He stood in the corner of the allotted meeting room, carefully observing. President Shinra and Lord Kisaragi sat round a circular table, thrashing out the terms of the treaty. The table had to be circular - any sides to it might have made one feel that the other was trying to be the superior of the two. They could sit on the floor for all Vincent cared. As long as there was no trouble then he was happy.
Partially happy, anyway. He'd just got cramp in his left leg.
Catching a glimpse of a clock on a nearby mantlepiece, he noted gloomily that he'd been standing in this exact spot for nearly two and a half hours. The leaders showed no signs of adjourning their discussion, and he really began to wish he'd insisted on a chair.
It hadn't been completely boring for him though. His keen ear meant that he'd been able to listen in on most of the conversation, although they were trying to keep their voices low. He gave no outward sign of his eavesdropping, naturally. However he found it useful to gauge how well things ere progressing. After a few days, it became apparent that if no major obstacles had arisen, the party was free to come and go as they wished. On the other hand, if there had been a full scale argument between the pair, Shinras group was shadowed closely by ninja and Vincent found that most inconvenient.
The cramp in his leg was becoming more difficult to ignore. He supposed that he could move around a little, but having stood stock still for all this time it was probably going to be noticed.
It therefore came as an intense relief when the voice of Linden crackled into life over his earpiece.
"Boss? Come in boss."
Immediately Vincent moved as far away from the Lord and President as he could, savouring the feeling of his leg coming back to life. "I read you Linden, what have you got for me?"
"Turtles Paradise" replied the Turk. "Soon as you can."
Vincent scanned the room. It meant leaving the pair technically unguarded, but he had no doubt that several ninja were watching the room from hidden vantage points. He judged it to be safe for the time being, at least until he could sent another Turk to replace him.
Making as little noise as possible, he exited the room and began to head to Wutai's most famous restaurant.
He hadn't got far down the corridor when an angry voice from behind made him come to a dead halt.
"I demand to know why I am being followed!"
Vincent neatly folded his arms across his chest as he turned to regard the man now in front of him. "I'm sorry?" he asked politely.
Dressed in full armour and obviously armed, Godo Kisaragi did not look pleased. "You know very well what I mean" he snapped. "You've set one of your lackeys to trail me day and night! I go to the Pagoda to train - he's there. I go to Turtle's Paradise - he's there! I go to Da Chao - he's there too!" Vincent raised an eyebrow at the tirade, but didn't get much of a chance to reply. "In fact" continued the Wutai prince, "I would be willing to bet you a thousand gil that if I turned round right now, he'd be hiding behind me!"
The leader of the Turks assumed a stance of studied indifference, trying not to notice the creeping form of Preston sneaking out from behind a large potted plant. "I assure you Master Kisaragi" he said casually as Preston scrurried away down the hall, "that no-one is being followed, as you suggest."
"I do not believe you." Godo's hand dropped to rest easily on the sword belted at his hip. The Turk could see that the young man was trying to bait him, and remained calm. After all he reasoned, at least one of them had to, and there was no way Kisaragi was going to get a grip on reality any time soon.
"Believe me or not as you please." Vincent's reply was apathy personified, something which seemed to enrage Godo even more. "I have more important things to do than pander to your paranoia." And with that parting barb, he turned on his heel and carried on the way he had been going, effectively silencing the Wutaian.
Godo stood there fuming for a few moments, before spinning round quickly, as if hoping to catch something happening behind him. Seeing nothing, he stalked along the hall, swiping at foliage with his sword.
- - -
Shortly afterward, Vincent tracked down Preston skulking near their room. He sent a quick message to Linden that he would be a little later than planned, then ushered the man into their accomodation area and shut the door firmly behind them. "I've just had a most interesting little chat with Godo Kisaragi" he said. "Seems to think you're following him."
Preston smirked and pulled a face. "That's because I am. Well done Captain Obvious."
His superior sighed. "Yes, but he's not supposed to bloody well know you're doing it!" he remonstrated, massaging his temple.
