The Shadow in the Shade: Chapter 1: The Gathering Dark [OMEGA SYNDICATE] [OSyn]
--Planet Manhattan, New York System--
"He likes to make his clients wait! He's always got me tapping my foot, spinning my wheels, for at least an hour every single time we've got an appointment!" Russian's voice was pure frustration, ragged and angry. He clenched his fist, continuing, "Who the hell does he think he is? Needs a little lesson in manners! And I'll be the one teach him!" Three of the four other men in the room looked nervously around the conference room, anywhere but in Russian's eyes.
Of the five men in the room, only one was seated at one of the many chairs surrounding a square, oak table in the well-lit conference room. Despite the generous lighting, the seated man's eyes glowed with a patient, calculated darkness. The man glanced upward at Russian, amused. He whisked a black strand of hair out of his eyes and ran his left index finger along his pin-stripped suit's right forearm. His voice was glacial ice, "It is important...," he paused, instantly grabbing the attention of the Russian and the three other bodyguards, "...to consider all the angles." Somewhere in his statement was the undertone of a half-implied threat. Smirking knowingly, he instructed, "Consider -- Joseph Pandovos is a small man, with a small mind, and little control over his life. He's a --functionary--, a bureaucrat, a paper pusher," the thin, tall man rose from his chair. Still instructing, he asked, "Or in other words?"
Russian found his voice, albeit alittle shakey under his leader's scrutiny, "A sucker!"
"Precisely," he responsed. Pleased and still amused, "But more importantly, in his minor role, in his own little slice of the universe, he must feel like a king. That," he paused, walking slowly towards Russian, "is why we are waiting." He pat Russian on the shoulder lightly, his voice now stern, "And we will wait." There was a matter-of-factness to the statement that brooked no argument. There was no doubt of who was in command in the conference room.
"Because I need, Mr. Joseph Pandovos. I need him to do what he does best, sign papers and issue licenses. I'm going to open this Bellagio Casino on time, even if it means waiting on an insect and letting him have his moment to feel powerful," The man started to laugh.
The most experienced of the three bodyguards, Darkon Keith, a former corporate security officer turned freelancer, spoke up suddenly, as if to ward off his employer's laughter, "And here comes the insect now."
Joseph Pandovos entered the room with a folder, oblivious to the conversation that was going on. He was short, with a bulbous chin that seemed to jut from his face like a cliff. He was balding in the back, with grey sprinkling his brown hair. He looked at the men in the room with a certain trepidation, a well hidden nervousness. His voice sounded like a squirrel, squeaky and unsure, "Ah, uh, Mr. Dee-mon."
Russian winced and looked at his boss.
The man in the pin-striped suit rose from his chair. Irritated, a simple mistake in pronounciation, he hated it. His face betrayed nothing, his voice was measured, "It's Day-mon," he spoke slowly, "Geodin Daemon. A pleasure." Geodin embraced Joseph's hand and shook it vigorously.
"Ah yes, of course." Joseph's voice still sounded like a squirrel. He sat at the conference table and ruffled through papers. They both sat down. "It looks like the Gaming License has been issued, but," he pulled out a piece another sheet of paper, "It appears that there are several more inspections by the Liberty Gaming Commission to certify, uh, to certify some of the newer games."
Geodin's smile was deceptively patient, "Surely we can speed up this process somehow. I've got an opening day schedule that is quickly falling behind."
"Mr. Daemon, you're just going to have to accept that our inspectors are very busy, and adjust your schedule." Joseph's voice seemed to lose its squeaky quality.
"I've got hundreds of millions of credits invested in this process, an entire marketing campaign that focuses on the Bellagio opening on time. I know we can reach an accomodation," Geodin snapped his fingers and one of the bodyguards presented Joseph with a Neural Pad, "There are six inspections that need to take place this week before the Grand Opening Ceremony. We've cleared out a whole floor of the hotel's premium VIP suites, for you, and for the inspectors. The Liberty Gaming Commision will have the inspectors on site, for our Grand Opening. The public will be satisified that there will be fair gaming. You can hire some temporary staff to cover the scheduling conflicts, another five million for... budgetary concerns," Geodin smiled, he loved this part of the game, "And that ought to cover everyone's ass, and give you fine public servants a nice relaxing weekend at the Bellagio."
