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The restaurant is across town, in Adams-Morgan, according to the address you have.
Phineas gets in his Audi and drives over, making sure to bring the gun in with him.
Amirstan Restaurant - after some checking of addresses - turns out to be a discreet dark door, and
a plain bow window, with "AMIRSTAN" in white above it.
Phineas pets the Sepharmouse in his pocket, "Keep your head down." He smiles and heads to the
door, trying to go inside.
The door opens to his hand. Inside is a small corridor with a reception desk. A young woman in
a neat black suit sits there, and looks up. "Can I help you, sir?"
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Phineas smiles, "Table for one, please."
Phineas adds, "Non-smoking."
The receptionist asks, "Do you have a reservation, sir?"
Phineas shakes his head, "Afraid not. But the place did come highly recommended."
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The receptionist nods, and picks up a phone. "Just let me check if there are any free tables,
please."
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The receptionist murmurs, "A gentleman out here, asking for a table." She listens a moment, then
nods.
The receptionist looks up. "There's a table inside, sir. Please go through the door and you will be
shown to your seat. Please remember that this restaurant is non-smoking."
Phineas smiles, "I don't smoke. My body's a temple." He grins and heads through the door.
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Through the door is a very quiet, neat restaurant, the tables in polished dark wood, the walls
papered in geometric designs. Most of the tables are full, several containing family groups or
parties.
A waiter on the other side gives Phineas a neat head-bob and directs him towards a single table
over by the wall.
Phineas waits for someone to show him to his table, looking rich and important in his designer
suit. He follows the waiter to the table and sits. When noone is looking he discreetly puts
Sepharmouse on the floor, "Check out the kitchen."
The table itself is spotlessly clean. It has a set of cutlery, table-napkin, and menu.
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Sephar scuttles off.
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The waiter remains by Phineas' table, hands folded, clearly waiting for an order.
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Phineas looks at the menu, considering the options.
The menu is surprisingly sparse, and offers a number of set meals, all of which seem in the
European or Oriental model, and all of which seem to emphasise simplicity. The wine list is also
quite short, though the wines listed on it (hello, Savoir-faire) are all recognisable as good
quality.
Phineas rubs his chin and orders something from the European variety and a class of a nice
red.
The waiter nods, and retreats silently. He returns with a single plate of fresh rolls and a glass of
water, then vanishes again.
Phineas nibbles the rolls. He starts to try to resonate anyone nearby, including the waiter.
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Well, the waiter proves unreadable, as does the older businessman, but the younger one is an open
book to Phineas' Mercurian gaze.
The young businessman is Earl Jameson, an up-and-coming brokerage type, with hobbies of
drinking beer with friends, watching football, and black-and-white photography.
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Earl Jameson feels respect and awe towards his boss, Bruce Wevers, who's the other man there,
who invited him to this restaurant, even though Earl feels that this restaurant is rather ...
bland.
Earl has a girlfriend, Louise Krentz, several football-watching buddies, and phones his mom in
Ohio regularly. She's very proud of her son.
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Phineas eats some more of the roll, sipping his water, and leans back, waiting for the food.
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The waiter shortly reappears with the food. Steak a la Hungarienne, vegetables, wine. He ducks
his head and retreats again, silently.
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As Phineas glances round the room, for a moment there seems something unusual. Oh, yes. Most
of the people here - adults, even - are all drinking water.
Phineas peers at his wine, and at everyone drinking the water. He sniffs the wine and the
water.
The wine smells like perfectly good wine.
Phineas stands up and heads towards the restroom, trying to resonate more staff members on the
way.
There is only one waiter conveniently on the way, busy serving another table.
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It can be sensed that the waiter currently has a fairly high opinion of himself, even though the
guests here look down on them, because he's aware he knows far more about _good_ food than
they do.
Phineas hrms and tries to resonate a few more of the customers .. he looks around for a
manager.
There are no managers currently present. There is a family group currently next to Phineas, where
the mother is telling the younger boy to sit up *straight* and *dab* with his napkin, while the
father and older boy watch disapprovingly. The whole restaurant is really quite _quiet_, with
people just enjoying their food.
Phineas heads into the bathroom, thinking this is all far too normal for the arm to have come from
here .. he has to contrive a way to get into the kitchen...
The bathroom is all tiled in black and white. Very clean. Very tidy. Very quiet. One man is just
finishing washing his hands. He nods politely as he heads out, greying hair ruffled.
Phineas resonates him as he leaves, there HAS to be something odd here ...
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He's Adam Johns, a major investment lawyer, happily married, here to indulge in his hobby of
gourmet dining, and a player of golf.
