‘Being a farmer and being a politician are one and the same kind of talent,’ said Willard. ‘Everything you do, you do by careful planting, and careful fertilisation, and watching and waiting – so that when the right moment arrives, you can go shhhklukk! and the ripe ears of wheat fall straight in your hand.’

Jack suddenly frowned. ‘What’s that?’ he said. ‘Look – up ahead there. Just over to the right.’

Ed turned in his seat. Far in the distance, maybe three miles away, he thought he could make out a shadow on the wheat. A brown, irregular stain that covered five or six acres at least.

‘Well, I’m damned,’ said Willard. ‘There’s more of it.’ The helicopter banked in a wide circle around the field, and approached the stain from the south-west. There was no question about it. The blight had spread here, too – almost five miles to the south of the first outbreak. Ed told Dyson to hover by the edge of the dark area while he took a long look at it. Dust and wheat flew up all around them, but Ed could see for himself that the blight was creeping from one stalk to another, from one acre to the next, and that only quick and decisive action was going to save South Burlington from the most disastrous crop in its entire history. That was if any action could save it at all.

‘Okay,’ Ed told Dyson at last. ‘Let’s go check the eastern acres.’

It took them until two o’clock in the afternoon to make a thorough airborne check of the whole farm. By the time Dyson brought the helicopter back into the pasture behind the farmhouse, they had counted seven major areas of blight, and three smaller outbreaks.

The helicopter settled on the grass and the rotor blades whistled slower and slower. Ed opened the door and climbed out, followed by Jack and Willard.

‘Well,’ said Jack, cleaning his glasses on his shirt-tail. ‘What are we going to do now?’

Ed said, ‘I don’t know. Nothing, right now. First of all I want to hear what Dr Benson’s got to say.’

‘And then you’ll call the senator?’ asked Willard.

Ed glanced at him. Willard was brushing his moustache with his fingers and looking exaggeratedly innocent.

‘I may,’ Ed told him. ‘Just to make his acquaintance.’

‘Okay,’ said Willard. ‘I’ll make the call to Dr Benson, if you like, and see if he has any ideas yet. I can reach you at the house?’

‘Yes. I should be there for most of the afternoon.’