Maclean slung a small bag onto the back seat. No more than you’d take to the tennis club of an afternoon.
“Is that all?” Burgess said. “I’ve got a whole suitcase.”
Maclean ignored this, gave him one of his cold-fish looks, the pouty bottom lip poutier than ever.
“What’s all this Roger Styles nonsense?”
“Oh. Just thinking on my toes. After all, it’s going to be a mysterious affair, isn’t it?”
“If we miss this boat it’s going to be a deadly affair.”