"And your friend?" The question was directed at Nicholas, but the recruiter’s focus was entirely on Draven now.
"I don’t play." Draven scowled fiercely. He knew the dangers of gambling. He knew how addictive it could become, how easily the exhilaration of a win could draw a man back to the table, chasing that same rush again and again.
He knew the dizzying highs of victory and the crushing lows of defeat, and how, before long, the game could cease to be a pastime and become the centre of a man’s entire existence.
Countless times he had watched brilliant men throw away fortunes, ruin their families, and reduce themselves to desperate shadows of the men they had once been. He had even seen it happen to his own cousin, a man who had once possessed both wealth and great potential before gambling gradually consumed him whole.
Once the habit sank its claws into a man, it was exceedingly difficult to pry oneself free. That was precisely why Draven had always made a point of keeping his distance.
The man raised a single brow. "There is always a first time for everything."
"I have no interest in learning."
"Then you had better change that attitude quickly."
Nicholas nudged his friend beneath the table, who glared at him in return.
Nicholas’s expression remained innocent, but his eyes said enough.
Play.
Draven exhaled slowly, relenting. There was no way around it. They needed the recruiter to feel comfortable enough to divulge the information they required, and to do that, they had to indulge him. If refusing to play made them appear too cautious, it could ruin the entire purpose of their visit.
"If I lose, I will blame you," Draven grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Nicholas’s ears.
"And I’ll take responsibility," was his friend’s playful reply.
Cards were dealt.
Draven placed a modest wager, nothing that would matter to him if lost. The recruiter noticed but said nothing. He merely gathered the cards into his hands, his expression betraying nothing as the game began.
The first few rounds were almost entirely ordinary. Nicholas played confidently, occasionally making a careless-looking mistake that Draven suspected was intentional.
The recruiter talked more as the game progressed, perhaps because the movement of the cards and the exchange of wagers made the conversation feel less like an interrogation. The easy rhythm of the game seemed to put him slightly at ease.
They spoke about investments and shipping. About the risks of putting money into ventures that relied on weather, roads, and men who could not always be trusted.
Maintaining his casual tone, Nicholas said, "Did I pass your assessment? I was told your requirements are quite specific."
The recruiter’s fingers paused over his cards, only for a moment as he pondered his next words.
Then he looked down again.
"It depends. What sort are you looking into?"
"Whatever people are willing to pay for and whatever makes the most profit."
Nicholas smiled, careful to keep his cards hidden as he leaned forward, adopting the conspiratorial air of a man about to reveal a coveted secret. "Even contraband. In fact, the more restricted the goods, the more money it is bound to fetch. I’ve heard you’re the man to see when it comes to acquiring such things."
Draven watched Nicholas place another wager as he continued to pepper the recruiter with questions.
"Where do you find men willing to take such a huge risk by moving contraband?"
"You would be surprised how many people are so desperate for work they would do anything. A man like you would never understand." The recruiter laughed as he gathered up his earnings from his win in the first round of the game. "They are paid, and that’s all that matters to them."
"They must be paid well enough to keep doing it. Who recruits them?" he pressed further.
But he must have gone too far, asked the wrong thing, or perhaps sounded overly intrigued in a way that invited scrutiny, because the recruiter shot him a dubious look.
"So many questions." The recruiter clicked his tongue, voice losing some of its earlier calm. He was becoming more guarded, his eyes narrowing as he studied Nicholas.
"I like to learn as much as possible whenever I am considering an investment. And while you have been appraising my friend and me to determine whether we are trustworthy, I have been considering whether you are worth investing in."
The recruiter chuckled, relaxing just the tiniest bit.
"Men come to me looking for work all the time. Some have debts. Some have families to feed. Some have simply discovered that honest work doesn’t pay what they require."
"So you give them work?" This time, the question came from Draven after he had remained silent for the bulk of the conversation.
"Sometimes. There is always something that needs doing."
Draven leaned back and studied his cards as though the conversation were of little consequence. He kept his expression neutral, though his attention remained fixed on every word the recruiter uttered.
A few more minutes of talking to the recruiter and Draven was already beginning to understand how the business operated.
The wealthy investors newly brought into such ventures did not necessarily have to know how the operation truly functioned, and he guessed that was by design. They merely supplied the money and collected their returns. The men beneath them were the ones who handled the actual work, keeping the investors sufficiently removed that they could claim ignorance if the authorities ever came knocking.
It was another reason why the recruiter had skillfully avoided giving them a straight answer to their more direct questions.
Nicholas appeared to arrive at the same conclusion. He did not press him further.
Instead, he reached for the bottle of port and poured himself a glass, allowing the conversation to drift back toward safer subjects.
The recruiter watched him take a generous sip, and for that brief moment, it was impossible to glean the thoughts swirling behind his guarded expression.
"There is a shipment coming through in a few days," he admitted finally, his eyes fixed intently on the two of them.
Even in the face of his obvious evasiveness and suspicion, one thing was clear: he was eager for Nicholas’s investment. He would no doubt receive his cut from the sum, in addition to the wages he was already being paid.
Keeping Nicholas intrigued was therefore in his best interest, and the tidbit of information he had just revealed had accomplished that rather nicely.
Nicholas’s fingers tapped lightly against the table. "Is there?"
"Yes. Three nights from now. There’s a warehouse on the eastern road where things are moved. Ripe pickings for those ready to take the leap."
Draven kept his expression blank, carefully concealing the fact that his mind was eagerly cataloguing every detail being revealed.
It was not the answer they had been hoping to find, but it was the first tangible lead they had been given.