Thirty-Three
Despite the time, Guthrie made no mention of either coffee or lunch before Alisdair signed out a pool car for the trip to Ogilvy's office. No Jaguar this time. Instead, a rather worn out hatchback was their conveyance.
"Back to slumming it." Guthrie said clocking the crisp packets stuffed into the ashtray in the centre of the dashboard. An empty Red Bull can rolled around his feet.
"They weren't too pleased with the state of the Jag when we brought it back. All that mud from the warehouse fire. Should've seen the looks I got when I asked for a car."
"Nothing we could've done. All part of doing our duty, right?"
"Yes, but probably another reason we're not in Buchanan's good books."
"It was a bit of a disaster zone when we handed it in." Guthrie's face lit up in a satisfie
