Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck

by Steven Campbell

  “Yeah, but all the bosses that exist now couldn’t fit in a hundred Athletic Clubs. There’s too many. And you can’t keep them all straight. Before, there were maybe five counterfeiters. Now there’s, I don’t know, seventy-five people who ship canned meat. I need to keep track of all of them.”

  “I understand what you need. I’m saying make a giant Athletic Club. Organize it by block and by industry. Every crime. Every business. Every street. However many you need to encompass them all. Then all of those groups together will be your map.”

  “But why would they join?” I asked.

  “As owner of this restaurant I would join. Because I have to buy my ingredients, and pay my protection, and hire my cleaners and maintenance from the same groups as all my competitors. And if they are all in that club cutting deals and I’m not, I’m going to lose out.”

  “But there’s still no way to collect them together physically. I might know on paper they are in a club, but there’s no building big enough to house them all. How will they communicate and make deals and even schedule gang wars?”

  He pointed at me slowly. And missed. Was he blind too?

  But I looked where he was pointing and saw my Stair Boy standing behind me.

  “They are your representatives. They can send messages on behalf of club members. Set aside one day a month where each group meets in person, protected by your Kommilaire. Whether it be by block or by industry is your choice. And you can charge a fee for managing their affairs. This is good for their business. More importantly, it’s bad if they don’t participate.”

  I wasn’t sure about making my Kommilaire glorified couriers. But I suppose I already shook down bosses and businesses as it was. Now it would simply be scheduled.

  It was a pretty amazing idea, actually. Hundreds of gangs formed into coalitions formed into a super gang.

  “What do you call something like this?” I asked Tamshius.

  He didn’t even hesitate, as if he’d had this idea for years and years.

  “The Belvaille Confederation.”

  CHAPTER 54

  My feet hurt.

  I was standing waiting for the Boranjame Zeti to say something.

  I had cleared my voice numerous times, said hello numerous times, and even waved. Zeti just floated there, shimmering and rotating.

  His Po servants flipped and scuttled around like the building was on fire, but they always did that. In fact, I kept my eyes on the ceiling or floor because it was unsettling watching the Po and it was intimidating watching a Boranjame.

  “I would like to buy a stock,” Zeti finally said, with aid of his electronic speakers.

  “A what?”

  “A share. From the Boards.”

  Boranjame were weird. There was a city-wide panic and Zeti had demanded the presence of the chief law enforcer, master of elections, and tastemaker of fashion.

  All because he wanted to purchase something? I swallowed about half a million sarcastic responses.

  “Sure,” I said. “Seems appropriate. What do you want to buy?”

  “A share of aluminum.”

  “Alright. I’ll have one of my people do that, I guess. Will they know what it means?”

  “You shall purchase it,” Zeti interrupted. “Here are the required funds.”

  A Po dashed up and waved around some thumbs in my face so blindingly fast that I had to turn my head and close one eye.

  “Stop,” I complained.

  It slowed to merely a tornado and I took the clip of money. There appeared to be about 250 thumbs.

  “You will purchase this. At the Boards,” Zeti stated.

  “Yeah.” I looked at the money and I was thinking how I could tell a member of the most powerful race in the galaxy that I wasn’t an errand boy.

  But I just smiled.

  I had seen fights. I had seen riots. I had seen wars.

  But the Boards were different.

  There were thousands of people yelling and flailing at one another, but no one was dying. There was hardly any blood and it was rare for anyone to fall down.

  10,000 shares of this. 50,000 shares of that. Contracts. Puts. Closes. Guarantees. They used hand gestures. They used jargon. They traded paper and made notes. Some used whistles and clapped hands.

  It was as close as I’d ever seen to a lunatic asylum except there were no walls.

  Yet untold fortunes were washing around this gaggle of screamers. They flowed east up the block, then gushed back, then north, then swirled. If there was a pattern, it was unknowable to my feeble intellect.

