2013.07.25 - Dead Men Don't Divulge

The invitation had been enigmatic at best. A street address, a time, and five Ben Franklins tucked into an envelope and left inside of John's office. Whoever dropped it in there made it past all his locks and safeguards without setting one off, then, rather considerately, re-locked all the doors on their way /out/.

The street address is connected to a huge, rambling old property in Upper Metropolis, a palatial acreage nearly a quarter of a city block in size. It's in that middle area between town and the suburbs, where property prices are in the multi-million dollar range. Banners, the flags of Genosha, hang on either side of the main gate. A solid fenceline encloses the property, and behind the bars stand a pair of brutish looking mutants who look to have been selected for their intimidation factor. The invitation, bearing a raised stamp of the Genoshan heraldry, seems to be the key through that gate.

Carmichal, upon getting the envelope, with the address, time, and cash, had done what any good detective would do. He showed up early. VERY early. Discreetly. In fact, more discreetly than any other private dick could. He showed up invisible. That is to say he arrived invisibly. He'd caught a cab to the nearest rail line from his office. Ridden it across the river. Then caught another cab to an entirely different part of the city, before ducking into a building, and phasing through a side wall, invisibly, going down three blocks and catching another hack somewhere within 5 blocks of the address. From there he'd ducked into yet another building, gone invisible, and phased once more through a blank wall, rather than exiting a door. If anyone had managed to track him after all that, he'd be impressed.

Upon reaching the address early, he'd surveiled it for at least an hour or two, taking in any spotters, or signs of a trap. Satisfied that there was nothing of the sort at least at the entrance, he moves out of sight again, and goes solid, and visible before rounding the corner, to arrive...just on time. How about that. Invitation in hand, he approaches the gate in a relaxed, devil-may care stride. "I have an appointment boys...." he says holding up the envelope.

"You are on time. Good," one of the mutants remarks, swinging the gate open. "Bad to keep him waiting." John is escorted through the main entrance and to a pair of large French doors. A single sentry stands outside of the archway, and as John approaches, the doors are pulled open to admit the man. The study- for it can hardly be called an office- is a lavish affair, all done in deep mahogany and scarlet. Plush chairs are set aside in a 'smoking corner', and one wall is completely dominated by a bookshelf stuffed to the brim with reading material antique and new. Over the fireplace is a magnficent painting of the newly crowned Imperator of Genosha- but instead of in his formal robes, it's a highly stylized rendering of him conquering Bastion with force and fury.

Seated behind a large desk with his back to the bay window, Magneto seems fairly ensconed by sunlight. He looks up as John enters, and nods once, politely, at the man. "Detective Carmichal. I see my invitation was enough to get your attention. Please, have a seat," he says, gesturing at the seat across from the desk. The moment John sits, a butler- an actua valet, in a tuxedo- walks over with a silver platter. A nice selection of vintage cigars and cigarettes is displayed for John and before he can ask or refuse, a very nice Canadian bourbon is placed at his elbow. It's done in a moment, and the butler withdraws just as quickly, vanishing into still obscurity against one wall. "I have a task suited for a hard-boiled detective, and your name of course immediately came to mind. I need you to find some people for me." He sets ten manila folders on the desk, each one holding two or three sheets of paper. "This is a matter of some urgency, and sensitivity. Before we begin, I need to know I can rely on your confidence. And, because bargaining is a two-way street... how does double your daily rate sound for that assurance, up front?"

Carmichal sits, and is served. He chooses a cigarette, lights it, and pokes it into his mouth. As Magneto gets right to business, he simply listens, his eyes focussed like lasers on the man as he speaks. Carmichal's face is stoney, giving nothing away, and if he's at all nervous about this meeting he's certainly not visibly showing it. He tips his fedora back on his head, and relaxes back a bit in his chair, as the Imperator lays out the envelopes. John's eyes glance at them a tick, and then back to Magneto. He takes a drag off his smoke, and then picks up the tumbler of bourban that had been offered, and takes a gulp of it while he listens. Finally Magneto gets to that question. Usually the all important question, which has a private eye's mouth watering, and his ears perking. John for some reason shows none of that, not even discreetly. Clearly this man's been trained at some point to mask his reactions.

