Strange Negotiations, Evening 26th

A letter had been despatched through Hunter to von Dorn (The captain was the only known method of communicating with the man) requesting an appointment, and it was at the appointed hour, in his billet for the night, that Sir Arthur waited for the arrival of his 'guest'.

He had finally reached a decision about the diamonds. It was, he knew, overdue, and the chances of von Dorn having taken off in the meantime were exceptionally high... Yet somehow the general believed that he would still be here, with the army. How he did not know - Hogan'd had men on the lookout for him - but Wellesley believed that in von Dorn (if that were truly his name) they were dealing with a highly experianced agent; one who would find avoiding unwanted attention easy.

What Sir Arthur was not finding easy was the waiting. He paced the floor steadily, wondering what implications his decision would bring about, and reflecting at how very similar this was to his first meeting with von Dorn.

Fandorin had let Widmayer go off. It was easier to stay hidden by himself rather than having that excitable boy with him. He didn't see Hunter when he arrived at the Headquarters: he wondered if the ADC no longer wanted to be associated with him, or whether Wellesley sent him away.

The door was open and von Dorn was admitted. Wellesley stood regarding the man critically, seeing the same unreadable dark eyes, that closed expression that gave away no hint of intention.

"Good evening, sir," he said. "I see that you are still with us."

"Good evening. As you can see, am indeed still with you." Fandorin stood perfectly still. Though his task was to convince Wellesley to take the diamonds, he couldn't let go of the habit of letting the other person come to the heart of the matter first, especially when the subject was so sensitive.

Von Dorn had fallen silent and was regarding him patiently; something which irritated Wellesley. It appeared that he was going to have to be the one to introduce this subject; this most distasteful subject.

"There is no doubt that you will wish to hear my decision regarding your offer," he said, watching the other man carefully.

"It would be useful, yes, especially since you must have many other things that need your attention." Fandorin offered a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Quite."

Turning away, Wellesley crossed the three steps that led to his desk. He unlocked the drawer and took out the leather bag that held the diamonds, placing it carefully on the desk. He raised his eyes to von Dorn again.

"As you can see, they are still here, and have not been spirited away in your absence. I do wish to ask you again, though, before I give my reply; do you really want no sort of recipt, signature or contract? Are you simply content for these stones to disappear and you to have no knowledge as to their eventual use?"

Fandorin cocked his head to the side a little, somewhat confused by the General's need to insist on his own honesty.
"I was convinced they were still here, sir, and yes, they are yours to keep and do with as you wish."

Wellesley bristled visibly at this, the black calmness of the man yet again serving to anger and unsettle him. But he had best cut to the heart of the matter. It would be better for all concerned.

"What I wish does not come into the matter," he bit out. "What matters is what this army needs - and though I hate to admit it this Army needs money, as has every army in history that has ever gone before it. Such concerns force my hand to accept financial assistance wherever it can legitimately be found..."

His cold blue eyes flashed agressively.

"...and sometimes illegimately too."

Fandorin was tiring of the General's attempts at trying to excuse his own actions. He simply wished the man to make a decision and free Fandorin of the need to be in this dangerous and, yes, stupid situation. Fandorin could see that the English commander was not an idiot and the more time he had to spend in the man's company the more likely it would be for Fandorin to give himself away, to forget some small detail of his hastily compiled disguise. He let out a small sigh.

"Sir Arthur, you seem to want absolution for the decision you are about to make. Neither I am the man to grant it, nor do I particularly want to listen to you argue it out with yourself."

Fandorin was used to dealing with less than honourable men and saying this, now, to a man who seemed to hold honour high, if not above all else, was somehow almost painful. He felt suddenly disgusted with himself.

"You are the man to damn me, sir, and you know it!" Wellesley snapped, riling at the inferrance that he was vacillating needlessly. "You know as well as I do how dangerous your cargo is. If it is not handled properly it will end up harming every man it touches -"

A thin, humourless smile stretched his lips.

"- something which I feel, sir, you are well aware of, and are eager yourself not to get burnt. You will have been chosen well by your masters for this, as I will also have been chosen well, doubtlessly, otherwise you could have handed your burden to any one of my staff and produced an outrageous scandal by the end of the month."

His fingers brushed the small leather bag again and Wellesley looked down at it, the expression of disgust creasing his features once more. But von Dorn was right; he had to make a decision.

"On behalf of His Majesty's Government, I will accept your gift of financial support," he said stiffly, the world 'gift' having an emphasis on it that suggested his doubt of the goodwill of such a gift. "Though I am damned either way by it."

"That is so." Fandorin's expression softened a little. "Yet, as you said, it is I who damned you. Though, perhaps, this will stop you from damning yourself everytime you see your men die needlessly."

Just as quickly the tiny bit of humanity in his face was gone. "Starvation is a terrible way to go. And, frankly, I doubt that either Portugal or Spain can support two marauding armies."

"That, sir, is a given," Wellesley snapped. Now the business was done he did not fancy being further subjected to von Dorn's pointed observations. "I am no stranger to starvation on campaign, and so long as I draw breath I will do my utmost to make sure it does not happen to any troops under my command."

He turned and walked towards the window, hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"If there is nothing further you wish to discuss with me, sir, Captain Hunter will see you out - I do not doubt that he is hovering the other side of the door. I do not expect that we shall meet again."

There was a latent emphasis on expect, implying that the general would not be pleased if he were to find out that von Dorn was still with the army after any given time.

[OOC: About Hunter... We kind of assumed he'd be there with rest of ADCs, but I just realised he'd only be back on the late afternoon of the same day from the whole map/local guide/kill french incident. Shall we assume he's back to his duties? ]

[OOC: He's fine to be there, I believe.]

[OOC: Cool ]

It was a huge relief to be rid of the stones. This was the hardest part of what he had to do. Fandorin could deal with crooks and spies and murderers. Dealing with honourable men was always the hardest.

He inclined his head in a small bow. "Your expectation is also my hope. Good evening, Sir Arthur."

"Good evening," Wellesley replied stiffly, and he turned to watch von Dorn leave the room. He did not fancy having his back turned on the man for longer than was necessary, and in some way he wanted to reassure himself that the man had in fact left the room. That, he hoped, would be the end of the business entirely.