To the Victor, the Spoils - Chapter XXXIII (Patreon)

So the second most-voted request this month is another addition for To the Victor..., which I'm happy to oblige with, and we have right down below. That means the 3rd update for November is going to be all my choice. Ah heh heh heh heh heh.

Thanks to all of you for your continued support and I hope you enjoy this newest offering. Thank you again and have a good weekend!

~

Chapter XXXIII

“Damn it!” Mr. Orange cursed as, for the third time, he tried and failed to tie his tie. It was silk, with blue and yellow stripes. It was the first gift Julie had bought for him and though it was a little worn by now, it was still his favourite. He wore it almost every week.

“What’s wrong?” his daughter called from the living room.

“Nothing,” he answered.

“That’s not true,” she said, poking her head into his bedroom. “You don’t curse at home.”

“Just having some trouble with this,” he told her. “I’ll get it.”

The teenager snorted derisively, stepping around her father and taking hold of the tie. “You never could do one of these properly,” she reminded him with a smile. “Even when I was little, I was doing them for you.”

“For which I’m forever in your debt.”

She was silent for a moment. “It’s Green, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed after a few seconds. The killing a few days ago had shaken him. He wasn’t a violent man, but he’d had to give unpleasant orders in the past, as he knew the rest of the Colours had to have done in turn. You couldn’t run a resistance without getting your hands dirty, but the way that man had died… he’d expected that kind of thing from Blue or Yellow. Green had been the youngest of them, the freshest and – he’d like to have thought – the one with the cleanest hands. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

It might not have been her. One of Blue’s or Yellow’s survivors might have taken their frustration out on a perceived traitor, but he didn’t think so. His information suggested she’d gone to ground in that area. If there was any Coalition activity there, she would have had to sanction it. “I didn’t think she’d go that far.”

“He got what was coming to him. He was a traitor.”

“He may have been,” he corrected his daughter. “Green may have thought so and she may have been right, but we don’t know that for certain.” That was a lesson he tried to impart to Julie; you only knew what you knew. Never assume that what someone else knew was the truth. Trust, but verify. Julie, though – she was young and hot-blooded. Even impetuous, as her stunt at the hospital had shown. Like any other teenager, she sometimes let her passions get ahead of her. Almost any other teenager. Mr. Orange himself had had to skip that phase.

“We never take anything for granted,” he continued. “For all we know, this could even be a false flag to diminish sympathy for the Coalition.” Mr. Orange kept his thumb on the pulse of the citizenry. New Broom had caused a wave of resentment among the sapiens populace. Vipress’s reconstruction initiative had dampened that somewhat, but it was still there.

The more they push down on us, the more we push back. The possibility still remained that this was something orchestrated by Halkein or Savoy to make the rebels seem far more brutal and murder-happy than they were. He couldn’t jump to any conclusions, but...

“You don’t believe that.”

Mr. Orange smiled. Only his daughter could read him this well. “No,” he confessed. “No, I don’t. But we can’t dismiss the possibility out of hand.”

She hmmph’d.“It’s not like there aren’t enough traitors to go around.”

“Paranoia’s my job,” he warned her. “You’re too young for it. Your job is to finish all your schoolwork. How is the calculus coming?”

“It’s done. I hated every moment of it, but it’s done. Carly and I are going to cross-check our answers tonight.”

“And you’ve set a time for your next study group?” Julie was bright, but it was important that she be an exemplary student with no hint of recalcitrance or anti—authoritarianism. She understood, but she chafed at having to be the good girl in public. Other than her actions at the hospital, she’d never done anything to draw the wrong sort attention to herself during her normal life.

“Yes, Dad.” She made that one word into a sentence all its own. She adjusted his tie a little. “There. All done.”

“How do I look?”

She smiled up at him. “Like you’re ready for business.”

“That’s the plan.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t. Go have fun.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, before becoming more serious. Julie was right; it was time to get to work.

