NationStates Jolt Archive

Kim Burono had only just reached his small desk, preparing himself to resume his duties where he'd left off the day before, when he became aware of the small flashing light calling his attention to his recently received messages. Seized with sudden apprehension, he'd never known an Alert message to carry anything but unpleasant news, he activated the minor screen and quickly read the transmission. Finding only a single-sentence summons, and no explanation, he sighed heavily and raised himself to his feet. Crossing around his corners railed edges, he had rated a railed corner almost three years ago, he quickly made his way towards the far end of the mammoth operations room.

Rating a private office, a privilege that almost bordered on luxury, the glass door that Kim approached read Fen Sinlom in bright, shimmering letters. Beneath that, etched within the surface of the door, read Commissioner of Police, City of New Kinshasa. Preparing himself for a high-volume critique of his recent performance, or perhaps notification of a reduction in Classification, Kim activated the small signaller installed within the door and announced his presence, hoping whatever had occasioned the summons would be quick. When the door disappeared into the wall without an acknowledgement his anxiety doubled, even when they weren't the best of friends the Commissioner was usually polite enough to invite his guests into his office.

Entering quickly, barely beyond the doorway before it was once again occupied by the glass plate, Kim saw his superior standing on the far side of the office and gazing out the window which occupied nearly half the far wall. A short, squat man, the Commissioner seemed built for indoor work behind a desk. It was an environment in which he thrived, and despite being only a year ahead of Kim when the two had been at University together he was already reaching as high as one could hope to reach. Turning around, displaying eyes shielded by antique spectacles, the expression on Fen's face shocked Kim; the man looked as if he'd taken a Tikler shot in his gut.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, have a seat Kim."

Seating himself across the desk from his superior, Kim waited for him to broach the subject of the meeting.

"How's your family been, Kim? I trust your wife is well."

"Uh...yes, sir. We're expecting the child within the month and she's quite excited."

"Oh, yes, I'd heard she was pregnant. This is your second, isn't it?"

"Third, actually."

"Well, congratulations. How's Oni doing?"

"He's doing fine, quite happy with the idea of having another younger brother. Of course, we just haven't had the heart to tell him this one's a girl."

"He's a strong lad, I'm sure he'll take the news well."

"Thank you, sir. Uh…sir, I’m sorry, but I have to ask, why have you summoned me today? Surely you're not simply curious about my home life. Has something happened?"

When Fen heard the question his expression pained even further, but he nodded.

"Yes, something has happened. Three days ago it happened, and I've been dragged across the system ever since. Back and forth between the planets at least five times. It's been a devil of a time, and it looks like it's only going to get worse."

"What happened?"

"An Elf official died three days ago, Kim."

Expecting something much more serious, perhaps news of a rebellion or some new criminal organization, Kim could barely restrain himself from laughing. As it was, he couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his usually dour face.

"He must have been one old bastard. It's good to know there's a limit after all."

The ageless immortality of the Elves had always been a matter of minor friction between them and the Humans inhabiting the Epsilon Pegasi system, and Kim couldn't help but take some small bit of perverse pleasure at the knowledge that they didn't remain young forever. However, it was the wrong thing to say, apparently, since horror overtook the pain visible on Fens face.

"What the devil are you talking bout?"

"Nothing, sir, please continue. What did he die of?"

"He died of a missing chest; somebody turned a Thumb-gun on him."

This time it was Kim’s turn to look horrified, and he couldn't help but leap to his feet.

"What the devil are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about murder, Kim. Surely you know the word."

"I do, but....an Elf?"

"Not just any Elf, either. This Elf just so happened to be the Intendant of the Lower City."

"Bloody hell."

"My thoughts exactly, Kim. So far we've managed to keep it quiet, we haven't even notified Ron's family, but it's going to come out eventually."

"Ron was the victim, sir?"

"That he was. Gunned down right in his own home, too, at nearly five in the morning. I had a meeting with the man that same day, another half an hour and I would have discovered the body myself. Would have been quite a shock."

"I can imagine, sir, but I can't imagine why you're telling me this. What does this have to do with me?"

"You're a Plain-clothes operative, can't you figure it out? This is the type of thing you investigate."

"I'm a Level 5, sir; there are half a dozen men with higher classifications in my department alone. This is they type of thing they would investigate. Sir....sir, are you proposing that I head the investigation?"

"That I am, Kim."

Kim often maintained standard formality when addressing his superior, no matter how often Fen tossed around his first name, but he felt this was as good a time as any to bring up their past familiarity. Hopefully it would help pluck more information from his confusing superior.