Inwardly, Joseph was afraid to say no to this man. He had heard the stories. He nodded agreement to Geodin, "Yes, Yes, we can issue you a temporary event permit for the first week while we certify you, as you phase in your new games, that should work, yes. And I'm sure no laws are violated by taking complimentary hotel suites," his voice trailed off, uncertain of how to continue, he stammered, "I, uh, I mean, it shouldn't be a problem. I understand you want to open on time. The five million, uh, will, uh, will definitely help us hire on some extra help."
Geodin nodded, motioning to one of the other men, "This is Bruce Davin, the Bellagio floor manager, he would be able to work out the details. Make sure everything is solid, eh Bruce? I've got another pressing engagement." Bruce nodded, and began signing paperwork that Joseph laid out. Geodin rose from his chair, his bodyguards in formation around him, "Good day, Mr. Pandovos."
"To you as well, Mr. Daemon." Joseph seemed relieved to see them leave.
**
--Rochester Base, New York System--
The chained up man screamed in anguish, "Raaaaaahhh!" The welding torch grazed his back, the skin molted and inflated like a marshmellow. His screams echoed in the small room, but no one flinched. The man sobbed as he was tortured, "I don't know, I don't know, Ahhhh, gluck--," his voice faltered as he screamed again, "Aaaaahhh! Please, please! Aaahh!"
Geodin Daemon shook his head, unmoved by the man's screams, he spoke to the man with the welding torch, "Easy, Knives, Easy. Don't kill him quickly." Knives backed up a step, and Geodin grabbed the man's face abruptly. "Tell me what I want to know!" He motioned to Knives.
"Aaaaahhh!" Knives brought the welding torch closer to the man's shin. "Aaaah! Okay! okay!" The man gasped, his face already bloodied and swollen. "We were paid by the Liberty Police, to provide recon on when your next shipment of Cardamine is coming in. The LPI wants to catch the Omega Syndicate red handed, to make it stick."
Geodin lifted the man's bloody face again, Knives stepped back. Geodin's voice was almost soothing, now, "See, that wasn't so hard. Now if you tell me --everything--, we can get a doctor to come see to your injuries. So?"
At the mention of a doctor, the man's spirit raised despite his agony, "Oh, thank you! Thank you! They don't know anything, you caught us before we could report back to the LPI," the man glanced at the corpse of his dead partner chained to the wall next to him. He swallowed hard, "You don't have to kill me, I promise I won't say a thing. I'm just a freelancer, I should've never taken this job." He shook his head as he repeated himself, "I should've never taken this job."
Geodin sneered, "It was a mistake to try to follow our spice convoy." He never used the word --Cardamine--. "It was a mistake to try to snitch us out the Omega Syndicate to the LPI."
"I know! Please! I know I made a mistake. Please! The LPI has taken an interest in the Omega Syndicate because of your Bellagio Casino." The man's voice was pleading, he spewed information like a fountain, "They know you're secretly financing the Bellagio. But they also know they can't touch it because it is perfectly legal."
Geodin said, "We're paid up with everyone who matters."
The man continued, "They know you're paying for it with drug money, but they can't prove a thing. They can't even get warrants to audit the Casino's investors, so they are coming at the Omega Syndicate's smugglers, trying to catch you guys in the act."
"A wise strategy," Geodin paused, "You've been very helpful, so let's get you that doctor. See, I can be merciful." He smiled, then, wickedly.
The man was overjoyed, "Oh thank you so much! You won't regret it, I promise I won't ever cross the Omega Syndicate again!"
"Show him --mercy--, Knives." Geodin turned away from the man, he turned to Russian, who had been silent in the corner the whole time. The Russian nodded to Knives.
