The meet’s scheduled for the ops room in the safe house near Sea-Tac—the place where I drek-kicked Ranger—and Blake’s pulling out all the stops. From what I hear, it’s a "closed" meeting: only Blake and his advisors—Vladimir and Springblossom—and the reps of the Tir corp present. The ops room will be sealed tighter than a devil rat’s ass, with an army of mundane and magical firepower outside. The room itself is protected by a big-time medicine lodge—set up by Springblossom, who, for the first time in our acquaintance, isn’t stoned out of her head. That means nobody can eavesdrop astrally or slam some unpleasant spell into a fetish carried in by one of the corp reps (or, presumably, get in or out by side-stepping to another plane). Basically, the idea is that Blake and his advisors won’t have their Praetorian guard with them, but the corp reps will know that if they do anything ill-advised (like scragging someone), they’re not going to get out of the ops room alive.