Daniel was again being made damp by the passenger seat of a Jaguar. At least this time however, they had the top down and the sun was shining, so he was only getting damp from the bottom up.
They, they being himself and Red, his CIA counterpart and recently minted love interest, were headed out of the city for the weekend. Daniel didn’t know where they were heading, Red had organised it all secretly, it went a little against his training to be in a car with a known foreign agent, going to an unknown location. His mind was on other things, in other places and besides, the scenery in this part of the country, at this time of year, was astounding.
They were barrelling through the New Forest, on the outskirts of Brockenhurst heading south, Daniel was hoping they weren’t going to Lymington. He had spent many summer holidays there in his youth and his memories of the place were full of pederastic uncles and voluminous aunts, surrounded by cats and many pleated skirts. He was recalling one blighted Christmas there, mostly spent locked in a wardrobe, when he felt the car begin to slow.
“We’ve arrived!” said Red.