John pulled his tie straighter as he hurried into the office and dodged a group of constables to meet Robert at their desks. "Is the Super in yet?"

"No, you're on time." Robert looked him up and down. "A little worse for wear aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You were wearing that yesterday." Robert narrowed his eyes, "Were you somewhere other than home?"

"Why?"

"General curiosity in your change of behavior."

"You're welcome to call my mother to confirm if you think I'm lying." John snorted and tugged at his shirt. "Did the Ambassador change his mind?"

"Bloody Turk's got nothing to give us but a back ache if we stretch too far and a headache if we ask any questions."

"Still insisting that their countryman died in an accident of a weak heart?"

"It's better than suggesting that he wasn't a rising star." Robert growled, "They're nothing but cowering little snits as far as I'm concerned. And our government's not much better if they'd rather hush it up than seek the truth."

"It's distasteful." John sighed, "What about Laing? Did his work with James lead to anything beneficial?"

"I was going to see them when you got here." Robert winced, "Might be a bit of a scene since it's a busy time at the Cerulean but we could get lucky."

"A man who depends on luck-"

"Better have plenty of it, I know." Robert waved him off and grabbed his overcoat. "Come on. We've got leads to follow before we lose them."

"I'm impressed they're open so soon after someone died there."

"It's given them a… changed crowd." Robert cringed, slipping his arms into his coat. "Death draws a different clientele."

"I can only guess." John shuddered. "I hope we're not running into anyone we've met before."

"There was that one woman who draped herself all over you when you mentioned that you see dead bodies." Robert took the driver's seat of the car. "Remember, we interviewed her when we were looking for suspects on that robbery and she dogged you for weeks."

"I also remember she smelled of absinthe and drank herself into a sanitarium." John pointed to the road. "Drive please, we've not got all night."

"Worried you'd miss another rendezvous with whomever occupied your day?" Robert prodded but John did not break. "Because if you're eager to get back to whomever she is then maybe you should say something."

John opened his mouth but closed it for a moment. When he opened it again he could not help but smile, "Who says it was a woman?"

Robert almost drove them into the rear of another car.

Parking the car outside the Cerulean, Robert and John eased their way through the crush of people outside the building to aim for the front doors. But the gathering kept them back from the door as the chattering mass insisted on arguing with the host at the door. John tugged at Robert's sleeve to bring him away from the crowd as Mr. Carson appeared to calm the pulsating collective pressing forward like a dam about to break.

They wove through them, Robert pushing off one of the men who toppled toward him and scoffed at the gathering. "Some of them haven't had to endure real hardship and it shows."

"Not everyone can serve in a war Robert." John led them into the alley, slipping around a delivery truck to find the back entrance. "But I guess they're convinced they endure enough with rationing."

"Did you know they're not rationing in America anymore?" Robert followed him, dodging a precarious stack of crates. "They've already got themselves all sorted. How can we not be so sorted?"

"Might have something to do with a loss of resources after half the world decided we could sod off as far as they were concerned." John tapped a man managing a crate of bottles on the shoulder. "Have you seen James Kent?"

"Jimmy?" The man nodded toward the interior of the building. "Been in there since our shift started. He's working the floor."

"Seen a bloke shadowing him?"

"Copper?" The man swallowed and adjusted the crate when John nodded. "He's keeping to the corners but I've noticed him."

"Observant one aren't you?"

The man shrugged. "I don't want to be fetch-and-carry for the rest of my life. You've got to anticipate needs as a waiter and I want to be that."

He left them in the alley and Robert snorted. "Big dreams that one."

"At least he's got dreams." John jerked his thumb after the man. "I've had enough young people I've taken in for petty thievery with no goals or aims at all. They're aimless, groundless, and careless."

"Sometimes I wonder how you never became a poet." Robert shook his head, "We need to get to Laing."

"We could bring him out here."

"Nah, we'll just have to go in the back way."

John snorted, "You're saying it like we're sneaking in without paying."

"Aren't we?"

"I don't intend to eat anything." John ducked through the back door and only waited a moment for Robert to follow him. "And we're too old to be worried about appearances."

"You're never too old to worry about appearances." Robert rolled his shoulders and they managed the cramped corridor to get to the main dining room.

