfort of the cargo plane was indeed not as good as that of the passenger plane, the plane shook violently when it took off, and Beckland was still wearing the pajamas of the Table Mountain Hotel, and his hands were gripping the armrests of the seat tightly, and the joints began to turn white, this was his first time on a plane.

O'Connor was already accustomed to the bumps of a cargo plane, and seeing the appearance of Beckland next to him, O'Connor took a silver flask from the pocket of his trench coat and took a big sip, then handed the flask to Beckland.

Beckland's face turned pale, and he took the flask from O'Connor's hand, took a big sip of O'Connor's example, and then spit it all out with a wow.

O'Connor's brows furrowed suddenly, the cabin of the plane was full of cargo, and the smell of alcohol in the small space was really not very good.

Beckland couldn't complain, kneeling on the floor of the cabin and almost vomiting his stomach, his clothes were also covered with filth, and he lay on the ground rolling his eyes and panting like a dead fish.

At this time, the plane gradually entered the level flight stage, and O'Connor helped Beckland find a change of clothes from Beckland's box and throw them on Beckland's chair.

Beckland actually thanked him politely when he got up with difficulty, drinking may be suitable for O'Connor, but it is definitely not suitable for Beckland.

O'Connor didn't realize it, and when Beckland was changing clothes, O'Connor ran to the cockpit and banged on the door, and then hid directly in the cockpit and couldn't get out.

After changing his clothes, Beckland also felt that the smell was really bad, but there was no way to clean it up on the plane, so Beckland followed O'Connor's example and smashed the door.

"Why?" O'Connor opened the door with an ugly face.

Beckland's face was even more ugly.

O'Connor glared at Beckland for a while, but finally let go of his body in a huff.

There are two drivers in the cockpit, and in addition to the two drivers' seats, there is only one spare seat.

Beckland went out again and dragged the suitcase over, and sat on it himself, leaning against the cockpit door.

"You're pretty comfortable at this job, and I'd like to be a pilot if I could—" The noise in the cabin was a bit loud, and O'Connor chatted with the co-pilot at the top of his voice.

The co-pilot, who was looking at the map, did not speak, and gave O'Connor a middle finger back.

"How much do you make a month? Is there any 100 rand? "O'Connor was interested in the life of a pilot.

"More than that—at least a thousand!" The co-pilot is malicious.

"Hahahaha-" O'Connor looked up and laughed wildly, a thousand is impossible, a hundred is impossible.

However, it is true that the salary of a pilot is a little more than that of ordinary work, but the amount is limited, about thirty or forty rand a month.

Actually, there are quite a few.

After laughing, O'Connor reverted to his old self and took out the flask and asked the co-pilot to drink.

The co-pilot looked at O'Connor with frightened eyes and made a warning gesture to O'Connor.

O'Connor sneered and put the flask back, and on other people's turf, it was still necessary to be more restrained.

At this time, the earth is still pitch black, the distant sky is white, the stars can still be seen in the sky, the boundless night is like a beautiful crystal music box, the plane flies lonely in the air, there is a sense of absurdity wandering the world.

At seven o'clock in the morning, the plane landed at an unknown airport, and O'Connor finally had a chance to call someone to come up and clean the cabin, and then O'Connor and Beckland were kicked out of the cockpit.

"Hold on a little longer, and we'll be in Los Angeles around eleven o'clock." The plane was going to stay at the airport for an hour, and O'Connor took Beckland to breakfast, and in order to apologize, O'Connor offered to pay for it.

Beckland didn't pay for it, and the cabin restaurant was shabby, but it served a lot of food, including milk omelette, some pastries that Beckland had never eaten, and a special drink.

The drink looks similar to Coca-Cola in the United States, but tastes very different.

Coca-Cola was founded in 1886, and before that, in 1885, the state of Georgia, where the inventor of Coca-Cola, Pemberton, was located, issued a prohibition of alcohol, so Pemberton wanted to formulate a non-alcoholic beverage to replace people's demand for alcohol, and Coca-Cola was invented in this context.

Up to now, there are many varieties of cola in the U.S. market, and Coca-Cola is the first to be launched and the most famous, but it has not yet reached the level of dominating the market.

