Mr. Nguyen was not the kind of man to waste time on petty things like tea shops. Never-the-less, this was where he had asked to meet them. They all knew each other of course, or at least knew of each other. The resistance was a small world, and few of its members were as capable as the three gathered around the table today.
The privacy of identities was, of necessity, almost sacred among the members of the resistance. Deeds and results were however things to be celebrated, and each of these had accomplished a great deal in their time. Looking around the table they didn't just see colleagues, they saw indentured servants freed, resources stolen for the greater good, evil men vanquished in the name of justice.
They saw works of freedom written in old scars and hard eyes.
Still, gathering in one place like this was awkward. They had heard that the shop was the kind of place where they could meet with absolute discretion, but it still felt wrong. Dangerous.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before their fears were proven accurate. Sitting in their quiet, well-concealed booth on the second floor they heard the commotion below. Shouts, weapons drawn, screams, and the sound of a window breaking as a lit oil lamp was thrown in among the crowd. They stood as one, bracing themselves for the attack to come, but it became quickly apparent that their gathering wasn't the target.
Carefully looking below they saw the flames starting to take hold and armed men forcing the crowds back as they crowded Mr. Nguyen and an elderly companion towards its warm embrace.