The Station

It was a drizzly, overcast late Monday morning at Royal Oak station in west London and he was on his way into the city to meet a client who claimed to have information on a musical instrument that he was looking for. The platform, virtually empty glistened with this morning’s downpour and clouds of his breath disappeared into the hazy grey. The early rush hour over, the late one still to come, the few people on the platform gazed down the steel tracks, newspapers folded beneath their sleeves to protect them from the rain.

Six months earlier, Tynan had been tasked with tracking down the location of a guitar…