The two of them kept to the shadow of the service corridor, John leaning to eye the room. From the sweeping stairs that rounded toward the offices with etched glass depicting a swan in flight to the private rooms where they interviewed suspects only days ago, he scanned for signs of Laing. When he finally spotted him, taking a back table in full uniform and yet as inconspicuous as anyone, John nudged Robert.

"Back corner, just under the staircase."

Robert whistled softly, "I think we might've wasted him in the constabulary."

"He did allow Jimmy to get away the first time." John slid along the wall to work around the back of the room. With all the diners focused on their guests, the commotion near the front, and their own food, no one noticed the two of them slinking to Laing's table. He barely moved when they sat and only spoke after John did. "Any news?"

"He's done his job, that's all I can say." Laing pulled a small notebook from his pocket and passed it to the two other men. "I think he's nervous.

"He'd mentioned as much when we interviewed him last." John read over the notes before passing them to Robert. "If he's working something for Carlisle then he's got all the reasons in the world to be nervous."

"What do you make of his claims?" John helped slide the notebook back to Laing. "Do you think he's on the level?"

"He's not had any visitors, if that's what you're talking about, but there's a feeling here." Laing shifted in his chair, "It reminds me of… work I did in the war."

"How so?"

Laing swallowed. "I served in an advanced unit. We were dropped to aid French Resistance and you got good at spotting people plotting behind your back."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"You get it from people's nervous twitches." Laing noted the two men raised their eyebrows. "I've got some myself, for different reasons, but that makes me better at spotting them in other people."

"So it's not just that I think Jimmy there's sweating through his uniform?"

"Exactly." Laing addressed Robert as John took a slower surveil of the room. "It's about what people do when they think no one's watching. It's the unconscious motions and movements that give us away."

"Give me an example please." John muttered toward Laing while keeping his eyes on the room.

"Alright, ginger-headed waitress, just off the bar at your two o' clock. She's flirty with all the men but her shoulders get all tensed whenever they ask about a beau. Her right hand twitches toward her left, like she's going to stroke a ring there but she's got no ring and no signs anything sat on that finger."

"What does she say about it?" John finally glanced at Laing and his eyes flicked to the table.

"Claims she's a war widow but I don't believe it."

"There are plenty of women with their own misfortunes after the war." Robert sighed and managed a discrete point toward another woman. "What about her? She seems to strike a bit of fear into everyone."

"Head waitress, Ms. O'Brien, and the ginger one, Ms. Parks, is particularly terrified of her." Laing bit the inside of his cheek. "I'd hazard a guess that Ms. O'Brien might have a bit of insight into the lie Ms. Parks tells about herself."

"Potentially powerful leverage." John shifted his jaw. "What's got Jimmy so nervous? Other than the obvious, of course."

"He's always a bit more antsy when Mr. Barrow, the head waiter, comes out." Laing shook his head, "Barrow and O'Brien are thick as thieves and, if the conversation I overhead in the alley last night is true, then everyone else here hates them. Calls them 'Guy Fawkes and partner'."

"Which one's which?" Robert almost laughed but John noted the somber tone to Laing's shrug.

"No one's sure. They're both equally horrible and seem to be only out for themselves. Far as I can tell, O'Brien steers the women and Barrow the men."

"Then it's Barrow with his proverbial claws in Jimmy?"

Laing nodded again, "If Jimmy's right about 'helping a friend' then I'd put good money on Barrow being the one he's talking about."

"Weren't Barrow and O'Brien at the table that night?" Robert turned in his chair to John. "I remember interviewing her after you had to finish up my interview with Branson."

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing. Didn't even mention being a server here."

"That's because I don't think she's just a waitress." Laing untucked his notebook again and turned to a blank page to show them a simple rendering of the floor plan for the building. "I've gone over this whole place, exploring the nooks and crannies, and there are two rooms that no one but O'Brien and Barrow can access."

"Did you ask Mr. Carson about it?" John flicked his gaze to Laing before returning it to the drawing. "Maybe it's private storage."

"I haven't asked them." Laing rolled a shoulder, "Thought it might blow open that I've been watching Jimmy."

"If you thought you were being covert then one of the fetch-and-carries saw you." Robert frowned at him, "And it doesn't help that you're here in uniform."

"I'm on duty and since I'm not a detective I can't wear civilian dress." Laing waved off the worries. "And if he knows I'm watching Jimmy then it could explain why no one's directly approached him. But I've pulled back recently and Barrow's taken a few chances for some private chats with him."