  I stood there for two hours trying to understand what the hell was going on. I was perpetually ten minutes behind the action. Someone would say they were selling 100,000 aluminum and by the time I looked at him, he was selling something else. Or buying something else. How was I actually supposed to purchase an aluminum?

  The Board prices continually fluctuated and every once in a while I could match what was being said with what was listed. But it was rare.

  I was getting a headache and I was hungry and I couldn’t waste any more time here.

  “I would like to buy an aluminum,” I said to no one.

  It was like I wasn’t even there.

  “I would like to buy an aluminum.”

  I held up my 250 thumbs, hoping that might make me somehow legitimate. Might cut through all the arcane gestures and lingo so I could leave.

  “Aluminum,” I repeated.

  Several people around me seemed to have heard and they ceased their screaming and stared, their eyes wide.

  “I would like to buy an aluminum,” I said again.

  More and more people began to listen. As if I was giving a very profound speech. The pit of traders was still yelling and carrying on for the most part, but the tide of quiet was spreading. I was by far the biggest person there and I stood out easily.

  “Aluminum. I would like one.”

  Finally, the entire area around the Boards became almost still. There was murmuring and whispers and even the people changing the figures on the Boards stopped momentarily.

  “What did you say?” a man next to me asked. He was dressed in a fancy suit that was disheveled and he had a bloody nose and bloody lip.

  “I-I would like to buy an aluminum.”

  “An aluminum what?” another man asked, confused.

  “A…share? A share of aluminum?” Was I saying it wrong?

  Pandemonium!

  The traders exploded back into their original action except at three times the intensity. I heard copious calls for “aluminum” but it quickly returned to them trading everything. Now people were falling and were fighting. I saw a man getting kicked by another man until they swapped papers and then they attacked other people.

  The employees writing the Board figures couldn’t keep up.

  What had I done?

  “I couldn’t buy it,” I told Zeti, holding out the 250 thumbs. “I’m not really sure what happened, actually.”

  “You may keep it,” Zeti said.

  “Right. Uh, thanks.”

  I turned to go when:

  “And thank you, Supreme Kommilaire, Hank of Belvaille, Secretary of City. May you finally assist those who are depending upon you. And may you suffer no further betrayals.”

  “This is really starting to…” I began, angry.

  But then I thought better of it and simply left.

  http://www.belvaille.com/hlh3/boards.gif

  CHAPTER 55

  Another red envelope arrived for me.

  Refrain from directly buying and selling on the Boards. Your involvement makes traders believe there is a policy shift. You should move forward on your gang confederation.

  I read it numerous times even though there wasn’t much to read.

  So Garm was shadowing me perfectly. I had only tried to buy the aluminum yesterday. Literally hours ago. And I had proposed the Confederation to less than a dozen bosses so far.

  I was straining to figure out how sh
e knew everything I was doing from the top floor of City Hall. She must clearly have informants. But that also meant she was speaking to them. Regular people, interspersed through the city were updating Garm on my activities yet I hadn’t spoken with her in decades—other than through these damnable red envelopes.

  Should I ignore her? Go to the Boards and buy an aluminum and sell one just to spite her? I had already seen what happened and it wasn’t pretty. Now I knew the reason why.

  Had Zeti sent me to the Boards with the purpose of upsetting the market?

  It seemed too much of a coincidence. He wanted me to go personally and didn’t care I hadn’t succeeded. And his fourth cousin probably owned a planet-sized world-ship, so I can’t imagine a single share of aluminum from our little space station was that important to him.

  So what did Zeti get out of it?

  He had told me that he hoped I wasn’t betrayed again. And previously he said he hoped we weren’t shackled in despair for ten thousand years.

  I couldn’t do much with ten grand of shackles but betrayal was something I could comprehend. As far as I saw it, you couldn’t be betrayed by people you disliked. Betrayal meant they were people you trusted. Your friends.

