Getting Assigned A Suspicious Kidnapping

The secure floor feels weird to me. All the cybercrime offices and that sort of people, the type that live in the digital world, never experiencing what the rest of us have to deal with on a daily basis. It’s a rare thing for us to have to come down here. Sergeant McMichaels can feel my discomfort, as she swiftly pushes us through the halls and into the chief’s office.

The Chief keeps his office pristine and classic looking, despite the surrounding server rooms and cybersquads. Pacing nervously behind the desk, ruining the austere aesthetic, is the Chief, who looks up at the Sergeant when she enters. “Took you long enough, McMichaels,” he says, trying his best to collect himself and portray confident gravity. It’s not particularly successful.

To take the heat off of our Sergeant, I step in. “Sorry Chief,” I say, “That’d be my fault. Held things up a bit with some inanity.” A lie, but the most believable one anyone will hear today.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense, Detective Bonheur,” he says, turning his irritation towards me. I can feel Marty’s discomfort at this, but I’m basically untouchable, while Sergeant McMichaels very much isn’t. “We’re on the verge of a new gangwar bursting out of the city.” Then, taking a breath, he turns back to the Sergeant. “Keep him in line, got it?” he says.

The Sergeant nods, and looks at me, a glare on her face to disguise her relief. Having me around has its perks, I muse in my mind. Taking her nod and glare at face value, the chief continues. “In the Northside Docks, close to West Bay, at six hundred, an unknown assailant broke into a residence and kidnapped the husband of a frequent flyer, one Keighlee Sampson.”

Sampson, I think, that’s one of the Bloodken’s allied dealers. But they’re relatively stable, ever since the Handshake Deal of Twenty-One-Seventeen. Why would someone think they could make a move on them? The chief continues, “Based on preliminary reviews of the evidence, there are similarities to a trio of kidnappings you worked four years ago, Sergeant McMichaels. So I need you to go, and confirm the reviews. But be careful. Miss Sampson isn’t just a frequent flyers, there are rumors she’s tied to the Bloodken, so we may need to be working this on a gang front as well.”

Marty looks at me, and I give a slight nod. Marty furrows his brow. The Sergeant, for her part, picks up the file and is reading through things intently. “Anything else we need to know?” she asks, not looking up.

“That will be all. Just,” the Chief turns to look me dead in the face, “Don’t start a gang war.” With a wave, he dismisses us.

After we’ve left his office, I ask, “So, which ones?”

“Looks similar to the West Bay Cartel’s thorn,” she says, “The one I suspected was related to the Cruisers’ expansion, but couldn’t prove.”

She had been right back then, of course, but knowing something and proving it are two different things. But those had all been carried out by the 31st Road Cruisers’ big man on campus, Lin. She hasn’t trained anyone new, and if the rumor I heard in the casino was right, she’s been hospitalized with mono. Of course, the Sergeant is concerned for a different reason. Of the three kidnappings she did, only the guy that followed the instructions to the letter got their loved one back in one piece. Which means she has a limited amount of time to find this person, whether it is someone related to Lin, or someone trying to frame her. I give her a nod. “Hey, it might be something else going on.”

“I hope it is,” mutters Marty, “I don’t want to have to deal with a war between the Cruisers and the Bloodken. Too much work, too close to my retirement.”

“And all the death is bad too, right?” the Sergeant jokes as we get into the elevator.

I shrug. “Death is death. Paperwork is much worse,” I joke as we return to the office. The doors open, and I start to head to my bike. “Listen, I’m going to step out for a quick lunch, I’ll meet you both at the condo.”

“Detective Wilton, go with him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything too illegal,” Sergeant McMichaels orders, before she heads to her office to grab her things.

Marty sighs. “I hate you,” he mutters.

“Taco truck?” I ask with a smile.

He nods, understanding. We grab our gear and coats, and head back to the elevator, with me bringing the bike along. We head out the main entrance, and down a surprisingly clean street to the nearest park to the station. On the other side of the park, the taco truck sits where it always is, busy as it always is. Marty looks at me and says loudly and overacting, “Okay Chance, you wait here and save this table for us, and I’ll grab us a couple of tacos.” Because we both know exactly why I wanted a lunch break, and it has nothing to do with lunch.

“Of course, Marty,” I reply with a nod. I politely wait for him to be halfway across the park before I hop onto the BlackBullette, fire up the engine, and head back towards home.

I don’t go all the way home though. I need to get my nails done, then have a drink at a bar I really don’t like, but is closer to where I’m eventually going. Heading into what can only be described as the least frequented nail salon in Undermarket, I sit in the chair furthest from the entrance. I don’t have an appointment, but that only matters on the very rare occasion that they’re busy. One of the techs starts to approach, then notices me, and heads into the back. Harry walks out, and sits as though he’s going to do my nails even though we both know he’s long forgotten how. “Chance, to what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Curiosity. I heard a rumor and I was hoping you could confirm it,” I reply.

He smiles. “Of course. I will say, I also heard a rumor that I was hoping you could confirm,” he replies. I wonder which of the many things gone wrong in the city he’s wondering about.

“Lin, she’s still holed up in a gown, right?” I ask.

