5.

     Under bridges, in sub-basements, behind concealed doors in back alleys, inside abandoned water towers, and in the tunnels which connected disparate railway systems - the ones that 'Habitants, while acknowledging their obvious existence, had barely glimpsed from their comfortable compartments aboard the trains and certainly had never ventured into - these places, and others like them, made up the network of seemingly unconnected rooms of which the Tunnel Faire consisted. Here a boy sold watches lifted from dead men. Here a girl sold her virginity for the price of her keep. Here illegal books were bartered for with small treasures deemed unique and beyond common value. Here drugs were traded as frequently as diseases, usually among the same persons. And here the giant amidst businessmen, the being whose single vision had built Azerna into it's current shape, whose personal wealth was staggering, and whose morality was firmly questionable, met with the shadows of men.
     Rothechild sat at a circular table situated in the exact center of a storm cellar connected with a grocery. Piled in the corners, mushrooms and potatoes threatened to roll underfoot of those gathered. The singular lantern provided little enough light to see by.
     "We have a problem, gentlemen. Our operative was not properly greeted. He made contact with young Mister Murdock, but in doing so has attracted the attentions of less reputable members of society as well as his confederates. He has, in short, been robbed. Now that sensitive information, for which I have invested large sums of money, is in circulation. This is not acceptable, gentlemen. I imagine it will surface at the Faire within a few day's time. I expect the documents to be back in the hands of our operative by the end of the week, and any subsequent copies to be destroyed. Then, and only then gentlemen, may we turn our attentions to the parties who have failed us. Is that understood?"
     There was a muttered agreement from around the table.
     "We will be the first to possess a working prototype, gentlemen. That is all."
     And one by one they left the cellar, cramped with mouldering vegetables, to disappear into the Faire, leaving Rothechild alone with his single lantern and the dark.
     "Do you really think you can contain this sort of technology?" asked a voice from the general direction of the potatoes.
     "Of course not," Rothechild replied. "But the child is not to be harmed. When the time comes, I want her brought to me intact. Go back to the Tiere whore and attempt to salvage the situation. This should reassure her."
     The small case hit the table with an audible clunk. Rothechild made his way steadily up the dirt packed stairs, taking the lantern with him.