"You know the drill," Johnson says coldly, he closes the briefcase, produces his sunglasses and puts them on. He opens the case slightly and produces a tiny piece of paper, roughly the size of a matchbox and hands it to Simon. He rapidly thumbs a security code into the lock of the brief case, the clasps click open. "I was delayed." Johnson replies abruptly, placing a black briefcase on the table. He is a middle-aged man, with a pale, thin face and jet black hair slicked over in a side parting. Johnson takes his glasses off and places them in his suit pocket. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up Johnson." Only Simon and the black suited man remain mobile, Simon glances at his watch, stopped. Everything suddenly goes silent time has frozen around them, people in the middle of pouring cups of tea, frozen mid conversation, a living portrait of working class Britain.
A man in a black suit and sunglasses has appeared next to him. Simon returns to his stool at the window. Simon picks it up and ignites his cigarette. His eyes meet the mans stony gaze, eye contact is maintained for a good five seconds, before the man grunts and tosses a dirt flecked lighter on to the table. "I don't suppose you have a lighter do you?" Simon asks.
The man looks up and wipes a globule of what appears to be egg from his chin with a grimy hand. After a moment of thought he decides to approach the man. To his left is a man that resembles a leather bound bulldog scoffing some greasy 'treat'. Simon scans the café to locate a suitable candidate to borrow a lighter from. Patting his jacket pockets, he realises he is without a lighter. 'How long until he arrives?', Simon wondered, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes and puts one to his lips. The café is your typical run-of-the-mill greasy spoon, discoloured walls and ceiling, the smell of hot oil, smoke and coffee hangs in the air like an unwelcome guest. He is sat in a smoky café, surrounded by what his dad used to call 'real men', which translated to Simon as knuckle dragging manual labour types. Simon picks up the steaming cup of coffee he looks at the black liquid inside with contempt before gulping down a mouthful.
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