The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four

by Daniel Lawlis

  Harold knew that soon it would be time to introduce himself to Richie because he could only provide the best possible protection to him if they knew and trusted one another. Richie would need to let Harold know his plans ahead of time; that way Harold could be sure to be present when his presence was most needed. Also, though he had never had an interest in business, he suspected Richie’s new line of work might make him appreciative of enhanced transportation.

  Chapter 23

  Knuckles had not been overly thrilled when, during his game of chess with Sir Charles, the latter had suggested that Knuckles have some of his men dress themselves in feces, go on a wild vandalism spree the likes of which one only saw in ridiculous plays or heard of in ludicrous tall tales, and shout repeatedly that they were looking for Smokeless Green. It had seemed to Knuckles that perhaps Sir Charles was seeing just how far he could push Knuckles. Perhaps he had brought Knuckles into his lavish home just so he could drive the point home that he and Knuckles were on two very different planes and that when Sir Charles asked him to do something he was to do it, even if it seemed foolhardy through and through.

  If he was trying to pull one over on Knuckles, this was something Knuckles was convinced he could show Sir Charles was a mistake, although he was hopeful not to have to, given that his instincts repeatedly told him despite the man’s gentile exterior he had a savage spirit and the physical prowess to unleash it.

  “I’ll pay you $50,000 falons upfront and $50,000 falons once the job is completed. How you divvy it up between your men is your business, not mine. However, it will be in my sole discretion whether this job is done as spectacularly as it needs to be. That may seem a bit much to ask, but that’s why the first half is being paid upfront and the overall price is so generous. I’m looking for newspaper coverage. I want this to be the talk of the city at every dinner table, restaurant table, and bar stool. Do these terms sound reasonable to you?”

  Knuckles found himself singularly grateful for his virtually perpetual scowl on his forehead because at this moment his eyes were wanting to bulge out of his skull. He was used to raking in a measly $30,000 falons per year after divvying out wages to all the people in his crew. Here, he was being offered more than three times that for a single job, and it wouldn’t have to be split up amongst any besides the ones actually participating in the job, something he figured could be done in about three groups of four. He did a little quick math in his head and figured that if he gave them $4,000 falons each that would still leave him with $50,000 falons roughly, which would be nearly double his yearly wage in a short time span.

  Sir Charles eyed him closely and could tell he was analyzing the offer strictly on practical grounds and appeared to be liking the results, forehead scowl notwithstanding.

  Rather than push Knuckles, Sir Charles proceeded to expose a caveat.

  “There is another thing you should consider, Mr. Hathers, before making your final decision” (and the way he said the word “final” caused a brief chill to go down Knuckles’ spine, something that didn’t happen every day or even every year for that matter), “which is that were any of your associates to be detained that would be a matter of very serious concern. Due to my relationships in the political and law enforcement community, it wouldn’t take long for me to learn whether they were talking. If that were to happen, I believe they would become . . . liabilities.”

  “My men don’t talk to cops, and especially not the ones I would choose for this job. But, you have my word, if any of them did, I would have them taken care of personally.”

  “Of course,” Sir Charles began with an apologetic tone. Shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyebrows calmly, he added, “If you were to permanently solve the problem within twenty-four hours I don’t think I’d feel the need to intervene.”

  Knuckles once again thanked heavens for the scowl that could survive the strongest urges to betray his internal emotions because once again he found his eyes wanting to bulge out of their sockets upon learning from Sir Charles what would be considered a suitable time frame for carrying out a murder of a suspect in state custody. Knuckles would have suggested something much longer—perhaps a week—and found himself grateful he had kept his mouth shut, rather than revealing his limited capabilities compared to those of this savage gentleman.

  “If,” Sir Charles continued, “the problem were not fixed within twenty-four hours I would ensure it were done, but I would have to deduct $10,000 falons for each mouth I had to have silenced. If that amount exceeded $50,000 falons, then I guess we’d have a little debt issue to work out.”

  Knuckles was glad Sir Charles said this matter-of-factly. He didn’t want to go to war with this man, but he wasn’t about to let himself be threatened by anybody.

  Knuckles reached across the table with a hand extended. “It’ll be done within a week.”

  Sir Charles looked at him in the eye closely and then shook his hand. He then took out a leather bag, handed it to Knuckles, and said, “Count it, if it pleases you.”

  Knuckles didn’t want to flat-out insult Sir Charles, so he didn’t go through the $100 falon bills one by one, but he did poke around a bit, as this was more money than he had ever held in his hands at once. Once he was convinced there were $50,000 falons in the leather bag he was carrying, he closed it, looked at Sir Charles, and nodded approvingly.

  “Many men in your position would have demanded they know the bigger picture. But that’s what I like so much about you, Mr. Hathers—you no doubt wonder about the bigger picture, but you content yourself with the information you need to know for the job at hand. That’s a good business quality to have, and I can assure you it is a mandatory one for any long-term business relationship I maintain. So, for now, let me just tell you that if your associates perform well on this project, you will most likely be getting a whole heck of a lot more than just the $50,000 falons I promised you.