  I didn’t have a lot of friends, really. Not good friends. I had a lot of acquaintances and people I was friendly with, but if it came down to it, they’d sell me out if the price was right. Maybe they’d feel bad about it later—when the money ran out—but probably not.

  MTB was a friend. Zadeck had been a friend. Rendrae, for all my making fun of him, was a friend. About a few dozen gang bosses and strong-arm thugs might be considered friends or close to friends. Garm had been a friend. Delovoa was probably my best friend, which was sad.

  Of all those, only Garm really had the power to betray me. Zadeck was dead. Rendrae had already proven he wasn’t capable. MTB I don’t think could even spell “betrayal.” Delovoa could betray me a thousand million ways, but just about all of them would have left me dead decades ago. Everyone else simply didn’t know enough about my operations to have much influence.

  But maybe I was putting too much emphasis on Zeti’s words. He was a big floating crystal. It was like trying to guess the motivation for a sentient sugar cube.

  Still, I had to get more information and I decided to use alternate sources.

  “Look who’s back,” aRj’in smiled. “I told you he’d come around. Didn’t I tell you?”

  We were in aRj’in’s club and he was seated at a table. Four of his men were in discreet corners of the room.

  His men stood there stony-faced, smart enough to not answer rhetorical questions from their boss. I was visiting alone, so none of my own Stair Boys would know about this operation.

  “So. I want to hire some of your men—” I started.

  “You do? Well, la-la-la. The Supreme Kommilaire and Big Secretary Guy wants to hire my men. From my gang. I should be flattered.”

  If anyone was going to betray me, it wasn’t a boss I was barely on speaking terms with. At least it wouldn’t be called betrayal.

  “You interested or not?”

  “Why can’t you have your pretty boy Kommilaire do it?” he asked.

  “I thought you said you don’t ask people what their reasons are when you lend them money.”

  “Yeah, and you convinced me that that wasn’t, uh,” and he waved his hand in the air looking for the right word. He looked to his men, who didn’t help. Finally back at me. “Wise.”

  “I need it because my men are busy.”

  “Busy, he says. And my men aren’t? You all aren’t busy?” he asked his thugs. “Should I fire you guys?”

  I wasn’t going to take a lot more of this. I think he got that vibe.

  “Fine, Hank, what do you want?”

  “Someone is hiring the feral kids. I want to know who and when,” I said.

  “What, are we going to go ask feral kids their business? They don’t even speak Colmarian. They’re vermin.”

  “No, just watch them. I was told they have some…handlers who go to the same spots and farm out jobs to them. Sometimes even knocking over gang businesses. Don’t try and attack or break it up, just tail them.”

  “Tail the ferals?”

  “No, I know where they are. Tail the buyers. The people hiring the feral kids.”

  “And what do I get for this? That’s a lot of time in a dangerous area. Ferals will tear your liver out and roast it on a fire for supper.”

  “It depends on what you can give me.”

  “What is the best? Assuming we give you gold?” he pushed.

  “Your brother. He’s on the Royal Wing. I can get him out,” I said.

  aRj’in lost his smile and was stunned.

  “Don’t never anyone leave Royal Wing,” he said slowly.

  “There’s always a first time.”

  He thought long about that.

  “What if I don’t want him to come out? Guaranteed,” aRj’in said in a quiet voice.

  Damn. I came here ready to offer this great boon. And he wants me to do the exact opposite. To be a crooked judge. I mean, no one had left the Royal Wing before, but I was now open to the idea.

  His brother was a standard murderer who had been caught too many times. Probably just a dumber version of aRj’in himself. Maybe he expected a power struggle if his brother was let out.

  Now that I made the leap to making Royal Wing sentences non-permanent, I wasn’t comfortable about negotiating away the life of someone based on the back dealing with a third party.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t have any plans on letting him out, but I don’t want to touch that.”

  “What’s the difference? You were going to let him out based on this job. I’m just saying don’t let him out based on this job.”

