TWENTY-FIVE
At around eleven o’clock that morning, as the crowds of people hurried their way around the small town of Vigo, others decided to remain to watch a film in one of the five theatres or to just laze by the pools. The hallways and corridors seemed peaceful, less for the cleaning staff, making the most of the emptiness. Outside the temperature was rising. Even though it was early, it was in its high 70s. Inside it was a comfortable mid 50s for those who felt the baking sun was a little too much. A woman looked out of the massive glass panelled windows and surveyed the view of the port and the town beyond. She smiled confidently as she turned, walking down the corridor that had been behind her. She was tall and in her late thirties. Her maroon leather one-piece catsuit hugged her