Blood oozed down the man's chest, soaking his tattered shirt. The man gargled blood, the look on his face frozen in confusion and wrenching pain. His voice croaked as he asked, dying, "Me-mer--Mercy?" A question. There would be no doctor. No bandages. No second chances. Only the release of death. Knives wiped his blade on the man's shirt, the motion so fast, so fluid, it was over in an instant. The tortured freelancer fell to the ground, dead, his wide eyes still questioning his killers.
The Russian didn't even look at the corpse, he spoke clearly, "Well we've learned something valuable. They don't have an agent on the inside of the Omega Syndicate. Otherwise they wouldn't have hired these freelancers for simple recon missions. They don't have enough evidence on our operations to justify probable cause to search our warehouses on Rochester or Allentown, but just to be safe, we should maybe start off loading the shipments directly to the Rogues."
Geodin considered carefully, "Hm. Perhaps. The Junkers may take offense to being cut out, middlemen so often do."
"Well at the very least, let's unload the stockpiles until this heat dies down, so if there is a raid, the risk will be minimal," Russian insisted.
"Whatever it takes to ensure the Bellagio Casino isn't jeopardized. We need to be able to launder this spice money. My business plans in Liberty require some --hard money--, and that means paying taxes. What better way than a Casino? The dirty money goes in, and it comes out clean." Geodin almost sounded concerned, "A lot of money is riding on this. Russian, handle this last spice shipment before the Grand Opening of the Bellagio. Then tell the boys to keep a low profile for a short minute. Got it?"
Russian spoke eagerly, "Consider it done, Boss. I've already got the perfect plan. Knives, did you crack the Neural in the freelancers' Eagle?" Knives nodded. Russian continued, "Pull up the communication history..."
**
--Cortez Jump Gate, California System--
"Hold it right there, Smugglers! Cut your engines and prepare to be scanned," Officer Vinni Santini spoke with authority, flanked by a squadron of fighters surrounding the 'Going_Merry[OSyn]' and two other transport vessels in the convoy. ('Hierophant[OSyn]' & 'Monac_James') "We've got reason to suspect you're in possession of contraband."
Russian smiled inwardly, everything was going according to plan, "Full stop." He turned to his neural console, transmitting on the local band, "This is the firefly, Going Merry, we're carrying Niobium, bound for the New York system." Russian shivered briefly as he felt the light tingle of the cargo scan surround his ship. He never got used to that feeling, not a bad feeling. Just different.
The informant Russian had paid to tip off the cops had done his job perfectly. They would find no Cardamine, no illegal weapons, no marijuana, nothing. Just Niobium, just embarassment, with a formal complaint filed with the LPI, originating from the phony shell corporation that the transport ships were registered to. Their papers were legitimate, their cargo perfectly legal. They had decided not to venture into Liberty at all with the spice, taking a 20% dip in their profit margin by selling it to the Rogues at Montezuma, but it was worth the money to hear the sound of the Officer's voice as he processed the cargo manifest.
Officer Vinni Santini sounded genuinely surprised, "You appear, you uh, you're all clear. You're free to go. Stand down squad. I can't believe it," he apologized, "Sorry about that, firefly vessel, we must've been misinformed. Carry on."
Russian responded, "Acknowledged."
He took pride in his plan. He played the game, and he played it well. He knew he had embarassed the Officer, and had managed to misdirect the police long enough to drop the spice. They would hesitate next time. They would doubt themselves. The informant had been "their guy" after all. The intelligence on the drugs that were supposed to fill the cargo bay of the Going Merry was from the freelancer the LPI had hired several weeks before to track members of the Omega Syndicate. It should've been solid information. Actionable intelligence that could've led to arrests. It could've been a golden opportunity to turn up the heat on the Omega Syndicate. But it wasn't.
**
Somewhere on Manhattan, Geodin Daemon drank expensive wine and smoked a cigar. The Bellagio Casino would open soon, and he was going to be rich. This was just the beginning, he had a lot of plans for the future. As the darkness gathered after the sunset on Manhattan, the leader of the Omega Syndicate smiled. He was untouchable.