Derek further studied the psychology of enforcers like Mané. What would it take to get a man like that to lead him to the kingpin? Bribes and threats were historically ineffective. An arrest would make the mysterious head person disappear from the planet. The best strategy, he determined, was to shadow the thug and wait for him to lead Derek to the top of the pyramid.
Gilmar – a middle-class suburb nearly a hundred kilometers from the center of Trenton, yet only ten klicks outside the city limits of the megalopolis – was in twilight when Derek arrived. He had not yet heard from Lucky, so took the opportunity to get something to eat in case another opportunity did not present itself in the near or far future. It was one of the nuggets of wisdom their ex-Wraith instructors at the Scabbard academy had mentioned more than once: the Wraith machine is powered by food, so eat when food is presented – it may not be available later; sleep every chance you get – even a little helps; a battle is not a workout, so exercise daily; clean the inside of your suit often or it’ll really stink… the life of a Wraith was not glamorous, no matter how much Navy and Sector Security grunts idolized them.
Derek was learning that lesson quickly. The daydreams he had at the academy of being a super-hero out in the Empire were quickly fading as his limbic monitor reined in excitement and doled out steady readiness. The cool implants that made him more of a super-human every time he went in for surgery were simply tools now. A vast eidetic memory for mission briefings and debriefings; built-in super-vision and enhanced hearing for long, dull stakeouts; mentally transmitted hyperwave comms for sharing information just as easily transmitted by regular comms… Where was the thrill and the glory they were promised as recruits? Alas, the most useful implant – the limbic monitor – the one that kept him focused and alive, was also the one that sucked the excitement out of his life.
Derek ate and watched and listened to Gilmar life and waited for Lucky’s response to his hyperwave request and pondered the disappointing turn his life had taken. Then again, he wasn’t that disappointed, thanks to the limbic monitor.
Then, Lucky came through.
Dominic Mané: inter-planetary drug trafficker and enforcer for unknown mob boss. Has been in Gilmar for past three-point-four years. Wanted by EURO on three planets for various crimes and misdemeanors, thirty-three outstanding Sector Security warrants in Trenton, another twenty-one possible links to unsolved crimes in Trenton and surrounding areas. No arrests. No convictions. No info on Mané’s superior. Link to child trafficking ring previously unknown. High priority target. His boss: higher priority. End.
With his standard-issue comm, he messaged Lucky: Copy. Then he thought about Comet’s advice. Even though Lucky was a Wraith, she followed social etiquette even with other Wraiths. Thanks, he commed.
At your service, she replied. Derek didn’t know why, but he felt as if he liked Lucky. With the new information, he started to formulate a plan. He accessed the Trenton civil and criminal databases with the code Sector Security had issued him. He scanned thousands of records and reports and entries about Dominic Mané in just a few minutes. He accessed photographs and voice clips and fingerprints and medical records about the man. Then he went in search of the bastard.
After one more interview with the hog-tied Conley, Hailey left the house knowing how many people she had to round up from each house on the island: Bridgit Hardy, Colin and Coleen Soto, – what are the chances? – Franklin Cohen, and Mitchel Pandit. First stop: Bridgit Hardy. Hailey listened from outside while the shrew ordered her servants to massage her feet, bring her chaiko, file her fingernails, and feed her grapes while she called them names and belittled them with personal insults. Choke on a grape, Hailey wished.
She strode inside in full Wraith armor. “Hardy household, I set you free,” she said triumphantly – just to annoy Bridgit. “I only have three requirements: one, tie her securely to that lounger she so generously fills; two, invite the diggers to come to the house and eat their fill; and three, keep everyone here until I come back for you. The Morrisseys can’t know that you now run this house.”
The teens looked at the black redeemer, then at each other, then at Ms. Hardy. Two of them grabbed her hands while the other fetched something to use as rope. With glee they fulfilled Hailey’s three requirements, calling all the diggers to come inside, then settling in for an all-night party of eating to their stomachs’ content. “I’ll be back. Keep things under control here.” She left a bug to monitor the house and went on to the Soto house.
