Judas was not in a bad mood. He was just in one of those post-holiday funks. He was sitting on the top deck of a red London bus and casually scanning the street-level world as he passed it by. He liked the people of this city very much, they were angry, suspicious and downright narky to each other on a regular basis, but when the need arose, they could be formidable, and they didn’t like to be pushed or tested. Just why the Industrial Revolution had begun on this island and why the language of business around the globe was English was sometimes hard to fathom. Still, there it was, they were much better than they thought they were, stubborn and hard-headed certainly, and the butt of nearby Europe’s chagrin, but, when the chips were down, you could rely on the Brits to stand up and take it o
