“You insulting my car, Mann?” I put it in gear and started driving. “That tin can you’ve been driving can barely hold the two of us.”
“You won’t be able to say that about my new car.”
“Trust you CIA spooks to need something with all those bells and whistles.” I’d been with him when he ordered it, and it would be another four weeks before it was delivered.
“Jealous? This heap of yours is at least two years old.”
“This ‘heap,’ as you call my vehicle, gets me where I need to go. Now shut up. I have to concentrate on my driving. You know all the nuts take to the road on holidays.” Plus the snow, as light as it was, would cause havoc.
“Yes, Mark.” He gave me that butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth smile and then began humming to the music on the radio. After another ten minutes he said, “Ah
