He stopped and watched for a minute, knowing that Rory felt his presence but chose to carry on his show for those gathered about him, without acknowledgment. Morgan smiled to himself again as he turned and carried on through the crowd taking a right at the corner of the Square. He carried on down the road for a few minutes before coming upon his destination - Café Miraque.
As he entered the manager, a small balding Spanish man in his late fifties, greeted him and beckoned one of the waitresses, an attractive dark haired girl, to escort his newly arrived patron to one of the private function rooms upstairs.
Morgan followed the girl along the passage and stairwell, although he had traveled this route since before her mother was even born, and could visualize every inch of the corridor and the priceless paintings hanging along its walls if he so desired. This was the way that Jeremy liked receiving guests and Morgan respected his wishes even more than those of his own, late, dark fathers.
The girl stopped outside one of the ornately carved oak-wood doors and knocked twice before opening the doors on an unheard command. Morgan stepped over the threshold into Jeremy’s private office, the doors closing behind him. The opulence of the surroundings contrasted so heavily with that of the Café below that it always struck a chord of awe deep within him. From the thick purple velvet curtains hanging across the windows, to the antique French desk that supported the computer and modem that kept Jeremy connected to the world at large, to the portraits adorning the walls, otherwise covered floor to ceiling by bookshelves sporting old leather-bound tomes, you could almost taste the flavour of money in the rooms ambience.
“I’m very pleased you could come here on such short notice Morgan. I trust all is well at the Chantry.” The voice, and appearance, were those of a, handsome, well educated gentleman in his late thirties. Morgan knew that Jeremy was certainly very well educated but his appearance and age were both drastically different from the man who was currently seated behind his desk.
“Grandmaster Westcott sends his greetings and wishes it to be known that your assistance last month was gratefully received and used wisely in the Fielding matter. We have news that he has moved his investigations over to the Epping area after he mysteriously found, somewhat firm, evidence supporting his belief that Werewolves exist and are behind the recent spat of baby-snatching in the area. He also wishes me to extend our Clans thanks to her Ladyship and has authorised me to pass this on to you.” Morgan replied passing over a wax-sealed envelope.
“I will pass on your gratitude to Victoria.” Jeremy said opening the
“Dr. Westcott understands that the Ventrue have been somewhat hindering your expansion in the market place. He hopes that the information contained on that disk may be of some use to you. I believe it contains certain access codes that Charles still thinks are safe. Someone of your skill with that machine should be able to fully utilise the information.” He spoke gesturing at the computer, “And we are only too happy to pass this on to you as thanks for your past assistance and our two Clans continued co-operation.”