The Storm Maker (13 page)

On
the eleventh floor of the SPASI Headquarters in a corner room was Sayett’s
personal office. However, the investigation into the bank robberies was being
conducted out of one of the conference rooms in the center of that floor. As
she walked in, everyone looked at her and a few smiled. Sayett directed Slyntya
to a seat at the head of a large table. She took her seat, put her purse on the
table and looked around. There was a blackboard right in front of them and a
few small desks and chairs near the side walls. The table had a large map of
the Starfire Nation spread out in front of her, and the detectives sitting
around the table were poring over file folders.

       “This
is Constellar Slyntya,” Sayett said as he stood beside her chair. “She is from
the House of Banks and our political boss. Answer all her questions without
hesitation or hiding anything.”

       “Thanks,
Sayett,” she said with a wide smile and looked down the table. “I trust your
abilities. I will try to not get in the way.”

       “Let
me introduce them,” Sayett said. He pointed to the man on his left and said,
“This is senior detective Ulyett and in front of him...,” he indicated the man
directly across the table “...is senior detective Wyker. And those are junior
detectives Avyk, Dyktat, Lutvyk, Iyatt, Hympat and Gyptar,” he said nodding
towards the detectives at the front side of the table. They were all young men
in their twenties and smiled at Slyntya and she acknowledged them with a nod.

       “Where
is Zurryvk?” Sayett asked Wyker and said to Slyntya, “He is the third senior
detective and final member of this investigation team.”

       “The
man from Eye of Ranx arrived,” Wyker said, “Zurryvk took him to make an
international phone call back to his family at Ranx.”

       “Great,”
Sayett said, “We have everyone then.”

       “What
is Eye of Ranx?” Slyntya asked.

       “Our
SPASI’s equivalent in Ranx,” Sayett said, “their spy and detective department.
We had requested they send over someone experienced to help us since all the
bank robbers have been Ranx gunmen.”

       The
next moment the door behind of Sayett opened and senior detective Zurryvk enter
along with a Ranxian.

       “You
must be from the Eye of Ranx?” Sayett said. “Come on over and join us here at
the table for a moment.”

       The
man walked over to the table and stood at the left side of Sayett. He was a
tall and lanky man in his fifty’s, his face had wrinkles and his chin had
started sagging slightly, his eyes were big, deep and caved in, and his hair
had only slightly receded with one strand coming over his forehead.

       “I
am Lenax Tanx,” he said, “It is very unfortunate that gunmen from my country
are robbing your banks and I am here to help you catch them.”

       “Tell
us about your position Mr. Lenax, and also about the Ranx underworld,” Sayett
said.

       “I
am third from the top in Eye of Ranx,” Lenax said and then slightly chuckled.
“That sounds more impressive than it is. There are eighteen of us at that rank.
I work in the gangs department or what you call syndicates in Starfire Nation.
I used to be a field detective, put in my years and now work a desk job
collecting and archiving material on the Ranx underworld. That is why they sent
me; I have brought more than five thousand photographs of known gangsters and
gunmen who are not in jail and not dead.” He pointed to a stack of boxes that
had been piled up near a table beside the wall behind him.

       “How
does your underworld get its hands on automatic rifles?” Sayett asked him.

       “Unfortunately,”
Lenax hesitated a bit and then continued, “we have corruption in our army. Some
officers report a few Ranx rifles missing after the training exercises but they
actually sell them to the underworld.”

       “Alright,
Zurryvk you work with Lenax over at that table,” he pointed to the desk and
chairs near the stack of boxes of the photos. “Show him the pictures we have of
the dead robbers and compare them to the pictures that he brought with him.”

       Zurryvk
and Lenax went to the stack, grabbed the first box of photos and emptied it on
the desk.

       “I
train junior detectives alongside our investigation,” Sayett said to Slyntya
and then walked over to the blackboard in front of the table and picked up a
chalk.

       “Listen
up junior detectives,” he said to the young detectives sitting in front of the
table, “You were given training before you became a detective,” Sayett said,
“But we also teach you on the job. Let’s have a lesson,” he said and smiled at
them. They dropped their papers and pens, sat back in their seats and faced
him. Slyntya was also interested and she leaned forward. The two senior
detectives at the table continued their work.

       “Detective
work is all about pattern recognition,” Sayett said and then turned around and
wrote ‘Pattern Recognition
’
on the blackboard behind him. “And when it’s
not about pattern recognition, it is about finding missing pieces of the
puzzle.” He wrote ‘Missing Pieces of Puzzle’ on the board. “This investigation
is all about finding patterns,” he said, took an eraser and wiped off ‘Missing
Pieces of Puzzle’, leaving only the first phrase on it.

       “Alright,
juniors, Why is pattern recognition so important?”

       “Because
criminals leave behind patterns,” Hympat replied.

       “And
why is that?” Sayett asked.

       The
junior detectives hesitated then Lutvyk said, “Man is a creature of habit and
acting in habitual ways creates patterns.”

       “Right,”
Sayett said, “Now spies are trained to operate in a manner that will minimize
their patterns. Fortunately, we are dealing with criminals here and not spies.
We have other techniques for detecting spies. If you get assigned to a case
with spies, you will learn more about them. Now, tell me the patterns we have
noticed so far in this case.”

       “They
are all Ranxians,” Avyk blurted out quickly. A couple others chuckled.

       “An
obvious one,” Sayett said. “Nevertheless, it helps us narrow down our search.”

       “They
are robbing bank branches that were near the vicinity of the headquarters of
the local warrior class, but the headquarters had recently been relocated or
moved for renovations,” Dyktat said. “Those branches kept large amounts of cash
in their vault because they were counting on warrior protection.”

