Three days later, they were on their way for what Arthur had jokingly called a 'field trip'. It had been decided that the group should go to the company owned by the client, to get a better feel for what they were working with. A casualty of working in less-than-legal territory was that clients themselves could never really be trusted. However, it was their job to take a slight leap of faith and assume that it was the people behind the mole who were at fault, not the client; or at least appear to assume this.
This outing was to be crucial for several reasons, as had been discussed back at the warehouse.
"Without knowing who was behind the implantation", Arthur had explained, "It's probably best that Eames impersonate one of the mole's colleagues from when he was posing at the company. Hopefully we can then try and fool his subconscious into thinking he's not been discovered yet. That way he should be more relaxed around us, and with any luck more, uh, forthcoming."
Eames looked up at him over his information sheets. "There is of course another way to try and, heh heh, 'relax' him in the dream state; one that's tried and tested, and usually successful... Well isn't it true that people respond most warmly to those who they find, shall we say, pleasing?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting that you seduce him? I'm really not sure that would be appropriate, let alone moral…"
"Oh come on Arthur, none of this is moral, we're thieves for fuck's sake. And I'm not intending on prostituting myself, although your assumption I would is very flattering." Eames's sarcasm was laced with acidity as the men's eyes locked in their own silent battle. "I'm merely suggesting that if we to want to be persuasive, there are ways and means at our disposal. I have a large repertoire of impersonations; I'm sure we could find someone 'suitable' for him."
Arthur considered. To be sure, Eames had done similar work before, even fleetingly in the last job. But this was different, and taking the mark onside to try and spill secrets he'd be trained to conceal would take a lot of 'persuading'.
Eames took a deep breath and leveled his voice. "I'm only trying to do what's best for the job. If you have any better ideas, by all means speak up."
Arthur resolved. "No, you're right, that probably would, uh, help. In that case, how about this for an approach: two levels. First level as some form of party, maybe try to pass it as an office event, in which Eames could try and acquire as many clues from the mark as possible. Second level, we'll need to steal the information so something with plenty of hidden corners or vaults. Any ideas Ariadne?"
She shifted in her chair, contemplating. "Uh yeah actually, how about a maze? Cobb had me practicing them all the time in the last job, and I could get you loads of hideouts for him to fill with secrets. Maybe disguise it as a library? Sounds a bit inane, but trust me, the one at my college is pretty difficult to navigate." Encouraged by appreciative nods rippling round the others, she ventured "And for the first level, it sounds basic, but we could just use a hotel? One with big function rooms for an office party. But also some private areas," she added, winking at Eames, who rolled his eyes in response.
Arthur's suggestion they visited the mark, and the offices where he had been working, had been met with conjoined curiosity and apprehension. The main offices were located in Munich, Germany. The client had told them that, since for obvious reasons their identities and occupations would have to be clandestine, they would be greeted at head office as if they were a special branch of private investigators, which Yusuf had pointed out, they kind of were.
The cab pulled up outside a colossal building seemingly constructed of slate-coloured glass. Its slight translucency, with murky indiscernible figures moving on the other side, made it all the more ominous. The stern woman on the front desk personally led the group, who exchanged wary glances, up eleven floors in a similarly coloured steel elevator. She guided them through a succession of password-protected, identification-activated doors, separated by excessively long corridors, and past increasingly surly security men. More than once Ariadne found herself stifling a snigger at the sheer exorbitance of it all. At length, the nameless woman brought them to an imposing, white door, guarded by two of the surliest.
"I have Mr. Werner's ten o'clock", she announced brusquely, and the man on the right reached to open the large door, gesturing for the group to enter. They filed through into a large, comparatively light room with an air of clinical professionalism.
"You must be Arthur."