~

The valet was quick and friendly, coming around to the driver’s side of the car as soon as it came to a stop, and holding the door open for its occupant. “Good evening, Mr. Vance.”

“Thank you, Asahi. How’s your aunt doing?”

“She’s feeling much better, thank you sir.”

Richard Vance, known to some as ‘Mr. Orange’, handed his keys to the valet along with a tip and stepped through the doors of his club. He owned a number of entertainment venues, all serving the middle to upper crust of society within the Territories. While some in the capital might think his properties provincial and small, they were among the best across the entire Midwestern United States. He’d started with this very building, once a failing casino known as the Diamond Queen. He’d taken it over, renamed it and turned it into a place that turned up on society blogs and social media, adding night clubs, upscale restaurants and concert halls to his small empire. He had a reputation for knowing things; his position as a very unofficial master of ceremonies and concierge to the wealthy and power contributed to that and he’d carefully built up a network of invisible people – cleaners, wait staff, bartenders and more – who themselves heard much.

He had known from the start that violence wasn’t in him. Arranging it was difficult enough, but he could never carry it out. So he’d chosen another way to fight, the very manner that Julie’s mother had shown him when she’d told – threatened – him to never contact her again. Secrets. Secrets were as dangerous as any bomb and they could topple the powerful as surely as a bullet. The right secret could destroy anyone and anything and over the last sixteen years, Richard Vance had amassed a truly impressive arsenal.

Much of that information was kept to his business dealings, either for his own benefit or brokering it to others, while some he kept for a very different purpose, offering them toa very select few of his compatriots. From the day Julie’s mother had thrown the boy she’d used and the child she’d carried away without a single backward glance, he’d seen the inherent unfairness in the system and he’d resolved to change it. He’d become a virus, slipping in amongst the Body Powerful and weakening them. From there, it had only been a short hop to become Coalition and then rise to one of the Colours.

Patrick O’Killian, the Diamond Garden’s manager, was waiting just inside the doors. Richard Vance was a man of habit. He liked to see how things were going in each of his establishments. Being the largest and most impressive of his property, he made frequent visits to the Diamond Garden. A large gaming floor, with private VIP lounges for high rollers and special guests took over the hotel’s main level, along with an in-house restaurant and pub. Below was an indoor pool, and upscale club. As he watched, a pair of giggling young women and laughing young men, all quite inebriated, came up the stairs. A concierge was already there, directing them away from the incoming foot traffic and arranging transportation for them.

Richard Vance’s properties attended to everything their guests needed. Above the casino were quality hotel rooms and an in-house escort service. The upper floors were a penthouse with helicopter access. Everything ran at full efficiency, catering to the needs of the customers as soon as they stepped across the threshold. The Diamond Garden might not quite measure up to the grandeur and pomp of a Garamond five-star facility, but its reputation was sterling and it wasn’t uncommon at all to get weekenders from other provinces and larger cities coming to take advantage of its amenities. The more people came, the more money they spent, the more secrets were overheard and the more weapons Mr. Orange had in his arsenal.

“What’s the word today, Patrick?”

O’Killian handed Richard a thin dossier, the highlights of events since the last time the owner had been there. “Nothing much, sir. The usual. No real trouble.” Most of the issues were unruly guests, card counters or cheats. Vance trusted Patrick and his staff to handle all that, and they did a good job, but when he was on the floor, he liked to be a little more hands-on. “We do have a VIP in tonight, though. He’s asked to see you.”

“Oh? Who is it?”

“Dirk Cunningham from Further Upwards. He’s currently enjoying himself at the baccarat tables.”

A lifetime of obfuscation and deception kept Richard from stopping abruptly. He had never gone out of his way to identify his fellow Colours – that information was too dangerous for a single person to have – but just from public media, he knew Mr. Red. His presence at the Garden certainly wasn’t a coincidence.“Is he winning?”

“He’s doing fairly well.” The other man’s lips curled up slightly. “I don’t think we’re in too much danger, though.”

