Sergius, or rather, Mr Jones as he was in this present guise, had no intention of being on time. It was almost as dangerous as being early. Both would grantee you to be in a certain place at a certain time, and that was not good for a man. Better to be late, and any amount late that you wished. He normally settled on a variant of fifteen minutes, perhaps fourteen or sixteen and a half, or sometimes exactly fifteen ; long enough to make his contacts worried, but not so long as to allow them to leave.
Mr Jones had been milling around outside the building for some time, he had seen his mark enter, and sit down. Mr Jones had smiled briefly to himself at the young man’s attempts to disguise himself, and decided that he would wait a little longer than usual this time. Twenty minutes went by, and then he went forward.
He dusted off his hands as he stepped inside the tavern. Not a wholesome place, but one where it was unlikely they would be overheard, and where it was unlikely either of them would ever be seen again. It would be difficult for any of the patrons to thus identify them, if any were sober enough to do so in t first place. He doubted they were. This place was frequented by sailors without a ship, and sailors who were not at sea were simply drunkards.
“Ah, my dear sir.” He murmured as he joined Demetri’s table. “Nice and early I’m glad to see. And without your theatrically persuaded friend.” He smiled, grinning like a shark. “Perhaps without them you will be more inclined to concentrate on our business? Have you remembered what you promised me?”