The Fox, the Dog, and the King

by Matt Doyle

  Weird wording, but we have met before during a few cases, I suppose . I shrug. “Sure, why not?”

  Fuerza smiles and tells the goons, “Send the Palomas in. They may as well get to know our friend here.”

  The three apes leave and, a moment later, two new men replace them. One is an angry young man who’s complimented his suit with a tangle of long ginger hair held in place by a beer-stained bandana. The other is strangely calm and hiding behind a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses which, when combined with his neatly shaven head, gives him the appearance of a typical TV hitman. They walk through the room in silence and take their positions either side of Fuerza, standing tall with their hands crossed neatly in front of them.

  “Don’t you already have a Paloma in jail?” I ask.

  “Yes, well, after his little escapade at your place, he has found himself demoted.” Fuerza nods to Bert and adds, “I believe your friend there saved me the bother of demoting the other one.”

  “The other one ? Do you forget their names when they become brothers ?”

  Fuerza smiles and rests his chin on his knuckles. “Of course not. Unless you have reason to ask, though, their names aren’t important. You know how this city works, Detective. Branding is the key to success, is it not?”

  I roll my eyes because now that I’m in front of him, Fuerza is more likely to feign respect for me not pretending to be afraid of him. Hell, he knows as well as anyone that the Paloma Brothers are a joke. He can try to build them up as a pair of top quality hitmen who will work cheap as much as he wants, but there aren’t many people out there who don’t know how bad they are, let alone how rare it is for the Paloma Brothers to actually be related.

  “I admire your moxie,” he says, right on cue. “But I’m a busy man. I understand you have a photograph to show me?”

  I nod and step forward, reaching into my pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Sunglasses Paloma has tilted his head subtly to follow my movements. It’s such a small movement that you wouldn’t notice it if you didn’t know what to look for. Looks like Fuerza lucked out and hired someone who actually knows what they’re doing this time. Best behave yourself, Cassie , I tell myself, and pull out the print I took of the two pictures from the Kitsune show.

  “Scott Young. He’s one of yours, right?”

  “He is.”

  “Do you notice what he’s wearing?”

  Fuerza lifts the sheet of paper closer and frowns, which tells me that he does. As if to further confirm this, he clicks his fingers towards Sunglasses and beckons him to look at the photo. The brief glance they share gives me the opportunity to get nosy and flick my eyes over the small table next to Fuerza’s throne . Unfortunately, there’s nothing of any real interest: a small stack of what appear to be annotated and highlighted bank statements are piled haphazardly on top of a thick hardback book, Four Steps to Power by Casille di Franco. It’s a political thriller, if memory serves. I only read it the once, at Charlie’s recommendation. As books go, it’s fine, though outside my normal genres. From what I can see of the cover, the text is printed backwards on this copy. There’s a bubble-wrap envelope underneath the book, but I have no way of telling what, if anything, is inside. For all I know, it could be what the book was delivered in. Ah well. I guess a pre-signed confession was too much to ask, even for Allen Fuerza .

  “I’m working a case right now and the only suspect I have was wearing Tapper Gloves. I don’t think that it was Mr. Young, but I’m sure you can see why I’d come to you with this. Given the look on your face, I’m guessing you didn’t know that Mr. Young was going Tapping?”

  Fuerza’s lips twitch and he narrows his eyes at the pictures. “Admittedly, I did not.”

  “Have you given permission to any of your people to go Tapping recently?”

  Fuerza glances at me and asks, “Do you have a warrant, Miss Tam?”

  I cancelled the unused warrants from the CCTV run because I’m a good little detective. They wouldn’t have held enough sway for this anyway. “For this specifically? No. I can get one easy enough, though.”

  “No need,” Fuerza says, waving his hand dismissively. “If I’m not under warrant, then I can talk frankly without having to consider whether what I say can be used against me by the police. May I have your word that what we discuss will not be used in such a way?”

  I shake my head and smile. “You know I can’t promise that. If you’re the one pulling the strings in my case, then I’ll have no choice in how I use the information you give me.”

