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Chapter 11 fork: Clandestine Cargo
Vector says, “I’ll be talking to Sir Briansworth, you guys won’t really need-”
“But we’ll have to listen to it,” Phyr interrupts him. “Fuck that. Let’s see what we can find at Vincent’s.”
Vector makes a sour face and says, “I feel like you don’t really appreciate my negotiation skills.”
“We appreciate you just fine,” Pannych says. “It’s Briansworth who we’re trying to avoid here. Every time that blowhard opens his stupid face-hole, I just wanna stab him.”
“Same,” Phyr says, “But more explodey. Let’s get going, we’re losing daylight.”
They reach Vincent’s house under cover of night, and see no sign of activity on the property. Phyr says, “Gee, if only somebody had thought to sack the place on the way to Leetsburg.”
Pannych says, “We didn’t know what we were looking for, then. We would’ve been casting about in the dark.”
“I think this is casting about in the dark,” Phyr retorts.
“I was being metaphorical. Now we are literally in the dark, which will help us; but we’re not metaphorically in the dark, which would’ve hindered our search. Anyway. Shall we?”
Phyr takes out his trap detector and they cautiously approach the house.
“No traps yet,” Phyr says tentatively as they near the wrought iron perimeter fence. Closer now, the three-story Tudor looms over them, windows on the top floor staring down at them from below sharply peaked roof segments.
“Constabulary Line: Do Not Cross,” Vector reads as he idly flicks the yellow tape across the tall barred gate.
“So,” Pannych says, staring up at the obstacle, “There’s one of those sealing stickers on the gate, but it’s got those pointy things up top. Climb over, or pick the lock?”
Phyr double-checks his trap detector, still reading nothing, and says, “Third option: Shape Metal!” He grasps a bar and pulls it effortlessly to one side, then pulls the adjacent bar the other way, making an opening through which even the half-giant can easily fit. “Just remind me to put that back how it was when we leave,” he says as he steps through.
The path to the house is wide and winding, the flora of the large front yard trimmed but allowed to grow more or less organically. “Cool topiary,” Pannych says as they pass through a circular area ringed by benches. The ornamental shrub at the center is ringed by a shallow pool with a geometric mosaic tiled beneath the clear water. As they pass the reflecting pool, a bend in the path conceals both the gate and the house from view momentarily. Soon, they come to a large, wide porch at the main entrance. They walk in silence, Phyr occasionally looking for traps.
“Another one of those sticker-seals,” Vector says as they near the door.
“Yeah, but this kind of architecture is easy to climb,” Pannych says. “Let’s look around for a balcony.”
They find one around the back, with a wrought-iron railing around the perimeter. Pannych takes out her grapnel and throws it up, but fails several Ranged rolls in a row. Grumbling a series of curses, she stows it and dons her shuko, then climbs right up the wall. She then secures the grapnel by hand, and tosses the rope down to her companions.
They ascend to find Pannych clambering around on the roof. “Dammit, this one’s sealed up, too,” Phyr says as he and Vector inspect the points of entry. “Windows locked up tight, and it’s all wood construction on the outside - I can’t get us in.”
Pannych’s head appears over a peak of the roof, and she says, “Hey, I found a hatch up here. Gimme a minute.” Vector smokes a cigarette and Phyr checks his gear, then a window opens and Pannych leans out. “Easy-peasy!”
Vector uses the flashlight on his rifle to light their way, but half-covers it with one hand to minimize the light visible from outside. As they wander through the house, he asks, “Hey, if this guy didn’t die at home, then why are they investigating his house?”
Pannych says, “He was a smuggler - or connected to smugglers, at least. They’re probably trying to see if they can find any leads.” They walk methodically room by room to get the layout, and there’s no sign of traps to be found. Pannych says, “Well, it’s pretty obvious that the focus of the investigation is his office - nowhere else has any yellow tape. Let’s head back there and see what we can find.”
