The meeting is in London, tomorrow. And that's all I have been told. London, despite what you may have read in the press, is a very big place. So - i phone him. (paraphrased)
Me: "Where am I meeting you tomorrow?"
Him: London.
Me: (somewhat exasperated) Where?
Him: I don't know yet.
Me: stunned silence.
me: What time?
Him: Early.
Now - if this guy didn't sign off my pay-cheque each month i would have killed him.
This was at 6:00pm.
If you lot don't hear from me, I may have been murdered. Call the police, they are looking for a guy clutching a tear stained letter from someone called Trip Hawkins. They may also be looking for another corpse. They may want to check the soles of my shoes for evidence for that one! Because I'm going to kick him in the nuts to death.
