The Storm Maker (10 page)

       Sayett
smiled and thought for a second. He took a long gulp of beer.

       “Sure,
risk and excitement go hand in hand,” Sayett said. “For me though it has become
rather routine  because I am a decades-long veteran of this work, but on the
other side from your father and his friends. I do like matching my wits with
foreign spy masters, that is what I do in SPASI. More than that, our work is our
duty to protect the Starfire Nation.”

       “Well,
looks like my father is here,” Dayett said nodding over to the parking lot.
Sayett turned around and saw a big, fat man in his early sixties dressed in
black suit and black pants walking towards them. His suit buttons were
unfastened, more likely they could not be fastened as he was not just fat, but
obese with a big round stomach. His face, too, was round with a bald, shiny
pate.

       “SPASI
Man, my men tell me you are here for a friendly talk.” He walked over to them.
“I take it you are not from the Counter-Syndicate Division of SPASI.”

       “I
am chief detective Sayett of the Counter-Imperial Division,” Sayett said.

       Duke
Ragfelvyk let lose a loud laugh. “I hope you don’t believe I have any
connections to the Narducat Empire; on the contrary if you need a few of my
boys to fight the Nardi’s, I am all for it.”

       “Appreciate
the offer,” Sayett laughed, “but happens I have been given a special case
outside of my division and I thought you could help me.”

       “Dayett,
we have to talk business here,” Duke said.

       “I
will be inside.” Dayett got up, waved to Sayett and walked into the house.

       “I
have kept my boy out of my business,” Duke said taking his son’s seat. He
grabbed a beer bottle, pulled open the cap and started gulping.

       “He
is a good boy,” Sayett said, “You should keep it that way.”

       “What
did you two talk about?” Duke asked.

       “Don’t
worry, I wasn’t fishing around for any conversations of yours he may have
overhead,” Sayett chuckled. “I just told him, that SPASI can make him a deal
after you. Keep a lot of the wealth, enjoy his life in peace.”

       “I
still got a good ten years left in me,” Duke laughed. “But you are right about
my son. My best man...do you know who it is?”

       “Saltvyk?”
Sayett asked. That was the name of Duke’s most feared hitman.

       “I
adopted Saltvyk when he was eight years old,” Duke said. “Both of his parents
died in the car crash and he was my son’s best friend. I raised him as my own;
whatever opportunities and rewards I offered my son, I offered to him as well.
He turned out to be much more like us: hard, quiet, grim, cold. My own son, on
the other hand, prefers luxuries and finer things in life. Saltvyk can take on
Shotgun Syk, but I worry my son is no match for Black Star.”

       Sayett
did not say anything. He focused on finishing his beer, the more the Duke
talked, the better it was.

       “So
what is this help that you need?” Duke asked, “and what would be in it for me?”

       “The
bank robberies over the last few months,” Sayett said. “I am looking for any
information that you might have. As one of the top two underworld bosses, there
are things you hear that even we at SPASI don’t. Let me hear anything about
those bank robberies.”

       “Did
you investigate Barryvk the buffoon? That old coot has gone senile,” Duke said half-jokingly.
“I hear he rants about random matters to folks.”

       “Mr.
Ragfelvyk, please do not attempt to use us to take care of your enemy. I have
already met Mr. Barryvk, and he was talking properly. Earlier you had asked me,
what was in it for you. I have to tell you there is a lot of political power
behind this case, if we don’t solve it, SPASI will have to turn the entire
underworld upside down. Many skeletons will fall out, even those not related to
these bank robbers.”

       “I
suppose you are right,” Duke said, “Even Barryvk the bozo wouldn’t attempt
daylight bank robberies with automatic rifles. Anyhow, we have not been
stepping on each other’s toes for a few years now and stay in our own
territories. I hate to disappoint you, however; we have had no dealings with
anybody that I remotely suspect to be part of this bank robbing syndicate.”

       “I
didn’t think you did,” Sayett said.

       “That’s
right,” Duke said. “I am mad about those bastards as well. Let them come into
Gold Harbor and try to rob a bank here, my boys will be there before the police
even get off their chairs, and do them in right then and there.”

