"No, I do not see how it is bloody well the same thing!" Jonas said indignantly, dropping the extra beer with force in front of the Israeli.  The normally even-keeled Auror glared at his friend, yanking back the empty chair with verve to join him at the table.  "First Radley, then Pratt, now you -- how the hell does me hair color mean anything?" he complained unhappily.  "Just because you both end up in Witch Weekly every other bloody issue doesn't mean there are any other parallels between your two lives, Eleor!"

When he'd first started working with Adon, off-site lunch meetings had been a regular staple of the Runespoor case.  Back then, their investigation into the smuggling ring had centered around a possible internal traitor, and between the likelihood of a leak and Jonas's extreme distrust of the Ministry, it had been easiest to simply remove themselves from the location.  Trevor Reid's arrest and Jonas signing on as a full-time Auror had largely negated their need for long lunch breaks.  Since mid-February, they'd mostly been meeting on the clock, taking care of what business they needed to in the office.

They had both had the weekend to stew over the situation with Trishna, Storm, and Kanika -- and then Prideaux, right in the thick of it.  Come Monday morning, the time had come to make a decision.  The Runespoor case had a way of going cold right in the thick of things, and if they didn't manage to press their advantage into a break soon, they'd end up with an arrested assassin and little else to show for it besides the bill for repairing the taxi cab.   

Having Prideaux involved added an interesting wrinkle to the case.  Jonas was certain the Hogwarts Governor had his own eyes and ears within the Ministry, which meant that they were suddenly -- once again -- in need of an off-site venue to conduct their planning.

Adon had loudly protested a return to their usual lunch location, and so Jonas had conceded and found a pub downtown.  Taking the Underground there largely negated the chance that anyone magical would be able to follow them, but despite his original concession, he was finding himself feeling increasingly uncharitable toward the other Auror as he reclaimed his place at their table.

"I don't even see how you're all the well an expert on the matter, anyhow," he muttered to his partner, scowling as he pulled out his notebook.  "I didn't hear about it and I was here.  You were living in bloody Israel.  Alright, Chosen One," he added sourly, changing the subject.  He dropped the open pad on the table and traded it for his beer.  Judging by the way the lunch break had started, he was going to need more than one to make it through without murdering Adon.  Good thing they were technically off the clock.  "You're the lead investigator.  What the hell do you want to do about the case?  It's not going to wrap up neatly for you this time about just because it's the end of the Hogwarts school year, you know."

"I didn't hear about it and I was here.  You were living in bloody Israel.

Adon looked at Jonas drily, as though he were playing a royal flush.  "Anthony. Goldstein."

"What?"

"Anthony Goldstein. My cousin. 7th year in 1997, a Ravenclaw, and member of Dumbledore's Army. Also a penpal." He waited a moment. "Goldstein, Jonas. He's Jewish.[1]"

"You're the lead investigator.  What the hell do you want to do about the case?  It's not going to wrap up neatly for you this time about just because it's the end of the Hogwarts school year, you know."

Adon sighed as he shrugged. "I don't know. Where's the bushy-haired one? She usually did all the work anyhow, right?"  He waited a moment, looking around. "Guess we'll have to start without her. You're out of luck, brother, on getting your girl." 

Looking over at Jonas' notes, he compressed his lips. "The thing is, we can't initiate too many interviews at once without tampering with evidence. Obviously the freshest lead is with Prideaux. He talks to us, but he won't talk to us. . . Likes to play games, and he does it by gathering information on us, and trying to corner us. Now that's what we did with Reid, and we could try a similar method on Prideaux, except that'd be fighting fire with fire, and I can't help but think he's taken precautions against that.  Reid didn't play like that--he hid everything and hoped that would be enough, so he didn't see it coming. . ."

He ran a hand over his face as he thought. 

"We'd have to switch up the medium a little. I'm not sure. He seems like a good candidate for a dealmaker, but I don't even know if we could trust the deal he'd cut us. . ." He looked up at Jonas. "Feel free to cut me off whenever you feel like, Comedic Relief."