As Vector stows his rifle, Pannych draw the blinds and Phyr lights a few candles around the office - just enough to read by. As they search, Phyr says, “How come there’s nothing in the basement?”
Pannych stops looking through the desk and says, “They definitely looked, but they probably didn’t find anything. I mean, if Vincent was this big-time smuggler guy and everybody knew it, but nobody could pin it on him, then he’d probably know better than to do cliché things like secret basement passages.”
“Sure,” says Phyr, “But then why would he hide things in his office?”
“Hide in plain sight,” Vector says from a file closet. “Isn’t that the ninja way?” Pannych nods and hums an mm-hmm.
“But that’s what I’m saying,” Phyr presses. “Wouldn’t it be obvious to hide in plain sight? So wouldn’t that be the thing he should avoid doing?”
Pannych sighs and balances her forehead on her fingertips. “Yeah, but how many levels deep do you wanna go? You can always say, ‘Well, they’ll look in the best place for sure, so that makes it the worst place’ - but then the next best place becomes the best, and so most obvious, and thus actually worst. And at any point, you can say, ‘I see where this is going, therefore the very worst place becomes the best place, because it’s the last one!’ And round & round we go. When does it stop?”
“Dunno,” Phyr says, toeing at a box of files. “Maybe don’t do crimes?” Pannych rolls her eyes and gets back to work.
Vector asks, “Wouldn’t it be best to just have something that the authorities wouldn’t recognize, or would think is something else when they saw it?”
“Yes,” Pannych says, mildly frustrated, “That’s what ‘hiding in plain sight’ means. It doesn’t mean putting your Super Secret Smuggler Shit in the middle of the entry hall, that’s ‘Refuge in Audacity.’ ‘Hiding in plain sight’ means disguising stuff so it’ll be overlooked.”
Browsing the bookcase, Phyr says, “So a book on cryptography that has your secret code in it would be Refuge in Audacity?”
“Right,” Pannych says.
Vector rifles through the wastebasket and says, “And last year’s day planner in the trash would be hiding in plain sight?”
“Probably,” Pannych sighs.
Phyr drops a book on the desk, titled Cryptography: History and Methodology. Vector drops another book next to it, this one called 2000 Datebook.
“OK, promising start,” Pannych says, and she flips through the cryptography book. “Hmm - there’s writing in here, but it’s just the sample exercises. Let me see… OK, that one checks out… hmm… this one’s good…” She trails off and starts flipping back and forth more hurriedly. Vector starts looking through the old datebook, and Phyr goes back to poking around the office.
“Hey, isn’t there a current datebook anywhere,” Phyr asks.
“That would’ve definitely been taken, as well as any coded transaction log,” Vector says. Pannych nods silently.
“Hmph. I guess I just wish we found a cool secret passage,” Phyr mutters. He kicks the corner of a bookcase, looks at it hopefully for a second, then sighs and starts looking under things. Pannych grabs a pencil off the desk and a piece of paper out of the wastebasket, and starts writing things down. “You got something,” Phyr asks.
“Maybe. Just a hunch right now.”
“This is just a bunch of businesses where he made or received deliveries,” Vector says. “Some days it’s just one, others it’s half a dozen. Nothing spells anything out with first letters or anything, there’s nothing really out-of-place-looking. I think this might just be an old datebook.”
“But why would he just be throwing it out now, in June,” Phyr asks.
“Because he’s not,” Pannych says. “Vector, circle these dates, would you?” She reads off a list of a dozen dates as Vector flips through the planner. When she finishes, Vector says,
“Those seem to just be random dates - nothing really stands out about them.”
“OK, what about these dates?” She lists a dozen more.
“Hey,” Vector says, “Those all have one visit each, and it’s a different client each time. This could be something!”