       “I
would appreciate if you would just ask around your extensive contacts,” Sayett
said. “The bank robbers appear to be foreigners. They would need help from
folks to set themselves up in this country. Shady folks who can provide cash,
cars, automatics and hideouts. Folks that are known to you.”

       “Hmm…”
Duke caressed his chin for a few moments. “So far I have heard of nothing. But
I will tell you what; I will send Saltvyk himself to ask around. Those shady
folks quake at the thought of him showing up at their place. But you have got
to give me time for him to go around and shake a few words out of them.”

       “Call
me at SPASI,” Sayett said. “Ask for Sayett.”

       Sayett
took his leave and went to his car. As he drove out of Duke’s estate he felt
much more confident about solving this case. Between Mr. Barryvk and Duke
Ragfelvyk, they knew almost all the happenings in the Starfire underworld. Now
he decided to get back to the headquarters. He was eager to find out what
further progress his detectives had made while he was out on the road. With
that thought, he accelerated on to the national road leading to the King
Starryvk City.

Red
Beach was a small town a couple hours drive south of Gold Harbor right along
the western coast with approximately twenty thousand residents. It was a town
that was popular with tourists and beach goers. Far away from the bustle of
commercial shipping around Gold Harbor, the beaches of Red Beach provided a
quiet, serene, even secluded relaxation for visitors and vacationers. Its half
a dozen streets that led to the beach and the coast were dotted with seafood
restaurants, taverns, small shops, fishing and boating supplies stores and
lodges and inns. The crowds strolled these streets well into the night and many
ate and drank in public from the food cars that served the beaches with
refreshments, drinks and even whole meals.

       Tucked
away in the middle of one of the streets was Fogyett’s Dance Night: a
restaurant plus dance bar serving expensive fare and live dance music most
nights. It was an upscale place; however most of its patrons would not have
guessed that it was also a front for a small casino that its owner Fogyett ran
from a hidden room inside. The music bands passed around their hats for
donations after their songs and this allowed an opportunity for Fogyett to wash
his earnings from the gambling racket into his restaurant business and thus
legitimize it. Fogyett was a small time operator with eleven gunmen on his pay
and two other secret gambling dens. The other two were located roadside north
and south of Red Beach, and catered to truckers, salesmen and such and
generated small sums for him. This was his main operation where wealthy
tourists and townsfolk alike gambled with larger sums. His waiters would
discretely inquire into the habits of the tourists and those whom they found
interested would be quietly directed to the hidden casino room inside.

       As
the sun was setting, the queue was growing outside Fogyett’s Dance Night. The
food and music was quite good and Fogyett subsidized it out of his gambling
revenue to attract an affluent clientele. Two cars drove up from the opposite
sides and parked along the curb. Two men got out of each and they walked
towards this restaurant, meeting at the front door.

       The
first one walking in front was a young man wearing sunglasses and a dark blue
jacket over blue pants, his hair was parted down the middle and combed both
ways. He was the infamous hitman Saltvyk: Duke Ragfelvyk’s adopted son and his
best soldier. The other three with him were older men, big and muscular,
dressed in brown or gray suits, and loyal gunmen of Duke.

       They
sidestepped the queue all together and approached the door from the front to
where a tall and strong looking man stood outside the door. He folded his hands
and stepped in front of them.

       “You
can’t just walk in here, you have to stand in the line,” he said.

       “Ragfelvyk’s
men don’t stand in line,” Saltvyk said adjusting his sunglasses.

       The
door guard was taken aback. He looked at all four of them. The three men behind
Saltvyk were even bigger and more muscular than himself and looked as
intimidating with their sly smiles.

       “Go
on then,” he said standing back.

       “You
wait outside for us,” Saltvyk said to a man dressed in a brown suit who stood
besides the door guard. The remaining three walked inside.

       It
was dim inside. Most of the light came from the lit stage on the other side of
a large room where a band was playing music. Tables were arranged from the door
to the stage, with an empty area in between for dancing. The patrons and a few
people were there swaying to the music. Tables were lit by candlelight,
otherwise it was hard to see more than a few paces ahead.