“Send him a complimentary drink from one of the house bottles and let him know I’ll be there presently.”

Patrick nodded, speaking softly into the small radio set into his lapel. He led Vance through the rest of the casino as he checked in with the other departments. He made his way through the floor, stopping just long enough put in an appearance, shaking hands and greeting some of the regulars and his staff, but not long enough to keep a VIP like Cunningham waiting more than necessary. Everything was, more or less, running smoothly. Richard liked that. He ran a tight ship that managed to please most everyone. The happier they were, the more they spent and the more they talked. The more they talked, the more he overheard.

Once all the business was concluded, O’Killian took his leave and Vance entered the VIP suites. The scent of smoke, alcohol, low murmurs of conversation and laughter filled the opulent rooms. He arrived at the baccarat rooms. Cunningham was just standing up from the table, tossing a 50 dollar chip to the dealer. She tipped her head in thanks.

“Ah, Mr, Cunningham,” Richard said as he extended his hand to the other man. Dirk was just as he remembered him; tall, with fine silver hair and distinguished features. “Welcome to the Diamond Garden. This is your first time here, isn’t it?” He didn’t give any hint that this wasn’t their first meeting.

The older man nodded in confirmation. Like his counterpart, he played the game well. “It is. I used to avoid the Queen like the plague, but I kept hearing good things about what you’ve done with it and I finally decided to take one of my evenings and see it for myself. I have to say, I’m very impressed. If I’d known the Gardens were this nice, I wouldn’t have stayed away for so long.”

“We’re glad to have you all the same, Mr. Cunningham.”

“I’m off the clock; you can call me Dirk.”

“Thank you. So I understand that you had something that you wished to discuss?”

“I did. It’s a matter of some… delicacy, you understand.”

“Of course. Please, allow me.” Vance led his compatriot up the hall and onto a private elevator that took them to the casino’s administration floor and Vance’s own private offices. Cunningham took a seat and waved off the offer of another drink. “So, Dirk – tell me. What can I do for you?”

The older man looked around, somewhat anxious. The office was only for Richard’s personal use. It was a modestly luxurious sort of place. He’d grown up poor and didn’t need a lot, but it helped set the right tone and remind his guests of his current position.“I value privacy,” Richard assured him. “I have this room swept for listening devices twice daily.” Except for his own, but those were only turned on either by his request, or via a hidden switch in his desk. This, however, was not a conversation that needed to be recorded. “We can speak freely here. You have my word on that, as one Colour to another.”

That admission seemed to mollify the other man, but Cunningham was still silent for a few seconds. “All right,” he acquiesced. “I suppose you’re wondering how I tracked you down.”

“I do keep a low profile, but I suspect a man of your means has ways of finding things out if he puts his mind to it.”

Red nodded. “You’re correct. You don’t want to know the details?”

“For my own peace of mind, yes. But it’s much safer for you if I don’t know how you acquire your knowledge, so I think we can leave it there.” He’d look into his security arrangements all the same, just to make sure nothing obvious had been flipped.

“You’re a smart man,” Cunningham told Vance. “I always thought you were the smartest of us. Probably the most dangerous, despite what Blue said.”

“She was a woman of action. And she’ll be missed.”

“That’s why I’m here. Blue’s cell is all but gone. There’s only a handful left and they’re getting snapped up one by one. Green’s gone dark and those of her people who didn’t are suffering the same fate. I’d say she was caught, except the news would have been bragging about it. I have no idea what’s going on with Yellow.”

“Yellow is dark. His cell was compromised, but I haven’t been able to determine the extent of the damage.”

“At least he’s still out there.” Dirk chewed on his lip. “They’re coming for me now. You know that?”

Mr. Orange nodded. “It’s to be expected.”

