CHAPTER FOUR“AARGH!” SCREAMED Sweeney.
His legs jerked, his feet hit the floor of the Chevrolet and his arms uncoiled in the direction of the windscreen.
“Sweeney! Is something wrong?” worried McDermott.
The inspector, looking pale, opened his eyes and realised the car was quietly driving along the last few miles to the Augusta National Golf Club. “Sorry Lieutenant,” mumbled Sweeney, “a bad dream… I dozed off and thought I’d fallen asleep at the wheel.”
“Oh yes. Driving on the left, is that it?”
“I can’t get used to it. The cars here look like there’s no driver. And I had another bad night because of the heat and the time difference.”
“You’ll get used to it. Here we are. Which hotel is it?”
“That big blue one.”
McDermott involuntarily made his tires squeal as he pulled into the sti
