On the hunt... (Closed)
The warehouse had been recently purchased, in cash, by a group known as the Hattian Archeological Society, under the guise of using it as a base for learning more about Halladi history. Of course, the Archeological Society really didn't buy the warehouse, the Hattian Mafia now was it's proud owner.
For the past few hours, helicopters had been coming and going from the warehouse, dropping off people and supplies. Most of those supplies were legitimate archeological supplies, which were put out in the storage area of the warehouse, but some of the boxes were filled with small arms, RPGs and various other implements of destruction and whatnot. These were stored in compartments dug out of the foundation of the building.
What exactly was the Hattian Mafia doing in Hallad? This wasn't known to many, but high level officers knew of the ill trained Halladi police, and decided that they could probably make a good deal of money in the nation. It also helped that they had a very large contract for the heads of various high ranking Halladi government officials.
Those contracts were from a group of concerned citizens, who's names were not revealed to anyone.
Hallad had recently invaded the nation of Yoboland, which greatly angered many very powerful people back in Hattia, people who generally advocated extreme measures to stop imperialism...
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Viktor Popov sat in a backroom in a generic looking warehouse on the outskirts of the Halladi capitol of Erse. He had come under the cover of darkness and was now waiting to speak with the owner.
A few minutes after he had arrived, a trenchcoat clad Lieutenant came into the room.
"Sergei is ready to see you now..." he said in a gruff voice.
Viktor nodded and stood up. He then followed the man farther into the warehouse.
As he entered, a large gust of acrid smoke offended his sensitive nostrils, but experience kept him from showing it on his face. He was greeted by the sight of the local Mob leader, Sergei Voniv, with his feet on his desk taking a drag out of a large cigar.
As Viktor entered, he put the cigar down in an ashtray and began speaking, "Hello Viktor, I am assuming you are here about the contract?"
Viktor nodded, and replied, "Yes, I am, and you know I'm the best for the job." he replied in his typically quiet voice.
Sergei sighed, "I know you are, and I also know you don't come cheap..."
"I want five-hundred million American dollars, Two-hundred and fifty million for each of them." he stated flatly, "In addition to money for equipment and the like."
Sergei chuckled slightly, took his feet off the desk and leaned forward, "Five hundred million, eh? I don't think even you are worth that much..."
Viktor smiled, and two large pistols appeared in his hands, one pointed at Sergei and the other at his Lieutenant.
"Sergei, I believe there is a rather large price on your head as well. Not worth as much dead, but I need the money. Now, I believe my price is reasonable..."
Sergei nodded quickly, "Alexei here," he said, motioning to the Lieutenant, "will get you the equipment you need, now go..."
Viktor nodded and replaced the pistols in their holsters. Then he and Alexei went out of the room.
About an hour later, Alexei had Viktor's new car inside the warehouse. A small black sedan, with armored plating and bulletproof glass, along with several secret compartments for smuggling various illicit items.
Once Viktor had looked the car over, Alexei turned to him.
"You know the rules, you lead them back here, and we kill you ourselves."
Viktor chuckled and climbed into the car. He revved the engine and was off.
"Now, to find a phone book and a hotel room..." he thought to himself.
"Comrade Commissar, we've been on this case for three months and nothing. Frankly, if there is a 'Hattian Mafia' in Hallad, well, they work so smoothly, we're not able to catch them. And, the Federal Police isn't helping. They've got too few numbers and no expiriance!" Detective Mahir Yasser said, attempting to control his anger.
"Isn't that a good thing? We are a crime-free state." Fadwa Muna said. She was a tough woman and attractive to the right man. The People's Commissar of Justice was in Erse now. The Judicial capital of Hallad was in New Dublin, but something else had been brought to her attention.
"Not if there is a Hattia Mafia on the loose."
"Than, you know what, work in this case for another three months. And if you turn up nothing, try again. We know they're there. We just need to know who they are and what they've done. They sure as hell cover their tracks well, but that means it will be a challange. So, are you a Halladi or not?"
Yasser sighed. "I'll call up some contacts..."