       “Great,”
Sayett said. “There are two patterns in what you spoke of. First, they are only
afraid of the warriors, but not bank guards or town police. That, along with
their automatic rifles and tactical fighting ability has convinced me that they
are no regular underworld gunmen but mercenaries, perhaps former Ranx soldiers.
Secondly, there is the question of why would anybody rich enough to hire men
like these and carry out well executed operations would bother robbing banks?
This is the other pattern. What did we talk about earlier?”

       “We
concluded that they are not after just money, but Starfirian money in
particular,” Iyatt said, “our currency.”

       “And
why did we conclude that?” Sayett asked.

       “Because
since they are a foreign syndicate they would not have access to Starfirian
currency,” Iyatt said. “They can apply to the Trade Control Board to exchange
currency, but posing as tourists they would only get chump sum. If they
pretended to be a company, they would be investigated by the Board before they
got permission to exchange large amounts of the Ranx currency for the
Starfirian currency. Then even if they are rich back in their home country,
they would still need a lot of stars to set up their operations here.”

       “Great,”
Sayett said, “Finally, the last pattern—”

       Sayett
was interrupted by the cacophonous ring of the phone on the table next to
senior detective Wyker. Wyker picked up the phone and conversed for a minute
and then hung it up.

       “That
was Chief Detective Tyft for you,” Wyker said to Sayett, “He said
Black Star
wants to talk.”

       “Great,”
Sayett said. “Let’s hold on to this lesson,” he said to the junior detectives,
threw the chalk on the table and hurried to the door. Before exiting he said,
“Tyft is head of our Counter-Syndicate Division. Looks like Mr. Barryvk
actually came through.”

       The
counter-syndicate division was located on the fifth floor. Sayett walked all
the way down the corridor to the corner office on the left, exactly below his
own office two floors above, and found Chief Detective Tyft sitting on his
table and holding the phone, with his hand over the speaker.

       “Mr.
Barryvk wants to talk to you,” he said and handed the phone to Sayett. He got
off of the table and sat down in his chair.

       “Mr.
Barryvk, this is Sayett; I came over to your home a few days ago.”

       “That’s
you,” Mr. Barryvk said, “I have been asking questions. Sending my man Syk to
various places to get some answers. He has been hearing whispers about a
foreign company. Might be related to these bank robbers of yours.”

       “Great,”
Sayett said, “What are these whispers?”

       “Speaking
of it, I almost forgot,” Mr. Barryvk lightly chuckled. “Three boys I know were
picked up by SPASI a while back. One of them is a son of a distant cousin of mine.
You know how we were in the younger days—reckless.”

       “Reckless
sure,” Sayett said, “but not lawless, at least not me, I don’t know about
you.”  Mr. Barryvk didn’t say anything. Sayett did not want to lose him, so
asked, “Alright, what were they booked for?”

       “Buying
some smuggled contraband,” Mr. Barryvk said.

       “Mr.
Barryvk hold on,” he said, “stay on the phone for a few. That is not my
division; I have to talk to Mr. Tyft.”

       Sayett
then turned to Tyft who was listening in on their phone conversation on another
receiver. Both of them covered the phone speakers with their hands.

       “As
if they were just some buyers,” Tyft laughed, “SPASI doesn’t bother with small
time violations like that; we would let town police deal with that. Those three
boys were running a smuggling operation. Wholesale buying from the smugglers
and sending it out to the contraband peddlers across the region.”

       “Have
they been convicted yet?” Sayett asked.

       “Not
yet, their trial is coming up, though,” Tyft said, “Sayett, you and I worked
together for a few years when you were in this division, you were even my boss
for half of that time. I trust you. How important is this information to you?”

       “Important
to me? Personally?” Sayett said. “Hardly. But important enough for Chief Yucker
to give me this case. Important enough that we have a Constellar overseeing our
investigation.”

       “Alright
then,” Tyft said. “I will order their release and cancel the booking.”

       “Grateful,”
Sayett said and then spoke into the phone. “Mr. Barryvk, we will let those
three go. Now, tell me what have you heard?”

       “About
a year back a company from Ranx wanted to exchange their currency for ours,
large amounts, which is against the law to do without permission,” Barryvk
said, “They were willing to pay a large premium for it. Well, we didn’t take
them up on the offer, because Ranx currency is no good except when dealing with
Ranx Nation’s companies because they are a small time player in world trade.
Besides we would have to break it up in small parts to avoid attention from the
trade board. So I said why bother with all the efforts for pocket change
profit.”

       “What
do you know about that company?” Sayett asked.

       “That
is what I knew before, but I hadn’t made a connection till you visited me, and
till I sent out Syk to find out more.”

       “I
hope he stayed within bounds,” Sayett said.

       “Within
reasonable bounds, but you know how Syk is.” Mr. Barryvk let out a rumble of
laughter.

       “So
tell me what Syk heard,” Sayett said.

       “Whispers
have it that some rich guy from Ranx paid off smugglers to sneak in men as well
as automatic rifles into our country,” Barryvk said, “I seem to remember there
was a rich guy from Ranx behind this company I talked about earlier.”

       “Well,
that’s kind of vague Mr. Barryvk,” Sayett said. The information was very
valuable and revealing even if incomplete, but he had to pretend to be
disappointed so he could get more out of Barryvk if he was hiding something.

       “It
doesn’t get more specific than this unless you want the company’s name and
address,” Mr. Barryvk said irritated, “and in that case, you resign and hire my
man Syk to be a SPASI detective.”

       Sayett
quickly suppressed a laugh,  but Tyft let out a couple of light chuckles.

       “That’s
all I have,” Mr. Barryvk said.