  “I see. Tell me, Detective, what sort of case are you working on?”

  I stand in silence for a moment, thinking through my response. If this were something on a bigger scale, I wouldn’t mention the specifics to Allen Fuerza or anyone else in the Underground unless I had to, but all things considered, I can’t see that it will hurt. “Missing dog.”

  Fuerza blinks, then, being the arrogant idiot that he is, bursts out laughing. “You came all this way to talk about Tapping, and you’re investigating someone’s missing pet?”

  “The person who took the dog was wearing Tapping Gloves,” I reiterate, and fix him with a stony glare. “Given the pictures of Mr. Young, it’s not a big leap of the imagination to assume that your organisation is involved. Given the ban on using the equipment without permission from the Kings, I’d hate to think that you’re trying to run some scam under the radar.”

  That stops Fuerza’s laughter dead in its tracks, and he lets out an angry sniff. “First of all, Detective, I don’t run scams . Second, even if I did, what use would I have for some random dog?”

  “You tell me. There are a lot of missing dogs out there right now, Mr. Fuerza.”

  New Hopeland’s number one wannabe crime lord taps his fingers irritably on the armrest of his chair. “No, I have not authorised any Tapping. Nor would I be so stupid as to do so without the Kings’ permission.”

  “Then perhaps you could tell me where to find Mr. Young?”

  “No, I don’t think that I can.”

  “Fine,” I reply and turn to leave. “I’ll be back with a warrant.”

  “Miss Tam,” he says, and I stop in my tracks, but don’t turn around. “Please understand my position here. Mr. Young’s actions hold the potential to have an adverse effect on me personally, and from what you have alluded to, there may be more within my organisation who are carrying out similar work. I will deal with this. Once I have spoken to those involved, I will either give you the information I have gathered, or I will hand over Mr. Young, in one piece and perfectly capable of being questioned. Does that seem fair?”

  I nod but keep facing the door, because that lets him know I view myself as holding all the cards here. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch within the next couple of hours.”

  ONCE I WAS home, figuring I could be in for a long wait, I made a start on tidying the “currently working” drawer in my bedroom filing cabinet. The term “currently working” has always been applied in a very loose sense with the items in there, as it’s rare for me to have too many cases on the go at once that would require any physical space, yet the drawer always remains packed out. I decided that, in keeping with the traditions of the drawer, I would also take a very loose approach to the term “cleaning.” While the vast majority of items therein could have been destroyed there and then, if not scanned and disposed of, it would feel too unfamiliar to have it empty. Instead, I set about putting the contents into some sort of order. Well, I used elastic bands to gather things from individual cases into single piles and chucked them back in in no particular order. Maybe when I finish the Kitsune case, I’ll get rid of one of the piles and replace it with the photos and prints I have scattered on the desk. Scattered, huh? I should probably band them up too before Bert decides to shred them like he did with the unsorted bill pile.

  True to his word, Fuerza gets in touch three hours after our meeting. That surprises me because, given his normal inep
titude, even a rapid check of his Tapping gear should have taken him all day to sort out. I agree to make my way down to Cartwright’s to collect the information, hoping desperately that he hasn’t done a rush job on this. Inaccurate information is worse than no information, after all; when your clue store is barren, you keep looking everywhere, but when it’s full of the wrong stuff, you look specifically in the wrong place.

  The staff of Cartwright’s remember me from my previous visit and I find myself spending some time deflecting questions about the case while they make me “another of those hazelnut things,” as I called it. In the end, I take the simple approach and tell them that I am following a lead and someone is going to meet up with me to provide some information that may help get Fish back. Wanting to avoid any unnecessary problems, I tell them very truthfully that I’m going to be meeting some nasty people and that if we’re interrupted, it may cause issues both for me and for them. I apologise for bringing such a situation to their place of business, but they’re very understanding. Allen Fuerza may be on the bottom rung of the criminal ladder, but that’s still a lot more dangerous than these folks are. It does make me wonder why he selected this place in particular, though.

