Rogue(93)

“Is that dangerous for us?”

“Depending on what he says, bad for the Forces and the Freehold. I don’t think he can do much to me.” I changed subjects. “Bring a demo kit of basics.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we want to broker trust and money. You should act like my squeeze a bit, too.”

“I’ll keep it low key and implied. Are they really that backward?”

“Yes, in some ways. Don’t underestimate them, though.”

“Understood.” She went to the kitchen and rummaged around, gathering packets. “Let me dress.”

This time we drove to the restaurant more or less directly, parked a square over as our car was a little old and not up to the standards of the clientele, and strolled in, dressed appropriately. I wore a high-throated blazer over a ribbed shirt, with a single silver chain. She wore slacks, her breakaway heels, a bra she didn’t need that domed her breasts just enough under a satin ultraviolet top, and some chrome diopside that looked very much like real emeralds, at throat, ears and wrist.

We were shown to a booth at the back, with a curving, padded seat that let us all face the door. I was amused. I arranged me at the outside, ready to move in a hurry, Silver next to me, then him, then his goon. Though perhaps “goon” was unfair. He looked alert, competent, genial and not hired for more muscle than brain. He was bigger and younger than me, and I was sure he was a veteran. I was also sure I could take him. More importantly, both of us plus Silver could easily take Randall, unless he bombed the whole place. There was no room for a chameleon in here, either.

“Thanks for joining us,” Timurhin said politely. He was quite classy, and from all I’d read, tried not to kill over small matters. He’d just arrived at the restaurant himself; the water glasses were just starting to bead and the condensation rings hadnbroken surface tension yet.

“You’re welcome. If I may, I have a suggestion on ordering, and would like to place the order for us.”

“Go ahead,” he agreed.

I noted everyone’s taste, from braised shrimp for Haken, his guard, to ribeye for me. We agreed on two wines.

The waitress came over shortly, and I smirked inwardly at her outfit. Plenty of cleavage, blouse cut to show it with a ruffled tie at the throat leaving a nice diamond, and when she bent for a water glass I could see clear to her nipples. Fishing for tips, are we? It was a standard uniform, she’d just sized the clothes for best effect.

“Good evening,” she said. “May I start you with an appetizer?”

“Actually, I’m ready to order for us, miss,” I said.

“Oh, please do,” she said, and smiled.

I rattled off the orders, displacing each meal by one space.

The waitress said, “I’ll put these right in.”

“This is a nice establishment,” I said. “Attentive without being clingy, smells very nice, and the staff look good too.”

Timurhin smiled. “Yes, I like upscale, but I don’t like having the staff lurk like vultures. It makes it hard to talk. We won’t be bothered unless we ask.”

“Excellent. Then my assistant has a portfolio for you,” I said.

“I’d like to see it,” he agreed.

Silver drew a folder from her bag and passed it over. He opened it and perused it. I knew we’d scored because he kept looking.

Silver had several ID cards, passports and key cards in there. He examined a page of the local ones, with perfect production of watermarks, polarized frequency shifts, the works. He glanced at one for Alsace and one for Caledonia.

“Beautiful work.”

She said, “Thank you. I’ve studied as much as I’ve had hands on.”

After a few more moments, he handed the folder back, almost wistfully.

The food arrived. I let the waitress set it all down, took another glance at the awesome scenery—if she wanted to show it, I felt no qualms about watching it, let her uncork the wines, pour samples for me and step back.

I approved both. One was a hearty red with a little sweetness and none of that earthy taste wine snobs claim to like. The other was a local fruit mix, dry and complex, that they drank with everything.

“Thank you very much, it looks excellent.”

“You’re welcome. Please wave or buzz if you need anything.”

As soon as she turned, we all slid plates one space clockwise, and then I moved my glass the other way. The rest caught on and did so. In case of binary poison, no one had the same meal or glass as had been set. The remaining possibility was that the glasses had one agent and the food the other, so if Randall wanted me or Timurhin, and had managed to doctor something, either the goon or Silver was about to fall over dead. I was a bastard. I didn’t mention that deduction.