He took of his crash helmet and shook out his long hair. He was in black boots and leather trousers, his chest bare except for a sleeveless black leat...er waist coat sporting the Hells Angels insignia. There was a black whip in the pannier, on the back of the bike. No ordinary biker. Sometimes known as “Snake whip,” he was The Master. He got off his bike and walked into the factory with the proud arrogance of a prize bull, Suddenly there is a noise from within the factory, someone's shadow. She ran to him but managed to restrain herself from leaping at him. Instead she took his free hand and looked anxiously at him.He smiled crookedly at her. "I'll live," he mumbled.Isobel turned to one of the first-aiders. "I'm his fiancée," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Yes," he replied gratefully. "He needs an X-ray and stitches and probably a pain-killer. Can you run him to Pitsbury District?" Yes but I'll need his car keys." Right! Come with me, my dear, and show me his kit. More

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