  I take up my position at the table situated to the left of the main window, exactly as Fuerza had requested. That’s odd too, his insisting on a specific table. With his sudden increased speed, should I be worried about him taking out a hit on me or something? Nah, that’s just my old friend paranoia paying a visit .

  I’m busy thanking the waitress for my second latte when Sunglasses Paloma turns up carrying a thick leather bag. He nods to me when he enters the cafe and heads to the main counter. When he sits down opposite me, he has a cup of tea with him, with the bag still in the cup and a small metal pot of milk next to it on the saucer. “Personally, I prefer to pour the milk in before the hot water,” he says, carefully adding said milk to the drink and giving the cup a gentle stir with the small teaspoon already sticking out of the cup. “I find it far easier to judge the amount that way.”

  His movements are, much like they were back at Fuerza’s place, subtle and deliberate. I look him over. He appears to be in pretty good shape, with his muscular frame barely hidden beneath the suit. A thin scar peeks out from under the left side of his sunglasses, slightly discolouring the otherwise darkened tone of his skin. He takes the spoon out of the cup, dumps the teabag into the empty milk pot, and places the spoon gently down on the saucer before lifting the cup and taking a sip. It’s all very precise. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was ex-military, possibly even high ranking, at least on the action-facing end. But that would be crazy.

  “I’m surprised that you guys got things together so quickly,” I say, getting my concern out in the open.

  “Understandable, given Mr. Fuerza’s reputation,” he says, his deep voice neutral. “I can assure you, though, that I am perfectly capable of inspiring efficient working practices, regardless of the underlying quality of the staff.”

  “I’m getting that impression. But if you’re that good, why work for Fuerza?”

  His response comes in the form of another silent sip from his cup.

  Well, that’s a clear “you’re not getting any significant information out of me.” I raise my own mug to my mouth, less carefully than Sunglasses, and take a gulp, but keep my eyes on him as closely as I’m assuming he did with me from behind the darkened glass. “So, what did you find out?”

  “That Mr. Young did indeed use a Tapping Glove at the central theatre, precisely when you said he did. There have also been several other incidents of this happening. Including Mr. Young, the number totals around twenty of Mr. Fuerza’s staff, though there may be one or two others, and one or two of them may have been doing things on their own and the unauthorised use of Tapping Gloves is coincidental on their part.”

  “Jeez…that’s a lot to go through. So, is that’s what’s in the bag? The details of all of them?”

  “No. You won’t be getting the details of those who have been Tapping without Mr. Fuerza’s knowledge.”

  “I see,” I reply and raise my cup to my mouth. I don’t take a mouthful this time. The movement is a distraction to avoid him seeing my free hand start to slide to the edge of the table and down to my pocket.

  “I wouldn’t,” he says, and I stop still, a bead of sweat suddenly forming on my forehead. “I spotted your Familiar Unit on the roof when I came in. I can assure you of two things right now, Miss Tam. The first is that, should you try to summon it, I will kill you before it reaches you. The second is that, if you choose to behave in a rational manner, you will soon see there is no need to summon the machine. You are assuming that my not supplying the details of the Tappers means I am here to cause you harm, but that is not the case. I will be providing you with something far more useful.”

  “OK, I’ll bite.” I lower my cup. “I should warn you, though, if I call Bert, he will kill you, even if you get me first.”

  Sunglasses nods and takes another mouthful of tea. “There are things in motion that are of a direct detriment to Mr. Fuerza. He may be among the least respected of the underworld, but he is not without his secrets, Miss Tam. Tell me, how many people do you think it takes to learn a secret before it can become dangerous?”

  “Depends on the secret. Sometimes one person, sometimes many. If it’s the right sort of secret, no one knowing can be just as bad.”

  “In this case, one person who was not authorised to know certain things made a discovery on his own. The reason I am not giving you the information that you, logically, expected, is that they are acting in the manner they are because this particular individual is blackmailing them on the basis that they have been carrying out side deals without Mr. Fuerza’s blessing. Mr. Fuerza was already aware of this fact, but the deals were of no consequence to him, and so he did nothing. These individuals were not aware of this, however, and so the threat of him finding out was enough to cause them to carry out the orders of another. They were undoubtedly responsible for the recent rise in dognappings in the city, but that is, I hope you will agree, unimportant.”