"In the private room he accesses?" John pressed but Laing shook his head.

"No. They're just quick little chats between rushes and I doubt I'd understand the code words they're using."

"Why do you suspect code?"

"After the war there's a lot of veterans who used code. Some of them because police, eased into the life of doing what they did before just here. Others… They weren't so lucky. Those without jobs and trying to get over their traumas fell into bad crowds. Petty crime, organized crime, and even more sinister rackets." Laing shuddered but continued. "As such, they've got the language of the war down but now they're using it to avoid the law."

"Probably did it to avoid the law during the war too." Robert huffed. "I can't stand the unpatriotic."

"Not everyone bleeds willingly for their King, Robert." John almost chided him but tapped the floor plan instead. "Where are these rooms on this map?"

"Here," Laing removed the half-pencil and marked the spaces lightly. "And there. Just out of the way enough they could move without being seen but not in any dank corners of anything."

"Any suspicions?"

"It could be something as simple as an office where they work out the rotas but I highly doubt it."

"Alright." John examined the map a final time before clapping Robert on the shoulder. "Let's go see what's in these rooms and leave Laing to continue stalking our waiter. Hopefully one of us turns up something."

"Jimmy goes on break in half and hour. We could convene in the alley then if you're not in a hurry." Laing tucked his notebook away again, folding his pencil inside and John nodded.

"Good plan. There's a little alcove there that should keep us all out of sight and him out of too much danger." John eyed the room. "Alright, I'll go first and then you follow Robert. We'll meet back in the alley in half an hour."

They separated, Robert chatting with Laing as John left the table. He circled around toward the front of the room, as if going to leave but ducked toward the coatroom. Slipping inside, John worked his way through the crush and out the rear door back through the service corridor. Robert joined him a moment later and he made for the first of the two mysterious doors.

Both of them opened onto the hallway leading to the alley. John dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a pouch he unzipped to expose a collection of metal tools. With a wink to Robert, John crouched at the door and took two of the tools to fit carefully into the lock on the door. It clicked open in time with a grimace from John as his leg spasmed.

"You alright?" Robert pointed at John's leg as a muscle twitched enough to visibly rustle his trousers. "That going to be a bother?"

"No." John tucked the lockpick tools back into his pocket. "I just shouldn't have crouched to open the door."

"Next time I'll get you a stool."

"Funny," John turned the knob and they crept into the dark room. A flailed hand toward the wall around the door flipped a switch for the naked bulb dangling over a number of cases of marked alcohol.

"It's just a storeroom." Robert went to go but John grabbed his arm, catching mostly the tough material of his coat. "What?"

"Why's it here and not with the rest of it stored in the cellar?" John released and walked around the tight space, massaging his leg as the muscles twitched. "Jimmy did say that he occasionally helped his friend with extra alcohol."

"He also said he helped plan meetings."

John shrugged, "Reservations. He's a waiter and he could get them a table. Swanky people like Carlisle aren't known to eat at places of a lesser caliber than the Cerulean. But getting a table here's hard so what if you had someone controlling the reservations for you?"

"So Jimmy's an accessory to what? Theft and rearranging a d few dinner plans?" Robert shook his head, examining the cases. "These aren't the best vintages. I know my wines and most beers and I'll tell you that these are the cheaper ones. The kind you give people without a palate."

"Or the kind you sell the desperate at exceedingly high markup." John put his hands on his hips. "If this is the room Laing thinks belongs to Barrow then it might be safe to assume the man's a smuggler. Taking items off the inventory, or even making an inventory himself and making sure that Mr. Carson doesn't know when something's gone missing because, to him, it hasn't."

"You're giving a lot of credit to a man you don't even know."

"But you questioned him." John pointed a finger at Robert, "Did he mention working here?"

"Like O'Brien, he said nothing of the sort. Claimed to only be a guest of Carlisle for dinner and that was the end of it." Robert leaned against a stack and knocked his elbow against the wood. It thumped, the echo catching John's attention, and Robert stood straighter. "It shouldn't make that sound."

"Aren't bottles transported in cases filled with hay and sawdust to keep them from bursting during travel?" John joined Robert at the case as the other man flicked open a larger pocket knife.

"In my experience, yes." Robert wedged the blade under the lid and worked the edges to pry the wood away. Both of them sighed in disappointment as John reached to remove one of the bottles. It clanked against something and Robert frowned again. "It shouldn't make that noise."

