Sept 1, 2020 12:58:31 GMT -5
There are countless reasons to visit the British Museum. Plundered treasures from all around the world sit in gentle repose within its hallowed walls. Francesca couldn’t honestly care much less about it. Anything of power had long since been squirreled away by the power players in the world’s true struggles; whether that was Reign, Aegis, or any of the other myriad national powers who saw the literal potential of cultural heritage.
But there are still more mundane, temporal machinations to be furthered, which is how she came to be standing outside the locked and sealed gate this drizzling September evening. Leant against a wall, the white-haired woman was surprisingly easy to overlook. A heavy grey greatcoat, collar turned up. An umbrella resting insolently on her shoulder, not unfurled despite the gentle rain. A cigarette drifting trails of smoke up into the sky. She looked like any other cynical, worn-down resident of London.
Now she just needed to wait for the other key player in tonight’s proceedings.
As far as Yseulte was aware, she was to meet with a representative of Mortimer Howett – a rather intimidating figure in the London underworld – who would be leading tonight’s mission to steal The Raksha Jewels. The impressive collection was worth millions to collectors, and these details were, for the most part, accurate enough. Francesca really was working for Mortimer in this instance. The jewels really were worth millions. She really did intend to steal them.
But as always, there was more to the story than there first appeared.
For a start, the jewels were only on loan to the British Museum. The private collector who was loaning them – Ramjit Singh – was himself a key investor in Reign who would benefit quite handsomely from the insurance payout when the gems were stolen.
Mr. Howett, too, was a member of Reign, and one in less than stellar standing after failing to control some territory in Greenwich recently. He was to act as the go-between in this and risk his name being attached to the crime in order to help burnish his reputation. He’d get a cut of the gemstones too, of course. Enough to compensate him for his troubles.
But the lion’s share would go right into Francesca’s pocket. After being broken down and fenced, they could recoup a few hundred thousand for her ongoing expenses. And she would work directly with Yseulte, which was where her primary interest lay.
There are only so many times a name can come to her attention before she is obligated to meet the owner personally. Tonight, she would play the role of a thief, she would conduct this little heist, and she would watch the woman closely.
Reign constantly walked a tightrope. Mercenaries were so rarely loyal to more than the next paycheque. But they were also an important recruiting pool, as much as they were always a potential liability. She needed to make sure that Yseult didn’t already know too much, that she was as professionally incurious as all the best criminals were, and that she was competent in her role. If she passed those tests… well. There was always more work to be done than hands able to do it.
But there are still more mundane, temporal machinations to be furthered, which is how she came to be standing outside the locked and sealed gate this drizzling September evening. Leant against a wall, the white-haired woman was surprisingly easy to overlook. A heavy grey greatcoat, collar turned up. An umbrella resting insolently on her shoulder, not unfurled despite the gentle rain. A cigarette drifting trails of smoke up into the sky. She looked like any other cynical, worn-down resident of London.
Now she just needed to wait for the other key player in tonight’s proceedings.
As far as Yseulte was aware, she was to meet with a representative of Mortimer Howett – a rather intimidating figure in the London underworld – who would be leading tonight’s mission to steal The Raksha Jewels. The impressive collection was worth millions to collectors, and these details were, for the most part, accurate enough. Francesca really was working for Mortimer in this instance. The jewels really were worth millions. She really did intend to steal them.
But as always, there was more to the story than there first appeared.
For a start, the jewels were only on loan to the British Museum. The private collector who was loaning them – Ramjit Singh – was himself a key investor in Reign who would benefit quite handsomely from the insurance payout when the gems were stolen.
Mr. Howett, too, was a member of Reign, and one in less than stellar standing after failing to control some territory in Greenwich recently. He was to act as the go-between in this and risk his name being attached to the crime in order to help burnish his reputation. He’d get a cut of the gemstones too, of course. Enough to compensate him for his troubles.
But the lion’s share would go right into Francesca’s pocket. After being broken down and fenced, they could recoup a few hundred thousand for her ongoing expenses. And she would work directly with Yseulte, which was where her primary interest lay.
There are only so many times a name can come to her attention before she is obligated to meet the owner personally. Tonight, she would play the role of a thief, she would conduct this little heist, and she would watch the woman closely.
Reign constantly walked a tightrope. Mercenaries were so rarely loyal to more than the next paycheque. But they were also an important recruiting pool, as much as they were always a potential liability. She needed to make sure that Yseult didn’t already know too much, that she was as professionally incurious as all the best criminals were, and that she was competent in her role. If she passed those tests… well. There was always more work to be done than hands able to do it.
