Industry & Intrigue

by Ryan McCall

  He let her comment slide and pointed ahead. “I believe the assassin is in that building there.”

  Fiona looked in the direction he was pointing. It was a modest building, metallic and bland, like most of the others around. There were large glass windows on its sides, but they were so dirty she doubted they would be able to see anything through them. At the front was a large dark-green sign that read Asodon Fertilizer Manufacturing.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Tel. “We can’t charge in guns blazing. If she’s looking to kill someone, we’ll only spook her and she’ll escape. If it’s a front, we’ll be in a bigger shit-storm than I care to be.”

  Fiona looked at them both. She was the senior agent and they were eager for her to come up with something that wouldn’t get them killed. She didn’t want to go in without knowing what was inside, but they didn’t have the time to be cautious.

  “We go in,” she stated. Tel started to object but she put her hand up to silence him. “I know you don’t like it, but we don’t have much choice. We’re out of time. The director expects a report by sundown.” She brushed her hand against her gun holster. “We walk in casual and careful, but ready for anything. Kendrick ditch the device and bag, we need to be inconspicuous.”

  “I’m a gambler and a hustler, not a marksman,” complained Tel. “What in the Prophet’s name do you expect me to do if we come under attack? Throw cards and chips at them?”

  “You regularly win large sums of money in this city and you don’t know how to shoot?” Fiona had trouble believing him.

  “My winnings were at the casino, not a gutter-rat dice game. Longhaven may be rough, but the powerful criminals ensure their customers aren’t molested. The last gang that tried to rob a casino customer; it took weeks for the body parts to wash up from the canals. You’d be surprised how much a reputation counts for here, and I can defend myself fine from muggers.” In the blink of an eye his hand had pulled up a long dagger and aimed it at her throat.

  Fiona stared at him hard and slowly said, “Get that away from my throat.” His eyes flicked downwards to see that she had her revolver out, the barrel an inch away from his groin. He smirked and withdrew the dagger, putting it back under his shirt.

  “But this is the Arm we’re talking about here, not common street thugs,” he said. “They’re the most well-trained killers in the world, each with their own specialized tactics. Guns, sword-play, poison, even bare fists; whatever is their chosen weapon, they make themselves masters of it.”

  He’s right she thought. He’s as stealthy as a cat, but in a proper fight he won’t last.

  “Fine, Kendrick and I will go in.” She looked over at her partner and he nodded.

  “No problem,” he said. He hefted up a triple barreled sawn-off shotgun, the end resting on top his right hand. At least he could be counted on to shoot; Imperial Intelligence didn’t let anyone join who couldn’t pass their advanced shooting course.

  “Tel, you go around the back and be ready for anyone running out.”

  He scoffed. “Should I flop open my trousers and hope the sight of my cock will stop her in her tracks.”

  Fiona ignored his craven attitude. “Kendrick, give him the powder.”

  The other agent nodded and pulled out a blue leather bag. “Take it,” he said to the elf.

  Tel took it, eyeing the bag suspiciously. “What is it?” he asked, keeping it at arm’s length.

  “Flash powder,” explained Kendrick. “Anyone comes running out, throw it at their feet, the powder will do the rest.”

  “If you say so,” said Tel. “Give me time to find a position before you go in.” He moved off towards the building and she watched him walk out of sight down the side alley.

  Fiona and Kendrick approached the main doors, their guns hidden. She knocked lightly on the metal door. After several minutes without a response she tried the handle, it turned. She opened the door and walked inside.

  The air was full of the pungent smell of nitrates, if it was a front it was a well-crafted one. She crept forward, her hand at her holster, ready to draw if necessary. The sound of running liquid and movement of heavy machinery could be heard. The plant was operating. The corridor didn’t offer a view of the factory floor, it continued further down and turned left.

  Reaching the end, they came to a small desk with a balding man sitting at it. He was reading something, but looked up as they entered. He shifted his glasses that had been aimed at his book and slid them back so he could get a look at the two agents.

