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Two weeks ago, a scruffy, middle-aged man approached me with a deal. He is tired and wants to live out his remaining years in comfort; working as a janitor to make ends meet has worn thin.

He handles maintenance for a former Dayport Constable turned Barrister named Montgomery Moore. I know of him; various fences and acquaintences I had found useful in the past had met unfortunate ends in prisons with no small thanks to Monty.

Monty, his business partner Goodwinne, and their assistants run a law firm closely tied with the City's nobility. Despite their law and order image, he and his Council contacts run a tight alliance with the Wardens. Brothels, thief guilds, fences - if any assembly of black marketeers fail to play ball with Monty or his chosen crime lords, their number is up.

The squeeze this puts on independent contractors like myself is becoming too familiar a situation. The opportunity to put Monty out of my misery is not one I'm going to miss.

Monty likes to show off his wealth. There are easy pickings in plain view, but the Janitor tells me the truly valuable stuff - the stolen, confiscated, or blackmailed treasures - are locked away. Every now and then, once the secret storage rooms are full, Monty sends a carriage to relocate the booty under the cover of night to his personal estate at the edge of town. With the successful sabotage of a major inheritance case, Monty's planning on sending the carriage tomorrow night.

Monty's office building's front door is the only way in and out - and it is locked, from the inside, at close of business daily. Two gaurds patrol the three floors. The Janitor will sneak me in when the building is almost empty during lunch and lock me into an emptied supply cabinet behind the front desk of the entrance hall. The spot the two watchmen have chosen as their command station for their long dusk-to-dawn shift, as it turns out, but it was the only place I could be hidden quickly and unseen.

The biggest target tonight is an heirloom of the recently passed Istan Byzanti, the fabled and allegedly cursed Byzanti Diamond. I used to scoff at superstitions, but ever since my little incidents with the Trickster and Viktoria... So, the Diamond goes straight to the Janitor as soon as I'm out of there. He has arrangements with the Byzanti family for the Diamond's return to them.

The Janitor also requires blackmail evidence, to protect himself from Monty. This raid, after all, could only be an inside job and he'd head the list of suspects.

The rest of the loot, which the Janitor assures me is vast, is mine to keep.