* * *
This "Hattian Mafia which could not be found" problem was getting on Yasser's nerves. There was a Hattian Mafia, but apparently they were so good they couldn't be found. The worst part was that there was actual proof they existed, otherwise Yasser believed his time would have just been wasted. What got him the most was the "are you a Halladi or not?" comment. Fadwa could be a real bitch sometimes.
Yasser had decided to visit an old friend. Zafar Hanif was a smuggler. He didn't smuggle things into Hallad, but into other countries. And, technically, he worked for the State. Hanif kept a look out for any smuggling operations into Hallad, as well. He was the man to go to. But, getting him to talk would be difficult.
Yasser parked his car in a cramped space. He shut the car off, and checked himself. He had his HAP-1 Automatic Pistol and an extra magizine of ammunition. He opened the door of the car and gently closed it once he was out. He walked around it, and stepped up onto the sidewalk.
He looked around, looking for the apartment building in which Hanif resided in. The air was warm and humid in this city by the sea. He liked it, to a point. In summer it almost got to hot.
The detective remeber this apartment building it was. Erse-79 "The Comfort Palace". He walked up and flashed his badge. The doorman got the door for him. Mahir cordially thanked him. Although he didn't like someone opening a door for him, he knew the doorman had other duties.
Mahir got the room, 17A, and took the elevator up to the second level. He looked down the corridor, making sure no one was around. He then went to the door and knocked on it.
He heard a voice call, "Just a minute."
A second later it said, "Who is it?"
Yasser didn't answer he just pulled out his pistol, aiming it at head level. Hanif had been stupid, and not checked to see who it was. He opened to door and jumped back.
"Shit, man! What the hell are you doing here?" He exclaimed in Halladi (Arabic).
Yasser answered in Halladi. "I need something from you. And, well, I figured gun point is the only way I'm going to get it."
Hanif sighed. "Come in." He said in English.
He sat down in a couch. Yasser closed the door behind him, but kept his pistol out. He took a seat opposite Hanif.
"What do you need to know?"
"The Hattian Mafia."
"Huh? What about the Hattian Mafia?"
There was a silence.
Hanif continued. "They've stepped up smuggling operations, from what I've gathered. Things they could buy here, weapons. They don't wanna give up their identities, I reckon. They're lead by this guy, Sergei Voniv, he's fucking scary. An art collector or something like that. That's all I know, I swear."
"No shit, comrade, tell me something I don't know."
"Like?"
"Where do they work out of?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
Yasser got up, he'd gotten all he could out of Hanif.
Viktor opened the door to the cheap hotel room. He looked around, the bed hadn't been made and the floor could use a good cleaning.
"Good thing I've slept in worse places, or I'd be disgusted..." he thought to himself.
He shut the door as he walked in and locked it. He had slipped the person up front an extra bit of money not to mention any names. He slipped off his boots, trenchcoat and his gloves, then he sat down on the bed. He then took out one of his pistols and layed it on the nightstand. He then leaned over and grabbed the rather large phone book off the nightstand and sat it down on the bed.
He then opened it up and flipped through the pages.
"Lets see here..... Jabir Yusuf...." He quickly wrote down the address on a slip of paper and spent the next few minutes memorizing it and then ate it. He tossed the book back on the floor and put on his equipment once again.
He then went back outside to his car and drove off towards the apartment building, being careful not to draw any attention to himself as he drove.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot and stepped out of the car. He then strode inside and approached the person sitting at the desk.
Speaking in nigh on perfect arabic, he said, "Do you have any vacant apartments?"
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Sergei scratched his cheek idle-mindedly as he watched the camera feed from his lookout watching Zafar Hanif's apartment. Ever since Sergei had arrived in Hallad, he had kept that man under constant surveillance, mainly because he knew far too much.
He had seen Detective Yasser enter the building, and then the IR camera caught someone going into Hanif's apartment. They had run the image through a database and had come up with his identity.
Sergei sighed, if Hanif was talking to the police, then he had to die.
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Operative 7B sat outside the apartment building. No one else in the organization knew his name, and he knew none of their names. Mainly as a precaution in case he was caught. He nodded to himself as he heard the Boss's voice over the radio giving him his orders. He slipped his silenced pistol and his SMG into his coat.
He then climbed out of the nondescript car and went into the building. Giving a slight nod to the doorman, he went into the elevator and up to the second floor. He then went over to the room, 17A and knocked on the door a few times.
