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Damon Spilbury’s life was going great. Nice house, nice car, nice kids, nice wife, lovely secretary; member of the local golf club, Manchester City season ticket holder and a recent invite to join The Lodge. Soon it would be even better.
Currently at the height of his mental powers, he was pleased with his aptitude and cunning. He wanted for nothing, not yet anyway because it was a waiting game and he was in it to win.
All he needed was a tad longer and it would be game, set and match, time to move on and time to move upwards. He was the head of his own little criminal empire, a very productive one at that, and no one had a clue.
For the time being, he had to be wary but he was quite certain that when the moment arrived his boldness, impudence and sheer genius would leave them all breathless. He grinned as he sat back in his real leather swivel chair and rested his feet on the desk; a good choice of a word, breathless.