Robert Charrette - Never trust an elf

He thought about checking his appearance, but could see no effective way to do so. He had to take it on faith that the suit he wore for the meet was as impeccable as when he'd put it on. It was a salaryman's suit, the uniform of a corporate drone, and Neko had arranged the rest of his appearance to match. As his master had so often said, "To blend, everything must appear as it should, nothing must be out of place." Including attitude. He assumed the self-centered, casually arrogant stance of a moderately highly placed corporate wage slave, and strode through the crowd.

The crowd accepted him, the lesser strata parting in deference and those of his apparent rank accommodating him wordlessly into their own navigation plans. The guards at the tower's entrance let him pass without a glance, but those at the second barrier, who controlled access to the lifts serving the upper reaches of the tower, were less nonchalant. Nevertheless, the identification and access cards he offered them were satisfactory to their computers. They passed him through.

Neko relaxed a little when he was safely into the elevator. There had been a small possibility that the cards he had been provided at Magick Matrix might have been designed to entrap him here. That possibility still remained, for a bad interview might see the cards cancelled before he could ride the lift back to ground level. A paranoid thought, perhaps, but then paranoia was life in the shadows. Surreptitiously, he checked the hidden pocket where he carried a second set of cards, courtesy of Cog, his fixer.

The car stopped on the seventy-fifth floor, a floor devoted to an exclusive club. Neko exited, crossing the Persian carpet and then through the wood-paneled foyer to the podium. The man standing behind it was well-dressed and groomed, in an oily sort of way. He

would be the maitre d'. He spoke as soon as Neko had closed to a reasonable distance.

"Good day, sir. Welcome to our establishment-. You are…?"

"Watanabe," Neko replied, using the name on the identity card he carried.

"Ah yes, Watanabe-san. You are expected. Please follow me."

The restaurant was mostly empty, no surprise, as it was only late afternoon, well before the corporate crowd would be dining. Neko knew at once which table the maitre d' was leading him toward. It was the only occupied one in the section.

Two persons sat there, a shapely young woman with ash blonde hair and a slim older man. The woman was discreetly dressed, her clothes of excellent cut and material. Golden bangles sparkled from her ears, fingers, wrists, and neck, but on her they did not seem ostentatious. Neko judged the woman to be an aide to the man, but her beauty made him wonder if she was skilled in other duties as well. Her eyes lifted to meet his and he immediately sensed the animal sensuality about her. She whispered to her companion.

The man looked up and fixed Neko with a stare. Like his companion, he was Caucasian, and by his dress and appearance, a gentleman in the European style. Neko found it hard to judge his age; the man's gray hair was cut in an outdated style and the poise of his movements suggested the casual confidence born of decades of cultured living. Yet his face showed few lines, and barely more on the generally more revealing hands. Of course, there were techniques to hide age, but Neko's sharp eyes saw none of the usual marks. Neko placed the man as a well-preserved fifty. Unlike his companion, he wore only a single piece of jewelry: a silver ring wrought in the shape of a dragon adorned his right hand. The man smiled, revealing gold incisors. A curious affectation, Neko thought.

"Your guest, Mr. Enterich," the maitre d' announced, then left.

Enterich rose and started to extend a hand, then stopped himself and bowed in the oriental fashion. A shallow bow, Neko noted, one suitable for a superior upon meeting an inferior. Neko made the proper complementary bow. Then he made one to the woman, the kind suitable to another of equal stature. She merely inclined her head, remaining seated and dazzling him with a smile.

"Please be seated, Mr. Noguchi," she said. "Or do you prefer to be addressed as Neko?"

Had he misjudged who was the superior and who the inferior? The maitre d' had referred to Neko as the man's guest, but that could be merely an assumption on the headwaiter's part or a deliberate deception for the benefit of observers. Caution was indicated until he understood the situation better. Neko smiled at her, and him, as he took a seat. "Here, either will do. As I am a guest, I surrender my preferences to yours."

"Neko, then," she said. "We wish this to be a friendly arrangement. My name is Karen Montejac."

"And I am Enterich."

"You are free with your names," Neko observed.

The gold flashed in Enterich's smile. "As are you, Neko. Also like you, our names are not to be found in any public database."

An assertion Neko would test after the meeting. He'd try a few private databases as well. But that was a matter for later consideration; Enterich was still speaking.

"Business can wait until after we dine, can it not? As I understand it, that is the practice in your native Japan."

"It is the practice," Neko said, leaving unsaid the fact that he was Japanese, but not a native of Japan. He would let them believe otherwise; such a false assumption on their part might be useful later.'

The meal, unsurprisingly, was superb, and the talk, though remaining inconsequential, pleasant. Both Enterich and his-as became obvious during the course of their dinner-aide were facile and engaging conversationalists, well-acquainted with the region's folklore and history. Neko even thought he detected a glimmer of more than professional interest in Ms. Montejac's eyes. Perhaps later, he promised himself, with a reminder of pleasure's place in business. When the last plate of empty lobster shells had been carried away and a fresh pot of tea brought, Enterich spoke seriously.

"I am looking for a person of discretion, Neko. Are you that sort of person?''

"Great discretion is available, Mr. Enterich. For a price."

"Cannot indiscretion be bought as well?" Karen asked.

"From some, perhaps, but not from Neko. There is some honor in the shadows."

"That is the answer I expected from you, Neko," Enterich said. "You are well-spoken of in certain quarters."

Neko inclined his head in acceptance of the compl'-ment.

"We shall proceed, then." Enterich's finger absently traced the dragon design on the teacup before him. "Though you have likely concluded that I am the principal in this matter, I should tell you that I am only acting as an agent. Others are seeking to assemble a team for a certain operation, a bit of business in which they anticipate some danger. I believe that your credentials as part of the force used by Samuel Verner uniquely qualify you to become a part of this team."

Caught off-guard by the reference, Neko blurted out, "You know of that?"

Enterich's gold teeth flashed. "I have had dealings with Mr. Verner in the past and retain an interest in his doings."

So ka. Was this another of Verner's runs? Or was this just a result 'of Neko's growing rep? Either way, Enterich had sought Neko out specifically, but there was still a hesitancy here, a caution. A probe was called for. Neko'restored calm to his voice.

"If you are aware of that run, you are aware of the kind of results I can achieve." "You will not have Striper at your side," Karen said. "I have worked without partners before." "This is not a solo run," Enterich said quickly. "Then I must confess to some confusion," Neko said. "Your approach implies that you believe me to be the person you seek, yet your tone suggests some uncertainty about my qualifications."

"It is not my wish to confuse you, Neko. Nor to suggest that you are unqualified. Qualifications are not at issue, nor is interest. Say, rather, that any hesitancy on our part is born of concern over willingness." "Price, then."