"This box, in general, isn't making any noises it should." John held the bottle and then jerked it up and down in his grip. "And this isn't making the noises it should either."

"What if…" Robert held up a finger, knocking the knuckles of his other hand against a partition in the box. "What if it's not actually alcohol."

"What do you mean?" John flicked out his own knife and dug through the wax lining on the bottle to access the cork. "I'm sure Jimmy would know what alcohol is. He serves it every night."

"But these bottles could be something different." Robert pried up the wooden inset in the box before dragging the whole thing to the floor. "Something like this."

John gaped at the money lining the bottom of the box. "That's quite a lot of cash for someone who works as a waiter."

"I get the feeling it's not his." Robert pointed at the bottle. "What's in there?"

John popped the cork loose and turned the opening toward the box. Nothing came out and John shook harder before holding it up to the light. Tiny blobs of similar size and shape shifted and moved inside as John brought it back down. He nodded at Robert, who moved away, and John raised his other arm to cover his face as he brought the bottle down to crack on the side of the box.

The pieces of the bottle clinked away as John whistled. "I think I recognize these little baubles."

"It's white powder, what of it?"

John held one of the baggies up and shook it in Robert's direction. "This isn't just any white powder. This is an amphetamine."

"And you recognize it how?"

"Used a lot of it to try and stay awake for three days when the Japanese attacked Singapore." John sighed and tossed the baggie back into the box. "This is far more than just stealing alcohol."

"We've got a smuggling operation." Robert clicked his teeth, "Too bad we can't use what we know here."

"We'll find a way." John left the broken bottle bits and the baggies on top of the exposed money before replacing the lid. "We could hide this somewhere, make sure it stays where we can find it again."

"They've got an alcove." John hauled the box into his arms as Robert checked his watch. "We've got ten minutes."

"Think it's enough time to try and see what's behind door number two?"

Robert pursed his lips and nodded. "We might never get this chance again."

They eased into the corridor, careful to lock the door from the inside and shut off the light after they wiped their prints from the light switch and the handles on the door. John rearranged the box in his arms as Robert dug into John's pocket for the picking tools. He had the second door open in a moment and the two of them hurried inside before anyone could notice them.

For the second time they turned on the lights and surveyed what they found. John placed the crate on a chair near the door and shrugged. "I guess you can only get so lucky in one night."

"This is something." Robert knocked his knuckles against the table top and opened his arms to the room with old furniture and stacked chairs. "She's got her own private table back here with all this broken junk."

John scowled at him and paced around the edge of the room, knocking against the paneling. Robert reflected his movements on the other side of the room so they could meet in the middle. This time both of their knuckles impacts a hollow sound. They looked at one another and then pushed at the same time.

The panel swiveled around to reveal a dark space. John waved his hand over the wall on his side and found another switch for a bulb in the back of the room. A bulb shining directly over a different kind of table. Or a series of them.

"Is there an abandoned building on the back side of the Cerulean?" John worked through the space, Robert on his heels, and surveyed the green-felted table tops before narrowing his eyes at a chalkboard inscribed with names. "Some place that would allow for this?"

"Probably a bombed out space scheduled for deconstruction they just haven't gotten around to." Robert shook a finger at the board. "I recognize a few of those names from the club I attend."

"What makes them memorable?"

"Card players." Robert sucked in a breath, "Good ones until they caught them cheating. They're known card sharks and cheaters. No one'll play with them at a respectable establishment."

"So they come here." John circled the room again. "We've got Barrow, one room over, smuggling in bottles full of amphetamines and money while O'Brien runs her own private gambling ring?"

"If I didn't think they're perhaps a bit too noble to notice, I'd wonder if Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes are in on take for these two operations of just too stupid to notice what's going on under their nose." Robert sighed, "What's the connection between the two?"

"Could be some of the alcohol that Jimmy smuggles, the actual alcohol, gets served here." John noted another board, "Prices for refreshment."

"I would've thought they'd pay that on arrival all the same. Make the drinks complementary."

John shook his head and searched the room for another exit. "Can't risk it. That's the only entrance and they're moving in and out through that alley."

"Or through the Cerulean itself." Robert put his hands in his pockets. "They get a reservation, like those Jimmy talked about arranging, and come through as if they're being led to a table in the back. Sneak back here and voilà, they're gambling with those no one else'll take."