“So you guys were both right,” Pannych says. “If I’m also right, then it’s a two-part key - on some of these exercises, there’s a number struck through. They’re in the middle of his work, but mathematically out of place, like not even plausibly an error from the work he was doing - but they could all be dates! And I also noticed that the pages with the strikethroughs never end in two digits higher than 31, so I thought they could also be dates. So one part of the key is probably used with the previous year’s planner, and the other part with the current year’s, and he just leapfrogs them back and forth. Probably. Maybe. Look, it’s something to go on, right?”
Phyr yawns and says, “Yeah, but tomorrow. I am tapped out.”
Pannych yawns after he does, and then Vector does, too. Vector says, “Yeah, it’s friggin’ late. I’ma find some place to crash.”
Pannych makes a face and says, “What? Don’t you think it’s a little macabre to sleep in a dead guy’s house?”
“It’s not like he died in the house,” Vector says. “He was murdered at the crossroads, and we’re just catching some Zs. What’s the big deal?”
“Phyr’s the guy who killed him!”
Phyr says, “Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch!”
Vector double-takes and says, “You what now?”
“Vincent was the very first person we met, and Phyr killed him in cold blood because he got impatient with the dialogue!”
“You say that like it’s my fault,” Phyr says.
“It is your fault! Who else’s fault would it be?!”
“How about whoever made the dialogue so boring,” Phyr says, folding his arms.
“So you killed a man because you were bored,” Vector asks. “That seems a little psycho to me.”
“He was an NPC,” Phyr protests. “I didn’t think he had, like, a complex backstory, and a life, and feelings!”
“You really aren’t making a strong ‘not a psycho’ case here,” Vector says suspiciously.
“Well, I know better now,” he replies.
“Yes,” Pannych says, “And that’s what counts. But I still think we shouldn’t sleep in this house because of it.”
“OK,” Phyr says, “Let’s do a pro-con analysis here: we can sleep in the house of a man I killed in cold blood, which is admittedly dark-”
“LiTeRaLLy oR mEtAphOriCaLLy,” Pannych says in a mocking tone.
“Shut up. The other option is to walk several miles, in the dark, to a town where everyone hates us, so that we can pay for a hotel-”
“Inn.”
“Shut up! Pay for an inn, whatever! Is it really worth all that trouble just to avoid-”
“Does the inn have breakfast,” Vector asks.
“Fuck your breakfast! I’m going to the couch! Good night!” Phyr turns and stalks out of the room.
In dim glow of the early morning, Phyr wakes on the couch to the smell of cooking, and hears banging around in the kitchen. He wanders in to find Pannych frying up sausage and eggs.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Pannych says with a yawn. He grunts and nods, then rummages in the refrigerator and cabinets before pouring himself some orange juice and sitting at the dining room table.
A few minutes later, Pannych brings him a plate of food. “Here, let’s eat and boogie.”
Phyr sniffs and says, “Your breath’s minty - did you use the dead guy’s toothbrush? Please tell me you didn’t use the dead guy’s toothbrush.”
“No, I used my finger. I did use his toothpaste, though.” Phyr shrugs and digs in. Pannych sets two more places, then sits at one and starts eating, herself.
A couple minutes later, Vector comes downstairs and joins them at the table. “Thanks for cooking,” he says.
“Ugh, did you use the dead guy’s toothbrush,” Phyr asks.
“No, I keep one in my go-bag. Don’t you?”
“I don’t have one,” Phyr says.
“What? Why don’t you have a go-bag? How do you carry all your shit?”
Phyr shrugs and says, “I got holsters and pockets, what do I need a go-bag for?”
“How about a toothbrush,” Vector asks.
“OK, I’ll add it to my shopping list,” Phyr says.
After they finish eating, Pannych starts to clean up the kitchen. Phyr asks, “What’re you doing that for?”
“Uhh…” Pannych stops and stares off. “Oh! Because then it’ll be harder to tell anyone was here.”
“Oh, fair point,” Phyr says. After the cleanup, they return to the office and put things more or less back the way they found them, then run their outfits through the laundromagic in the basement while they shower upstairs, and leave the way they came.
“Don’t forget to put the bars back,” Vector says as they approach the gate.
