BermudaThe small jet came into land at Bermuda International Airport not a moment too soon for Beatrice and Blackie. They walked through customs and checked transport arrangements. Blackie was back in his disguise as a minister and had breathed a sigh of relief when he had left St Lucia. Guy's warnings about the local police being on to him were irrelevant now. All he had to contend with was the Bermudians who he recalled ruefully had much closer ties to the British administration systems; he decided to stay in his disguise. “So where do we go now?” asked Beatrice looking around the small airport and staring disdainfully at the steel band who were welcoming visitors. “To the only hotel I know,” replied Blackie. “I booked it last night; hire cars aren't available on the island so it's a tax