"It's still a dangerous game to play under the nose of so many patrons." John directed them back to the storeroom. "Someone's got to notice."

"The only people back here during peak hours are the staff."

John groaned, "Laing was right. Barrow and O'Brien've got them all hooked around their fingers. Manipulating the staff here to do their bidding."

"Too bad it's all supposition." Robert flicked the light off and closed the swiveling panel while John hefted the crate again. "We'd need proof."

"We've got Jimmy."

"You think he'll speak up when it took me tackling him to the ground just to get him to fess up to having lied to Laing?" Robert rubbed at his knee, "Still twinges."

"Stop whining." John kept to the shadows as Robert repeated their exit from Barrow's private room with this one and they worked their way into the corridor again. "We're making progress."

"Nothing we can prove."

"Then we'll have to hope that Jimmy believes in the nobility of our cause and the greater good." John got them into the alley and moved to the alcove. Kicking aside some of the loose rubbish there, he jammed the carte behind broken pallets and covered it with the rusting lid of a rubbish can. "Safe for now."

"You'll not find much if you're looking for something in there." John and Robert turned at the sound of Jimmy's voice. "We sometimes get vagrants staying here but otherwise it's just where the detritus gathers."

"You never know." John wiped his hands on his trousers and nodded at Laing. "I see you've kept you your part of the bargain."

"I don't want to go to prison now, do I?"

"How eager are you to send someone else there?" Robert risked and Jimmy stiffened. "Because we might've found some things we've got to have probably cause to investigate."

"And you need me to rat on something here?" Jimmy shook his head. "You can follow me all you want but I know the score. Snitches end up in ditches."

"We could promise to protect you." John offered but Jimmy laughed at him.

"Protect me? You think your lot's got anything on the kind of people who work around me? Do you have any idea what they'd do if they knew I even thought about talking to you?"

"You are talking to us."

Robert's approach did nothing for Jimmy's calm. "They poisoned a man in front of a bloody dining room and you think I can just turn on them?"

"Would you swear to them poisoning Mr. Pamuk?" John stepped forward, noting the fear tinging Jimmy's eyes. "Would you tell a judge what you saw and then get into protective custody?"

Before Jimmy could say anything one way or the other a shot rang out. John ducked on instinct, a flash at the edge of his vision before a weight landed on him. Another series of shots rang out and John ducked farther but the weight on him kept him covered. It also pushed him toward the damp pavement as John tried to reach for his weapon but could barely move.

Shots closer to him rang in his ears and John rolled out from under the weight. The grunt from the mass roused John and he turned to see Laing there, holding his abdomen as his uniform darkened and shone in the weak lights from the alley. Jimmy cowered to the side, holding his hands over his head, and Robert fired around the corner of the alcove toward something occasionally shooting in their direction. But when Robert's gun clicked empty John drew his and grabbed Jimmy by the collar.

"Did you give us away?"

Jimmy could not answer as a shot hit the brickwork near their heads. They ducked out of the alley, taking temporary refuge behind some rubbish bins as Robert moved to Laing's side to press at the wound. John kept an arm over Jimmy's back to keep him bent over while firing at the flashes from the other end of the alley.

A recognizable click echoed and John tightened his hold on Jimmy to drag him behind as they dashed toward the location of the flashes. Jimmy's whimpering almost drown out all other noises but John kept him close as they closed on the location. But his gun did little good to the abandoned spot.

He turned, loosening his hold on Jimmy, and then heard another crack. John put his hands to his body but sighed as no pain blossomed over his chest. With a swallow he turned at the sound of Jimmy's grunt. His hands pushed to the side of his uniform as he went to his knees and fell to the pavement.

John kept his gun up as he crouched next to Jimmy and inspected the wound as much as he could. Jimmy whimpered and groaned as a few employees from the Cerulean entered the alley. They babbled about calling the police as John holstered his weapon and pressed on Jimmy's wound to try and staunch the flow of bleeding.

"Don't you dare die." He hissed, "You've still got to help us."

Jimmy only moaned and then cried out as someone joined them. John looked up to see Robert, his hands red with blood, and hurried past a hoarse scratch in his throat to speak. "Laing?"

Robert shook his head, "Breathed his last."

John pressed harder on Jimmy's wound.