17 March, 2009 - 8:28pm
Amaya
Halkin Arcade
Motcomb Street
London

It had been over three months since he'd delivered his ultimatum. Now it was time to see just how they took his little display of cockeyed and brazen character.  It was something he didn't dare risk himself of course, but then that was what dinner meetings were for.  Suit, tie, upscale and illustrious. Public and most certainly all business.  However when conducting less than favorable conversation dealings in public places, more traditional and careful arrangements had to be made.   The restaurant wasn't exactly meant for suit and tie, but if you flash enough class and talk enough talk you can arrange for just about anything, say, the far corner table and not to be disturbed unless so invited?  Call it a nice tip night.  Sure, questions might be relayed to the local Patrol Sergeants at the Metropolitan after they left but there's no harm in two men having a discussion over dinner while not wishing to be disturbed.  Not in this day and age certainly.

Mr. Martin Lane came 'specifically recommended' for the task at hand. Thirties, six-foot-three,  coal black hair, a sense of humor only his mother could love and of course good at what he does.  A low-level sneak with a certain taste and style, however he did have a higher calling to the finer side of gambling.   The job wasn't exactly reckless nor dangerous and he would surely be sufficiently compensated for his troubles but quite frankly he wasn't being hired to break any real laws.  The man had a knack for Charms, Transfiguration and just general stalking.  He was ideal for sniffing out lost items, people, even tried his luck at being a cursebreaker a few years ago. Turns out they were right when they told him it wasn't a 'safe' career choice.  Lost a finger, decided he'd never do that again and went off the grid.

Much as Mr. Lane could find people, Burke had people who could find people. It really was all about credentials, risk and discretion. Thus it was doubtful that if for some unforseen reason this went horridly awry that he would be missed by many.

That auror’s trinket was moving about again, had been for well over a month now and after laying dormant in London for two he wanted to know why.  There was also that two week stint where it hopped across the country to Exeter, he didn't quite like that either but so far even his sources were at quite the loss.  More specifically and to the point, he wanted to know who had it; and whether it was anything which he needed be concerned with.  Eight-Thirty.  Mr. Lane was proving most...

"Mr. Declan Montgomery, I presume?"

Reliable.

Dressed for an interview, but it would do.  The watch on his wrist was like a fake gold plate but it showed at least an attempt to hide his problem while showing a sense of class.  He didn't look too horridly unkempt, overall the man met expectations.  He didn't look like a waste of his time.

"Ah, Mr. Lane.  Do join me, I've already placed an order for some of the best venison - although with what I gave them to keep this discussion between us I'll accept no less than that." He waved over the wait staff and placed an order for a selection of Merlot 1957 and brandy.  "Now then, while we wait.  You're very punctual.  I like that, like it alot but you are aware that punctuality will not keep you in my good graces with regard to this job?

The man took a seat, acknowledging the wine selection with a courteous nod and only after the waiter moved well away as to be out of earshot did he respond. 
"I'm aware you have need of my services, yes.  But let me be frank and break it down for you as simply as I know how.  I can be discrete.  It’s what I do. You want me to find someone, something, it’s done.  If I didn’t yield results, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He paused, savoring the wine with an acknowledging nod but not long enough for Burke to interject.  Clearly it was another vice – the confidence, not the wine.  The wine was merely a custom luxury.  “Finn’s not in the habit of passing me jobs that are impossible so let’s get right to it.  What’s the job?”

Burke regarded him with a cold but contemplative stare.  He was half tempted to simply shoot him for speaking to him as though he were some Lowtown dealer, but he’d likely never make the door.  Not to mention a body complicated matters exponentially; plus he’d then have to try and find someone else to fill shoes and put off a task that he really couldn’t risk getting caught doing.  Actually, he couldn’t right risk much getting caught at all. He leaned forward on the table and inwardly smirked as the man’s confidence fell right through the floor.  He was not about to have his strings pulled.  Burke waited to speak until after the waiter arrived, delivered the meal and smartly departed.

“Are you quite through?  Because although you’ve made your point I think it’s MY turn to be, frank, as you say.”  His color drained as Burke glanced about the rest of the restaurant. “You have this meeting because I thought you worth my time.  You might have this job if you drop that cavalier attitude and treat me more with that respect you forced across your lips when you first walked up.  I’m not someone to be toyed with Mr. Lane, nor will I succumb to your bravado.”

“The requirement I have of you is simple.  I’m tracking an item – a magical item.  I don’t know who is in possession of it, however you may presume it is in the hands of someone relating to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  Find them, follow them.  If confronted, inquire as discreetly as to what they know and report back to me in two weeks time at…”

Burke wrote on a scrap of paper.

“This time and location.”

"Very well.  Sounds simple enough Mr. Montgomery. I don’t right like you; or your attitude.  Half payment of the prearranged amount.  That’d be Eighteen-thousand, five hundred fifty-two galleons.  Up front.  The other portion in two weeks time upon completion; or no go."

“Half off the top is fine.  Whether you get the rest depends on whether or not I get the information I want.  If you’re later on the 31st.  You’re dead. Oh, and I do know people.”

And with those words to roll around in Martin Lane’s mind for the duration of the meal, Burke enjoyed some wonderful cuisine and when he was finished, since the bill had already been paid, left.