“Hmm. Not like this. There’s been some sniffing around certain… angles into me.” Red didn’t elaborate and Orange didn’t ask him to. “Then, nothing. Ordinarily, I’d say that’s because my precautions worked, but this fucking Black Friday bitch…” Cunningham sighed. “Maybe I will have that drink.”

“Of course.” Richard got up and served his guest. “There’s a divide in HISS,” he told Mr. Red. “One side is the Special Investigator and the other is Savoy. Halkein’s working the angles the way we’d expect.” Brutal, ruthless and with a bloody-minded efficiency that didn’t give one damn for the casualties or collateral damage that it caused. “Savoy, though… I don’t have as much penetration with her and I can’t push my contacts too hard, especially now. Getting one agent exposed was bad. Having another go off the reservation with an unordered assassination attempt...  I can’t risk any more exposure.”

Red grunted in understanding. “I almost wish Mendula and Capricorn were still in charge.” He snorted with mirthless laughter. “And isn’t that something?”

“It is.”

The men drank together for a few moments in shared commiseration. Red broke the silence. “I want to set up a line to you,” he said. “Secure. Direct. You’re the best positioned right now, so if things go south for me, I want you to be able to take care of my people. A lot of my work will fit nicely into your operations, so it should be fairly easy. Can you do that?”

Vance was quiet for several moments. “Yes,” he agreed. “I can. With the same request, that you’ll be able to take in my people if I’m the one who goes down.”

Mr. Red nodded. “I can do that.”

“And something else. Non-negotiable.”

“What’s that?”

“I have a daughter, Julie.”

Cunningham blinked. “Julie? I thought she was your sister.” He frowned as he considered Vance’s youth and his daughter’s age.“Wouldn’t that mean-”

Richard cut him off. “It’s a long story and it’s not relevant. If anything happens to me, you get to her and you make sure she’s safe. No matter what, no matter what she says or does. You make sure.”

The older man didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

“Good. Now, let’s get you a nice, secure line.” Richard keyed his comm. “Send Suki to my office, please. Thank you.”

A few moments passed and then the doors to Vance’s office opened and a young, extremely attractive Asian woman swayed into the room. She had her hair in a paired updo, with long bangs that framed her face and a neckline that showed quite a bit of decolletage. She was one of the Diamond Garden’s female escorts and she smiled at Richard as she came up to the desk, playfully waving at the seated Cunningham.

“This is Suki Tsai, one of my best girls,” he said to Dirk. “Suki,” he said in Cantonese. “This is Mr. Cunningham.”

She slid into Cunningham’s lap like she belonged there. “He’s handsome,”she pronounced, running her fingers through his hair. “I like silver foxes.”

“Suki doesn’t speak a word of English,” Vance told his guest. “In public.” Those last two words killed the question forming in Mr. Red’s throat. Suki’s persona was of the ‘exotic Eastern beauty’, a recent immigrant to America, somewhat naive and very eager to please. In point of fact, she’d been born less than a hundred kilometers from where they were sitting, spoke Cantonese, Korean, Japanese and English and was better educated than Vance himself. If her family hadn’t pissed off the Victors, she’d be a patron of the Diamond Garden, not an employee. “Suki, Mr. Vance is a very special friend of mine. He’s looking to engage someone for an extended period of time, and he’s looking for a friendly girl.”

At the words friendly girl Suki’s eyes darted from Vance to Cunningham, looking directly into the younger man’s eyes. “How friendly?” she asked.

“Very friendly,” Richard told her.

The young woman’s dark eyes lit up and she looked at looked back up at Mr. Red. “I can be friendly,” she told him in perfect English, before switching back to Cantonese. “But only because Richard says it’s okay.”

