to smithereens and splattering himself and the worktop with dollops of bright, yellow yolk and sticky, white albumen in the process. Sneering, he dropped the pan to the floor, showered and dressed for work. * * * Andrew Maxwell Stewart, “Max” to those who knew him, cursed as he forced himself into his suit which, he’d been assured, was cut in a style deemed to be de rigueur for someone in his profession, despite his reflection telling him it belonged on somebody six inches shorter. The ridiculously slim-fitting jacket inhibited any kind of movement from the elbow up and
