Disclaimer- I own nothing except my OC, but prezzies are always welcome...

Ch. 1 Collection

The backstreets around the Brixton council estate buildings were suspiciously empty of cars. Fallen leaves, already withered and brittle with age blew around overfilled rubbish bins, and skips. Gangs of youths on the street corners watched impassively as Eames eased the rented Ford Mondeo into a parking space outside one of the tower blocks.

He turned to the man in the passenger seat, Arthur's pale hands were clenched around the handle of the silver briefcase in his lap. Uncharacteristically dressed down, he seemed much younger usual, closer to his true age of twenty five, except for his expression of the utmost seriousness.

"I don't like the look of this" said Eames, voicing what Arthur had evidently been thinking for most of the very quiet drive.

Arthur made a noncommittal noise in his throat and checked the gun tucked in at his hip. "I don't get it, what's Cobb playing at? We've come all this way and I'm still not sure what- sorry, who, we're really looking for." He shook his head.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to take Cobb at his word, I've stopped wondering what's going through his head long ago."

"Just easier that way I guess" Arthur smiled suddenly, checked his weapon again and stepped into the street.

Eames followed suit, stretching his arms above his head, glad to be out of the cramped car after two days drive.

"Ha," said Arthur, seeing Eames rolling his tense shoulders "Now you're cramping up too, I told you we should've rented a bigger car."

"What an' risk being seen in a Jaguar or E-class around these parts? Not on your life darlin'. Trust me, you'd turn your back on something like that for one second and some punk'll be taking the hub caps off." He smiled fondly, remembering his own rather misspent youth.

"point taken, now, what building is it?" Arthur looked around at the multitude of identical high and mid-rises which made up the estate wondering how on earth Eames seemed to know exactly where he was going, then, hurried after him.

The Walsh Building was one of the larger blocks of flats, rising gunmetal grey, dirty and massive from the ground. At least fifty stories high it was a testament to nineteen sixties brutalist architecture. Textured concrete and Fort Knox doors, Eames keyed in the code and the front door swung open like a safe, the two men stepped inside.

"Flat number 487" said Arthur, checking the piece of paper with the particulars which Cobb had given them as he sent them out on what Arthur was beginning to him was a wild goose chase.

"Right, we're taking the lift" The two men continued down the hall until they came to the stair well where three women in headscarfs were chatting softly in Urdu, for the sake of politeness Eames tried not to eaves droop as they waited for the lift. Arthur's dark eyes shifted left and right across the vandalised walls, taking everything in, his grip on the briefcase increased as several young men sauntered down the hall towards them and the women. They all looked a little worse for wear although is was only three in the afternoon, the sun's pale rays shafting though the shatterproof glass of the entry hall windows, bleaching the colour out of everything like an over exposed photograph.

The men seemed to be sharing quite a good joke, slapping each other on the back, their voices and laughter echoing down the hall, reverberating in the confined space. Arthur noted the man in front, who seemed to be leading, he was slightly apart from his younger comrades eyeing both men suspiciously.

Eames cast an eye over them and shifted his stance ever so slightly, turning away from them, not inviting conversation.

"So," he said to Arthur quietly, we do exactly as Cobb said, up to the flat, ask for "Wheeler", whoever the hell that is, and then hand over the money. Not a word about what we're getting in return."

"Who, you mean" replied Arthur, under his breath.

"Exactly, but this guy thinks he's been bugged, so not a word about anything while we're in the flat. He know's who we've come for, even if we don't ourselves."

"Why the hell couldn't Cobb have done this himself?" whispered back Arthur, stabbing at the lift button agin in irritation. "He won't even tell us why he's buying this person and who from!"

"I know, its not like Cobb to be so secretive, my guess is he's a little out of his depth, I mean, its not really his usual area of business is it."

"not at all, and he doesn't seem likely to exchange the dreams for some kind of trafficking ring gig."

"Not at all, I dunno, but I'm pretty sure he'll have his reasons for keeping us in the dark, even if I have to encourage him to divulge these reasons to us at a later date" Even though Arthur knew that Eames would rather cut off his hand than raise it against his oldest friend, he had to suppress a shiver at the dark undercurrent in his voice.

The lift came and everybody crowded inside. Arthur and Eames went right to the back still trying to avoid the pointed stares of the drunken men, who had stopped laughing now and were muttering between themselves.

Arthur felt rather than saw their eyes straying to the briefcase in his hand, and tightened his grip again, glad of the gun in his waistband, concealed under his shirt but within easy reach.

The lift doors opened and everyone disembarked, leaving the forger and the point man mercifully alone with the briefcase full of cash. Eames paced up and down as the lift rose ever higher.

"What reasons would Cobb have for wanting this person, they can't be in the business, unless we're paying a randsom."

"In which case I'll be having a talk with Cobb myself, he could have told us that earlier."

"I don't think it's that, no reason to keep it to himself in that case. Maybe we're recruiting, having Siato on the team was a good extra pair of hands maybe he wants that permanent." Eames checked the floors scrolling past, 34.

"God this is slow, I don't think its recruitment. If it was we would've been consulted and anyway, why would Cobb want someone he had to pay for. Someone English as well, doesn't make sense for us to travel all this way."

Eames raised his eyebrows, "Hey, don't insult the old country darl…" he flashed a grin "It's a mystery alright"

PING. Floor fifty.

A/N its my first ever fic please review!