He tightened his grip on the wheel. His head was swimming, his vision blurry.
But how?
He drank nothing but sparkling water. And from a bottle cracked in full view.
He didn’t eat much either. Nothing except…
Everything was pitch black now.
The Jaguar had spun off the road, ending upside-down in the tall grass.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t reach that seat belt buckle.
But he did feel that meaty hand reach into his tuxedo jacket and pluck the flash drive from the inner pocket.
“We’ll take that,” the voice told him.
A tainted pig in a blanket. Who knew?
The Weekday One Hundred 