"Thoooough," Adon drew out as his finger lingered on a name--Trishna--"He didn't hide everything. I'm not sure how much Tapendra knows, but it doesn't seem like he'd have much incentive to resist. Maternal tie, fear of what Vedir might do, but really," Adon mused, "we've kept people safe from the Runespoor traders already."

Another look at Jonas. "Okay. Now cut me off."

1.	http://www.jewishjournal.com/up_front/article/jewish_wizard_takes_flight_in_new_potter_book_20030725/

The temptation to dump his beer over his partner's head was a little too much.  Jonas compensated by draining a third of it, glaring at the younger man as he set the mug soundly back on the table.

"Okay. Now cut me off."

The red-haired Auror snorted -- he wasn't about to let Adon get off the hook that easily -- but he gamely crossed his arms, forehead creasing as he studied the names on the paper.

"Yeah, we've kept people safe," he agreed.  "Don't really know that I want to leave you dangling as collateral for them again, though, partner.  Although..."

He trailed off, frowning at the paper for a beat longer before glancing up to meet Adon's eyes.

"That's like the bit with self defense, innit?" he asked, feeling along the sound of each word.  "Not Krav Maga so much, but the other ones, where you use their own movements against them."  His gaze drifted back down to the list; martial arts references were more comfortably in Adon's territory than his own. 

"Seems like there's a lot of tension in this group, don't you think?" he asked thoughtfully.  "You reckon there's a way to prod 'em along just enough to get 'em into action, and then let it all play out?  Give 'em what they want to see, sort of.  You know," he added, eyes flickering to meet his partner's gaze again.  "Like how we grabbed Kanika in the first place.  Guessed at what they'd do, dangled a target, and just let the events play out."  He cracked a grin.  "Although this time around, I reckon I ought to be the one who has a go at getting stabbed."

"Yeah, we've kept people safe," he agreed.  "Don't really know that I want to leave you dangling as collateral for them again, though, partner."

Jonas' emphasis was a bit perplexing. Adon blinked several times.  What the hell did that mean? Was Adon not people?

"Although..."

"Aikido," he cut in. "It's not using their actions against them. It's directing their momentum into a direction that is beneficial to you and incapacitating to them. And actually, if it's done appropriately, it's not response-restricted." He considered. "If we were to truly go with that model, I don't think dangling-the-carrot's that effective. Not again. That's saying the best offense is a good defense. Not entirely sold on that, brother. You can keep blocking attacks all you want, but eventually one's going to get through unless you get them down. Aikido's self-dense..."

He took a sip from his drink. He'd let Jonas start picking them all, from here on out. It wasn't half bad, and Adon was getting accustomed to British tap. Just not British attempts at asian noodles.

"We need offensive measures; like with Reid.  Damning evidence beforehand--could have used that in this case against Kanika, now. Couple that with the Aikido business.  But I'm not going to do anything like the Kanika incident again. Once we got actions set in motion, it was all just kind of a crapshoot from there." He looked levelly at his always-composed partner. "I may be overanalyzing this," Adon said with a dry smile that implied otherwise, "but when one of us ends up in St. Mungo's, I think it's probably time to reassess."

He took a deep breath. Time to share what he'd analyzed and--probably legitimately overanalyzed while he was lying in that bed in Mungo's. "The problem with that was that our plan wasn't setting a trap. That was just getting them to show up and fighting them off from there. A trap narrows things to one certainty. You know specifics--how they'll attack, how they'll try to escape, who they'll escape to--and you close in on that. We're just lucky that--in case you hadn't guessed--the primary philosophy behind Krav Maga is to use what you have on hand, to strike hard and fast--to minimize the damage."

Actually. . .use of automobiles could be incorporated into a self-defense instructional... Jonas might have a knack for this…

He gave a slight snort to himself and exhaled as he slumped back against the booth, tilting his head upward as he thought. "That's really the only way we got through that one. Because we had none of those things. And we don’t have any of those things now, either. We don’t know nearly enough to start setting any traps. And setting traps is good in terms of capture, but it hardly seems a viable method of investigation." 

So. He’d now shot down Jonas’ plan.

What was his?