  “A whole new world of business is about to open, the likes of which this republic has never seen before. It is going to turn the world upside down and inside out. Stick with me, Mr. Hathers, and you’re going to become a wealthy man.”

  Knuckles was no fool, and as soon as he saw the bag full of $100 falon bills he realized something much bigger had to be at stake in order for Sir Charles to be paying this kind of money for a gang of toughs to go wreck some stores. Hell, wrecking stores was something they did at least once every couple months with their existing “customers,” and for those who were still in need of extra convincing that it would be wise to pay him and his gang protection money, wrecking stores was at least a weekly occurrence.

  Now, all of a sudden, Knuckles was going to be pocketing almost double a year’s pay after deducting for associate wages just to go do something that was part of their normal line of work. But this was different. They were used to going after businesses in parts of town policemen didn’t like to spend too much time in. This was going to be in a plush shopping district full of gentlemen and ladies. The police presence was sure to be higher. Thus, so was the risk.

  So, he had to ask himself what Sir Charles or Sir Charles’ bosses—if he had bosses—had to gain from this. The thought occurred to Knuckles that perhaps the idea was to make the current business owners move out, due to fear, as a result of which new business owners—who would, no doubt, be associates of Sir Charles—could come in and take over. Knuckles didn’t waste too long analyzing it because he was more a man of action than thought. He also figured there were too many unknown variables for it to be worth his time looking into the bigger picture. After all, he didn’t know anything about business beyond his small slice of the town, although he intended to change that in a major way.

  As for now, $50,000 falons and the promise of a second dose for a job well done seemed to him like a good enough reason to proceed with the job, and he figured he was going to have enough on his hands choosing the right men to do it. He knew if he screwed this up, he could kiss big contracts like this goodbye, and he would be doomed t
o working like a slave just to collect peanuts in protection money. This was an opportunity he wasn’t about to miss.

  Chapter 24

  Knuckles couldn’t have been prouder of his men when he saw the headlines pile on top of one another about the rash of vandalism sprees and crime in wealthiest parts of the city, especially since not even one of them had been arrested. The focus didn’t seem to be on finding the perpetrators but rather what to do about this terrible substance that had caused them to act so wildly in the first place.

  He had gone into his next meeting with Sir Charles expecting, in the best-case scenario, to be told that things were looking good but that at least a few more months would be needed to assess the effects of the vandalism. Instead, Knuckles was met with a grinning Sir Charles, who not only handed him over the other $50,000 falons promised but passed him another $10,000 and told him, “Don’t tell your men about this one; this one’s a bonus to the mastermind, which is you, my friend,” and then he had immediately had his servants bring one of his oldest bottles of wine to celebrate over quite a few games of chess.

  Knuckles had been so focused on the job itself he had almost forgotten about what was possibly causing such big money to be behind a series of vandalistic acts, but when Sir Charles went ahead and laid it all out right on the table, Knuckles began thinking more about the newspaper headlines’ focus on Smokeless Green, and he started to suspect he was wrong that this was about scaring off the current owners so that new owners could squeeze in.

  “Mr. Hathers,” Sir Charles began, putting a little Smokeless Green on the table, “what right now costs little more than ordinary tobacco will soon make gold seem like a common pebble. I have certain contacts right now that have told me that due to the alarming side effects of this substance it is soon going to be made illegal by our wise, noble senators. As you already know, this stuff has already almost replaced alcohol in terms of its widespread usage, and people are going to want it even more once they are told they can’t have it. Whoever can supply that need will make a fortune.”

  This all seemed rather silly to Knuckles. After all, if this stuff became illegal, wouldn’t people prefer to just go back to getting drunk like they used to? Even if it was a little more exciting than alcohol (he himself had not tried Smokeless Green yet), would people really be willing to pay that much extra and risk going to prison? It just didn’t seem to add up. But what Knuckles lacked in economic instinct he more than made up for with his instincts regarding Sir Charles, and he knew that Sir Charles was not a person to come up with fanciful ideas. Knuckles found himself becoming more and more convinced as he listened.

  He supposed it was just going to be a matter of wait and see.

  Chapter 25

  It might be expected that Knuckles would share the shock many felt that the law banning Smokeless Green was ever enacted in the first place, given its dubious constitutionality. Alas, while Knuckles lacked little in the way of avarice and ambition, he lacked a great deal when it came to intellectual curiosity.

  Legal matters held little interest to a man whose first job (at age eight) was to alert pickpockets to the approach of police by whistling a prearranged song, then moving up the criminal ladder to full-fledged pickpocket, and ultimately arriving at the helm of a small-time group of hoods that put rattlesnakes inside businesses who refused to pay extortion money. His whole life had been spent spitting on the law; thus, to worry himself about the tedious rules by which these laws came into place seemed to him as necessary as the study of botany would to a lumberjack.

