Abigail pulled the gliding wings out of the attic on to the floor. Stephan looked at them and whistled appreciatively, “There is no way you could have smuggled those.”
Abigail tapped the supporting frame tubes, “Like this? Of course not.” She began to disassemble the frame, “But I added some additional couplings. We couldn’t get the frame metal on Earth.” She inspected the shroud that covered the wings, “But the fused silk came from the Orient.” She looked at Stephan, “I’ve glided the Himalayas, the California Sierras, and the Alps.” She folded up the silk, “Once I took off the Eiffel Tower with Alice. She screamed all the way to Monmarte.” She grinned, “After she slapped me. She gave me the most passionate kiss ever. Did you know Parisian moulins are rarely locked and almost always have some nice straw on the floor?”
Stephan smirked and then eyed the contraption, “And if Wynn snogs you?”
Abigail laughed, “He will finish the trip unconscious.”
He looked at her, “The Yard gaol is five stories at most.”
Abigail went up to the attic and pulled down two long cylinders. To Stephan, “Boosters. Not a great solution, but it will help us clear the fences and make it to park.” She examined the deconstructed assembly. “I just need the guards to ignore me. Beatrice has agreed to help with that.”
A short entry today. Everyone has heard of the Moulin Rouge. In the Mid 1800’s it was one of several windmills on the outskirts of Paris on the Monmarte hill. That area of Paris was not yet built up much so the moulins were windmills for grinding wheat. All this was before it became a center of avante garde art.