The car turned out to be a stretched limousine. Alex felt ridiculous sitting alone in the long, narrow compartment with two leather seats facing each other, a fully stocked bar, and a TV screen. It was nothing like a car at all - he was glad that the windows, like the driver's glasses, were darkened. Nobody was able to see in.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, May 22, 2012.

Found in Alex Rider, Skeleton Key, authored by Anthony Horowitz.


The limousine arrived. It must have been some budget company. There was a dent in the fender and a headlight was broken. As it came down the street they had mistaken the single glare for a motorbike and were astonished when the black paintwork became discernible from the December gloom. Even in the soft glow of the street-lamps it was easy to see that the side was sprayed in muck from the road. When the driver got out he was about twenty-two and dressed in jeans. Miranda was about to kick up a stink when he sauntered round to open the door, he was striking. His face was tanned and perfectly symmetrical, he was muscular but not overly so. She giggled and stepped inside. She sat in the aroma of stale beer, perched forwards on the seat trying to make small talk on the way to the dance. The engine growled up the hill toward the school and there was a small plume of black smoke spat out behind them with the noise of a gun.

By ravinder, October 23, 2014.