Chapter 48
The Golden Lion was one of those old forgotten London pubs that no one except local old men and traders from the market went to. The wallpaper had a flowery pattern that had faded over the decades and the upholstered seats seemed to melt into the walls in the dim light. Frank glanced around as he walked in. Three men touching 60 sat at the dark wooden bar nursing their ales, checking him out for a moment before continuing their chat about the football game on the television behind the bar. A few more solitary figures near the back, avidly read their newspapers.
Frank ordered a lime and soda and sat down in an alcove seat, facing the door.
After ten minutes, Griff walked in and after spotting Frank, made a beeline for his table. He slipped in and propped his laptop bag next to