"Fen, if this is your idea of a joke I'd say you need to heavy practice. We're not in a damn Vid here, you can't just toss assignments to whoever you want without regard for operating procedures and you can't ignore seniority and Classification. Assassination of a government official is something the Corps should investigate and, if not them, then an operative of the Assembly. For Jove’s sake man, my last file was on a manslaughter investigation in one of the former Ghettos."

"You're a competent man, Kim, and I have my reasons. Not the least of which is that, technically, this isn’t the Corps jurisdiction. The Lower City falls within the Kinshasa borders and Intendant is a purely internal ranking, technically it’s our baby. If this were anything else the Corps would take over anyway, something this severe warrants Association intervention, but nobody wants to even touch this. Who would? If this goes the wrong way we might very well touch off another War.”

“Another reason for you to assign a Level 7 or 8 operative to this mission.”

“No, that’s one of the reasons for me not to do so. This doesn’t just need to be solved; this needs to be solved just the right way. This needs to be solved so that we don’t touch off another damn Civil War, that the Elves don’t have reason to demand the Association place Jove-Knows-What restrictions on our side of the system, and that we can all quickly move past this. There are more capable men in this department, true, but not one of them can be relied on like you. You I trust to solve this the right way.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, sir, but I’m not sure I want to solve this the right way. Or at all.”

“You want a Level 6 Classification, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, sir, but I don’t want to risk getting myself and my family blamed for restarting the War, either.”

“Kim, you do this right and you’ll go down in history as the man who avoided another War. You do this right, and I’ll bump you to Level 7 if I can wring it. Just think about it.”

Kim was tempted, he couldn’t deny that, but there was obviously more going on here than he was being told. Even if the Corps didn’t want to risk what would happen if they fouled the investigation, they wouldn’t assign a Level 5 Plain-clothes from New Kinshasa instead. It screamed cover-up, and that screamed “Police Officer Mysteriously Missing” in the Vid broadcast the day after he solved the case. But Level 7 could mean as much as a new house for his family, and with a third child on the way that meant quite a bit, and he had so far managed to avoid ending up face down in an alley.

“Sir, if I’m going to agree to this, and I stress the if, I’ll need more information first.”

“Of course, Kim, of course. I’ve already uploaded the case file onto your Padd.”

A tad hurt that Fen had predicted he’d take the case before they’d even completed the meeting, and that he’d turned out to be right, Kim rose to his feet and snapped off a brisk salute.

“Very good, sir. I’ll begin to familiarize myself with the information.”

With that he turned and marched out of the office, already wondering how he’d solve the case without angering any of the parties involved.

Kim sat at his desk and stewed, going over what little information he had again and again. The Commissioner had been thorough and detailed, the information that he'd delivered was as precise as any report that Kim had ever read, but that didn't change the fact that there wasn't much information in the first place. The cause of death was obvious and there were dozens of motives, a government official attracted death-threats like fleas, but nothing that would actually point to any specific individual or organization. Except for one tiny bit of information, and Kim was already wishing that he hadn't received that particular bit of info. It gave him something to go on, but made the road he'd need to take so much more rocky.

All the physical evidence pointed to one thing: Ron Seroni, the victim, had been killed by a Thumb-gun. That one fact meant that this went higher and farther than anybody wanted to believe.

The Thumb-gun was neither a newly developed weapon nor a top-secret project. The technology itself had been around for more than a millenium, the application in this particular form had been around for nearly as long. They were a common feature in action/adventure Vid programs and most of the civilian population itched to get their hands on one. However, none of them did. Ever. For, despite its antiquity, the Thumb-gun was still a brutal, effective, and concealable means of ending the life of somebody rather quickly. Restricted to the highest levels of the military, nobody except the Generals and Admirals of the Corps had access to one on any but the most limited and supervised basis. The Duke himself was required to formally request the use of one, and when a man regarded as semi-divine is held up by paperwork one should take notice. For a Thumb-gun to be the murder weapon could only mean one of two things:

A) A criminal organization of vast power, resources, and connections was behind the assault. An organization of such scope as to be a military/government in and of itself.

Or

B) The Association itself, or the Cops which was its hands and feet, was behind this, and that carried horrifying implications all by itself. The thought that ones own government would be secretly assassinating its own members cast the rest of the political organization into rather unpleasant light.