At the Soto house, she arrived as the couple were doing the deed in their upstairs bedroom. Hailey spoke to the household staff, explaining her requirements. Within minutes, the diggers at the Soto ranch were in the house, eating and drinking and singing and breaking things. Colin Soto came downstairs tying his robe around his waist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hollered at the teens.
“The black ghost ordered us.”
“The black – ” his words caught in his throat as Hailey stepped out from behind a wall.
“That’s me,” she said through her robotic voice changer. “Now, upstairs with you, Mr. Soto.” She pulled a gun and he complied. She followed him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Ms. Soto sat up in bed, expectantly waiting for a report about the noise downstairs. She pulled the sheet up to her chin when she saw the frightening specter. “All right,” Hailey said. “As you were.” They stared dumbly at her, then at each other, then at Hailey again. “Get in bed and put your arms around each other.” She waved her gun in the direction of the bed. Colin got in and they put their arms around each other. Hailey knelt on the bed and quick-cuffed Colin’s hands behind Coleen, and Coleen’s hands behind Colin. Then she cuffed their right ankles together and their left ankles together, making it impossible for them to get up and walk anywhere.
She backed up and inspected her work. “I gotta ask. How did Colin and Coleen get together?” She thought for a moment. “I guess the odds are not that low. There’s a Sidney and Sydney Fielding on Light Two. And a Gene and Jean Smock on Tesla One. Nevermind. You’re not that interesting after all.” She gathered up the tabs and comms in the room and left the lovers on their bed.
Franklin Cohen’s capture was ridiculously easy. He was asleep. Mitchel Pandit was last on Hailey’s to-do list. Pandit was working in his lab, refining the havva beans into the intermediate powder. He had a young man with him, measuring and weighing and making notes on a tablet. Hailey entered the lab, startling the DIY chemist. He knocked over an almost full container of the valuable powder, and in his fit of anger over losing the stuff, threw his fist down on the workbench, upsetting the shelves that rested on top of it. In a comic Rube-Goldberg-esk manner, one thing after another toppled as Pandit tried to catch or steady them. He shouted with rage as a top-shelf container fell down on his assistant, coating him in expensive white powder.
Pandit turned to face the cause of his tragedy and stepped back in fear at the sight of the all-black robot. He bumped into his assistant, who bumped into the portable heater which set the powder on fire. The assistant screamed as Hailey leapt into action. Pandit ran out of the lab. Hailey hauled the young assistant outside to the dirt where the kids had dug for havva beans. “Roll on the ground,” she said while she threw loose dirt and sand on the flames. Soon the flames were out. “Get to the house. You need to put ullo cream on the burns. Can you do that?”
The young man moaned and cried but made his way to the house. Hailey followed the tracks Pandit had made in the dirt as he ran away from the fire. He was headed straight for the diggers’ metal house. She ran after him, not at her regular speed, but with little pain thanks to adrenaline. Hailey stopped short when she saw the man holding a tall boy in front of him. He held the boy’s arms behind his back and lined his own body up with the youth’s.
“Stop right there!” he shouted. “I’ve got a gun in his back. Don’t take another step.” The boys were as afraid of the Wraith as the man was.
“All you boys, get in
side,” Hailey ordered. They obeyed without question. To the hostage, she said, “What’s your name, kid?”
“Teddy.”
“The man behind you. What’s his name?”
“Mr. Pandit.”
“Is there a gun at your back?”
“No.”
“You’re a lucky man, Pandit. I shot the last hostage-taker, and he did have a real gun.” Pandit crouched lower behind Teddy. Hailey holstered her weapon and approached the pair. “What are you doing, Mitchel?” She nudged Teddy to the side and chopped Pandit’s wrists with her hand. Teddy ran inside the moment he was released. Mitchel Pandit held his wrists alternately and whimpered. “You are a baby, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked weakly.
