Knight in Amour

Bedding in

Kirstry Morgan's car is a top of the range powder blue Austin Martin Vanquish. War walks round the vehicle studying it carefully before looks up at Kirsty.
"Lot of money in pots then?"
"Do you think you can handle it?" She teases.
He glances over to the Bentley, still under its protective cover. "It might be a little more responsive than I am used to." He studies the Vanquish again. "How the hell did North get his hand on this?"
Kirsty shrugs. "Spoils of war?" she guesses.
"Is it clean?"
"It's got a new ID if that is what you are worried about, and a respray. It wont cause us any problems."
War nods and opens the drivers door.
"Shouldn't you help me get in first Mr Dartmouth?" Kirsty prompts.
War sighs and walks round, holding open the passenger door. Kirsty slides herself into the seat grinning at him. He shakes his head and closes the door, she watches him teasingly as he walks round the car. He settles in next to her, his hands caressing the steering wheel. She reaches forward and activates the sat nav, the smooth feminine voice telling him to turn left onto Old Queen Street. With a grimace, he thumbs the sat nav off and heads out into London evening traffic.

Kirsty alternates her attention between Warren and the scenery our side, trying to work out the convoluted route he is taking. It is clear Warren knows the city well and they slide down narrow side streets to avoid the worst of the traffic back logs. Occasionally she finds herself checking out of the window as they pass close enough to walls and other vehicles to threaten the paint work. He turns into yet another narrow road and then stops the car. She looks over at him confused, all to aware that this is not the stated destination.
"Wait here I'll get my stuff." He commands, climbing out of the drivers seat and closing the door.
She twists to looks out of the window. They are parked next to one of the pubs popular this side of the river. Dark green tiles, old wooden windows. It looks at if it has been here for centuries. As War vanishes into it she grimaces, the 'wait here' command irritating her. She gets out of the car.

