The Situation22 Sep 2013 16:37
Molecules Maguire checked his EPO-encrusted Rolex Xenograph. Four fifteen - just time enough to catch the shuttle to Boston, Mass. He hurried out onto the Haymarket pavement, shrugging on his Burberry Shamus Special raincoat and hailing a taxi.
"Airport, and make it snappy", he drawled to the driver.
"Which one, Guv?", came the reply.
The CEO checked himself - his instinct was to make a sarcastic reply, but today he had other things on his mind, so instead he simply barked "Heathrow".
Later, as he reclined his Lipolaxomax seat in first class, he sipped from his flute and reflected; everything was in place, the deal was almost sealed, but had he omitted anything?
Something was nagging him from an inaccessible corner of his mind, somewhere that he couldn't quite draw to the forefront of his consciousness....
To be continued....