It wasn't even ten minutes after he'd accepted the assignment and Kim was already wondering not only how he'd solve it, but how he'd keep from ending up against the palm of somebody with a Thumb-gun himself.

First things first, take this slowly. Let's go with option A, this is something I can handle. B is just to much for me. Now, what group would, or could, get their hands on a Thumb-gun? The Ruzlon? The Denebian Yndic? Kirlons gang? None of them could even get close. Nobody could get close, that's the whole point of restricting access. Hell, I can't think of anybody that would even try. Then again, I'm not exactly the foremost expert on organized crime in the Universe.

Yet another reason why he was the wrong man for this job, somebody who knew the ins and outs of the corrupt and powerful organized underworld would at least know where to start, Kim realized his first action would have to be asking for help. Not a very auspicious start for somebody who was hoping to swing a promotion out of the works. Nevertheless, he needed information that he didn't have. Sighing to himself, he rose from his seat and began to make his way across the room towards one of the large stairways at the rear (Phase Gates noticeably absent from the entirety of the building).

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"A Thumb-gun? Are you kidding me? Kim, what are you strung out on and how did you manage to get into the building with it in your system?"

"Bill, this is serious. I'm not off the wall and I'm really not in the mood to dart hither and thither. Give me a straight answer."

"Okay, plain and simple: It's not possible. There isn't an organization within Epsilon Pegasi that would dare even try to grab a Thumb-gun, Ihm would bring the entire Corps down on their heads faster than they could say 'Show me a warrant'."

"I didn't ask who would, I asked who could. Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, it's not possible."

"Tell that to the Duke the next time Salm comes calling."

Abel Salm, arguably the most hated man in Klonor history, was the sole man known to have stolen and used a Thumb-gun since their creation.

"Unless you're actually suggesting Salm as a suspect here, you're barking up the wrong tree. When you're a former Supreme General who actually set up the security, you're going to know how to bypass it. The last time I checked Salm was dead and neither Keane nor Ihm was on the payroll of any criminal organization."

"You know that for certain? They thought Salm was dead after his first coup attempt; and they thought he was perfectly loyal before that same attempt."

"Wait.....Kim, just what the hell are you getting at here? If you're suggesting either Keane or Ihm would be connected to the theft of a Thumb-gun you know damn well I'm going to take this to the Commissioner."

"I'm trying to get a serious answer here. Bill, a Level-9 Analyst should be able to give me the information I need to have. What known organizations have the resources to actually make off with a Thumb-gun?"

"Kim, there are none. Not that I know of, anyway. Of course, a group with the skill to make off with a Thumb-gun would likely be able to stay off the radar, too. More than that I just can't help you with."

It was less than he wanted, but it was something.

"Thanks Bill, you'll let me know if you hear anything new, right?"

"What are you expecting me to hear? This isn't a Vid, there isn't an Association-spanning network of informants just waiting to give me the tip I need when nobody else has heard a damn thing, if we get wind of something new you'll hear of it along with everybody else."

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Several hours and hundreds of aggrivated sighs later, Kim finally reached a conclusion: He could not reach a conclusion.

Bill was right, as Kim had known he was, there simply was no known organization that could make off with one of the most highly guarded weapons ever developed. He'd gone through intelligence reports on active groups, read the details of now defunct corporations, and even skimmed through what few extra-national files he could access (Not that many, being only a local officer). There were no possible winners and, as Bill had said, if there was some new player operating behind the scenes they wouldn't suddenly announce their presence. The fact was that Option A was a dead end.

Oy, Fen is going to freak.

Raising himself his desk, Kim one again crossed to the Commissioners office and signalled for admission. Ushered inside, again with no greeting, Kim decided to make it quick.

"Sir, I'm going to need access to Association files."

"What do you need, Kim?"

"I need a list of every living Corps serviceman who has, has had, or will have access to a Thumb-gun. I need a list of all those who have died within the past ten years as well. I'll need their service records, personal information, and where they can be contacted. Any connections, no matter how minute, to any extra-legal organization or individual; no matter how far in the past. I need it now."

The Commissioner could only stare blankly, the Supreme General himself would need to flash his I.D. a dozen times to get that list, there was simply no way either of them could do it.

"For Joves sake, why?"

"Fen, there's no way this was any civilian murder. I've only been looking this over for a day and it's already clear, not one single organization could possibly have snatched a Thumb-gun. That leaves the Association itself and, since I'm going to give the Duke the benefit of the doubt, that leaves the Corps. Acting alone or with the support of his superiors, somebody was responsible. You want this solved, that's where you look."