Chapter 50
The pub was rowdy and crowded, far busier than McDuff would have chosen for himself. This wasn’t the genteel theatre crowd a few blocks away, dressed impeccably and enjoying an elegant evening.
This was pure working-class London. Long gleaming bar, thick smoke, shouted conversations.
Mostly men, though a few women plied their own age-old trade, seeking coin not yet spent on beer or stronger drink. Dock workers, construction crews, street cleaners.
This crowd was intent on playing as hard as they worked, and they weren’t any more afraid to get hurt here than during broad daylight.
McDuff only waited about thirty minutes before the men he was waiting for burst through the door. They’d shed their uniforms for street clothes just as he’d done, letting all of them blend into the
