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Grubby, weed-filled concrete below, and grubby overcast skies overhead. The little plaza teemed with people – women with their hair pulled back and thick concealer hiding dark eyes, dragging grizzling children from shop to shop; bent-over old men shuffling along with zimmers and heavily darned cardigans; teenagers in identical colours and styles crowded seven onto one bench, hollering and laughing.
Jena, in her smart trouser suit and neatly coiffed hair, stood uncomfortably next to Aderyn, as the latter perched on a wall topped with scraggly bushes and litter, puffing away on a cigarette.
"When I said I wanted to get to know your friends in GreyFox Securities, this wasn't quite what I had in mind," Jena said.
"Relax." Aderyn grinned from behind loose auburn locks. "They're gonna love you."
"It's not them I'm worried about. I thought we'd be meeting at your offices. Or in a waterfront bar."
"Yeah? Little Miss Middle-Class don't like the view of London on the dole?"
Jena crossed and recrossed her arms. "It's not that. I'm... a little overdressed."
"Eh. It might work in your favour. See, there's a very special reason we're down here."
Jena raised a querying eyebrow.
"You'll find out. Oh, hey, there's Isleif now." Aderyn jumped down from the wall and ran up to a tall man with skin like Purple Trillium, the tight coils of his hair corralled by a bandana. He picked her up, laughing as he swung her around like she weighed nothing.
"Isleif Etienam," Aderyn said, breathless as he set her down, "this is my friend Jena Simons, of the Blades."
Jena held out her hand. "A pleasure to meet-urk!" She squeaked as Isleif pulled her into a hug.
"Wonderful to meet you!" he cried, voice carrying the lilt of the Caribbean. "Our Little Bird has told us much about you and your fellows. It is good to see the woman behind the fuss, yes?"
"Oh. Ha. Yes, of course," Jena said as she stepped back.
Two women – both with skin the umber of joss sticks – approached the party. More hugs were exchanged, as were introductions to Methredhel and Carwen.
They gathered in a loose circle, and Isleif handed out gift vouchers to the local supermarket.
"As everybody is here now," Isleif said, "I call to order this month's Unprosperous Alleviation meeting. Everyone knows the meeting objectives-"
"Actually, d'you mind running over the rules," Aderyn said, with a nod towards Jena, "for the sake of our newbie."
"No problem." Isleif grinned. "The name of the game is 'Put-Pocket', and the rules are simple. Pick a target – someone you think looks deserving of an extra £10 in their life – then reverse pick-pocket the gift card to them. We will meet up at the King's Head for lunch at 1300 hours. That gives you plenty of time to complete the mission objective."
Jena raised a hand. "What if I can't pickpocket at all?"
Isleif ran a hand over his jaw. "Well, other methods are available. But you cannot just give the money away. People are surprisingly suspicious of free items. Any further questions?"
Carwen raised her hand. "Are we doing the same as usual – last to the pub buys the first round?"
"If our guest is agreeable?" Isleif said, looking at Jena.
Jena nodded. "Fine by me."
As the group drifted apart, Jena followed Aderyn.
"Maybe I'm being dim," she said, "but I'm not sure I understand the point of this. I mean, the charity aspect, yes. But why go through all this rigmarole – why not just donate the money?"
"It's the Fox's way of keeping us sharp, making sure we're practising our skills but keeping it positive-like. It's become a bit of a thing since Isleif joined GFS. He calls it a meeting, but it's more like a monthly friendly between the front-line personnel.
"As for why the money ain't just donated, there's only so much charity organisations and lobbying the government can do, yeah? People fall between the cracks all the time – not quite poor enough, not quite disabled enough. The Fox thinks a little direct action is better than nuffin. A little summint-summint to push through the end of the month."
Jena glanced around. "How do you pick though? Everyone here looks like they could do with that extra something-something."
"You gotta pay attention to the details." Aderyn lifted her chin. "See the kids on that bench, yeah? The girl right on the end."
"I see her."
"Look at her shoes. The other kids all got newish trainers, right? But not her. She's used duct tape on the hole at the front and coloured it over with Tipp-Ex she probably chaved from school. I'll bet anything she ain't that fashionably skinny by choice." Aderyn turned. "See that bloke with the pushchair coming out of Poundland? That's, like, a third-generation hand-me-down pushchair. See how patched over his polo is, and how it hangs off him? He's skimping on his own stuff so he can buy baby formula and nappies." She looked back at Jena. "You see? Devil's in the details."
"Yeah, I think I'm getting it."
"Good." Aderyn turned back to the bench of teens. "I've got my target. Good luck with your pick."
Jena watched Aderyn wander away towards the benches, placing an unlit cigarette in her mouth. At the end of the benches she stopped, patting her pockets, then nudged the girl they'd been talking about, asking her something. The girl turned away, calling to a boy at the other end. As she did so, Aderyn dropped something – a balled-up receipt perhaps – from her pocket. As she stooped to pick it up, Aderyn nudged the girl's bag. There was a flicker of red as the gift card slipped inside. Aderyn rose just as a lighter was passed to the girl, who offered it to Aderyn. Aderyn lit her cigarette, passed the lighter back, and with a nod to the teens, carried on her way through the plaza towards where the pub's sign swung at the entrance to an alleyway.
Jena glanced around. Of the GFS crew, only Carwen was still visible, leaning against the wall between WH Smiths and some local dry cleaner, eyes scanning the crowd rather than on the phone in her hand.
Jena turned her attention back to finding a deserving mark. Picking out the details was a lot harder than Aderyn had implied. As she watched the crowd, a woman with a grizzling toddler passed beside her. The toddler seemed to be whining about some toy, while the woman explained – with impressive patience – that she didn't have enough pennies for it today. Jena watched as they moved away. The woman wore a skirt and plimsoll shoes which had both seen better days, while the child was in an outfit with the hems and cuffs turned up several times.
"Excuse me! Marm?" Jena called out, dipping as if picking the gift card from the floor. "I think you dropped this? Marm?"
The woman stopped, looking back with a frown. "Me?" she asked, pointing at herself.
"Yes. Did you drop this?" Jena walked up to show her the gift card.
"No. That's not mine."
"Oh." Jena looked around as if to see who else might have dropped it. "Well, I guess whoever dropped it is long gone now." She flipped it over as if reading the details. "Do you want it? It looks like it's for Iceland."
"No. That's okay. Thank you though," the woman said, turning away.
"Are you sure? It'll be wasted otherwise."
The woman's expression darkened as she took into Jena's suit, one arm snaking across her chest, even as the other hand gripped the child's. "Too good for Iceland, huh."
"No, I didn't mean it like that." Jena let her accent broaden, dropping from Received Pronunciation to her native Essex. "It's just we ain't got any Icelands down my way. It's all Aldi and Lidl, innit?" Jena laughed. "Don't let the fancy togs fool ya – I'm just a receptionist."
The woman's arm dropped, her shoulders uncurling. She glanced around, as if expecting to see a camera pointed at her.
"Positive you don't want it?" Jena said, making to set it on a wall. "I guess I'll just leave it here for someone else..."
The woman watched her movements with wanting eyes. "Well, I mean, as long as you're sure..."
"It's all yours, luvvy." Jena held it out. The woman took it slowly, eyes still darting as if suspecting a trap, and carefully folded it into her purse.
Jena smiled. "Have a good day, Marm."
"Cheers."
Jena watched the woman hurry away, clutching the perplexed toddler's hand.
With a glance at the wall by WH Smith, checking Carwen was still there, she headed towards the sign of the King's Head.