The Storm Maker

by Sid K

  “Sure, I will drop you off,” Belvyk said, “I have nothing to do at the office except call prospects around the country.”

  “Is that how you got Relkyett?”

  “Oh yeah,” Belvyk said, “I know that the men who have been in the mountain army develop attachment to the mountains and the mountain living. I knew Mr. Relkyett from a friend of a friend, so I got his number and gave him a call.”

  “Well you got that right about the love of mountains in the hearts of us mountain warriors,” Sthykar said.

  They did not speak much afterwards as Belvyk turned their car back on the main road. They passed the airstrip where Sthykar had landed and drove on to the town where the land salesman kept his office.

  chapter 7 – the black star

  08/27/958

  Chief Detective Sayett took an exit from the national road and turned on a road leading to Forrestvyk. It was a small town, slightly off the way from the main, national road. The drive was very pleasant as the town was located in the middle of a dense forest and there were tall trees on both sides of the road with a little bit of snow on their leaves. Sayett drove through town and all the way down the center street towards the far north end of the town.

  He was going to meet the most powerful underworld don in the Starfire Nation: Barryvk the Black Star. Black Star, which had been Barryvk’s nickname in his younger days, he also adopted for his criminal syndicate which had operations in smuggling, gambling, racketeering and extortion. Black Star was the largest syndicate, and the only underworld syndicate in the Starfire Nation that had more than a hundred gunmen working for it. Yet, most people were unaware that it even existed. Starfire Nation had a very low crime rate and most people would have been surprised to know that there was a criminal syndicate such as Black Star in existence in their country.

  As Sayett turned on the street leading to Barryvk’s home, he passed a tall building which he knew was the headquarters of the local warrior class: the 543rd Reserve Army. When Mr. Barryvk had built his home here a couple of decades ago, there had been four armed attacks on his residence by gunmen of the rival syndicates. All of them had failed, but the town had been shaken. After the fourth attack, where more than twenty-five gunmen in cars shot it out with Barryvk’s own gunmen; the warrior class decided to relocate its headquarters from another town to the street leading to Barryvk’s home. Now at any time there were two hundred men with automatic rifles at the headquarters. This had stopped the attacks.

  As Sayett passed the reserve army’s building, he considered letting them know that he was going into Mr. Barryvk’s house, but then he decided against it and drove on.

  At the end of the street a circular, blue-colored cement wall, at least eight feet tall, surrounded Mr. Barryvk’s house. In the middle of the wall was a black gate made of thick steel bars spread at two-inch intervals and as tall as the wall itself. Sayett knew that this gate could withstand a head on crash of a big car. That was the purpose. It was guarded. Two men stood outside, one of them, holding a shotgun was on the right side of the gate; the other guard on the left side had nothing in his hand, but Sayett knew he would have a pistol inside his coat. There were three men inside, two on the right with rifles and the third on the left with a shotgun. Sayett drove to the gate and rolled down his window as the unarmed man on the left walked up to him.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” he asked Sayett.

  “I am here to meet Mr. Barryvk,” Sayett replied. Then he took out his SPASI badge and showed it to the man. The man extended his hand to see it and Sayett let him have it. He looked at it keenly and then handed it back to Sayett.

  “Do you have a Letter of Search, mister?” he asked.

  “No,” Sayett said, “But tell Mr. Barryvk I am here for a friendly talk, nothing concerning his business.”

  “Wait here,” the man said and went to converse with the men inside the gate.

  Sayett could not see but he could hear some words, apparently one of the men was talking on the phone inside the gate. He looked at the other man with a shotgun standing at the right of his car. He had lowered his shotgun somewhat and it was pointed in the general direction of his car. Sayett smiled at him, but the man stood there coldly staring at him. A couple of minutes later the first man came over to Sayett.

  “Mr. Barryvk will meet you,” he said and then turned to the other guards. “Let him pass, Boss approves.”