Vance nodded. Most of his employees simply thought of him as a young, ambitious man on his way up, even those he used as additional eyes and ears. Only a very, very small percentage were trusted enough to know that he wasn’t simply an amoral information broker interested only in growing his own small kingdom. Suki was one of those people. She was one of his most-requested girls, with a lot of powerful regulars. Being ‘the help’ often made you invisible. Being the help when no one thought you could understand them was an even better cover. All of Mr. Orange’s contacts heard interesting things, but Suki most of all. She’d told him once she kept a running tally of the confessions and pillow talk her partners had shared with her that ended with “...and you have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

“I always answer that with my best pidgin English,”she’d told him. “‘We fuck now’?“

“Suki is one of my most valued employees,” he told Cunningham. “Whatever you tell her will come directly to me and whatever she tells you will be directly from me, no one else. She’s absolutely trustworthy, she handles high rollers and VIPs like yourself and for a little extra, she makes house calls. For a man as fond of female attention as you’re known to be, no one will think twice if she’s seen on your arm or at your house. Go back down to the casino, play some games, take in a show and let her smile, giggle and jiggle. Let everyone see you’re having a great time. Spend the night here, even. Then whenever you get an itch, it’ll be no surprise that that you want her again.”

“You really do run a full-service operation,” Dirk said, a little impressed.

“Everyone who walks through our doors should leave a little happier. Even if their wallet’s lighter, they should have at least had fun and for a gentleman like yourself, Mr. Cunningham, I provide only the best. Is that all I can do for you?”

“It is, thank you.” Dirk managed to stand, Suki sliding out of his lap and leaning into him, practically melting into the taller man’s side. “You’ve got a nice operation here, Richard. I think I just may have to put in a few extra appearances at your card tables and cost you some money.”

“You can do your best, Dirk, but the house always wins in the end.”

“Well. We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

“Yes, we will.”

Mr. Orange smiled as he watched his compatriot take his leave, Suki hanging off him and chattering happily in Cantonese, fully into her act. “Let’s go to the casino! I want to plaaay some gaaaames.”

Games indeed, Vance thought. Let’s keep playing and hope that this time, the house doesn’t actually win.

~

Darren’s dismissal from the hospital was done with an orderly, impersonal efficiency. He was given a final once-over by his attending physician and then it was time for discharge. House Vipress fully covered his medical expenses – a fact for which he was told by several staff that he should be grateful for. The governmental health care all citizens were provided only covered the bare minimum of the services and surgeries that he’d needed. His prolonged hospital stay, private room and the amenities he’d been given as well as the necessary physical therapy he’d have to go through were more than he or most other sapiens could have easily afforded. The Hegemony didn’t tolerate debtors. If an ‘objective’ analysis of a citizens financials suggested that they would be unable to pay the state back for the cost of care in an ‘acceptable’ time frame, then that citizen would be given a new role in service to the state until such time as the debt was cleared.

A lot of jobs that needed muscle and numbers got filled that way, from the reclamation crews decontaminating Earth’s surface to anything else that a sapiens could be press-ganged into doing that was too dirty and risky for familiars or drones. Between the additional expenses of lodging, food and assorted extras, crushing interest and the garnished wages, few ever worked themselves out of serious debt. Which was just how the Hegemony liked it, getting their money’s worth out of the “obsoletes” of society.

If it were anyone else, Darren would have suspected that was just another means of controlling him, but Savoy wasn’t the type to make a leash out of bank notes. She already had his balls in a cup. The bitch didn’t need anything more than what she already had on him. Still, he supposed he should be grateful to some extent. He was still alive because of her, for whatever that might be worth these days.

They wheeled Darren to the hospital’s departure gate. That protocol hadn’t changed in the last hundred-some years. The nurses confirmed his next physio appointment, said professionally crisp and uninterested farewells and took their leave. Darren stepped outside, blinking against the fall sun. A little ways away, humans of all stripes passed by on the sidewalk, as vehicles and drones flitted past on the street and through the air. A man leaned against a column, reading his phone as he waited for someone. A husband led his wife, holding their newborn child, to their car to head home.

From here, everything looked normal – a nice, neat little window into the banal comings and goings of ordinary people with ordinary lives. It didn’t show the rot. Just like me, Hawke thought. From the outside, he looked ordinary, too. He didn’t look like… whatever he was.

