TEN
At John Lennon airport, two large guys wearing jeans and white t-shirts met Johnny and escorted him to a waiting car. From their thickset necks and the size of their arms, they looked like body-builders. One pulled open the door to the big Ford, and smiled. Johnny settled into the back and they drove him into the City.
He sat and watched the changing panorama streak past his window. Soon, the no longer busy but still magnificent waterfront came into view; Albert Dock well scrubbed, the Liver Building gleaming pristine. He knew little about Liverpool save for the obvious, and nobody spoke to enlighten him further.
The car turned into a side street and pulled up in an enclosed car park at the rear of a grubby building well past its best and, Johnny believed, should be condemned. Again