Al looks up as War strides in. He grins at him hopefully. "You escaped then?"
"Sadly not. I'm on a shout, will be for the rest of the week." War grumbles heading to the hatch in the bar.
"Week!" Bill complains "What are we meant to do without you?"
"Ask North." War responds. He pulls up the hatch and ducks inside, heading for the stairs up to the living space. "I'm just collecting my kit. Is Shawn about?"
The lack of response from the men makes him pause and turn, looking back into the main bar.
Kirsty is stood in the door way, casting her gaze around the solid looking wooden and brass fittings, and the almost as stationary exclusively male cliental. Small groups sit in the wooden booths, She is sure before she walked in they had been focused on their drinks or in quiet conversation with each other, but her entrance as put a stop to all that. All eyes are fixed on her and the lust in the room is almost palpable.
She raises one eyebrow at Warren. "So this is where you run off to to hide, is it?"
Bills shivers, metaphorically rolling his tongue back into his mouth. He turns and beams at War, "You going to introduce us?"
"Kirsty, Blue Watch. Team. Kirsty Goddard."
The focus of the introduction dispels the hold she he has on the other clients, they turn back to their drinks, War's words indicating that they are not worthy of her attention.
Al raises an eyebrows. "As in James?"
"Yes." Kirsty snaps. "You have a problem with my husband?"
"No." Al says shaking his head. "I'd heard he's got married I just didn't think he'd been so..." His voice fades as he realises the hole he is digging for himself.
"So?" Kirsty presses.
"He had such good taste." Clifford rescues, his friend. He pulls back the bar stool next to him. "Come and join us. You might as well have a drink whist the Boss gets his stuff."
War shakes his head, and heads up stairs. Kirsty studies them suspiciously before walking over, her high heals clicking on the stone tile of the floor. She settles herself on the stool.
"What you having?" Bill asks, leaning on the bar in front of her.
"I am working, I need to keep a clear head. Do you have anything not alcoholic?" She challenges.
Bill looks at Al quizically, the small man just grimace. "We can do a soda and lime. Might be a Britvic in the back some where."
"Soda and lime will be fine."
Bill locates a half pint glass that looks mostly clean and starts preparing her drink. Kirsty looks round the pub, for TFIF time, the place seems remarkably empty.
"Where is every one?" She challenges.
Bill looks round, almost as if he is trying to work out who is missing. "Cairngorm will be in later." he says. "He's on lock up."
"Not exactly thriving this place is it?" She says.
"No well. We like it that way." Clifford defends.
"It's a haven." Al adds.
She looks at him suspiciously. "What's wrong with the Sanctuary? Isn't that official R&R?"
Al shuffles. "Sanctuary has bad memories for the Boss," He says. He glances upwards, almost as if he is worried War will hear the comment.
"Plus we don't have the trouble of getting a taxi south of the river to get home after time here." Clifford adds sipping his pint.
Bill puts her drink down on the bar. "Not that you make it up the stairs anyway." He teases.
Clifford grimaces at him. "One time, and in my defence you had tied my shoe laces to the rail."
"And you were too pissed to realise that was the problem." Al laughs.
"Do you all live here?" She challenges.
"On and off." Al says, sipping his drink. "Rents cheep."
"We did have plans for this week end." Bill says. "But with the Boss not being available..." He looks at Kirsty accusatively.
"That was not my choice." She defends. "North insisted."
"What do you need him for anyway?" Al asks.
Kirsty looks at him pointedly. "That is operational information and strictly off limits."
"Well just bare in mind we have three nasty call outs this week, so give him chance to wind down." Bill stresses.
"I can not make promises like that." Kirsty replies.
Before the interrogation can go any further War appears back down stairs. He is carrying a suit bag, a military kit bag and a long hard case.
Clifford fixes the case with an inquisitive eye. "Boss?"
War just sighs. "Just in case, Cliff. Don't get panicky on me." He looks at Kirsty. "Ready?"
"If you are?"
Wars stows his kit into the boot of the Vanquish as Kirsty slides into the passenger seat. As he joins her she looks at him and them past him to the building.
"It's quite cute you know?"
"What the Lock?" He asks confused. Cute is not an adjective he would ever had applied to the place.
"No. The way Blue Watch mother hen's about you. They all but warned me off in there, you know."
War looks at her, frowning.
"I guess they are more restrained when you are about then." She says.
War shakes his head and starts the car.
"So what is in the case?" She presses.
"Insurance."
"Why would that make Clifford panicky?"
"It's insurance that goes bang." War replies. "Dartmouth has a shot gun permit. Not much point in having that if he does not have a shot gun." He glances briefly at Kirsty.
"I am not sure of the wisdom of attending a New age Feminist retreat tooled up Captain." She says pointedly. "What are you expecting to happen?"
"Considering North is sending me rather than James..." He replies.
She sighs. "Well just keep it out of sight."

The flat in Canary Wharf speaks of the same financial opulence as Morgan's car. War wanders around it, checking out the view and exploring the lay out for any 'professional considerations'. Kirsty watches the almost animal like stalk, the comment about 'sending me rather than James' praying on her mind.
"So Mr Dartmouth, what do you think?" She presses.
War looks at her, the scouse accent dancing in the air with his reply. "Dead posh in'it."
Kirsty suppresses a smile.
War looks at her, a slight twinkle is his eye. "Nah queen, am I yer protection or yer bit of rough?"
"Depends do you scrub up well?" She responds teasingly.
War's normal accent drops back in. "I think we should keep this professional I would not want to get on James bad side. But..." He gestures to the suit bag. "I do have my DJ incase you need me scrubbed up."
"To be honest I am not sure what to expect. They said a party. Some celebratory ritual. I suspect it is not insignificant that there is a total eclipse of the moon this week, and it is Lupercalia. If they are up to no good occult wise, we should see some indication. It will just be a matter of keeping our eyes open and going along with things."
War nods. "How far do you want to go?"
"We need to maintain cover. This whole exercise is pointless if we are made." She instructs.
"Even as far as doing something that might upset James?" he asks.
She looks at him pointedly. "If need be. But if that does happen..."
"I wont be the one telling him." War assures her.
She nods. "The I will rely on your discretion Captain, Now." She moves to the phone. "Lets order in some food and Dartmouth and Morgan can get to know each other better."