It was close to midnight that the call had come, and for lack of a more productive distraction, Vincent had spent the better part of the last hour pondering how to coax his umbreon Luce over to his lap so that he could stroke her fur. The obvious answer was to command her there, but the goal of his little game was to make the aloof creature<span style="font-style: italic">want</span>to be at his side, and that victory could not be forced so easily. Of all the dozens of scenarios that he had constructed and discarded, the greatest obstacle was always that she seemed perfectly content to be resting on the carpet already, and while she was still alert, disturbing her for the sake of such a meaningless gesture was likely to do more harm than good. He dared not create his own opportunity without a better reason - an outside force was needed.<br/><br/>He was almost glad to learn that it was business which would provide that force, until he identified its messenger. For the second time that night his telephone had rung; a great monolith of black wood varnished to a mirror shine, inlaid with silver and styled after the streamlined curves and vertical thrust of a lavish modern skyscraper. Habitually smoothing the wrinkles from his suit, Vincent reached for the receiver. Now was the time for business; business or a mortified vacuum salesman.<br/><br/>"Good evening, sir," exclaimed a jovial voice in the most generally ambiguous accent he had ever heard. Too overwhelmingly positive for a vacuum salesman, thankfully.<br/><br/>"This is Vincent Morris," the impeccably-dressed gangster cautioned, raising an eyebrow. "May I ask who's speaking?"<br/><br/>"This is Helios Photography and Development."<br/><br/>Vincent groaned monumentally. "What do you want from me, Meretti?"<br/><br/>"I've just been on the wire with one Mr. Geralt Bernardi," the young informant rehearsed in a practiced monotone. "It seems he's recently fallen out of contact with a number of important business partners, but as we are nominally a supplier of photographic goods, I assured him we could be of little help in the matter. Nonetheless, he shared with me certain suspicions of your involvement, to which any goodhearted man would find ludicrous, and so I was compelled to inform you. You naturally wish to avoid this sort of tragic misunderstanding, or you would never have entrusted me to silently protect him against such indiscriminate paranoia."<br/><br/>"No, no, no, no. Stop. Stop this<span style="font-style: italic">at once</span>. I haven't the slightest clue how someone with so little tact graduated to your position," Vincent seethed before Meretti could launch into another ill-conceived 'sales pitch', "but you sound ludicrous. Ludicrous<span style="font-style: italic">and incriminating</span>. Speak normally or I will route this call to the police so that you may deliver your confession personally."<br/><br/>The line was blissfully silent for the briefest moment. "Force of habit. You understand."<br/><br/>"Can't say I- damnit! Anyhow, you've done as you should, but how did you even know that this business was worthy of bothering me in my own home at this hour?"<br/><br/>"At Helios we guarantee the utmost in conv-"<br/><br/>"Enough with the party line or I'll show you the end of one!" He forcefully interjected. "You gave the<span style="font-style: italic">what</span>but it's the<span style="font-style: italic">how</span>I want."<br/><br/>"No need to cast a skitty." complained the other Vincent, verbally straightening his collar. "Your coup-de-etat against Mr. Bernardi would best be served if I responded quickly."<br/><br/>The well-dressed lieutenant massaged his forehead with a newly-gloved hand. "This is what I was afraid of. Have you taken up grifter voodoo this time, or did someone talk?" He narrowed his eyes mock-suspiciously despite the fact that he was alone in the room save for Luce, who was still slumbering contentedly. "Was that you in my closet next to the bogeyman?"<br/><br/>Meretti chuckled over the phone; for the first time it sounded remarkably genuine."No good treachery carries forward without a rash of<span style="font-style: italic">conspiring</span>, least of all the profitable kind. Rashes aren't easy to hide. What's a humble broker of information to do - strictly in the pursuit of other business - but stumble onto these sorts of things against his best intentions?"<br/><br/>"You could have said nothing. You could have<span style="font-style: italic">lied</span>," Vince hissed into the receiver, exasperated. "Men with long lives tend to have this in common."<br/><br/>"Oh, but this is the truth we're speaking of. An<span style="font-style: italic">untaxed</span>truth. My integrity is at stake."<br/><br/>The informant sounded almost edacious, like some woodland predator tantalized by the merest pretense of secrecy to carefully obliterate. It unnerved him to put anything at all in this man's hands, even as a request. A request for information was by proxy the knowledge that he wanted it enough to pay. Vincent Meretti had done stranger things with less.<br/><br/>"Remind me why I should trust you again?" the pragmatic smuggler inquired. By his usual standards it was a surprisingly honest question.<br/><br/>"I wouldn't dare to;" stated Meretti without a moment's hesitation, "that would be bad advice. But I can tell you that my information is always accurate."<br/><br/>Vincent bit his lip and leaned against the varnished black and silver box from which the most confounding of his troubles emitted. His reflection brooded back in miniature, clean-shaven and sharply dressed as always. "Can you tell me to believe it? You just informed on a man who paid you for months to sell him secrets - partly mine."<br/><br/>"Naturally," replied the eloquent voice, incapable of missing a beat. "He didn't pay us to keep them in confidence. You, however, gave compensation in advance. And so we have this conversation; the consummate expression of my loyalties."<br/><br/>"Your only loyalty is to that mountainous stack of clams I'm building you."<br/><br/>"Yes." the jovial voice concluded.<br/><br/>"You're too good at this, Meretti." Vincent slid the silver earpiece back onto its hook in equal parts disgust and amazement. The man was too perceptive for his own good, occupation or no; too dangerous by half besides. The only thing keeping him alive was fear of what would shake loose if an attempt were made, added to the fact that he was too useful to kill when there were bigger fish to fry. Impossibly, conveniently, that always seemed to be the case with the information broker and his oddly-titled storefront. Helios was an indispensable pestilence on ambitious gangsters the city over.<br/><br/>And then something struck the door with enough force to rattle the walls and send a box of Elena's best theatre gloves toppling to the floor.<br/><br/>Having materialized seemingly from nowhere, a man in a long, shabby overcoat with a brown cap askew his shaven head stood on the landing, already tapping his foot. Vincent grimaced, peering down from the office window in anticipation of others lying in wait outside, but his grim visitor seemed to have arrived alone. The small amount of trust he had built up within the family would seem to have spared him that much. Still...<span style="font-style: italic">Ander Fredrics</span>.<br/><br/>Drab, well-muscled, inconspicuous, and an unabashed sadist, the Englishman represented a particularly unpleasant fibre of Bernardi's small army of hired muscle. His signature billy club twirled nimbly between ropy fingers as he gave the door a second thunderous knock. Ander grinned as an unseen countdown began, relishing the seconds remaining before it became permissible for him to levy more... direct methods in service of the young executive's "cooperation".<br/><br/>"Heya Vince," the gangster belted in a hoarse staccato. "You off someplace? 'Didn't know better I'd figure you was up to somefing. Can't 'ave that. Right dodgy strangeness transpirin' tonight. Could be you'd meet wif trouble. What say we 'ave ourselves a chat isstead - boss's orders."<br/><br/>"I'm almost tempted to<span style="font-style: italic">let</span>him break into this place," Vincent mumbled to himself bitterly, but he quickly acquiesced and made his way out of his office while Vance slunk out the nearest window. As he descended the stairs, he was fortunately able to catch Elena preparing to answer the door - or perhaps blast a hole through it, given her usual opinion of nocturnal visitors - in time to stop her.<br/><br/>"I'll answer that, if you please," he hastily interjected, rushing down the steps at a pace that suggested urgency but not excitement. "You ring Wagner instead and tell him to go ahead without me. It seems I'll be running late."