Every employee, no matter how valuable, has a sell-by date. For a surgeon, fading eyesight might mean it is time to plan your retirement party. An athlete might feel diminished appetite for training and an increased one for everything else.
And how does a senior multimedia investigative journalist know when it is time to hand in the 007 title?
Probably when you think it sounds feasible that a ferry-load of female assassins has already landed in Trinidad and the presumably sexy Latinas are looking for some Trini whistle and horn; ahem, I meant whistle-blowers. Even though the person giving you the story does not want his name anywhere near to it.

“What we know is that they (lawmen) are expecting male assassins to come into the country,” an unnamed Customs Officer told the Trinidad Express, “but based on information we have collated with Immigration personnel, they are planning to send female assassins to do the job.”
So they are sending female assassins because everyone is expecting male assassins. Right…
At this point, Mr Live Wire would have switched off his microphone and told the anonymous source to go find a porn producer who needs a new screenplay; or politely explained that “Colombiana” was only a movie.
The Express begged to differ.
They say truth can be stranger than fiction; and the Express might well have the last laugh. But only if witnesses spot hotties in heels trotting gracefully away from murder scenes.
Otherwise, Mr Live Wire is betting that a seamen’s bar or two is stocking up for extra business in this season of wine and jam.
Naturally, a bizarre crime plot would not be complete without a self-promoting quote from the self-parodying National Security Minister.

“We want to ensure that no other ministers in the Cabinet know what we are doing,” Griffith allegedly told the Express, “because we don’t want them to tip off someone who might be a friend of these people and then they disappear. We want to ensure the highest level of confidentiality in this investigation.”
Oh dear. And Mr Live Wire was so certain that the Minister of Sport had lost all interest in Spanish classes at Room 201.
Mr. Live Wire is an avid news reader who translates media reports for persons who can handle the truth. And satire. Unlike Jack Nicholson, he rarely yells.
So, you’re saying that the last words some may hear might be, in a sexy Latina voice, “Hello, how are joo, my freng?”
Swiftly followed by a dagger to the heart?
Caramba! Un dia de estos, mi amigo, tu te despertaras muerto…if you don’t stop making fun of all these big, important people.