Plus, of course, their captive, the royal banker, Sir John Marren, who sat in a seat in the first class cabin, his wrists and ankles flex-cuffed.

The wealthy and powerful royal banker had spent the earlier part of the flight threatening and glowering at the team, but now he was asleep.

Pooh Bear sat alone in the cockpit of the darkened plane, keeping watch on the autopilot while the others remained in the first class section, taking turns sleeping and covering Marren.

Pooh Bear didn’t mind. He’d always found it hard to sleep in the dry air of planes anyway.

As he sat alone in the cockpit, he pulled out a paperback novel—Isaac Asimov’s classic science fiction tale, Foundation—and by the glow of an overhead light started reading it.

It was an old copy. Pooh had read and enjoyed it many times.

He’d been reading for about thirty minutes when a voice from behind him said, ‘You like Asimov, huh?’

It was Tracy Smith, standing in the doorway.

‘I can’t sleep,’ she added. ‘Never could on planes. It’s something to do with the dry air. Mind if I join you?’

‘Please. By all means,’ Pooh said.

She slid into the copilot’s seat beside him and gazed out at the gorgeous star-filled sky.

‘You like sci-fi?’ she asked.

‘Why, I love all science fiction, but Asimov the most. He’s simply marvellous. So imaginative. But this one, Foundation, is my favourite. I read it every few years, plus all the sequels. Have you read any of his books?’

‘Sure. All of ’em. Including that one. Why is it your favourite?’

Pooh thought about that. ‘I suppose because it’s about the triumph of knowledge over force, wisdom over brute strength. I came from a family where strength was favoured over knowledge—my older brother was a terrible bully who beat me often, especially for studying. But when I retreated to my room and read this book as a boy, it nourished me, gave me hope. Which is your favourite?’

Tracy looked at him for a moment. It was an odd, almost penetrating stare.

Then she said, ‘My favourite book in the Foundation series is the second one, the one where the Mule appears.’

‘Ah, the Mule! What is it you like about him?’ Pooh asked, interested.

Tracy said, ‘I like that he’s a mathematical anomaly. A true outlier who comes along and foils—at least for a time—Hari Seldon’s mathematical plan. Life is full of random people and events like that and I thought Asimov wrote about that brilliantly.’

‘You’re so right,’ Pooh said. ‘The Mule is a wonderful creation. A truly complex villain. Totally unique in fiction, one of Asimov’s finest inventions. What did you think of the way Asimov . . .’