What was he now? What did he do? Questions he still couldn’t answer. Couldn’t?A nasty little voice inside him whispered. Or don’t want to? He’d had plenty of time to have those questions bouncing around in his head while he’d been in that hospital bed, and plenty of time to avoid confronting them. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going. Sooner or later, something in him was going to break and he didn’t even know if he should try to stop it.

Darren looked around. No one was there to meet him. He hadn’t expected anyone. He had no family and no friends. He supposed he should flag down a taxi, but that filled him with trepidation. Going back to the manor like a good little servant triggered a wash of self-loathing. Where else am I going to go?Nowhere, that was where, but he could at least prolong the inevitable.

As he deliberated his few options, Darren saw the man reading his phone straighten and walk towards the hospital doors. In the parking lot, a van pulled out of its spot. Two seemingly unconnected events, but a jolt of adrenaline spiked down Darren’s spine as his deep-seated survival instincts kicked off. A lifetime of looking out for predators in human skins hadn’t gone to waste. The man with the phone was one of them.

This was a snatch and grab, and Hawke was the target. The man knew his job; his expression wasn’t pinched and hostile and he wasn’t charging right at Darren. His face was carefully neutral, even a little friendly and he walked towards Hawke like someone who’d just seen a friend, but wasn’t in any rush. Darren knew how this would go. The other man would come up to him with a smile and greet him by the first name. He’d whisper instructions into Darren’s ear, and there’d be something in his coat to keep Darren from making a scene. A knife or plastic gun, most likely. The van would pull up, Darren would get in like he was being offered a ride and that would be that.

The only question was, who wanted him? The Coalition, obviously, but this felt a little too blatant with all the heat on them. Then again, they’d also tried to kill him inside Savoy’s own home. A daylight grab was downright clandestine compared to that. Or was this HSS? Not Redmane or Savoy’s people. They wouldn’t need to stage this for someone Vipress already had, so that meant Special Investigator Halkein and his tender mercies. That that was a possibility was the only reason Darren considered resisting. He’d much prefer his own people grab him. He didn’t know enough to compromise any cells either here or in Garamond, but he could endanger specific people. Cherise first and foremost.

The man came closer. His expression started to break into the friendly smile Darren had been expecting. The van was slipping into the parking lane. It wouldn’t be long. Resist or go with them? He didn’t know. If this was Coalition and he resisted, he’d only blacken his name further, but if this was Halkein, he couldn’t let himself be taken…

Darren’s heart pounded as the seconds whittled down. He didn’t know what to do. Then, a town car pulled up in the priority visitors’ queue. It was one of the vehicles from the manor’s motor pool. The door opened and Alan Redford got out. “Darren!” he called. “Over here!”

Almost grateful for the unexpected deliverance, Darren headed towards Redford. Behind him, the man continued on his path without a single break in his stride, the van pulling past the other vehicles and heading out onto the street. Neither the driver, passenger or pedestrian looked at Darren as they went about their seemingly completely innocent and unrelated business. “You’re looking well,” Redford said, shaking his hand. “I would have been in to see you, but hospitals give me the willies. Besides, I figured you needed some peace and quiet for recovery.”

“I appreciate it. Seems like you’ve got a promotion.”

“Only temporary. Vipress sent me to pick you up. She said you’d probably be glad to see a friendly face.”

“Well, she’s right about that.”

“Everything settled?” Redford said, looking over Darren’s shoulder towards the hospital.

“For now,” he replied. “Clean bill of health, or at least enough to kick me out.”

“Right, then let’s get going. You’re probably hungry for something that has actual flavour, so we’ll hit Castle Spot on the way back, my treat.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Ah,” Redford waved off the thanks. “Friends do for friends, don’t they?”

“They do,” Darren agreed as he got into the passenger side and Alan pulled out, slipping back onto the city streets. “They do indeed.”