Finn ducked into an alley as his target glanced behind him along the street. Finn watched his target survey the crowd before moving on. This man was good, well trained and watchful. Finn moved out into the crowd blending with a group of innocent people going about their daily business. Finn's target stopped again inspecting a shop window. Finn dodged to the side in between three people standing at a stall.
The mission was to pick the man's pocket and steal a list of Templar informers and agents working in the city. There should be at least nine names on the list; nine men and women who had been infiltrating and interrupting United Irish and Assassin work in the city. Finns target moved off again strolling at a leisurely pace through the crowd. Finn moved closer using the crowd to hide himself as he had been taught. Finn was now separated by a few steps from his target who seemed blissfully unaware he was being followed. Finn's hand extended to the pocket of the man's great coat. Finn dipped his hand into the pocket quickly feeling a sheet of paper, as he moved his hand out his target spun and caught Finn's hand in a vice like grip. Finns heart plummeted.
'Looks like you'll have to do better than that.' Ciarán smiled releasing his students arm.
'I thought I had it.' Finn grumbled falling into step beside the master thief.
'You lingered too much.' Ciarán chastised him.
'How?' Finn asked frustrated, it was the third time that day he had been caught.
'You worry too much about being caught.' Ciarán said simply.
Finn grunted as he walked.
'Try again.' Ciarán ordered.
Finn disappeared into the crowd again giving Ciarán a head start. Finn blended into the crowd, vanishing amongst a group of dishevelled looking workmen. Every time Finn drew close to Ciarán, Ciarán would seem to nearly turn, almost aware Finn was close to him. Finn grunted quietly in frustration. He looked up at the roofs of the stores, taverns and houses along the street and an idea struck him. Finn ducked down an alley and scurried up the side of the wall. The old brick and stone of the buildings was worn and damaged providing no shortage of hand and foot holds. Finn crouched low and surveyed the street below, taking great satisfaction in spotting Ciarán turn and inspect the street, a confused look crossing his face when he didn't spot Finn. Ciarán walked on and moved to the side of the street out of the main throng of the crowd and stood in an alley clearly waiting for Finn to pass. Finn scuttled along the roofs and climbed down the back of one house and into the alley. Silently he crept behind Ciarán, his feet making no noise as he moved forward slowly and carefully barely drawing breath. Finn's hand dipped into Ciarán's pocket and extracted the slip of paper, Finn retreated slowly back through the alley and sped off once he had moved behind the house again.
'Crafty fecker!' Ciarán yelled amused when he found Finn in the bar they had originally met sipping a pint.
Finn let a small satisfied smile cross his lips.
'It was very well done, 'Ciarán praised, 'I think you're ready to try it for real.'
'For real?' Finn asked sceptically.
'We've become aware that our organisation here has become compromised. Operations of ours have been disrupted and prevented, our men and women killed and captured, weapons shipments captured and safe houses destroyed. In short we have a rat.' Ciarán explained.
Finn scowled as he looked at Ciarán.
'There is a Templar courier moving messages tonight out of the city, we believe one of the documents he is carrying holds the name of the rat. We need you to steal it, bring it to me and we'll deal with the rat.' Ciarán ordered.
'It will be done.' Finn promised draining his pint and getting up to leave.
Finn tracked the courier threw the dark cobbled streets, the light shining from the windows of taverns and what few street lamps there were cast a ghostly glow through the late night fog. The fog horn of a ship pulling out of the harbour bellowed through the city. Finn watched the darkly clad courier march quickly through the streets. Finn tensed his hand and felt his hidden blade click before retracting it again. Unfortunately his orders were quite clear, steal the document, leave the courier alive. The courier walked down a street off to Finns right. Finn glanced around quickly, ducking into an alley and coming out on the street the courier was walking through. A well-to-do couple walked slowly arm in arm down the street, a carriage trundled by carrying several men laughing heartily. Finn walked casually along, acting as if he had no specific destination, the courier was clearly not Templar trained, maybe just a simple man who thought he was working for some businessmen. Finn gradually increased his pace, pacing silently until he was right behind the courier; Finn slipped his hand into the man's pocket and quickly and quietly extracted a small bundle of letters before ducking into another alley and out of sight.
Finn found Ciarán across the city outside one of the houses that doubled as a brothel. He was speaking to a tall skinny man who Ciarán dismissed when he spotted Finn. Finn handed the letters to Ciarán who read each one quickly.
'Patrick Sweeney.' Ciarán growled, crushing the letter and scowling.
'Friend of yours?' Finn asked sardonically.
'One of our thieves.' Ciarán replied tightly, 'wait here.'
Ciarán disappeared into the brothel and emerged a moment later.
'I've sent for him. We'll meet him near the docks' Ciarán said.
'Do you think he'll actually turn up?' Finn asked.
'He'd be very foolish not to. He has no idea we're onto him.' Ciarán elaborated starting to walk.
Finn and Ciarán walked north through the city. As the night went on it became quieter, Finn, born and raised in the countryside found it bizarrely peaceful. They came to the docklands north east of the brothel walking along the quay and into the warehouse district.
'I'll kill him; I want you to distract him long enough for me to get into position.' Ciarán explained.
'Why can't I kill him?' Finn asked dispassionately.
'My man, my responsibility.' Ciarán said.
Finn nodded turning a corner between two warehouses as Ciarán scurried up the warehouse to Finns left. Finn stood waiting for the target, absentmindedly playing with his hidden blade. Finn heard footsteps approaching and saw a figure come around the corner.
'What's the news?' Patrick asked.
Finn's nostrils flared, the man stank, his hair sat on his head in ragged lumps, he was lanky and dishevelled looking with a nose that looked like it had been broken several times. His teeth, those that remained of them, were black and his eyes had sunken into his head from either lack of sleep or alcohol.
'Why was I called here?' Patrick demanded.
Finn growled and restrained himself from engaging his hidden blade.
A look of dawning comprehension crossed Patricks face as he backed away from Finn who advanced on him. Patrick turned to run; he got three steps before a figure dropped from the roof. Finn was reminded sharply of an insect being crushed as Ciarán flattened Patrick. Patrick grunted as Ciarán's hidden blade pierced his neck killing him quickly.
Finn stood impressed at such accurate and ruthless killing.
'Rest in Peace you traitorous bastard.' Ciarán spat as he and Finn carried Patrick's body to the water's edge and dumped him.