Bakeland also drank Coca-Cola, but he didn't like the taste of Coca-Cola, but instead liked the slightly sour, but generally sweet drink served at the airport.

"It's called sour plum soup, a traditional drink that uses black plum, hawthorn, tangerine peel, osmanthus, licorice, and rock sugar." O'Connor explained in detail that in fact, the ingredients were written on the bottle, but Beckland couldn't read the Chinese characters.

"Can it be mass-produced?" Beckland cared about whether there was a chance, the anger of being dragged out of the warm bed in the morning had long since disappeared without a trace.

"It should be possible, this is originally a product launched by a South African company, and it is sold throughout Southern Africa." O'Connor didn't know much about the process of mass production, but there should be a way, and when he was in Los Angeles, O'Connor drank a dozen bottles a day.

"God, a dozen bottles! You really don't want to live anymore. "Beckland felt unbelievable, a drink similar to Coca-Cola, if there were really a dozen bottles a day, it was hard to say whether people would die or not, and the teeth would definitely be broken.

And how expensive dentists in the United States are, who knows this.

"Hahaha-" O'Connor didn't talk nonsense, and directly paid for a box of sour plum soup, ready to drink it on the plane later.

Beckland thought for a moment, then set his sights on the pastry.

"Buns! This is the essence of our southern Africa, and I haven't eaten bread since I have eaten steamed buns, and compared to steamed buns with many flavors, bread should be fed to pigs—" O'Connor said this absolutely, but he couldn't be too demanding of O'Connor, after all, operatives don't need to think critically.

Beckland didn't refute, tried to eat a few more, and sure enough, the taste was very rich, and it was indeed better than bread.

So when he got back on the plane, Beckland brought two steamed buns with him as a snack on the road.

This time, not long after the plane took off, Beckland suddenly heard a bang, and then felt the plane shake violently, and then the fuselage of the plane tilted a little.

"What the hell is going on?" O'Connor's frightened voice changed tone, the plane was now at an altitude of more than 2,000 meters, and if he was not careful, it would be destroyed and killed.

"It's okay, there's good news and bad news, the bad news is that we lost an engine, the good news is that we still have three-" The co-pilot was a crow's mouth, and before the voice fell, there was another loud bang outside the cabin.

The co-pilot directly opened the window next to him, and then his face was earthy: "I'm going to correct my words, now we have lost two engines-"

The plane tilted more severely at this time, and the captain was not in the mood to make a joke, so he shouted to the co-pilot, asking the co-pilot to help control the fuselage, and asked O'Connor and Beckland to return to the cabin immediately and find a way to secure themselves in their seats.

O'Connor and Beckland literally crawled back into the cabin, and as O'Connor was looking for the rope, he found that Beckland was chanting a prayer with words.

"Don't pray, hurry up and find something to hold yourself in place—" O'Connor yelled at Beckland, who turned a deaf ear.

Through the porthole in the cabin, O'Connor could see that the engine on one side of the plane was already blazing.

"God, Bodhisattva, Lord, Forehead God—" O'Connor recited all the gods he knew, feeling the necessity of prayer for the first time.

At this time, O'Connor and Beckland really couldn't do anything but pray.

However, God is not on earth, O'Connor and Beckland's prayers have no effect, and a burning engine suddenly falls off and falls straight out of the air.

O'Connor exclaimed in surprise and began to scramble for paper and pen.

"What are you doing?" Beckland finally finished praying.

"Find paper and pen to write a suicide note, the money that Lao Tzu is desperately trying to earn, can't cheap those vampires of the Rand Bank-" O'Connor found the pen and paper, but couldn't write anything at all under the violent shaking.

At this moment, perhaps it was really like a god, although the fuselage was still seriously deflected, but the plane miraculously regained its balance, circled in the air, and flew crookedly towards the airport that had just left not far away.

O'Connor and Beckland remained motionless, lest even the slightest movement affect the balance of the plane.

Through the portholes, O'Connor finally saw the cleared runway, and countless ground crews were rushing towards the runway with fire extinguishers.

(End of chapter)