  The guards in the inside opened the huge gate, and Sayett slowly drove inside. A guardhouse was to his right, where five other gunmen stood with rifles and shotguns looking at his car. They were probably off-duty but had come out just to size up their visitor, Sayett thought.. He drove straight to the big mansion of Mr. Barryvk. A well-manicured lawn flanked the two lane road. The home itself was painted light blue just like the outside wall, a bit surprising given that these people called themselves the Black Star and Black was the color of their uniform. Apparently not for the house.

  At first sight Sayett figured that it was perhaps a forty bedroom house with many other rooms for recreation and entertainment. Mr. Barryvk always kept twenty to thirty gunmen to guard his residence and the guard house appeared to have no more than five rooms. Moreover, people from his syndicate and guests with their own bodyguards came to stay as well. The house itself appeared more like an old school fortress than a decorated mansion. It was four stories tall, but there were no windows on the bottom floor and only one door leading inside, guarded by a couple of riflemen. Above the door was a tall opening on the third floor and, sure enough, a gunman with rifle stood up there. Sayett parked his car right outside the door and got out. He looked up to where a handful of other gunmen stared down at him from the porches on the second, third and fourth floors. Clearly, the house was designed to provide protection against an armed charge.

  At the door, one of the gunmen opened it and said, “Mr. Barryvk is waiting for you in the main living room; make a right and go down the hallway.”

  Sayett nodded and walked inside. Strangely there was a shiny black wall facing him and a narrow corridor to either side. One man on each end with automatic rifles and sufficient ammunition could hold off tens of attackers indefinitely. Sayett laughed, they had left no stone unturned in fortifying Mr. Barryvk’s residence. He had no doubt that Black Star had automatic rifles as well, but they were too smart to keep them on their boss’s premises; perhaps hidden in safe houses out in the country and in forest cabins. He walked to the right and as the corridor ended he turned left into a large room with a marble floor and paintings on each side wall. Another room connected to it without any walls in between the two. This room was carpeted and had sofas and big chairs arranged for visitors. A large dining table stood to the left of sofas and there were a couple of doors, one leading back to an inner yard and one on the right perhaps to the kitchen.

  Sayett walked into this room and an old man got up from the middle sofa and gave him a wide gaping smile. He had only two teeth on the top and half dozen on the bottom and this gave his smile a sly appearance.

  “Mr. Barryvk, I am Chief Detective Sayett of SPASI,” Sayett said.

  “Haven’t seen you before,” Mr. Barryvk said.

  “I don’t work on the syndicates, haven’t for years,” Sayett said, “I wasn’t bluffing to your man just to meet you when I said I wasn’t here with regards to your business.”

  “Well, come take a seat,” Barryvk said and sat down himself.

  Sayett sat on the sofa to the right of where Barryvk was sitting. He unfastened his suit buttons and sat up straight. Barryvk, on the other hand, put one of his legs on the other and relaxed back into the cushion. He was a seventy-four years old man, had lost most of his teeth and almost all of his hair. Frail and lanky, with a smile that was more grandfatherly than sinister, it would have been hard to believe that this was the don of the most powerful underworld syndicate in the Starfire Nation. But he was.

  He wore a black sweater over black trousers and black leather shoes. Thi
s was unusual and had to do with his personal history. Starfirian men did not wear sweaters; they wore either full sleeve shirts or coats for colder times. Sweaters were worn in the Karx Nation with milder winters; that was where Barryvk had cut his teeth as a hit man in his youth and gotten his reputation.

  “Well, what will you have?” Barryvk asked with his usual smile. “Whiskey? Ale? Rum?”

  “Nothing, thank you,” Sayett said, “Let’s just talk.”

  “Don’t worry I am not going to drop a pill in your drink,” Barryvk said and burst out laughing.

  “Not funny,” Sayett said, although he smiled a bit but kept his head down and looked at the floor. “My headquarters knows I am here, and so do the boys up the road of the 543rd Reserve Army.” Neither fact was true, but Barryvk had no reason to believe it not to be.

