Christy's - Fine Tea and Delicious Pastries

[jammi]

Chief Inspector Helen Timson pushed the tea room's door open, the little bell tinkling to announce her arrival. It had been almost a decade since her last visit, before the horrors of the Siege of London and the hellish firestorms that had swept the capital from orbit. Looking around the room, everything was well appointed and cozy, to the extent that even a real woodfire crackled heartily, banishing the winter chill and damp.

Despite that, the paint and plaster looked slightly too fresh, the proportions of the room awry, even the door bell sounded different to her ears. She couldn't tell if the building was one of the hundreds of thousands that had been incinerated and rebuilt. Perhaps her memories of better days were simply jaundiced and faded.

Christie, the rosy old proprietress, wasn't there - Helen very much hoped she had survived the war. A woman she didn't recognise was at the counter instead. The Chief Inspector sighed and looked for a table, picking her way through the huddles of BPA constables who gave her suspicious or scornful side-eyes. The Bretonian Police Authority did not play nicely with the Civil Defence Initiative, although her Chief Inspector's pips limited matters to no more than sour looks.

Many regular constables saw their militia counterparts as a disgraceful stain on Bretonian policing traditions, and largely useless to wit. Helen often found herself agreeing, and had volunteered for a rank reduction and secondment to the CDI to try and right the ailing ship as its CO. So far, the ship was fiercely resisting course correction.

She ordered a cup of tea from the table and settled down to wait for her contact. Victor Steiner, no less than the former director of the Secret Intelligence Service. Although she somewhat suspected that senior spooks could never truly be considered out of the game.

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