  “The puppet master is more important in the grand scheme of things, that’s what you’re saying, right?” Sunglasses nods and I continue, “In terms of the overall end game, you’re right. For me personally, not so much. My job is to find my client’s dog. Given that you’ve obviously found out a lot more than you’re saying, can you at least tell me whether I’m likely to get the dog back alive?”

  “I believe so, yes. The information we have obtained has been through covert scanning by a small team of trusted individuals. As it stands, neither Mr. Fuerza nor myself have moved against those who are being blackmailed, though the time will come for us to do so. That in itself should ensure the safety of the missing dogs, certainly for the time being.”

  “Because if you move too soon, they may panic and do something stupid, eh?”

  “At which point, you would no doubt contact the police yourself, leading to a full investigation of Mr. Fuerza and his operations in relation to the matter. If we work together, however, we can ensure that not only do you achieve your goal, but that we achieve ours.”

  “And what is your goal, exactly?”

  “That, Miss Tam, is simple. The actions of the individual responsible for this situation constitute a direct challenge to Mr. Fuerza, and in particular, one of his more lucrative operations. Our aim is to resolve said conflict in a manner that is of benefit to Mr. Fuerza.”

  I don’t like this. It’s too sensible for Fuerza. For now, I’ll have to play along, though.

  “Okay, so what happens now?”

  Sunglasses pulls an envelope out of the bag and pushes it my way. “Open this later. It contains the details of the puppet master as you called him. This includes known locations where he is likely to hide, should that be required. If your primary aim is to recover the stolen dog, however, I recommend you do not use this information to track him down just yet.”<
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  “Then what do I do with it?”

  “You hold it in case things do not pan out in a preferential manner. Our recommendation is that you use the next piece of information you acquire to build a case for some police assistance. I hasten to add, though, Miss Tam, that what I am about to give you in addition to this is being provided only if you give your word that you will not personally target anyone but the person named within the envelope unless absolutely necessary. Though they have strayed, the puppets may yet prove to be salvageable assets. You would also be expected to ensure that, should you acquire their assistance as advised, the police are aware that Mr. Fuerza claims no responsibility for the actions of his staff in this instance.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What am I walking into here?”

  “Something unpleasant. Do we have your word?”

  I sigh. “Fine. Unless provoked or threatened, I will focus on whoever is in this envelope. And if I contact the PD, I’ll be sure to tell them what a good boy Allen Fuerza is being. Good enough?”

  “Indeed,” Sunglasses replies, and he stands up. “You are aware of course that the deal The Four Kings forged legally prevents me from supplying you with Tapping Gloves, or even telling you what I could learn from using one. In fact, I am myself legally required to take steps to ensure that the information I acquire from using such items is not given directly to any law enforcement agency or individual connected with one.”

  “Yeah. And?”

  Sunglasses doesn’t respond. He simply walks to the counter and asks to borrow a pen, then returns to our table. He opens the leather bag, pulls out a pair of Tapper Gloves, and slips them on. Once they power up, he taps the fingertips of the reading gloves under the table and says, “The pulse interferes with small electronic devices, so taking a photograph of the details on the display panel is impossible. It is a necessary security measure, but it provides some challenges.” He looks down at the small screen on the reader glove and makes a note of the details on a napkin. Once he’s sure that he’s copied it correctly, he removes the gloves, places them neatly in the bag, pulls his phone out, and takes a photo of the napkin. “Once the charge dies down, you can, of course, do what would have been more convenient to begin with if it didn’t open up the possibility of any item with a decent zoom being able to photograph the screen. If you were wondering, my own phone has been modified with a protective case to avoid the effects of the gloves, though that in itself required special permission from the Kings. Now, all that remains is to dispose of the manual copy.” He walks towards the door, tossing the napkin in the litter bin before he leaves.