Time to Pay the Piper
22 Sep 2019Falcon15e
The next several months moved by in a blur. Lambast and Kaisla,with the help of their anonymous benefactor and intelligence network, made quick work of most of the crime cartel. They worked their way through middle managers, sub-bosses and finally were just about to dip their toes into working on the executives. Initially, the prostitute cover worked well until word started to filter back into the station and Cleve crime syndicate. Rumor’s spread through Cleve like a wild fire. Some said the ladies were victims of human trafficking turned rogue, some said that the girls were simply renegade executioners, other’s thought they were Imperial spies tasked with crippling Federation trade. Eventually, word of their latest enterprise could be heard whispered in docking bays and food courts; the girls were given a moniker, “The Sisters of Sin” or to others, the “Ghost Sisters”. Pretty soon, the girls wouldn’t dare enter Cleve without using cheap wigs or head covers to avoid their hair being seen. Nobody was quite sure why both girls have pure silver hair, them least of all. Both girls started having their hair change at around the same time - puberty and both girls hadn’t put too much thought into it. Lamb’s mother had done all sorts of research when her daughters hair had started to loose its color. Federal scientists had seen this occurring in more recent generations and couldn’t provide a definitive, scientific explanation. Many speculated it was the radiation exposure in space or perhaps the lack of atmosphere on colonial settlements but it wasn’t entirely uncommon to see slight mutations in the human genome. To Lamb and Kai, it didn’t matter what the cause was, it just made them closer friends.
Adele and Johnston hadn’t met since the night of the first murder. But her spies and informants funneled him huge conduits of information on the Cleve Crime Cartel including thick dossiers, patterns of life and even the most likely method of execution. For the most part, the girls stuck with the information they were provided from Johnston. They never questioned where he got his intelligence or why he had formulated such intricate plans. It didn’t really occur to the girls that there may be other people pulling strings. Minor criminal factions operating in Cleve went underground and temporarily suspended much of the illicit activity around the station. Petty crime rates plummeted as those not connected to a crime cartel were fearful of repercussions.
Eventually, the rampant murders soon attracted the attention of the Federation Investigative Service and agents were deployed to Cleve to ascertain the culprit or culprits behind it. Despite their presence, the murders were quickly cleaned up and little to no evidence was obtainable from the crime scenes. Just as quickly as the FIS had a lead, the circumstances or description of the alleged murders would change and the lead would dry up. Adele spies located in the FIS would ascertain the investigative lead and then Armada coordinators would quickly provide Johnston with information that was completely the opposite of where the lead was going. Eventually, when the girls would execute, they would follow the lead of “Johnston’s recommendations” and the FIS would be dragged in a different direction. This cat and mouse continued for about six months before the Cleve Crime Cartel bosses had a meeting. One mid-level manager whom was being groomed for the table had been killed the night prior and Alastair Dell, the current crime boss of the local cartels called a meeting of all his middle-managers. They sat now, in his private penthouse near the circumference of the station.
Dell had been running the crime cartels out of Cleve for close to forty years. He clawed and killed his way to the top on a wave of blood and a mountain of bodies that extended through five different systems and countless stations. It was said that Dell and Hudson were good friends coming up through the cartel ranks and Dell had personally seen to several dispositions that enabled Hudson to eventually come to power in the bubble. Even now, it was rumored they were still good friends. Dell’s penthouse even rivaled that of the station manager. The penthouse spanned three floors and a quarter of the outer ring. Exotic natural wood, polished to a mirror sheen graced all of the furniture. Real 416L stainless steel, a pot metal from old Earth long since obsolete graced his fixtures and gave the entire apartment a clean and opulent utilitarian feel. Rooms and floors separated by glazed glass and interspersed with interior waterfalls, occupied their own dense micro-fields that enabled water to flow whichever direction the owner wanted. Throughout the rest of the penthouse, a soupy gravity field stuck all the occupants firmly to the plush carpets and bamboo floors. A long, expansive oak conference table occupied the center space between the three floors. Thick smoke hung in the air as people seated around the plank of oak smoking various devices and sipped back very expensive brandy. Personal butlers ushered around silently refilling drinks and providing meals.