He scrunches his face, trying to read why I’m asking about Lin, but I hold my cards too close to my chest for that. Finally, he nods. “Ripper said the Mono burst her spleen, so she’s recovering from surgery yesterday afternoon. Why?”

I smile blankly. “Just confirming something I heard,” I reply without a hint of emotion. Then, more friendlily, I add, “So what’s this rumor you wanted to ask about?”

Harry shakes his head. “Fine. Alright,” he takes a deep breath, before saying, “I heard a rumor that there was going to be some tension around the dock districts. Your asking about Lin doesn’t help the matter. You think I’m going to be dealing with a slowdown of imports?”

I look around, making sure his employees are by the front door and out of earshot. “Maybe. I think someone is trying to set off a City-wide gang war, using the docks’ organizations to start it.”

“Are you going to try to stop it?” he asks a legitimate question.

I nod. “At least until I figure out who’s behind it. And, where my mind has that, there are very few options where I don’t do something.”

Harry nods, then smiles. “I hope you enjoy your new nails.”

I smile and pay for the shortest session available with some pocket cash. “Of course. I always do,” I reply before heading back to my bike. So it definitely isn’t actually the Cruisers. One more stop.

The Classless Bar&Grill sits about a block from the docks proper in the Northside Docks District. I walk in and can feel the smoke. There are a few different people sitting about who are just civilians. But that isn’t the majority of the bar. I walk past the half-curtain into the back room, and give a very unhappy smile towards the group sitting there. There are more people around the family table than usual, as I expected. A man tries to stop him, saying, “Hey, private gathering.” He’s young, relatively attractive, strong but not big. And not important. I ignore him.

The woman at the head of the table holds up a hand to the young man, and gives me an equally unhappy smile. “Chance,” she says through gritted teeth, “A pleasure to see you again.”

I ignore her pleasantries, and focus. I need to be done in time to not draw suspicion from the Sarge. “Jess,” I say with my unpleasant smile, “Chill about any retaliation. I’ll handle it.”

The young man made the mistake of putting his hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t any of your business, pig.”

Without breaking eye contact with Jess’s bright emerald eyes, I kick a steak knife off of the closest platter and stab it through the young man’s hand, pinning it to the wall. “Touch me again, and it’s your neck,” I hiss, letting my smile drop momentarily, before it returns. “You really should teach them better, he just confirmed you guys are planning retaliation.”

Jess nods, a bit of a genuine chuckle. “Angelo’s new to this, I apologize for his overstepping.”

“No need to apologize, it’s been quite some time since I got to stab anyone. A week.”

“A day,” she replies.

I shake my head. “Unrealistic. Two days to solve the problem, another two to gather proof, and one for alcoholism. Five days.”

“Four. You only really need one to compile proof, we both know you just wanted two drinking days,” she half jokingly replies.

I sigh. “Fine, four. But if this Angelo stays in the room more than a couple seconds when we’re meeting about the proof, I will stab him again, without any additional provocation.”

Jessica grins, leaning onto the table. “Or you could always send it in a package, have your roommate deliver it,” she mocks.

I shake my head. “No retaliation. Four days,” I repeat, not biting on the mockery.

She smirks, shaking her head. “Until then,” she replies.

I turn, and look Angelo in his eyes for the first time. “Don’t touch people if you aren’t starting a fight. It never helps matters,” I teach the kid before walking out, leaving him pinned to the doorframe. I send a message to Marty, asking his eta, telling him I’m five minutes out.

As I’m climbing on my bike, Marty replies, ‘less than one, the tacos were delicious but a little dry.’

As I start the bike, I say, “Reply to Marty, toilet question mark.” And I speed off towards the Sampson condo. Because the toilet excuse only works if I’m there within about three or four minutes of him.

I arrive at the condo, pulling up to a random spot and leaving my bike in hover at a second story level. I put the siren on the front, so any new traffic cops in the area don’t write a ticket, before dropping down to the ground floor and pressing the doorbell. They buzz me in. Keighlee is scared, but calm. She still thinks that Jess is going to do something to help put pressure on the kidnappers. Marty’s with her. Good, he keeps things even keel. There are a couple of unis keeping an eye on things, one is new to me, the other is one of Jess’s so nothing really to worry about there. I’ll look into the other when I’ve got time. It’s not like I plan on sharing much of anything. Sergeant McMichaels gives me a suspicious look, before coming over. “Mrs. Sampson is calm right now, which means you’re not allowed to talk with her.” Then, slightly sarcastically, she asks, “How is your stomach feeling?”

I smile, and equally sarcastically reply, “It was rough for a moment there.” Then, dropping the smug grin, I ask, “Find anything out?”

“Something seems off. It’s exactly like the second kidnapping, the one that worked. Down to the moment by moment decisions. I think someone might have planned and copied that exactly, though they either had to be there, or they had to have the file.”

I nod. “Unfortunately, I don’t exactly have any acquaintances connected to an exiled gang.”

“I have a CI, from back then,” she replies, “Can you handle the file possibility?”

I shrug and nod. Need to look into the stranger anyways, might as well investigate the rest of us. “Let’s keep it quick, we need this solved before the weekend if we don’t want a war,” I warn her. She sighs, but nods, then together we approach Marty to tell him of the plan.