Adon nudged the napkin in front of him, watching the fibers expand as they picked up the water rings on the table.  “Hm,” he stated pensively, fidgeting slightly. “Then…”

Usually, if Adon stayed quiet enough, Jonas would start blabbing. Maybe if Jonas stayed quiet enough, Adon’d have something come to mind as well.

He waited several long moments. Nothing.

Swallowing, he looked at Jonas. “I’m lead investigator. That’s true. But I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I didn’t. . .see where strengths lie. You have more experience investigating than I do—you’re good at strategy, and at first contacts, and making evidentiary connections. I’m good at interviewing, witness follow-up, trial preparation, legal research, and fighting metamorphs on Muggle sidewalks.” Adon looked down, at the napkin, giving it another nudge, watching it stick messily to the table. “Not strategy.” He cleared his throat.

“So—I like the Aikido idea…eventually. Once we gather enough evidence and narrow things down to set an efficient trap where there are less carrots and daggers. But how do we get that information and evidence?”

Jonas lapsed into silence as his partner began to speak.  Now that they were addressing the topic at hand and no longer discussing anyone's possible sidekick tendencies, he relaxed in his chair, stretching his bad leg out under the table.  As predicted, Adon completed the martial arts metaphor he'd been going for and took it even farther, unfortunately ruling out any hope of using purposely-induced chaos as a weapon in the process.

Adon, though, seemed distinctively reflexive today.  Jonas flashed him a small, quiet smile at his stylistic observation, inclining his head slightly before glancing down at the glass he held with a frown.

"Might have a bit of experience, but I don't reckon it's as relevant," he acknowledged, shrugging as he raised the beer to take a drink.  The conversation lapsed for a moment as he swallowed.  "It's different running down leads when you're just dealing with Muggles.  That lot leaves more of a trail -- emails, plane tickets, mobile phones you can tap into.  It's a hell of a lot easier to bug something than it is to intercept an owl, or to follow some bloke down the road than it is to pop along when he's apparating."

He set his glass down on the table, balanced a finger thoughtfully along the top of it.  Complaining about the inconveniences of the magical world wasn't going to get them anywhere. 

"I think you're right," he said at last.  "If we want to push one of 'em, Trishna's the better bet.  He hates Prideaux," he added quietly.  The force of emotion towards the Hogwarts Governor was almost unsettling in its intensity.  Kanika had given up her attack on Adon as soon as she had spotted him, and the Astronomy professor spoke of the other man with equal venom.  "Reckon whether I go see 'im again or we both do, we can use that.  If he gives us anything, it's still more than we have now."

The red-haired man grimaced, rubbing both hands over his face as he mentally moved on to the next possibility.  "Storm's a problem," he said tiredly.  "We need to run that one by Raynor, at the very least.  But even if she tells us to keep following up, I don't know how much we'll be able to touch him at Hogwarts," he added, clearly unhappy about that fact.  "I don't know if it's any better now, but back in the old days, you'd end up with a national incident on your hands and the goddamned Headmaster stomping around and threatening to quit the Wizengamot every time you asked to talk to some bloody kid.  Takes a sledgehammer to get anything done once they start protecting their own."

Jonas shrugged, raising his glass to his friend as if apologizing for the ridiculousness of his country's political system as he leaned back in his chair.  That was the frustrating thing about having to do things the wizard way.  When he'd been acting as a Muggle private detective, he might not have been able to get things done with the wave of a wand, but at least he'd known what he was doing.  Dealing wtih the magical instead of the mundane was almost like starting over from the beginning.  Spells, magic, even the ancient politics of it all -- he'd happily forgotten most of that knowledge.  Having to dredge up old memories again left him feeling incompetent, as if the skills that he'd spent ten years practicing were suddenly useless.

Unless they weren't.

"You know, A...." he started slowly.  Jonas glanced at the other man over the top of his glass, his forehead creasing as he obviously silently followed a train of thought towards its conclusion.  "We know the smugglers're moving somewhat in the Muggle world, yeah?  Maybe we should be looking for leads there.  Prideaux likes automobile[1]," he said musingly, tapping a finger on the table.  "I'd be interested to run down some of his plates, see who they're registered to.  Might give us some new names to follow up on, or a better idea of how he's moving money about."