7B waiting a few seconds, pulled out his SMG and unloaded a portion of the magazine on the door, kicked it in and lobbed a large grenade into the room.
Once this was done, he ran back into the elevator. While inside, he slipped on a ski mask. When the elevator door opened, he sprinted out and emptied the rest of the magazine at the doorman and ran out to the car.
He revved the engine and quickly disappeared into the night.
Explosion Rocks Erse-79
ERSE - Early this morning an explosion destroyed an apartment in central Erse, in the Erse-79 Apartment Complex. Four people died in the explosion: the man who lived in the apartment it went off in, Zafar Hanif and the occupants of the apartments next and above his.
The nature of the explosion is unknown, but Erse-79 has since been evacuated. The occupants have been moved to the Erse-23 Apartment Complex and the six wounded have been moved the Erse Central Hospital.
Premier Hasan Muhammad (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v15/Belovia/hasan.jpg) said this about the explosion, “Whether or not this was terrorism or not, people have nothing to fear. The Federal Police and the Commissariat of Justice will be able to handle anything else of this nature.”
Yasser read the article. The first thing that popped into Mahir’s mind was, “shit!” Someone had killed Hanif, and just after he talked to him. The worst part was that Muhammad was wrong; the Federal Police Force was in no shape to handle the Hattian Mafia. Nor was the Commissariat of Justice.
Yasser bough the entire newspaper for twenty SUMU’s. He got into his car, a Black Hawk (http://www.angelfire.com/wa3/caddyville/1956/56SedanDeVilleBlk.jpg), and drove to his apartment. He lived in the Erse-42 Apartment Complex, Apartment 8C. He got out of his car, picked up the newspaper and walked into the apartment. The clerk greeted him, and he waved as he went down the first floor hallway, which led to his apartment.
He put the paper down on his newspaper. Yasser sat down, and picked up the phone on the table in front of him. He called Fadwa Muna.
“Mahir?” She answered after the second ring.
“Yeah. Fadwa, I think they’re on to me. They killed Hanif right after I visited him. The hunter is becoming the hunted.”
“I heard, comrade. Yasser, I think you shouldn’t stay at your apartment anymore.”
“No shit, comrade Commissar.”
“Well, I can get you some body guards from the Federal Police-”
“I don’t want any bozos from the FPF.”
There was a long silence.
“Well then,” Fadwa finally said, “Go to the CDC.”
“Are you crazy? Those fanatical bastards would probably end up killing me!”
“Maybe so, but they’re all you really got right now.”
The detective hung up.
He got his raincoat ready, a Federal Police Force trench coat ironically. Yasser check his HAP-1 and made sure it was clean, then took another magazine of ammunition. He put his coat on, and went to the clerk.
“If anyone asks about me, tell them nothing.” He said.
“Right oh, comrade.” The clerk said happily.
Yasser went outside. It was raining and the humidity mixed with the heat made Erse seem like Hell. He got into his car and drove down the street, back tracked to confuse anyone who might be following him. Then he drove to the Civilian Defense Corps Headquarters in Erse.
The CDC building was huge and intimidating. It was originally a gothic cathedral, but was abandoned when Hallad had its first elections. Banners with the Marching Hammers (http://www.allfloyd.com/images/the_wall/hammer.gif) hung from every window. A stained glass picture of the marching hammers had even replaced the original rose window on the cathedral.
Outside the building men and women in black was everywhere. The uniform of the CDC was simple. All black, with combat boots and an arm band which showed the marching hammers. It was an intimidating sight, as they marched in military formation, many even holding guns.
Yasser parked his car, and got out. He walked up to the building, many people looking at him. His green coat made him stick out like a sore thumb, and he entered the building. There were several armed guards in the inside. Two approached him.
“Hail!” One said. “Identify yourself, comrade.”
“Detective Mahir Yasser of the Federal Police Force.”
“Do you have any weapons on you?”
“Yes, one HAP-1 Automatic Pistol in a holster on my chest, and three magazines of ammunition. Also, a knife in right boot.”
“Please remove your coat, comrade.”
Yasser did as the man asked. He slowly brought out his HAP-1 and handed it to the man. Then he took out his knife, also giving it to the man.