  “At least have cold water.” Barryvk said.

  “Alright,” Sayett assented; he looked Barryvk in the face and smiled.

  Barryvk snapped his fingers and a man walked out of the door behind Sayett. Sayett was startled for a second and he realized he should have sat on the opposite sofa to watch the two doors; nevertheless it was just a well-dressed house staffer.

  “Get our guest a glass of water with ice,” Barryvk said. The man nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

  “Mr. Barryvk…” Sayett said and then waited for a few moments to let the words hang in the air and then spoke slowly and deliberately, “Now SPASI has taken it easy on you because we would rather use our resources to deal with enemy spies and saboteurs. And for that you promised us to keep violence away—especially the armed kind—from the civilians.” He waited a few moments again and then shook his head. “What is going on here?”

  “We have kept our end of the bargain,” Barryvk said and leaned forward with a serious expression. “What is troubling you?”

  The house staffer brought an icy glass of water, which Sayett drank with a few gulps. He set the glass down on the table in front of him.

  “Mr. Barryvk…” Sayett looked up at the ceiling for a couple of moments, “Assault on banks with automatic rifles, death of policemen, guards and even a few bystanders.” Sayett looked at him now. “These are not what constitute discretion in my book.”

  “Now you just wait a minute,” Barryvk frowned and moved forward on the sofa, sitting just on the edge, “I know exactly what you are referring to. We had nothing to do with those bank robberies; the newspapers even said that they were foreign saboteurs. We don’t hire foreigners in Black Star, and we don’t kill policemen and civilians. And damn I would risk it all for the amount of money that is pocket change to me.” He gave a firm nod and sat back into the sofa again.

  “Mr. Barryvk, I did not point my finger at you,” Sayett said. “Otherwise I would be here with a hundred SPASI guards, but I find it hard to believe you would let a new yahoo syndicate walk into Starfire underworld and carry on so brashly. You know things, you hear things, things that even SPASI doesn’t hear. All I ask is that you let us hear a little bit about these new fellas on the block.”

  “Well, I am myself angry at these bastards...walking into our country, openly stirring up trouble like that. If I knew who these rat fellas were, I would send my toughest man, Shotgun Syk, with a few good sharpshooters to put them into their place—twelve feet under snow.”

  Twelve feet under snow. Sayett smiled at the famous historical expression. He had also never believed Black Star had anything to do with the bank robberies, but now he had gotten Barryvk angry at them for bringing attention to him. This could have beneficial results.

  “Mr. Barryvk, please let us handle them,” Sayett asked, “If you hear any rumblings below ground, call SPASI and ask for me, Sayett,” he said. “If any of your boys have gotten in trouble recently, I have great pull in SPASI as an old timer Chief Detective.”

  “I have been asking around myself just out of curiosity,” Barryvk said, “But now I am definitely going to try to get something for you,” he said.

  “Well that’s all I ask,” Sayett said and got up.

  Barryvk also got up and said, “Let me walk you to your car.” They did not speak further and walked side by side to the door and outside. The guards standing outside stiffened up seeing their boss. Sayett walked over to his car and opened the door.

  “I will try to have something for you in a week,” Barryvk said.

  “Appreciate,” Sayett said with a smile. He got into the car.

  “Take care SPASI Man,” Mr. Barryvk said with his big grin on his face.

  Sayett nodded, then started his engine and drove off towards the gates. The guards had already opened them and Sayett turned right on the road and then sped off towards the national road.

  It was true, what he had told Mr. Barryvk about SPASI having taken a hands off approach to him these last few years. SPASI and the Starfirian leaders had decided that imperial spies of the Narducat Empire were the biggest danger to their country and had to get SPASI’s top priority. Keeping with this SPASI had concentrated its resources and its best detectives on the Counter-Imperial and Counter-Spying Divisions. Mr. Barryvk furthermore was a wily, cunning and formidable opponent. A patient man, he waited for the right moment for the opportunity, he listened to his lawyers, carefully planned his operations and put as much distance between the lower ranks of the grunts and the gunmen and the Black Star leadership with him at the top. Collecting enough evidence to convict Mr. Barryvk and his top cohorts in a court would have required SPASI to devote a large amount of time and resources that it couldn’t afford to right now. SPASI figured, Mr. Barryvk was about to croak anytime now—he was seventy four and the average life years for a Starfirian man were seventy two—so might as well wait out till he croaked.

