There wasn’t much Jason had to prepare; they had used the Orchid as a meeting place before and he was familiar with the layout. A champagne-room (without the dancer, of course) would serve nicely as a briefing room. For obvious reasons, the patrons of the Orchid demanded good privacy and the room would be regularly swept for RFID microbugs by the establishment. At the same time, the place was basically public and his coming and going wouldn’t draw any attention.<br/><br/>What was more worrisome was that he didn’t have a security team anymore now that he was with a new employer. He would bring up the issue with Mr. Glenn as soon as possible, but it was unlikely that something could be done on such short notice. For now, he was on his own. Maybe it was for the best: While his security codes were still fresh and hot, it was imperative that no one leaked the rumor of a Gunderson turncoat. Even without a name or any hard evidence to go by, standard security policy would be to change access codes if there was even the smallest hint that one their own had gone rogue.<br/><br/>Jason opened his trusty attaché case and checked the contents: A H&K submachinegun strapped to a special mount so that it could be fired from<em>inside</em>the case. There was a safety in the handle of the case and the trigger itself was ‘pulled’ by wireless smartlink. He checked the action and counted the rounds in the spare magazines. When he was certain that everything was in working order, he set the case back down besides his desk and let his implant AR system fill his entire view. He had hoped for an afternoon meeting with Porter and his team, but the man never left home before the sun was down. Allergies perhaps, or maybe just an aversion against patrols and overly nosy pedestrians. Not everyone had an off-the-shelf face like Jason and any kid could blow a runner’s cover by posting a picture online that had the runner in the background. Autonomous picture recognition pilot systems would do the rest.<br/><br/>So he spent his afternoon preparing any files the runners would need: maps, locations and passcodes. With his codes, they should have an easy time infiltrating the main Gunderson facility and clearing out its datastores. Of course they would need to do some breaking and entering themselves, in the real world and in VR, but with his codes and keys, they had a definitive edge. If everything went well, Interfreight’s analysts would have a few sleepless nights poring over the wealth of data Porter’s team would deliver. But that was no longer Jason Delaforte’s department. He was in ‘Special Contracts and Clients’ and that meant he didn’t need to bother with analysts and contract lawyers. His clients were shadowrunners and his contracts were a few whispered promises of nuyen, valid over a handshake in the seedy back-room of a strip club.<br/>