“SWORD.”
His eyes opened wide. Realization dawned on him that his cushy life was over. He bowed his head and moaned.
“Boys, girls, come on out,” Hailey called. Hesitantly, they emerged from the stark houses. “You’re staying in the nice house until the rescue boat arrives. Have fun and eat a lot, but don’t leave the house. If you promise to stay in the house, you’re free to go.” The kids ran down the path toward the house, whooping and hollering as they went. Hailey smiled inside her helmet. She loved this part of her job.
Derek tracked down Mané’s last known address. It was a mansion among mansions in the most well-to-do part of Gilmar. Derek easily defeated the locked gate that surrounded the property. He scanned for invisible signals that were emitted by surveillance equipment and found plenty. There was hardly a square meter not covered by one or more cameras or scanners. He confirmed that his suit and helmet were sealed as he extracted a directional EMP emitter. It was a small device – not bigger than a pen – but when he activated it, the electromagnetic pulse tripped every circuit breaker on the property.
The lights and every other electronic device went out. Derek dashed toward the house as henchmen spilled out the front, side, and back doors, talking to each other over open comms and holding their guns sideways like idiots. Derek froze as one of them walked within two meters of him. They had night vision specs, but the devices only registered heat signatures and Derek’s suit completely captured all his body heat, making him invisible to their high-tech glasses. His breathing and heartbeat, though slow and steady, were not silent, but the suit captured sounds as well. The henchman walked right past him. Another guard who didn’t wear the night-viz-wear scanned the area visually. Derek’s matte black suit reflected no light. When the man looked directly at him, he only saw a dark space, as dark as the black night around him.
Derek let the guards and henchmen search to their hearts’ content while he chose strategic places to plant listening devices. Then he hid near a back entrance and peered inside. At last, one of the resident gunmen found and reset the breakers, illuminating the property with light and scanners once again. After a thorough search, they went back inside.
“What’s going on out there?” someone asked. Derek knew it was Mané because it matched the voice recording he had studied earlier.
A guard reported to him. “I dunno. Something tripped the breakers. Power surge, maybe. Sorry for the hassle, Mr. Mané.” Mané hit the man.
“I hate apologies. It’s an admission of failure,” he explained to those in the room. “I don’t want apologies. I want success.”
Derek listened, remaining perfectly still and silent. Mané spoke again. “Do your jobs and watch the house!” Mané returned to his business, asking his assistant, “what are the numbers today?”
“A, fourteen thousand. B, thirteen fifty. D, fourteen twenty. E,…” the assistant rattled off numbers and letters for half a minute. The total of all the numbers, Derek calculated instantly, was two hundred and fifty-eight thousand. “Two hundred and fifty-eight thousand, total,” the assistant reported.
“Quarter mil,” Mané murmured. “Not bad for a weeknight. Dismiss the spreaders with the same volume as last night.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Mané,” the assistant replied.
Mané went to an overstuffed chair and sat down heavily. “Are we having fun yet?” he asked someone in the matching overstuffed chair.
“Not a lot,” the man said. “Now, if you had some women here…”
“Drop it,” Mané ordered. “What’s it for? We have more money than Gates, but no time to enjoy it.”
“So, take a vacation.”
“Right. If I didn’t work for Kiyoto, maybe that would be a possibility.”
Derek sent a hyperwave to Lucky: info Kiyoto urgent.
“Why did I ever get involved with the cartel?” Mané lamented.
“So you’d be richer than Gates.”
“Fat lot of fun that is. I do all the work and Kiyoto gets most of the profit. I’m a rung too low on the ladder, Lanny.”
“What can we do about it?” Lanny asked philosophically.
Mané got a gleam in his eye. “Come with me.” Lanny followed Mané to the back porch. “Listen, if you breathe a word of what I say, I’ll slit your throat.”
“Nice.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not sure, Dominic. You scare me sometimes.”