"It's not easy!" protested the other Turk. Vincent paused in his ministrations to shoot him a definite glare. "Well it isn't!" Preston stuck his hands in his pockets. "Aside from the fact that we stick out a mile here what with the blue suits, normal eyes and all, it turns out that Mister Kisaragi has some kind of spying ring of his own going on round here."
Vincent gestured to a chair in the corner, which Preston promptly took. The leader of the Turks perched himself on a nearby table and leaned forward. "I'm all ears. Start from the beginning" he ordered.
"Right." Preston settled back in the seat. "We know the Lord of Wutai doesn't really approve of Shinra's plans, but it's generally accepted that the old man will cave in to us eventually. Godo doesn't want that. He's outspoken on a lot of things and one of those is the future of the city. He doesn't want us here, doesn't want anything to do with Shinra at all and thinks we're the scum of the earth."
Vincent quirked a sardonic smile. "Not an entirely inaccurate observation" he pointed out, "but continue."
"Basically he's out to get rid of us any way he can" said Preston. "As far as he's concerned, anything goes as long as we're out of here as soon as humanly possible, taking our President with us."
"That would explain his outburst in the corridor, at least." Preston looked quizzical. "He tried to threaten me" explained Vincent. "He was hoping to provoke a fight. If I'd risen to the insult, he'd have had an excuse to throw the weight of the ninja on us and kick us out."
"Good job you're the Ice Man then" chuckled Preston. "Otherwise we'd be laughing the other side of or faces."
Vincent smiled dryly. "Anyway. Tell me about these spies you mentioned."
"Yes… It seems that our friend Godo is not alone in his thinking - he's amassed a lot of support within both the city and the army. In effect, he's used them to set up a spy network. They watch his back, keep an eye on the Lord's men and it would appear, us." He frowned. "It's getting so I can't tell who's who anymore. Everyone seems to be spying on someone else, and it's impossible to work out which side they're on."
He watched Vincent digest all this information. The leader of the Turks' brow furrowed in thought as he took in the new developments. Eventually he looked up and prounced his judgement.
"Bugger."
- - -
Linden and Deacon sat in the tranquility of the Turtles Paradise restaurant on the west side of the city. They occupied a small table in the far corner, as out of the way as possible. Clothed still in their uniform suits, they stuck out a mile under normal circumstances (as Preston had discovered), so decided that it was best to keep to the shadows.
"So why are we here again?" Deacon toyed with his glass, giving the room another once over. Linden threw back his head and tipped over half of his drink down his throat.
"We're keeping our eyes open" he said meaningfully. "Vincent said to find out what was going on in this city, and everyone knows that the best place to pick up gossip is in the local drinkerie." He regarded his nearly empty glass pointedly. "Speaking of which, whose round is it?"
Deacon folded his arms. "Yours. Most definitely, yours."
"Figures." Linden looked at the glasses, trying to work out what Deacon had bought previously. "What's this stuff again?"
"Sake."
"Sake? What the hell kind of a name is that?" He chugged the rest of the drink greedily.
Deacon rolled his eyes. "Wutaian, dumbass. It's their tradional rice wine." He was immediately forced to turn away as Linden spat out the beverage, covering the table and his partner in the process. "Hey!"
The other Turk pulled a disgusted face. "Wine? Rice?!?" Linden looked aghast. "You're telling me that I've been sitting here drinking fucking vegetables?!?"
"Rice isn't a vegetable."
"I don't care!" Linden slammed his glass down on the table, causing some of the nearest patrons to turn and regard him oddly. "Rice? That's healthy! No-one ever told me that this shit was good for you! Bring me beer!"
"I thought you two were supposed to be inconspicuous."
Linden's tirade was interrupted by the arrival of a very stern looking Vincent.
"Ah, yes… About that…"
Vincent held up a hand to forestall any excuses. "Not now" he said. "We have a problem."
Deacon nodded in agreement. "We do indeed" he said. "That's why we called you over here."
The leader of the Turks pulled up a spare chair and seated himself at the table. "Who wants to go first?"