Rhinoceros

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The first strange event was when Bob Newman, foreign correspondent, arrived at Heathrow to meet the American guest. He showed his SIS folder to pass through the formalities. Standing by the carousel, he checked the photo sent from Washington. On the back was a written description.

Six feet one tall, weight 190 Ibs, clean-shaven, thirty-five years old. Newman spotted Mark Wendover at once among the crowd waiting for their baggage. Coming up behind him, he laid a hand on his shoulder.

'Welcome, Mr Wendover…'

The American, built like a quarterback, reacted in a most unexpected way. As he swung swiftly round, Newman saw his right hand stiffen in the gesture of a potential karate chop. Newman spoke quickly.

'I'm Bob Newman, here to meet you. Didn't they tell you? We did send a message.'

'Great to see you. Thanks for coming. May I call you Bob?'

'Of course.'

'Then I'm Mark. Sorry if I startled you. Haven't had any sleep for over twenty hours.'

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