“I’m not gonna hurt my little brother. But I’m serious. Keep this to yourself.”
“’Course. What’s on your mind? Mutiny?” Lanny asked with a grin. Mané’s eyes lit on fire as he stared down his brother. “What?” Lanny asked, suddenly afraid. “Really?” Mané said nothing; he just stared. Lanny got nervous. “No, Dom. Don’t think like that. It’s suicide.”
“Yeah, but not like you think. I’ve got it all figured out.”
“Dom! Stop. That whole cadre will slaughter you, and me too, just for being related to you.”
“No, listen. If I fake my own death, EURO is off my back.”
“They won’t touch you as long as they’re hoping you’ll lead them to Kiyoto. You’re safe.”
“But not free. I want Kiyoto’s position. I want to be the ghost, collecting the money, travelling the galaxy, enjoying life.”
“But EURO will recognize you wherever you go.”
“That’s easy to fix. Cosmetic surgery, hair dye… I’ve got that covered.”
“Who will do your job, then?”
“I was thinking…you.”
“Me? How will that help? EURO knows I’m your brother.”
“But if they know I’m dead and they think Kiyoto is still an unknown player, they’ll leave you alone. You taking my place is logical. They won’t suspect anything.”
“OK, but you have one big problem: killing Kiyoto.”
“Say that a little louder, Lanny,” Mané hissed. “Hell, I thought you were trustworthy. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve let you in on my plan.” Mané pulled out a gun and aimed at his brother.
“Wait! What? Dominic!”
Mané laughed and put the gun away. “I’m just teasing you.”
“That’s not funny,” Lanny said, holding a hand to his chest and breathing heavily.
“Yeah, it was,” Mané chuckled. “We’ll be fine.”
“You sure you mean both of us?” Lanny asked suspiciously.
“Knock it off. We’re nowhere near the house when Kiyoto’s goons retaliate. You’ll go to Morrissey’s island, explain that you’re his new contact. I’ll hide on the boat. Then you go back and arrange a funeral for me – make it look real good ‘cause, I promise, EURO will be watching.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll take the boat and make contact with you when I’ve got a new look.”
“What about Kiyoto?”
“Leave that to me. I can handle the ghost.”
“Seriously, how?”
“Listen, it’s not that complicated. When I have my quarterly meeting with Kiyoto, day after tomorrow, I’ll kill the bitch. Her posse will retaliate, probably blow up my house, right? Little do they know, I won’t be there. Shit, it’s a perfect plan. I don’t even have to work very hard.”
> “There’s only one thing wrong. I’m still stuck in the working-for-a-living rut. When do I get promoted to ‘Kiyoto’?”
“You do this for me and I’ll take care of you, bro. Run the business for a little while, then we’ll kill you off, too.”
“You mean, fake kill me off,” Lanny said.
“Of course.” Mané smiled evilly. Lanny shrank back from his big brother. “If you’d rather leave the business, you can take your chances on the streets.” Mané walked to a bush growing near the back porch. He picked a flower and smelled it. He turned back to Lanny. “I can get anyone to take over what I do… and anyone would be happy to take the job. It’s your choice.”
“I’ll do it,” Lanny said defeatedly.
“Good,” Mané replied, dropping the flower onto the hardscape and stepping on it with a twist of his foot. “Tomorrow morning, grab anything you wanna keep outta the house and get going to Morrissey’s place.”
Derek got every word of the plan recorded. All he had to do was wait for two days and follow Mané to the meeting, let him blow away all the competition, then get him. When it was safe, Derek slipped inside the house, made his way to the security control room and turned off the alarm system. He shook his head at how lax security was when people thought an electronic system was watching out for them. Derek sprinted to the gate and left the property without anyone knowing he was ever there. Another Wraith operation pulled off like a wraith.
Comet, I have thirty-six hours to assist before main event. Ready for pick-up?
Affirmative.
Confirm space to land a K-100.
Hailey's Comet Anthology Page 34