It had been several years since I’d lived in England, and I noticed the difference in temperature straight away. It was a shock to the system being thrown from desert weather to the climate of England. Mr. Richardson met me at the airport himself. For such a wealthy man, he displayed chivalrous behaviour and helped me with my possessions, tipping a porter generously to transport the heavy luggage to his car. He had a fine vehicle in dark green, an Aston Martin DB4, whatever that means, and he reeled off a list of specifications that made as much sense to me as Chinese. All I remember is that it was fast, and I felt my back press into the seat as we pulled away. Suffice to say, it didn’t take long to reach our destination. Throughout the journey though, I felt uncomfortable due to the way he looked at me. Despite his age of approximately forty years, he was very handsome with no trace of grey in his dark hair, but my previous intuitions held. His heart was hardened in some way, although I couldn’t figure out why.