  That being said, Knuckles was quite enthusiastic when he saw the news in the paper that the substance had been banned, and he hoped he would receive a visit from Sir Charles soon. He knew better than to go to his house unannounced.

  He was not to be disappointed. He was not even completely done with the article on the first page when he heard the familiar knock of Sir Charles. He sprang to his feet, not waiting for one of his toadies to answer the door, and sprinted towards it.

  He opened the door with a beaming smile on his face, and for the first time he saw a genuinely warm smile on Sir Charles’ face, not the frosty polite smile he usually wore. Even his eyes smiled, though he sensed something vicious inside them.

  “May we talk in private, Mr. Hathers?”

  Knuckles was thrilled at the fact there was some news Sir Charles had brought besides what was already printed all over the papers; otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked to talk in private.

  Once they were alone in Knuckles’ office, Sir Charles began, “All the major retailers are frantically turning over their Smokeless Green to the police or sending it back right away to their inventory suppliers to let them deal with the mess. None of them want to take the chance of having any of it on their premises, much less on their shelves. And take my word for it—any retailer brash enough to risk selling this stuff up until the criminal penalties kick in next month won’t even have the opportunity. Their shelves will be empty of Smokeless Green by tomorrow, and there’s no way any major wholesaler is going to want to risk sending out inventory that is now contraband, regardless of the fact there’s a month before the criminal penalties kick in. It could destroy the company’s reputation, and product could be subject to police seizure regardless of the fact the criminal penalties haven’t begun yet.

  “Businesses are going to be kicking this stuff up the chain from which it came and will let them take the loss or bleed out money in attorneys’ fees challenging the law’s constitutionality under Article 8. What this means in simple terms is that no later than tomorrow, you could search far and wide here in the capital city and not find a single store carrying Smokeless Green openly. More distant towns and cities might take a few weeks to fall in line, but believe me—the days of going into a grocery store and picking up a bag of Smokeless Green along with your pipe tobacco are long gone.

  “Now, it’s just going to be a matter of what price those who still have this substance are going to ask for it.”

  As he said this, Sir Charles’ warm smile turned wolfish, and his eyes almost made Knuckles jump.

  Sir Charles calmly opened up his coat and removed a tightly compressed leather bag.

  “This here is a pound. I’d like to make you an offer: $6,400 falons right here, right now.”

  Had any man besides Sir Charles said this to Knuckles at this moment, he would have split the his nose open with a vicious uppercut. He knew darn well that as of yesterday a pound of Smokeless Green would have cost around $100 falons. Just who exactly did this gentleman take him for—a fool?

  But Knuckles had already decided that with regards to Sir Charles—for now at least—his instinct to trust the man was stronger than his instinct that this didn’t add up.

  Knuckles opened a drawer and started counting $100 falon bills. Once he had sixty-four in his hand, he calmly scooted them across the table.

  “Wise choice, Knuckles. I’ll give you a little free advice. Don’t sell it tomorrow. And don’t sell it the day after that. Keep your ear to the ground. Quicker than you can grow impatient you’ll learn that you can get at least $700 falons per ounce for this. You’ve just paid me $400 per ounce. That will be a seventy-five percent markup for you, which will give you a profit of $4,800 falons.

  “That might seem like small potatoes to you now compared to the very well-done and very dangerous job your fine men carried out under your guidance, but believe me—it will be much easier money.” And Sir Charles flashed an evil grin.

  Knuckles tried to smile but couldn’t. Fake smiles came as naturally to him as calligraphy to horses. His frown line budged a few millimeters (creating an even more disturbing scowl), but that was the best he could do.

  “I won’t keep you,” Sir Charles said. “I’m sure you have many pressing decisions to make. I know I do.”

  Knuckles escorted Sir Charles to the door. The moment it closed, and he was freed of Sir Charles’ menacing presence, he felt the balance of his instincts tip the opposit
e way. He felt sure he had been had. There was no way he could turn a profit on that green powder he’d just spent two months of pay on. He’d had it with that fancy-pants-wearing, fancy-cane-carrying, fancy-hat-sporting dandy.

  Then, the balance tipped back. This guy meant business. The aforementioned pants, cane, and hat now seemed to Knuckles like a carefully selected costume donned by a wolf on the hunt. The man had put his money on the line and his trust in Knuckles when he handed him a cool $50,000 falons for the first half of a job Knuckles would have probably done for a tenth of that amount. Then, he had not only paid the second half as promised but given him a $10,000 bonus as if it were a bottle of average wine.

  The more Knuckles thought about it, he felt that even in the worst-case scenario he was still coming out way on top just for the last job, regardless of whether the price of this stupid drug skyrocketed the way Sir Charles said it would.

  Well, he told himself, I’ll wait and see what happens with the price. If it doesn’t do what Fancy Hat says it will, he and I will just go back to our old agreement with protection money, and leave this speculative stuff to some other fools. Surely, he’d understand that. He seems to be reasonable.