       A
waitress walked up to Saltvyk but he and his two followers ignored her and
brushed her aside. They walked towards the side area that was elevated about
half a floor higher and had three closed doors. Saltvyk knew that one of them
was the entrance to the elicit gambling den; the other was where the money was
counted to be mixed with restaurant cash, and the third door was the office of
Fogyett. They climbed up the stairs and walked towards the third door where a
big, beefy man frowned at them and slipped his hand inside his suit to his
concealed pistol. Saltvyk’s two companions also put their hands inside their
suits on their concealed pistols.

       “This
is a private area. You can’t come in here?” he said.

       “Duke
sends us,” Saltvyk said.

       The
man swallowed hard and took his hand out of his suit. He stood back with alarm
on his face.

       “You
two wait here,” Saltvyk said to his men who stood outside the door and watched
Fogyett’s gunman while Saltvyk let himself in.

       “Who
the fuck are you?” asked a balding man in his early fifties who sat behind a
desk. He slammed his account book shut that recorded the elicit funds from his
operations.

       “Duke
says hello,” Saltvyk said. He pulled a chair out and sat down with one leg
relaxed on his other knee.

       Fogyett’s
facial expression changed from annoyance to supplication. He smiled, slightly
got up and sat back down again.

       “You
are that hitman, S…Sal…” Fogyett stuttered.

       “Saltvyk,
that’s my name.”

       “Look
I thought the monthly cut I sent to Duke for last month was proper and
reasonable,” Fogyett said while opening the top-right drawer of his desk. “But
I have ten, twenty-thousand stars more in cash here. You can take it if Duke
believes I underpaid him last time.”

       “You
got to be joking me,” Saltvyk said. “You think I am some penny-ante debt
collector? You think Duke would send me to settle few thousand stars worth of
accounts?”

       “I
am afraid not,” Fogyett said solemnly.

       “I
am here to get something, however it will cost you nothing,” Saltvyk said. “I
want information. Talk fast and I will be out of here fast.”

       “Go
ahead; what do you want to know?” Fogyett looked happier. He had heard of
Saltvyk and Duke sent him to crack the hardest of his enemies. The man was bad
news most of the time.

       “A
while back you called Duke with an illegal foreign currency conversion deal,”
Saltvyk said.

       “All
large foreign currency conversion deals over twenty-five thousand stars are
illegal without the permission of the Trade Control Board,” Fogyett smiled.
“That’s why we are in business to make money out of it.”

       Saltvyk
ignored him. “You had someone who was looking for five million stars and
willing to pay more of the foreign currency for it than the official exchange
rate,” Saltvyk said joining his fingers together. “We want as much information
as you have on those fellas.”

       “That
deal offer is long expired now,” Fogyett said.

       “Fuck
the deal; I want to know who was behind it,” Saltvyk said.

       “You
know I can’t tell you that,” Fogyett said. “If the word gets out that I reveal
my customers identities I would be out of the business.”

       “You
got to be joking me,” Saltvyk said. “You would be out of the business if Duke
wants you to. You don’t just owe money to him, but information as well.”

       Fogyett
squirmed but did not say anything; he took a quick glance at his still open
drawer.

       Saltvyk
took out his pistol and placed it on the desk and said, “You have two options,
Fogyett: either you can try to reach for that pistol that I know you keep in
that drawer and that you opened on the pretense of paying cash, or you can
talk, because I am going nowhere without knowing.”

       Fogyett
slammed the drawer shut with a loud bang. He did not want to get shot in some
misunderstanding. Along with being Duke’s adopted son, Saltvyk was the best pistol
marksman in the Starfirian underworld, and one of best pistol shooters in the
whole country. Matching pistols with him was to commit suicide. Fogyett raised
both of his hands in the air.

       “I
did not set out from my home to die,” he said, “so I guess I will have to talk.
But you have to promise that you will not tell anyone that I ratted out one of
my customers.”

       “You
got to be joking if you think Duke will talk.”

       “I
guess you are right, my secrets are safe with Duke,” Fogyett said. “So let me
start from the beginning. There were these foreign fellas, Ranxians I believe,
who somehow heard that I did discreet foreign cash conversion. It’s a nice side
business for me. I get a lot of foreign tourists, so I can easily dispose of
foreign currency to them and make a commission on it. In that deal, Duke would
have made nice ten percent almost instantly. What bank will give you that
return?”