  “Yes? Can I help you?” he asked in a deep voice.

  “Let me handle this,” Fiona whispered to Kendrick and walked up to the desk.

  She spoke up confidently. “Sonya Daoch. I’m with the city inspection department. We’re doing one of our random checks.” She pulled out a small white card that had the details, Sonya Daoch, Longhaven Industrial Inspection Department.

  The man barely glanced at it before shrugging. “Through the door, cross the factory floor to Daceron’s office. Plant manager, he’s the one you want to see.” He went back to his book, paying them no further attention. Fiona relaxed and went through the next door. It opened out to the main part of the factory.

  “How did you know he’d let us through so easily?” asked Kendrick as they made their way past the vats and followed the marked red lines towards the offices.

  “I came prepared,” she replied. “Given Longhaven’s reputation for corruption, I thought it best to bring false identification for the city departments. It was far easier than I suspected. This city is a mess.”

  They passed workers who were tending to the various machines. At the far end, bags of fertilizer were filled up and packed into a separate storage space. A large loading bay with a set of wooden doors was next to the bags. The offices were up a set of metal stairs and nearby was a walkway that ran the length of the plant.

  Fiona carefully looked at everyone they passed, but couldn’t see the assassin. It looked to be exactly what the sign had said; a fertilizer factory. They didn’t have time to follow the assassin in the hope of her leading them to the Arm. She was going to have to adopt a more direct approach.

  The office was empty when they arrived, but she didn’t care, she was only using her false identity as an excuse to locate the assassin. The manager could be helpful in locating whoever didn’t fit in here.

  She tapped the shoulder of a nearby worker. “I’m looking for Daceron.” She held up her false card. The woman pointed at a tall man out in the middle of the walkway.

  “Wait here,” she said to Kendrick. “Be ready. If the assassin makes us, she’ll bolt.” He nodded and tapped the shotgun hidden under his cloak. She reached the manager, who was talking to someone else, but she interrupted him. “Daceron?”

  “Yes. I’m Recicus Daceron. Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I’m Sonya Daoch. From the city inspection department,” she said.

  “Ah, of course. I have what you’re after, come to my office.” He turned to the worker he had been talking to a moment ago. “I’ll be back once I take care of this.”

  As she saw the workers face, Fiona let her mask slip. It was the assassin! She looked different, dressed in factory clothes and her hair pulled back under a white work cap. But there was no doubting it was her.

  The woman must have seen something in her eyes, because she moved suddenly and grabbed Daceron. She slammed his head against the metal bar of the walkway, stunning him. Then in the time it took Fiona to draw her gun, she flung him over the side barrier and into an empty vat.

  Fiona trained her aim carefully, she couldn’t afford to kill this woman. They needed information from her. The assassin had her hand on a lever. Fiona guessed that it would release something on the manager.

  “Who are you?” snarled the woman.

  Fiona could see fury in her brown eyes. She had to tread carefully. In the corner of her eye, she could see the factory workers. They had stopped working when they notic
ed the confrontation.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. And since I have the gun, I’m the one who gets to ask questions. Now, how about you let go of that, turn around and put your hands behind your head. We keep it simple and it won’t have to get messier.”

  The woman smiled, her face full of sadistic malice. She flicked her fingers against the lever in her hand. “Oh, I think it does need to get messier. I have a contract to fulfill.”

  She pulled the lever. Fiona dropped her aim and rushed towards the panel. The assassin jumped down from the walkway and landed on the concrete floor. She ran towards the back of the plant.

  “Kendrick!” shouted Fiona, while she tried to figure out how to stop whatever process the woman had started. The lever didn’t go up, it was stuck in its downward position. She heard Daceron groan from the vat below. He was recovering from the blow he had received.