"Double my daily rate. To find ten people. On the quiet....." he says consideringly. "Yeah, I'd say that's pretty urgent." he says "I take it their full dossier's will have last known addresses, known associates, and all that rigamarole?" he asks. Another rather outdated phrase Magneto probably hasn't heard much since his childhood around American soldiers.

"My discretion, Your Excellency, is part of the business. It wouldn't do for me to go two timing on a paying client who might badmouth me to my next paying client. Sets a real bad precedent." he tilts his head again thoughtfully "I won't even presume to get on my high-horse about double-crosses and that nonsense. We both know you're here in the States to spread the good word about Mutant Freedom, and the benevolence of Bastion, but I would ask..." he pauses letting that word sink in. He was requesting, not demanding, nor expecting "that you don't decide to bump me off once I've done this job for you. I'd hate to think your lofty message was just lip service. Especially when, if you like the job I do...I can be of further use to you..and your people." he comments dryly.

"I am not in the habit of breaking useful tools, Detective." A twinkle crosses his eye. "You might find we have more in common than you think. At any rate, rest assured, your discretion in this matter will ensure your survival." Magneto makes a gesture at the butler, who walks over with a plain envelope stuffed with at two inch-thick bundles of greenbacks. "Let us say... two thousand then, as an advance?" Magneto offers. "If my valet got your rates correct, that is roughly a five-day advance." He slides the folders towards John. "I need you to find these mutants," he says, very simply. The Imperator folds his fingers under his stomach, index fingers steepling as he eases in his seat. If John's a bit stoic, Magneto's expression is positively statuesque. "They have all gone missing in the New York area in the last few months. Some I imagine are simply in hiding- others I am concerned may have been abducted. I do not require you to make contact with them. Photographic proof of life and location is sufficient. Strong circumstantial evidence will be paid at half rate. For each mutant you find, I will pay you an additional bonus of a thousand dollars." He smiles very faintly. "I shouldn't expect this to take you more than a week or two. Fifteen thousand dollars, for complete mission success. Do those terms sound reasonable?"

Carmichal takes the envelope. He doesn't even bother to look inside. This wasn't some two bit chump mobster trying to buy him off, or some jealous cuckold wanting him to track down his wife and her lover. This was a by-god up-and-coming-if-not-already-there, bonafide head of state. Asking him to do something that was at best unethical, possibly illegal, and at worse treason. In any case, the money wasn't the worry. The worry was what Magneto might do, if he didn't show the man at least some modicum of trust and respect.

He pockets the envelope, and then reaches across to the desk upon which sit the dossiers. He scoops all 10 of them up, finishes his smoke, and stands. "Alright, your Excellency....I'm your dick, and please, call me John." he says agreeing to the Imperator's terms. "You want me to return this information here...or is there a dead drop you'd prefer I use....you know, for discretion's sake?" he asks

"No, here is fine," Magneto says with a flick of his fingers. "I would ask that you kindly destroy the information you have if you cannot deliver it to the Embassy, or if you feel you're going to be compromised. There are individuals who are living quiet, normal lives that I would not want to bring an ounce of trouble upon. And if there are any in duress, I would prefer not to tip my hand before I involve the authorities in search and rescue." Magneto gives John a level gaze, driving the meaning of his words home. "Do let me know if you run into anything especially nefarious. I may be able to spare some of my private security if you get a strong lead that you will need assistance with. I will trust your instincts, John," Magneto says with a smile. He nods at the man and gestures at the door. "Everything we know is in those files. If there are no more questions, then I suggest you get to work."

A slight quirk of his lips at one corner of his mouth is the self assured smirk of an experienced investigator. It's a look John gives now as he slides his hat forward on his head, and nods "I'll be in touch...." he says and moves toward the doors through which he enters. He pauses at the door, and turns "One question, Your Excellency, if you don't mind...." he says pausing perhaps for dramatic effect, before he continues "Who was that stunning dish in the pant-suit, seeing to your security earlier?" what could he say, the man appreciated a woman who moved the way she did.

"Oksana?" Magneto chuckles heartily. "She leads my personal security retinue here in America. Extremely capable at her job. Rather... focused, however. If you will accept a bit of advice from an old man, I recommend you woo with professionalism. She is not the sort to be impressed with flowers and chocolates." He smiles, eyes twinkling brightly, and goes back to his paper.

Carmichal just continues that cocky smirk "Good to know. Thanks." he says and turns, stepping out the way he came in, and disappearing eventually down the street.