“Thank you for your co-operation. Your coat will be given back as you leave.”
Yasser nodded. He hated these people, these fanatics.
Mahir went up to a clerk. “I need an appointment about hiring a bodyguard.”
“Okay, please fill out this form,” the woman handed him a clipboard with a form and pen.
Yasser sat down a filled out the form.
* * *
The apartment clerk looked up at Viktor. “Why yes we do, actually. We have more than one available. Are you interested in renting one out?”
"Yeah" he replied, "Preferably the best one that you have."
He added in the last bit, taking the guess that the Commisar would have one of the better apartments.
--------------------
Sergei scratched his cheek thoughtfully as he watched the news broadcast on the TV in his office. It gave him some satisfaction to see something he did on the news, back home, the media rarely gave any attention to murders and the like, focusing on much larger issues.
He lit another cigar and brought it to his mouth.
"Now, what to do about that detective... perhaps we should just leave him alone for a bit unless he starts up some trouble, I suppose we should keep an eye on him anyway." he thought to himself.
A new thought came to his head.
"Alexei!" he shouted.
Alexei burst into the room with a pistol in his hand. Seeing that nothing was wrong, he replaced it in the holster.
"Alexei, get someone down to the Federal Police Force building, and whatever those wierd bastards are called... the Civilian Defense Corps building. I think I've been a bit too brazen, there's no way any police force in the world could be so stupid as to not be able to tell one of our hits from that of common terrorists.
I think they are just feigning stupidity, perhaps..."
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Within a few minutes, several of Sergei's trackers were out patrolling the city, watching for Yasser, while paying special attention to the FPF and CDC buildings. These men could find almost anyone in Haton, a city of nigh on fifty million, within a few hours. Everyone left clues as to their location, and these men found them...
"Yeah" he replied, "Preferably the best one that you have."
He added in the last bit, taking the guess that the Commisar would have one of the better apartments.
"Well, actually, they're all the same." She picked up a phone.
"Just a moment, comrade, I need to call the manager."
* * *
The form asked stupid questions. Are you a Socialist? Are you a member of the True Directorate? Are you a Collectivist? Pointless. It was all pointless. But, Yasser knew these assholes were all he really had to rely on at the moment. He handed it back to the CDC clerk.
"Thank you," she said, "Someone will be with you in a little while."
He waited twenty minutes. Then the CDC clerk said, "Please, go to Room 11."
Yasser noded and went to the door marked 11. He knocked on the door, but there was no sound from inside the room. He slowly opened the door.
It was a small room, but sitting behind a desk opposite him was an older man. He had a thick grey mustache, and greying hair. He was writing something, but then looked up at Mahir.
"You're looking for a body guard, comrade Yasser?" The man said in Halladi with a gruff voice.
"Yes." Yasser answered, taking a seat.
"Well, I understand that this is FPF business. If you don't mind me asking, why don't you just get one of your boys to ride along with you?"
Well, I... don't believe there is anyone up to the job in the FPF."
"I see. Well then, we have plenty of people available. It'll cost you one hundred Utopes a day."
"The FPF is covering it."
"Says who?" The man said, thinking Yasser was trying to pull a fast one.
"People's Commissar of Justice, Fadwa Muna. Would you like me to call her?" He took out his Cell Phone. "Because I can, if you want."
The man took a breath. "No, that's fine."
Alright then," the Detective said.
"Wait here."
The man left the room.
Viktor nodded and began drumming his fingers on the desk. He didn't like to be kept waiting....
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Operative 7B decided that he liked his job much more now. The killing of Hanif was his first hit, and the rush of adrenaline it gave him made him want to do it again... and again, and again. He pulled into a parking lot across the street from the CDC building and pulled out a newspaper.
He hoped Yasser showed up soon. He didn't have orders to take him out, but he was quite sure that the boss wouldn't mind him being eliminated. Behind the newspaper propped up on the dashboard, he loaded his HSMG-5. He had just requisitioned it from the supplies man and he liked it much more than his old one. This thing on full automatic could empty it's thirty-five round magazine in five to six seconds. It didn't have much accuracy beyond two or three arms-lengths, but 7B didn't plan on being too far away.