  Loud bells clanged and she heard moving liquid from the pipes above. “How do I stop this fucking thing!” she shouted. Workers were climbing up the stairs but they would be too late. The clanging bells grew louder and the liquid spilled out of two separate pipes and into the vat. The manager screamed as they mixed on top of him.

  Whatever the chemical reaction was, it gave off a lot of heat and a blast of steam came out of the vat. Fiona pulled her head back and thrust up her hands to protect her face. Daceron was still screaming and when she looked back, she could see his skin was peeling off. She winced and turned her head away. There was nothing more she could do for him.

  She ran back along the walkway, knocking the workers aside and sped down the stairs. Kendrick had gone, followed her order and chased the assassin. She grabbed one worker and held her gun in his face. She didn’t have time to play nice. “Where did they go?”

  He pointed towards the back with a shaking hand.

  She let him go and ran. She pushed open the door to the back of the plant. Then she stopped. Kendrick and Tel were standing several meters away. Slumped on the ground, was the assassin. She wasn’t moving and her skin was red as if burned.

  As she walked over to the two of them, Tel held out his hands. “That flash powder is brilliant. Worked exactly as Kendrick said, a simple matter of hitting the ground in front of her. Made a hell of bang.”

  “That’s the point,” said Kendrick. “The dust is designed to explode upon contact. It creates a burning flash, hence why her skin looks like a cooked lobster. But the damage is minimal and she should awaken within a few hours.”

  “Good,” said Fiona. She holstered her gun. “Tie her up and bring her over there.” She pointed at another factory with a condemned sign.

  “Then what?” asked Tel. Kendrick pulled out rope and bound the woman’s hands.

  “We’re going to get answers,” replied Fiona. “Anyway we must.”

  Chapter 57

  The last rays of sunlight were slowly fading on the horizon. A man in the resplendent black and red officer’s uniform of the Alkon Imperial Army stood at the entrance of his tent and watched it go down, enjoying the view. He sipped water, refreshing his thirsty throat. It had been a dry autumn and the recent weather pattern had pushed a dry wind through today.

  The three red saltires on his right shoulder indicated his official rank as general and the commander of the First Army of Alkos. It was a prestigious position, sought after by many high ranking generals. The First Army dated back to the reformation period under Emperor Sidcairn and since then had served as the elite vanguard of Alkon’s military might.

  His midnight black hair was cut short and he had a neatly trimmed beard. The beard helped to cover up the large burn scars that extended from his left cheek and jaw and around his neck.

  Ian Munro had certainly well-earned the position. He was young for a general, but he had a keen tactical mind, commanding units in Naikos and during the brief War of Quartz Bay in 1722, when he rose to prominence for defeating a superior force at the Battle of Deepmist Isle.

  The Silunders had been holed up in their fortress on the island, waiting for Munro’s force to come at them. Such a move was foolish, so he devised a different strategy.

  He sent a small party of men to scale the cliffs north of the fortress to take out the gun emplacements. Once that was done, the rest of his army ascended by the easier path and were in position to cut off the defenders supply lines. The Silunders had no choice but to send out troops to engage his force.

  While still outnumbering Ian’s force, the Silunder defenders were at the mercy of his cannons and had not been able to bring their own; their heavy guns could only be moved at a slow pace. The frontlines of the overconfident Silunders had been ripped to pieces and they had quickly scattered in a rout, after which Ian easily seized the fortress.

  Other commanders thought he took unnecessary risks, but that wasn’t true. He took small risks and relied heavily on intelligence to gain an advantage over the enemy. His victories only looked like risky maneuvers to conservative minds. And now he was the one in command of the First Army. It was too bad that all he could do with right now was to sit and wait.

  With the sun down, he went back into his tent and sat at his table, examining the map of the border. His army was currently camped around a valley entrance on the road between Sethain and the town of Rampart. He had been deployed here as a precautionary measure while the emperor negotiated with the Galrians. He was simply waiting for a message, something to tell him what to do, instead of twiddling his thumbs here.