A man and in one instance, woman, of every size sat around the table all dressed in immaculately tailored suits talking quietly. Finally, Dell sets down his napkin, indicates to have his plate cleared and steeples his hands looking down the table. The table falls silent. Dell is a tall, thin man with gaunt cheeks and thin black hair. Dark circles are formed around his eyes and his emerald green eyes blaze the same color as his silk tie offset by a black dinner jacket and thick-weave cotton shirt. A thick gold and emerald ring dwarfs his thin hands.
“Gentlemen and Lady,” he nods indicating Adele seated three seats down from the head of the table, “As many of you can guess, I called us to this meeting to discuss the plague of murders our separate organizations have experienced over the course of the last six months.”
His statement fell in the quiet room and was followed by a pregnant silence. Eyes darted around the room as individual crime lords examined the occupants for a reaction.
He continued, “I want to be absolutely clear here - I’ve had the tenacity to steer this committee for close to fifteen years. Through those fifteen years, we’ve had small upstarts, organizations fail and even, occasional in-fighting but I want to make one thing completely clear: we’ve always made profit. Whomever is responsible for these,” he waves his hand,
“Renegades....has directly affected our bottom line. If I ascertain that it is one of those among us responsible, I will personally cut your throat before this committee and spill your blood on this table.”
His statement is met with stark silence. Although its not uncommon for troublesome employees to find the sharp end of a knife or blunt end of a bullet within a crime organization, its seldom the Don that commits the actual execution any longer.
Eventually, small talks amongst managers breaks out as they profess their innocence. Dell holds up his hand, causing the table to fall silent. “I’ve brought in extra assistance.” He states. From the guest room off the dining room, a man in a simple black suit enters the room. All eyes turn to face him.
“This is Chief Special Agent Franklin Knox of the FIS.” Dell starts,
Gasps can be heard and several people go to protest. Dell silences them with a sharp glare. “Obviously any ability to manage yourselves has failed. For that purpose, I’ve requested Special Agent Knox to oversee much of the investigation. He is being well compensated beyond his regular salary so rest-assured, his presence shall not disrupt....business, as usual. You are to turn over your books and any information you’ve already discovered so that his investigators may do a thorough review to ensure that the person responsible is not sitting amongst us.” Several crime lords protested.
“This is preposterous! We’ve been managing ourselves with little Federal inclusion since the Federation-Imperial war! We refuse to turn over our information pertaining to our illicit business dealings now!” Said a fat man from the traders union. He stood, pushing his chair back to leave. A butler stepped forward and a resounding but final “thud” made the trade union crime lord freeze. He fell forward onto his un-finished Fois Gras, dead.
Dell surveyed the room. Special Agent Knox stood, in shock. “Are there any other objections?” Dell finally asked. Silence greeted his question.
“I thought not. Special Agent Knox, a liaison from each person in here will be in contact with your office shortly and provide any information you require. Thank you all, you’re dismissed.”
Everyone stood and filtered out of the room slowly, being returned jackets and effects before grabbing their individual assistants and filtering out of the expansive penthouse. Dell remained seated. Two butlers moved forward and hoisted the fat trade union corpse and removed him from the room. Only Adele remained seated at the table.
She leaned foreword on her forearms. “Mr. Dell, pardon me speaking out of turn, but I can understand the trepidation of the other council members in releasing potentially discrediting information to Federal Investigators.”
Dell looked at Adele for only the second time that evening, addressing her directly, “Ms. Adele, I can understand the trepidation of yourself and the other respective organizations. Although, I can assure you, Special Agent Knox is here purely to ascertain the identities of these renegade murders and resolve that case. Not meddle in our affairs.” Special Agent Knox remained silent. Adele glanced up to him as a impatient parent may look at a troublesome child.
“Understandably Mr. Dell, just so you know there will be trepidation and potentially, resistance.”
Dell stood up, brushing off his waist and buttoning his coat jacket. “And resistance will be dealt with in similar fashion as to our retired friend from the trade union Ms. Adele. You may go.”
Adele, realizing the conversation was over, stood and gathered her things, leaving. As she entered the lift she turned to her assistant. “Please schedule another meeting with Mr. Johnston, we shall have to move up our plans.”