[Sunday July 5th, 2076; Angel's, West End, London]
The reply to Isaint's message is terse and not a little pissed off
<<Watch your tone! I need to make sure you frag ups are clean before I take possession of the goods. You are the ones that potentially unleashed FABIII on London. When I am sure you are clean and that you haven't picked up a tail, then and only then will you receive payment. Go inside, there's a chem sniffer and diagnostics suite in there, scan yourselves and upload the results to the designated host. If you are all still there by morning I will arrange for the package to be picked up and your funds will be transferred. If not you are on your own, but don't expect to work in the UK again, I will drag your precious reps back to the stone age.>>
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[Sunday July 5th, 2076; Elsewhere, London]
Torrent reluctantly placed the call
"Monarch, they have the package but there has been a wrinkle. They have brought down more heat on themselves than the J is prepared to deal with and he is making them sit tight until he is sure they are in the clear... Yes, I know, but we can salvage this, I will let them know the score, they are professionals above all else and whilst they will no doubt baulk at being told what to do, in the end it is their own interests to see this through. Yes, I know, I'll get it done."
With that he broke the connection and reached for his other 'link
<<@Isaint & Team: Mr J has been in touch, he wants you to verify that you are clean before he takes delivery, I'm sure that you will agree that isn't unacceptable in the circumstances? He wants you to sit tight and that probably doesn't appeal very much but I can provide you with a surveillance circle to mitigate any unpleasant surprises. If you want to make your own arrangements like last time then I can't stop you of course...>> he left the rest unsaid but he trusted their intelligence enough to work out the implications of going off piste again...
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