  Yeah, what was the difference?

  “I guess…leniency can be given. A second chance. But you can’t take it away just because we made an arrangement.”

  “What the holy hell are you talking about? He’s been in Royal Wing for seven years. The guy’s a cutthroat—and I mean that literally. He cuts throats. He should be dead and you’re talking about leniency?”

  “If he’s as bad as you say, he won’t be eligible for parole,” I said.

  “What’s that? ‘Parole?’ Are you making this stuff up?”

  “Yeah. Who else is there to make it up?” I said.

  aRj’in was shaking his head.

  “This city is a joke. Parole. Look, if you keep my brother in for another seven years, I’ll give you a dozen of my men. You can dress them up in frilly skirts and call them all Miss Chee-chee.”

  It would be so easy. I had the power to do all this. But those speeches I gave my Kommilaire had to mean something.

  “I can’t guarantee it. I can’t make those deals. Look, he might never get out. We haven’t made the criteria yet.”

  aRj’in jumped up, slamming his fists on the table.

  “So you come here asking my help and tell me you’re going to let out one of the craziest killers in Belvaille who has a personal vendetta against me? Is that how you do business?”

  Yeah, this wasn’t going well.

  “Isn’t there anything else you want? Besides thumbs. I’m poor,” I said. “Up until a few minutes ago, you wouldn’t have been negotiating about your brother.”

  “Up until a few minutes ago I didn’t know he was about to get out of the Royal Wing!”

  “He’s not! No one is. Put that out of your head.”

  “Easy for you to say, you didn’t help get him shipped away.”

  “Of course I did,” I said. “If he’s on the Royal Wing I had something to do with it.”

  “Yeah, but your fat neck is too thick to cut. He won’t have a problem with mine.”

  “What else do you want?”

  “I want my casino on Oelisht to be able to have fully-nude dealers and servers,” aRj’in stated quickly.

  A lot of establishments had nudes. Many more didn’t
because it just became a hassle to deal with lechers and the Kommilaire were far too short-staffed to bother. I couldn’t remember offhand why his casino wasn’t allowed to have them. Presumably it had been restricted for some reason.

  But since I couldn’t remember, it must not have been a huge reason.

  “Fine,” I said. “But you’re going to have to provide all the extra security when the pervs try and grope your dealers.”

  “I want it in writing,” aRj’in added.

  “Sure. Standard gang protocol.”

  CHAPTER 56

  “Hey, there’s a ship out there?” the controller said.

  “I just told you there was,” I answered, irritated.

  “It’s there,” he confirmed happily.

  “Is it military or not?”

  “Hey, Xoxis,” he called over his shoulder. “Take a look at this.”

  A fat man wearing a girdle walked over to the computer station. I was at the telescopes, tapping the resources of our questionable experts to find out if the Olmarr Republic really did have a warship sitting near Belvaille.

  The ship had contacted the city to remind us they were still out there. They demanded the return of their crew we had taken captive. I was now checking on how serious the claim might be.

  Xoxis leaned over the screens and looked at the data.

  “Is that a warship?” the young controller asked.

  “Hasn’t been a warship around here in thirty years at least,” he sniffed.

  “Doesn’t mean it isn’t one,” I said.

  “It’s…got a gun,” Xoxis said, squinting. “At least one. I’d guess it was a light destroyer.”

  “Could it blow up the city?” I asked.

  “Blow up the city?” they both asked, alarmed.

  I didn’t want to cause any more panic so I backtracked.

  “I’m just curious. How powerful are those guns? I mean, is it a cool ship?”

  “Oh. It could damage a non-military vessel for sure. Most ships nowadays are kind of a hodgepodge. The guns might not even work. There isn’t a lot of use for them.”

  “Right. I read about this,” the controller said. “In the past they could threaten smugglers, but there’s no such thing anymore. Since there’s no empire.”