       “And
how much would you have made? Twenty percent?” Saltvyk laughed. “What would
Duke do with so much foreign currency from a country like Ranx?”

       “Well
that was my problem as well,” Fogyett said. “I can generally dispose of ten
thousand to a hundred thousand worth of it easily amongst my foreign gamblers.
I have done more and will go up to a quarter million stars equivalent in
foreign currency for a fat commission. There are perhaps three or four
individuals in the underworld who can handle currency conversion of up to two
million stars. But five million!”

       “So
what happened?” Saltvyk asked.

       “There
is only one man in the whole country that can handle those large sums,” Fogyett
said leaning forward and speaking softly. “Duke knows him. He has done business
with him. You do as well.”

       “The
Broker?” Saltvyk wondered out aloud. “Gymyett Ryx?”

       “That’s
right,” Fogyett sat back and smiled. “That’s who I pointed them to. That’s all
I know. You will have to get more from him.”

       Saltvyk
thought for a second and then said, “That sounds reasonable.” He picked up his
pistol and stood up. “If I find out that you lied, next time I will let my
pistol do the talking. And don’t bother to tell the Broker that I am coming or
else I will come back here.”

       Fogyett
nodded his head and gave a great sigh of relief when Saltvyk left and slammed
the door shut behind him. Fogyett’s guard outside was sweating and he was
startled when he saw Saltvyk come out with the pistol in his hand.

       “Don’t
worry,” Saltvyk said, “I don’t have a silencer. You would have heard a loud
bang, if I had decided to off that bastard. But do get him some cold water and
yourself, too.”

       Saltvyk’s
men laughed as they followed him out of the restaurant where they picked up
their fourth companion, walked to their cars and drove away.

       Saltvyk
called Duke from the pay phone outside of his hotel lobby and Dayett picked it
up.

       “Hey,
it’s me. Is father there?” Saltvyk asked.

       “You
are not going to believe this, we lost the polo match,” Dayett said, “I ranted
at father as soon as I got back home for sending you away.”

       “Well
got to take care of the work first,” Saltvyk chuckled. “Next time I will be
there and we will beat them.”

       “Well
talk to him, he is pacing back and forth in the room,” Dayett handed the phone
to Duke.

       “Hey,
son, how is it going?” Duke asked.

       “Got
some information,” Saltvyk said.

       “Good,
Dayett comes home from the polo match and gives me an earful,” Duke laughed.
“You were their best player on the polo team. They missed you badly.”

       “He
told me,” Saltvyk said. “So listen to what Foggy told me,” and he told him of
his encounter with Fogyett and everything he had heard from him.

       “Hmm…”
said Duke

       “Do
you want me to go after the Broker?” Saltvyk asked.

       “Definitely,”
Duke said. “I called up a few contacts about this SPASI detective Sayett; he is
the head of an entire division, very powerful man.”

       “No
joke?”

       “No
joke. If we do a favor to a SPASI big shot like him, we can use it in the
future.”

       “Now
I have to ask you this,” Saltvyk said, “How far do you want me to go in
intimidating the Broker? He is a powerful player in the underworld and you do
deals with him.”

       “Well...”
Duke thought for a few seconds. “Go a reasonable distance; don’t hurt him, but
we do need that information.”

       “Another
matter, I will need a few more men,” Saltvyk said. “He has six gunmen guarding
him at all times.”

       “Where
do you want me to send them?” Duke asked

       “Send
them to the safe house we have outside Weststar,” Saltvyk said.

       Duke
said, “I will send a dozen men there.”

       Saltvyk
hung up the phone and walked back to his hotel room.

* * *

       A
big six-seater car drove up and parked a couple hundred feet from a car garage
beside the national road between King Starryvk City and the Korrwyn’s Junction.
The car garage was a front for the go-to car fence in this city, Toftar, who
wheeled and dealed in stolen cars and parts out of a large covered parking lot
behind his repair shop. His shop was located just outside the border of the
city to escape the jurisdiction of Korrwyn Junction’s town police and inside a
small town whose police didn’t have the personnel and experience to investigate
a big car stealing and fencing ring. There was a gas station some distance on
the opposite side of the road, but rest of the landscape was empty except for
the cars rushing on the national road.