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Chapter 1

The man with the short blond hair with grey jacket hanging over faded blue jeans was really regretting bumping into the man with blonde hair with black jacket hanging over tan chinos. Andy Cronin was slumped in a corner over a black waste basket. His grey jacket was speckled. His face contorted in pain. His nose and mouth and face had taken the four quick blows that had flown out of nowhere. The crowds avoided him and ignored the man in the black jacket and the man in the blue jacket who were paying his pockets a particular amount of attention. Walking across the concourse, through the usual throng, Andy had watched the two men. The man in the black jacket and tan chinos standing to the far side of the kiosk quite close to the clock. A CCTV blind spot. The other man with the thick grey hair wearing a pinstripe suit and classy looking black Oxfords briskly walking away pushing through the crowds swiftly heading for the main entrance. He was clearly annoyed and harsh words had probably b
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Chapter 2

The policeman shouted as they calmly walked away. They did not look back, just carried on casually walking, almost sauntering, just like it was any other day. The policeman stopped and stooped over the man spread over the waste bin and felt his pulse. He was just stirring. The policeman’s radio crackled and he said something about an ambulance and described the two men. Black jacket. Blue jacket. Both mid-height and stocky. Short hair. One blond. One dark. That was all. The radio crackled again and he said he understood. No terrorist involvement so he knew the response would take a while. Eddie was rubbing his knuckles as they joined the concourse melee. He had a grimace on his face as he said, “That one sure was a bony bastard….Did he get it?” “He got it,” replied Mike wiping some dust off of his black jacket sleeve, “I felt him right off but he was quick. He was just too quick to grab. And away like a rabbit. Anyone else and they wouldn't have realised. Lucky you were watching, e
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Chapter 3

As usual the last minute rush filled the train. Jane was still looking out of the window watching the last people running, smiling at the expressions on their faces.  She saw the two men at the barrier standing for a few seconds looking at the train as it slowly started to move then they turned and strolled away. The doors clicked as they opened and shut with people moving along the carriage. Then a voice said, “Mind if I sit here?” Standing clutching a gold coloured weekend bag and light brown satchel bag the lady with the long dark hair and red lipstick was looking casual with a neat wide smile that kind of crunched up the corners of her mouth. Her head tilted slightly and she was tapping her foot almost absentmindedly and looking questionably at Jane’s Tote bag sitting on the seat. Looking round Jane said with a small smile, “Sure. No problem.” Then seeing where the lady was looking said, “Oh I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten about that.” She picked up the bag and put it down by her legs
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Chapter 4

  April 1945 He knew it was about to happen about two minutes before it would have. The signs were there. The big GI with the close cropped dark hair was twitchy. He was looking mean with one of those one directional stares mean men have when they are about to explode. He was sat at the crowded bar kind of twisted side on looking towards the dance floor pushing a whisky glass around with his right hand. Picking it up he brought it to his lips then looked at it and realised it was empty so slammed it back down. Then ignored it. The back of his other hand he kept rubbing back and forth across his chin stubble like he had an itch right there on the point. The bit that is hard to shave. All the time staring. Frank Anderson a bull of a man with fists like lumps of rock and a face that said he meant business. His stare was hard at the lanky fella dancing with the dark haired girl. His girl. The good looking girl with the red lips
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