Phineas shakes his head as he washes his hands. He heads back out to his table and picks at his
food, eating the veggies and not the steak.
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Phineas eventually relents and eats the steak, praying it is just beef.
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The food is _exquisitely_ cooked. It seems bland at first, but as he continues to eat, the elegance
of the seasoning becomes apparent. It's what one might term minimalist art.
Across the room, Adam Johns has resumed his seat, and is studying his menu. Curiously, he's got
a different colour one to the menu that you had.
Phineas hmmms and looks over at the menu, watching carefully to see where the waiter puts it
once he takes it.
The waiter tucks it under his arm, and takes it across to a small bookcase at one side where the
menus appear to be stored. Most of the menus piled in it are the same colour as Phineas'. A few
at the bottom are the darker brown that Adam Johns has.
Phineas hmmms and takes his chance. He waits for when no waiters are around, then walks calmly
to the bookcase, snags a brown menu and heads into the washroom. He does it all very
nonchalantly, as if he owned the place.
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Nobody appears to have noticed this daring snatch and grab.
Phineas goes into the bathroom, walks into a stall and looks at the menu once the door is
locked.
The menu has SUPERIOR DINING ASSOCIATION embossed on the front page, once opened.
Inside, the list of meals available is larger, though there is _no_ wine list, or any sort of drinks list.
There's also a set of dates on the inside back page.
Phineas mmms and wonders when the nearest date is.
The nearest date is Saturday night.
Phineas pages: Is it a paper inside of a folder -type of menu?
You paged Phineas with 'No, it's bound inside a leather cover. Expensive.'.
You paged Phineas with 'You could rip the paper out if you wanted, probably.'.
Phineas hmms and tears the paper out of the expensive leather covered menu. He folds it up, tucks
it into his pocket and heads out of the stall. He checks to make sure the coast is clear, when it is,
he tosses the folder into the garbage can and covers it with some paper towels.
Nobody seems to have noticed anything out of the usual. His plate is still there, food
unfinished.
Suddenly, there is a faint noise from the direction of what is probably the kitchen. One might
suspect it is the screech of someone seeing a mouse.
Phineas sits back down, hoping Sephar makes it out ok. He pretends nothing is going on, nope
.. everything is cool ..just look casual.
There is another distant, muffled shriek, and the sound of something heavy falling.
Then nice peace and quiet.
Phineas winces .. and shakes his head, that was clearly not such a good idea.
The rest of the meal is going quietly, when Phineas hears Sephar's voice at the back of his head.
Celestial Tongues. "Searched kitchen, nothing obvious. There is private dining room and cellar.
Can't enter now. Meet outside."
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Phineas calls over his waiter, "I have to go. Can I have the check please?" He hands him his credit
card.
The waiter nods. He takes the credit card and vanishes with it into the inner room, reemerging a
few moments later with a credit slip for Phineas to sign. The amount quoted is expensive but not
exorbitant.
Phineas signs the slip, puts the card away and heads out to the car, waiting for Sephar.
Sepharmouse emerges a few minutes later, scuttling round the corner of the next building and
down the street towards him. It's now late evening.
Phineas leans down to pick up the mouse and head into the car, he closes the door, "Tell me what
you found out."
Sepharmouse settles in Phineas' pocket. "The kitchen is very neat and tidy. They have one main
cook and several girls who do all the chopping up bits and peeling things."
Phineas nods, "Tell me about the place downstairs."
Sepharmouse says, "There was some sort of inner door to storage that nobody went through, and
it was locked so I couldn't really make it open in front of them, and there was an inner dining
room too..."
Sepharmouse says, "The inner dining room looked like the one you were in, only more expensive.
I could see it through the crack under the door."
Phineas nods, "We're going to have to get help. I think this place might be a bit .. odd." He pulls
out the menu from his pocket and shows it to Sephar, "My gut feeling is that on these dates, they
serve special meals of the long-pig variety."
Sephar looks confused. "Long pig?"
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Phineas smiles, "Cannibals in the islands used to refer to human meat as long-pig because it
supposedly tastes like pork."
Sephar thinks about that, then says, "Eew. I thought they might be organ-smugglers or
something."
Phineas says "Well, they could be. But I just have a gut feeling, as it were. The steak wasn't so
great anyway, kinda overpriced."
Sepharmouse twitches his nose. "Okay. You're the expert here. Shall we see what Venezuela got
from the autopsy?"
Sepharmouse says, "Or do you have other ideas?"
Phineas nods, "Sounds good. We'll just have to head back here before Saturday. That's the next
date listed on the 'special' menu."
Sepharmouse twitches its tail, and squeaks, "Okay."
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