Opening para (from prelude) of my draft novel: It’s remarkably leafy for a city centre location, it has a very definite affluent feel and it seems, well, awfully quiet - but it is late evening after all, supposed Viggo - he’s the fatter one who doesn’t breathe so well. Their vehicle pulls up hard, it’s fine for them to double-park, this is, let’s face it, an emergency. Almost simultaneously, the two figures jump out…