1.	Mentioned in The Assignation

"You should go see him," Adon said, insistently.  "You've built up rapport. . . can small-talk all you want--he's the touchy-feely type, right?" Adon paused. "Not that way. But if I show up, it becomes an interrogation, not a chat. I don't know the man." He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought. "I can keep Storm occupied, though. So you can get Trishna alone.  There should be nothing against Hogwarts regulation in one former foreign Auror talking to another..."  If anyone was going to question Storm, it'd be Adon. Adon'd never met the man, but he had an inkling that he'd have little qualms retaliating on a small-talking, chit-chatting Auror nosing about his business.

If Storm tried any of stunt on him, however, he'd make sure he broke at the very least the man's jaw. And he'd even smile through every one of Raynor's lectures--unless Storm managed to break his.

"Or I could just make sure no one tries to talk to Trishna while you are--and we leave Storm well enough alone. I don't suppose we'd get much from him except some shaking of old-man jowls and some hexes." He shrugged and pursed his lips, thinking. "Let's go with that--and if Storm tries to approach, he's got something interesting, for certain. And I can try to work him over a bit." He paused, "Subtly." He gave a dark chuckle through his teeth, grimacing.

"You know, A. . ."
Jonas' tone shifted--as it often did when Jonas had been drifting off in thought and either 1. was trying to awkwardly shift to Something Completely Different to hide this fact, or 2. was still drifting in thought--out loud.  Adon instinctively leaned forward a bit, nodding.  "I don't," he chided, gesturing for Jonas to continue.

As the plan began to develop, though--the answer was clearly option 2--his grin began to spread mischievously.  It had been a while since he'd played with any Muggle tracking. And while he'd never run plates, the thought was interesting. "Think we'd manage to get close enough to a car to try to plant a tracking device on it?" Not that he had military-grade tracking devices at the ready but. . . that could be arranged, perhaps? There had to be someone who still owed him a favor. "Sure, sure. That sounds good. When can we start?" he asked, hurriedly, suddenly feeling like the table, hovering above his legs, was keeping him down a bit too much.

Reaching for his leather notebook, he scribbled something quickly down. "Running plates--does that require the Metropolitan Police? Or is that something we can do ourselves? It's likely--I mean, there have got to be some Muggle connections there." He grinned as a pun--a horrible pun; he'd been hanging around Jonas too much--came to mind. "Smuggle has Muggle in it, after all." He considered.  "A man like that--you don't suppose he's the one who actually goes to the dealership lot and buys them, do you? And what about maintanence and tuneups?" He couldn't exactly see Vedir driving an automobile into a repair shop.  And most wizard's'd balk at the prospect of Talking Shop with a Muggle.  Adon would.  "Do you think. . . is it possible he's got some sort of a Muggle servant?"

Jonas glanced at his partner, flashing him a quick grin at the pun.  "He might," he replied, looking incredibly bemused by the prospect.  "If he doesn't, I reckon we can run down the shop.  It'd have to be somewhere close to his manor.  There's no bloody way in hell that you could apparate an automobile."

Now this was investigating.  Even if the lead with Trishna didn't pan out, at least it felt as if they had somewhere to go, momentum to move on.  Jonas was grinning as he watched Adon scribble down notes.  Digging through records and searching for Prideaux's connections was likely to be tedious and time consuming, but if they managed to hit on anything, all of the work would be well worth it.

"Naw, I can run down plates on me own if I have to," he replied nicely.  "Might be worth asking me uncle down in Devon, though.  If Prideaux's dealing with Muggles, there's all kinds of things we could dig up on him."  Credit reports.  Bank statements.  The mundane world meant a paper trail.  "And I reckon we could find some way to get into his garage -- although if the cars are nice enough, we might not need to plant something on them to track 'em."

"Alright, so," he said, pulling out his phone and tapping the button to turn the screen on.  With an automatic motion, he called up the web browser and then began typing in Prideaux's address.  "Might as well start with the repair shops, yeah?  Something high end, discreet..."  He continued to type, fingers moving quickly.  "Let's see what we can find."

End.