Passing by the restaurant front the place looks busy. There’s couples, families, what look like friend groups of colleagues on the long table at the back, I guess we got the private booth booking right on time.

Pushing open the front door the scent of cooked spices whirl past my face in an attempt to escape to the crisp cold air outside, where I imagine they fall to the pavement like invisibly small icicles, frozen in time till they thaw tomorrow morning.

A welcome warmth in here, it’s not the type of heat that gives you a few waves of hot flushes as you acclimate, it’s a gradual settling in as we walk towards the booth, the host has graciously asked to take our coats and scarves. It’s cosy, but sufficiently spacious to not be cramped, the three of us shuffle into the four seater opposite the entry passage. We’ll be able to appropriately welcome our guests as they enter, and have those cross table negotiations we weren’t able to resolve earlier.

It’s not everyday we meed with political advisors and handlers, but given the ingoing high profile case against our favourite Mayor, we can’t be seen to close together, or else someone might get the wrong picture. It is guilt be association. Once you get a taste of the high life, as I assume most of these politicians do, their appetites become insatiable, and for that they and their affiliates, sponsors, and donors will go to extreme lengths to cling on to power and control. Not my place to judge, just execute.

In the dark of this early Winter night, we’re here to discuss unsavoury business, about people who don’t install confidence with any part of the political spectrum, however their existence warrants a coded conversation to determine what happens next. It’s never easy accepting these calls, no matter how you do it, all eyes and cameras will be honed in on the people in question.

We have as insidious lobbying system in the UK, as they have in the USA, except here it’s all very much behind closed doors, just as today’s little get together. Our guests walk in, no one wears a smile, so I break the awkwardness with a smile that acknowledges the brevity of the situation, as well as optimism for what lies ahead, or at least I think that’s what I was going for.

They waste no time in telling us they want it to look accidental, like a malfunction, crash, sudden health complication. We reassure them it will be untraceable, however it won’t necessarily have the intended effect, lobbyists for a cause no matter what happens will become martyrs, as they lived, breathed, ate, shat and slept for their cause. It might even bolster the emotional response from proponents not heir side who will come at you hard and fast, as they have done in similar instances elsewhere.

It’s non-negotiable. The cynic in me says they’re manufacturing martyrs, as this is exactly what they want. We may be apolitical in how we operate, however we understand the geo-political implications of our actions, and we’re able to identify after effects, and sometimes the impact outweighs the dollars or dinars we’re being paid in.

We come to an agreement, within the next six months we’ll find the opportune moment, both individuals and an aide will be taken care of. With them collateral may be a translator and driver, possibly even an assistant. It’s never easy, but we see it as a necessity for the best of outcomes for our clients, even at the expenses of grieving families - in this case they will be compensated by their own people, so we don’t linger on that detail longer than the mention.

I excuse myself as the starters arrive, always good to take a moment to take in what I’ve agreed to. As I walk out, something feels unfamiliar, I pay no attention and proceed to walk out front door, and walk around to the side of the building to spark up.

It’s unusual for us to be propositioned in this way, to meet so publicly, in a small intimate restaurant, relatively unrecognisable messengers, but still, all is most definitely not as it seems. They seemed too confident and sure that we wouldn’t resist, negotiate or refuse, this entire engagement had been well thought out…

Cutting the smoke short, I walk through the service entrance, as I enter the kitchen I see what I would have missed had I stuck to my cigarette, that’s no back waiter, that’s competition sneaking a suspicious substance into my food.