  His second in command, Colonel Steven McGregor, walked into his tent. Steven commanded the First Infantry Division and the First and Second Artillery Regiments. He had a hot temper, but was good and loyal officer. He had a bright mane of red hair and was short, but had an imposing presence in spite of his height.

  “Any news?” asked Ian. He poured a mug of beer for the other man, who sat down opposite him.

  Steven shook his head before grabbing the mug and taking a large swill. He wiped his mouth and let out a belch. “Absolutely nothing,” he said. “I would’ve thought by sundown, we’d either be standing down or going to war.”

  “As did I,” replied Ian “The Galrians must be willing to accommodate than they acted.”

  That brought a laugh to Steven’s throat. “The Galrians accommodating? You mean like when they threatened to start a war over one of their precious military carriages? Or the time they moved half their cannon units from the east to the border forts in response to us conducting a training exercise.”

  He took another drink from the mug. “The Galrians have filled their military with nothing but paranoid, pig-fucking cunts. Not that surprising, from what I hear that’s the exact words to describe their king.” He laughed loudly.

  Steven always had a crude mouth, but most southerners were like that. Ian came from Caer Rinn where language of that sort was less socially acceptable. But since joining the army he had adjusted to all the differing people and cultures of Alkos. Southern officers usually felt entitled to a certain freedom to speak their minds as they saw fit.

  “Emperor Lawrence must have convinced them to back off from their ultimatum,” said Ian. “He has a sharp and keen mind, our emperor. Trust me, a few more days and the Galrians will back down. It’s this damned waiting around that I can’t stand.”

  “No, you’ve never been one for standing still have you?” said Steven. “Still it’s served you well. You know how to use your aggressiveness and eagerness for a fight to your advantage. Unlike some idiotic arsehole generals whose names are best left unsaid.”

  Ian detected emotion behind that insult. “There must be story behind that,” he said as he took a sip from his own mug. “Let me hear it. There’s nothing else to do in this boring valley.”

  The red haired man pondered for a second. “Alright sir, to stave off your boredom. I’ve served under two commanding officers who let their arrogance get in the way of good sense.”

  He took another drink, before letting go of the mug. It was empty. Ian refilled it,
while Steven carried on with his story, “The first was twenty years ago, when I received my first colonial rotation in Hidan. Fucked if I wasn’t excited as all hells. A young man coming from a family with long military history and I was going to be the first McGregor to serve on the new continent.

  Anyway, my first deployment was near Rothbria. Back then it was little more than a village with wooden stakes for a wall. The colonists had been attacked several times by Minakayan raiders. They had tracked them to their base further down the coast, but they didn’t have a large enough militia to take them on, so they requested our help.

  Our captain was a high-bred fuckwit from Daltilloch…you know I can’t even remember his name. Got promoted through his family connections. He was far too eager to confront the raiders. Whatever you may have heard about the nobility and code of honor of the Minakayan kitsune lords, it sure as hells doesn’t apply to their criminals and outcasts. They were brutal pirates, but far better organized than they had a right to be. The captain couldn’t see that though.

  So we made our way down the coast during the night. He hoped it would hide our presence. Fat fucking chance, they were following us offshore in a boat, so all it achieved was the opposite. It hid them from us. We get to this cove with several ships anchored in the bay and a small camp on the beach; none of the raiders in sight. The fucking idiot of a captain thought they were scared of us.

  He orders in a big charge at the camp. He’s right at the front yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs for the raiders to surrender. As soon as we hit the camp they ambushed us and cut him to pieces along with most of the other officers. Saw those raiders cut off the captain’s ears and take them as a trophy. I was lucky to only receive a graze on my shoulder. Spent a month as a captive until I was ransomed back during an exchange off the coast of Lothian.”

  Ian had known officers like that himself, though none of them had ever done anything so profoundly stupid as what Steven described. Steven took another swig of beer before continuing.