“Yeah, thanks,” Phyr says. “I guess I should’ve known we’d leave this way.”
As they travel in silence along the dirt path leading back to the main road, they each gain 5 XP for their investigation. As they step onto the cobbles and turn toward Leetsburg, they see half a dozen guards and two well-dressed others heading their way, several hundred yards off - the guards see the adventurers as well, and hail them.
“What were you three doing at Davosea’s place,” one of the guards asks, stopping them when they come face to face.
“Nothing much,” Vector says off-handedly, “Just looking around. Didn’t get very far, though.”
“Looking for what,” one of the well-dressed companions asks. Her tone is neutral, but one eyebrow raises slightly.
“Nothing in particular,” Vector lies. His roll is good, but the constables look expectantly at him. “We saw the yellow tape, thought we’d stop and have a look. But there was that sticker on the gate, so we just played looky-loo. Got our eyeful and came back to the road. Why?”
“That area’s under investigation,” another guard says. The investigator who spoke earlier rolls her eyes, while the other investigator frowns at the guard.
“Oh, really,” Pannych asks sarcastically. “I thought it was just decorated real fuckin’ early for Halloween! God, what a moron I must be. Just, like, so stupid.” Phyr snickers, but Vector looks at Pannych with an expression bordering on horror. The guard she’s mocking bristles and puts a hand on his pistol.
“Whoah,” Vector says, “Let’s all calm down here, OK? I’m sorry for my friend, she’s - cranky in the morning.” Pannych gives him a sour look, but sighs and rolls her eyes before mumbling an apology.
“Why don’t you come with us,” the other investigator says.
“Hang on,” Vector says, “Are we being detained?”
“No, no,” he replies. “If it’s as you say, then we’ll see that nothing’s disturbed, and we’ll apologize for the unfounded suspicions.” Pannych fixes him with a look of cautious reappraisal, and he continues: “Give us a little good faith, we’ll return it.” She takes a deep breath, then looks to her friends and half-shrugs. They nod back, and the near-dozen of them walk back to Vincent’s gate. One guard breaks the seal, and enters with the male investigator to survey the premises - Pannych does nothing to disguise her contempt and impatience, but shows no worry. Phyr and Vector are calmer, and roll well to disguise their apprehension.
“So what are you all doing on the road this early,” the female investigator asks affably.
“Forget it,” Pannych says. “You’re not gonna trip us up, because there’s nothing to trip us up on. Also, I’m not talking to you - and neither are my friends.” The investigator looks to Phyr and Vector, but they each give a shrug of You heard the lady.
“Hey, I’m just making conver-”
“No,” Pannych interrupts her, “You’re trying to find out if we’ll give up something incriminating with some oblique questions, and I have no patience for it, so we’re gonna wait until your buddies get back. You can save the interrogation for then, if they find anything, which they won’t.”
“You seem pretty confident of that. How come?”
“Because we didn’t do anything wrong. Now let’s wait for your pals in tense, awkward silence, like civilized people, OK?” The guards glower silently, and the investigator shrugs.
After a full three minutes of standing around, Pannych sits down cross-legged on the ground, and Vector takes out a cigarette. He proffers the pack to the guards; the investigator is the only one who partakes. After a few drags, she asks Vector, “Your friend seems pretty angry with us.”
Vector exhales and says, “Look, I’ll bum you a smoke, but I’m not talking to you without a lawyer.”
She shrugs and stares off for another drag, then turns back to him with a start and says, “Oh, where are my manners? I have you at a disadvantage - I’m Detective Michaels, my partner is Detective Cassidy. Your reputations precede you, Lady Pannych, Lord Phyr, Master Vector.”
”Pleasure,” Vector says dryly.
“Yeah,” Phyr says, nodding.
“Enchanted,” Pannych spits.
