Sentence The Onehundredandtwentyseventh

And yes, at that particular moment, way. way, faraway to the West, if we travel at meteoric speed to the darkest reaches of the Grassmarket and Cowgate, where the wearer of the Size 13 Official Issue Policeman's Beat Boot was leaving the upper flat which his team had now finished processing; for he had called in a few favours, made a few threatening remarks and twisted a few arms – and, with his inherent metaknowledge of the motivations which impel human beings to engage with the most mundane or esoteric of tasks, he had greased a few palms as well; the two apartments had been dusted thoroughly for fingerprints and those of the resident and the owner, though the technicians new not his name, were eliminated, leaving just several sets of prints made by persons wearing gloves, and therefore unidentifiable; next a thorough and detailed sweep had been made which picked up no bugs or cameras, for The Economic Migrant – who was laughing as he watched all of this on his computer monitor, while drinking a can of Irn Bru – had supplied only top of the range cameras to The Shottstown Ladies Quick-Draw Club, with no metallic parts these were undetectable by either the naked eye or the mediocre tracing devices used by Police Scotland; in fact the only clue as to what had happened was the discovery of a single red hair in the lower apartment' which was even now being examined furtively by a technician who should have been concentrating his energies on the search for the murderer of a prostitute whose body had yesterday been found in a downstairs cellar in the New Town; so it was with some trepidation that the wearer of the boot with the singular  

 
print and its companion was making his way towards the Chambers of Martin Elginbrod QC; he knew that Elginbrod was a man who did not accept, and usually avoided, failure, and demanded his employees ensure that whatever he wished done, was done; the Boot Man was a strong-willed and strong-armed man himself, who had been in the employ of Elginbrod for almost twenty years – during which time also an Officer of Police Scotland and the City of Edinburgh Police before the amalgamation; but he could not help a feeling of anxiety – normally something which never afflicted him – which caused a certain quickening of his heart rate and sweating of his palms as he tried to prepare a report with a positive spin in his mind; the final tests were due to produce results within the hour, though what those would be he was uncertain – there had been an aroma in both flats, an aroma which tickled the nose of the Boot Man as that of a musicologist entering a St Orleans Brothel who senses the zydeco which has provided its rhythms for the activities carried on within the walls – and he had air samples taken which were being analysed at a very expensive private laboratory on the other side of the Pentlands and he only hoped they would produce some leads which he could follow up, for the smell had a mixture of machine oil, some equestrian tang and a strong sense of leather, which he was sure he had encountered before but the source eluded him, and this only made him angry and that anger at least suppressed his anxiety and did not allow it to become fear; so with the confidence of the psephologists who convinced themselves to believe what electors had given as their voting intentions for the General Election in May and ebulliently predicted a 'Hung Parliament' and another Coalition Government, he convinced himself that he could persuade his Master that he was, indeed, 'hot on the trail' of the perpetrators and expected to return the stolen property with no delay – but perhaps he should have felt some fear as he entered the ground floor lobby and climbed the stairs to the Chambers, for fear would have prepared him for the reception he got as soon as he entered Elginbrod's private office!