A sleek, black Sedan, with darkened windows, slid gracefully through the noisy, busy thoroughfare - that was Berwick Street - London, Soho. 

 

Both orange indicators blinked anxiously.

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Then, at the rear, the orange was joined by a mass of blood red.  

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The Sedan slowed - blink, blink, blink, blink - 

Rear blood red - on 

- off. 

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To watch, was as to watch - a large hammer headed shark - or some other grizzly teethed - saw jawed - shark - in a multi-billionaire Oligarch's - 

Giant Aquarium. 

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Spectacular! - yet unnatural.

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So it was with that Sedan, as it prowled - slowed - and then - eased into - 

Motionlessness...

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Then out stepped three men. 

 

One was a well dressed, dark suited white man - flanked on either side by two other white Eastern European looking men - they looked around - carefully.  The one on the left nodded and they moved forward.   

 

The man in the centre with the dark suit - was clean cut - so clean, that Mel who sat on a pavement outside a supermarket - could almost smell, the expensive fragrance of his aftershave.  He could feel it too - its powerful tingling sensation.

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"Spare some change? - 

Got any change? ...

Any change?

Thanks luv."

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"Any change sir?"

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"Here you are - 

Sandwich - egg? cheese?

Do you drink tea or coffee?"

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The man in the centre of the three, produced, a bag, a carrier bag and opened it - "Go on, take your pick" - Mel stared up at him - hesitating slightly, before holding the rim of the carrier bag with his left hand and then grabbed at a sandwich with his right. 

 

Mel looked up - so smooth, rounded and pure, was the man's chin.  It glistened.  His dark eyes flashed, as they took in his surroundings - bright and quick.  His round, slightly double chinned head, rested snuggly on his crisp blue shirt and patterned tie.  The porcelain glazed skin of his face - shone, in the faint sunlight, which lazily penetrated through a wisp of formless clouds - and then, through a miasma flux of light and dark silhouettes - buildings - tall, glass and steel - mostly angular, irregular in shape, sharp edged - some sensually curved - office blocks - the light finally to arrive, almost heatless on the rubbish littered street.

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"Coffee will be great" - Mel replied.

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"And - here's a bag of fruit" - the man's bright dark eyes, flashed, yet again, as he handed a second bag - produced, almost, as out of thin air - "And... some change" - he announced.

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"Ahh thanks - you're an angel mate!..."

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"I've not seen you here before" - the man continued.

 

"Yeh, I've lost my regular spot, 'bout a quarter of a mile, just off Tottenham Court Road - been there years."

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The man smiled and chuckled - "what - gang wars?"

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"Well sort of - 

Turf wars, more like - 

So here's my new home.  

I expect to be here, unless I get moved on -

Seems like an OK spot."

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The man smiled and chuckled again.

"Well, see you around young man -

Oh - and if you need any muscle" - he winked playfully -

"Just let me know."

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