Who's This Now?

Strictly speaking it was not eye contact, since the abductor of Harley's Porsche was wearing what looked like enormously expensive aviator shades. He also had on some kind of military drag — desert fatigues, black beret, touches here and there of gold braid. The ID strip on his breast pocket read "UQBARI." Harley took in the dimple in the big chin, the ladykiller moustache, the big gold signet ring on the left hand. His head spun.

"Get in," Urquhart urged. His voice had taken on a tone Harley had never heard before.

Harley stood staring. Why my car, he was wondering.

"Hurry up," Urquhart insisted. "They're probably right behind me."