  However, there was another reason why the SPASI did not crack down on Black Star, the reason that was not acknowledged publicly outside the SPASI. Black Star had more to offer to SPASI besides just the rumblings of the Starfirian underworld. Mr. Barryvk had connections to dons in many countries’ underworlds. He had served as a middleman many times, arranging for SPASI spies to be set up in foreign countries with the help of foreign dons and in exchange SPASI provided them with arms, counter-surveillance tools and the likes. This was an arrangement that benefitted SPASI a lot and it was as big a reason why it took it ‘easy’ on Black Star.

  Sayett just hoped that Mr. Barryvk would come through on his promise for some information, but if not, there was already another line of inquiry that he was looking to explore.

  chapter 8 – gold harbor

  08/30/958

  Chief Detective Sayett had been driving hard and fast since early morning, hoping to make it to Gold Harbor before the evening. He had gotten up real early and left the hotel in a hurry because he knew that Duke Ragfelvyk kept odd hours, took his days off while starting his work in the evening and reaching late into the night. He wouldn’t be able to catch him at his workplace unless he reached there early, preferably in the afternoon itself.

  Duke Ragfelvyk was the undisputed boss of the Gold Harbor underworld and the only man whose syndicate was a rival to the Black Star run by Mr. Barryvk. SPASI files showed that it had at least seventy-three gunmen on hire making it the only underworld syndicate anywhere close to the power and reach of the Black Star with its more than a hundred gunmen. There were no other syndicates in the Starfirian underworld that had more than thirty-odd gunmen on payroll and these two essentially controlled the majority of the organized criminal activity. If there was one man that had information on these bank robberies that Mr. Barryvk didn’t, then it was the Duke.

  As Sayett drove closer to the Gold Harbor he came across a big junction parting the national road into two forks, the southern fork went to Southstar while the northern one went to Gold Harbor. He took the northern fork and suddenly a spate of memories came gushing in.

  It was quite a long time ago when he was a young, unmarried detective in his twenties. He had recently joined SPASI in its counter-smuggling
division, which is where it started off its new hires and had then been posted to Gold Harbor. Those were some days, Sayett thought, much more reckless, much more dangerous. They chased smugglers not only in the big city itself, but down the coastline as well. He had been in some wild shootouts with the smugglers. Now he was a better and more experienced marksman now and would never do the fighting he did back then. He and his fellow young detectives did not worry too much about getting shot in those days. They had no families to worry about, no reputations that they had built up to protect, and not much concern for the end goal of shutting down the smuggling syndicate. They let the seniors worry about the latter.

  In the daytime they would be running around trying to put together the clues. In evenings, however, they would wind down in a one of the beach side restaurants, usually a team of four or six of them. Gold Harbor and the coast had a great many seafood restaurants and they rarely ate in the same place twice. They would sit at the open tables, watching the sun set while their fish, crab, lobsters and so on were slow cooked over open fires. They drank strong ales out of big jars; they would take two long hours to finish the meal that could have been over in twenty minutes. Next day it would start all over again, they were out in the field, running around with their pistols and badges.

  Sayett almost felt nostalgic even though he had been glad for his promotion out of the counter-smuggling division. Smugglers were comparatively dull-witted and he had started to lose interest in tracking them down relatively early in his work life, finding it altogether much too easy. He liked matching wits with the foreign spies a lot more. He had been stuck with this bank robbery case due to the political influence of the rich bankers, but he intended to wrap it up as fast as he could and get back to running his own division.