The photographer sat still, finally pulling his coffee closer.
The steam had died, but the work hadn't.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a burner phone, and sent one line to a contact labelled: CourierMidline_3.
[Drop sent. Upload live @ 7:03 AM GMT.]
Then he pocketed it.
"I love this job," he uttered as he took the cup of coffee by his knee and gulped it down in one go before standing up and leaving.
........
The team coach pulled into the curbside loop at Heathrow Terminal 4 just past 7:30 a.m.
It was still dark outside because of the weather.
But the moment the red-and-navy silhouettes began stepping out, a soft and unmistakable tremor ran through the morning air.
First came the sound.
Muffled at first.
Then stronger.
"Oi—look, it's them. It's actually them! We really got them"
There were voices and dozens at that.
Arsenal voices, wrapped in scarves, hoods up against the cold and backs against the rails where they'd gathered in silence for hours.
