“Wrong,” said Adam. “I’ve booked a table for two at eight o‘clock at the Coq d’Or just off Piccadilly.”
“Counting your chickens before they’re hatched, aren’t you?” said Heidi.
“Oh, very droll,” said Adam.
“Droll? I do not understand.”
“I’ll explain it to you when we have that dinner tonight.”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t make it,” said Heidi.
“Why?” asked Adam.
“All I have to look forward to tomorrow is the checkout counter at the German Food Centre.”
“That’s not as bad as a workout with the sergeant major at ten,” groaned Adam. “And by ten past I shall be flat on my back regretting I ever left Geneva.”
“That will teach you to knock him out,” said Heidi, “so perhaps we ought to stay put after all,” she added, taking him by the arm. Adam leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek as they stood in the gangway waiting to be let off the plane. A light drizzle was falling out on the aircraft steps. Adam unbuttoned his raincoat and attempted to shelter Heidi beneath it as they ran across the tarmac to the Immigration Hall.
“Good thing I remembered this,” he said.
“Not so much a raincoat, more a tent,” said Heidi.
“It’s my old army trench coat,” he assured her, opening it up again. “It can hold maps, compasses, even an overnight kit.”
“Adam, we’re just going to stroll around Geneva in the middle of the summer, not get lost in the Black Forest in the middle of winter.”
He laughed. “I’ll remember your sarcasm whenever it pours.”
The airport bus that traveled to and from the city took only twenty minutes to reach the center of Geneva.
The short journey took them through the outskirts of the city until they reached the magnificent still lake nestled in the hills. The bus continued alongside the lake until it came to a halt opposite the massive single-spouting fountain that shot over four hundred feet into the air.
“I’m beginning to feel like a day tripper,” said Heidi, as they stepped out of the bus, pleased to find the light rain had stopped.
Both of them were immediately struck by how clean the city was as they walked along the wide litter-free pavement that ran alongside the lake. On the other side of the road neat hotels, shops, and banks seemed in equal preponderance.
“First we must find out where our bank is so that we can have lunch nearby before going to pick up the booty.”
“How does a military man go about such a demanding exercise?” asked Heidi.
“Simple. We drop in at the first bank we see and ask them to direct us to Roget et Cie.”
“I’ll bet your little arm must have been covered in initiative badges when you were a Boy Scout.”
Adam burst out laughing. “Am I that bad?”
“Worse,” said Heidi. “But you personify every German’s image of the perfect English gentleman.” Adam turned, touched her hair gently and leaning down, kissed her on the lips.
Heidi was suddenly conscious of the stares from passing strangers. “I don’t think the Swiss approve of that sort of thing in public,” she said. “In fact, I’m told some of them don’t approve of it in private.”
“Shall I go and kiss that old prune over there who is still glaring at us?” said Adam.
“Don’t do that, Adam, you might turn into a frog. No, let’s put your plan of campaign into action,” she said, pointing to the Banque Populaire on the far side of the avenue.
When they had crossed the road Heidi inquired of the doorman the way to Roget et Cie They followed his directions, once again admiring the great single-spouted fountain as they continued on toward the center of the city.
Roget et Cie was not that easy to pinpoint, and they walked past it twice before Heidi spotted the discreet sign chiseled in stone by the side of a high wrought-iron