I’d worried that lunch might be some terribly formal affair, in some over-the-top venue with too many sets of cutlery by my plate. Instead, Ross pulls up outside a modest little restaurant, not exactly on a backstreet, but certainly well away from the bustle of the city centre.
lunchPerhaps my Master divines my surprise. “Nice and quiet here. But the food’s good and they know us.” He gestures for me to enter ahead of him as a waiter opens the door for us “Name of Haswell.”
“Yes, sir. Commissioner Stanton is waiting for you.”
A face I recognise sits at a table across the floor, tasting an inch of wine in a glass, then nodding to the waiter who tops it up. As we approach, he glances up, then stands up, breaking into a broad smile and extending a hand like a plate. “Richard. Good to see yo