Michaels says to the two boys, “For someone who knows so much about interrogations, she’s sure mean about it.” Vector shrugs and takes a drag. Michaels looks to Phyr, and he gives a wide-eyed shrug of What do you want from me? “I just don’t get it, is all,” she continues. “I mean, we’ve been civil to you, and with all she knows of how we operate, I’d think she’d be a little more tolerant of procedure. Like, we haven’t cuffed you, we’re not grilling you, I just-”
“Fine,” Pannych says. “You wanna know what it is? Ever since the peace summit, everyone’s looking at us like we shit in your breakfast, when we just made life better for everyone on the island - including you guards! So excuse me if I’m a little pissed off at the fact that everyone’s biting the hand that just served ‘em a juicy porterhouse.”
Michaels mulls this over for a couple drags, then says, “Fair. I mean, for what it’s worth, I’m on your side here. And I’m not just saying that - I think this new Universal Basic Income is gonna be a bang-up thing. It’s practically a raise for me, it’ll reduce crime and thus my workload, and the city will have no excuse for cutting our pay to compensate. When I heard the news, I was happy as a pig in shit! Took the wife out for a nice dinner and everything! So, I’m sorry to hear how you’ve been treated, but fuck the haters - don’t look at me like that, Jones, I know you like roughing up the lowlifes.” Jones looks off, but keeps the sneer on his face. “Anyway, I guess I’ll shut up now. I just wanted to set the record straight on that account.”
True to her word, she finishes her cigarette in silence, and grinds it out on the path with the toe of her boot. She stares at her fingernails with disinterest, then gives the adventurers another once-over. With a shrug, she pulls out a speaking stone and says, “Got anything, Cass?”
“Looks good,” Cassidy’s voice says from the stone. “We’re just headed back.”
“All right, you can go,” Michaels says, stowing the speaking stone and putting her hands in her pockets. “Sorry to trouble you. And hey - thanks for cooperating. I mean that.” She extends a hand, and Pannych eyes her for a moment, then takes a deep breath and shakes it unenthusiastically.
Back on the road, Vector says, “What the fuck, Pan? You couldn’t just chill?”
“I meant what I said. Every word. The guards are all being shitty to us, and we didn’t do anything wrong.” She gives the guys a meaningful look, but when they open their mouths, she puts a finger to her lips. “Hey, Phyr - can I see that tablet real quick?”
“Uh, sure?” He hands her the tablet of identification as they continue walking.
“No, the other one,” Pannych says with a wink. Phyr looks at her like she’s stupid for a second, then pulls out his trap detector, which reads TRAP DETECTED in big, red letters. “Thanks,” she says, putting a finger to her lips again, then cupping one hand around her ear and pointing back toward the guards. “I’m gonna have a little snack, you guys hungry?” Another wink.
“Nah,” Phyr says.
Vector says, “Eh, I could eat.” He unzips his bag and starts absently rummaging around in it, while Pannych removes the glove that shook Michaels’ hand and thoroughly inspects it. She soon pulls off something about the size of a pea, and holds it up to Phyr’s eyes. He scrutinizes it for a second, then his Technical Intuition kicks in and he nods vigorously, eyes wide. She turns to drop it behind them, but it doesn’t go - she flicks it a couple times, with no better luck. Finally, she stops walking, and wipes it off on a stone like a booger. Free of the damn thing at last, they resume walking.
After some distance, Vector asks, “Bug?”
Phyr says, “Yeah, it’s called a ‘bug-burr,’ it’s a magically sticky listening device. Michaels must’ve stuck it on Pannych when they shook hands.”
“How’d you know it was there,” Vector asks her.
“When cops have to let me go, they’re never happy about it, let alone nice. And she was pretty slick, so I just figured she was up to something.”
“The Hell do you mean, ‘when’ - you spend a lot of time in trouble with cops as a kid?”
“Not in trouble, no. But I sure saw a lot of ‘em as a kid, yeah. And I’ve evaded ‘em since I was twelve.”
“What?” Vector is incredulous.
“I don’t wanna talk about it, OK? Let’s just go.”
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