Day 127 - One Punch

 One Punch

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

It seemed as though Rama had spent half a day traveling in circles, doubling back, crisscrossing all over the neighborhoods before eventually making his way to the train station. He normally liked to listen to cassette tapes from the 80s on a vintage Walkman he purchased, but he knew he had to be careful and needed his full undivided attention. Maliq was an ever-growing thorn, and Bagus, while well intentions, was nosy and fuck and prone to following Rama to try and learn what he called his daily lessons on how to be a badass. Rama didn’t really want a protégé in the gang, but management noticed such things and Rama hoped if he did a good job training Bagus then perhaps he would be rewarded with a better position. So far management hadn’t noticed. Either way, Rama couldn’t risk being followed today. It had been too long since his last check-in, and ever since his partner Kris was killed, the ranking officers were more and more overly protective of agents in the field. Rama took the train to the other side of the city, where he finally took a taxi to a different station where the commuter trains crossed paths with the highway. If nothing else, he could explain a few minutes on a bench with a stranger was simply him waiting on another train to arrive.

“The money is international. You arrest them now, someone else will move in, nothing changes, it just gets delayed. There was supposed to be a shipment. But a courier went missing or maybe dead.”

“That doesn't give us a lot to go on.”

“They didn't tell me much. The Foreigner came to talk to the bosses. He was European. And they mentioned Naxis. Like a bank. Maybe money laundering.”

“Naxis. I'll look into it. You need backup. If you're worried because of what happened to Kris--”

“People need to stop talking about him. That won’t happen to me. Besides, I work better alone.”

“Okay, solo it is. For now. Stay safe and let me know when you have any updates.”

 

 

Rama walked through the warehouse, and arrived to find a large gathering of gang members. Rama moved through the crowd, until he found Bagus.

“What's happening?”

“I thought you’d tell me.”

Suddenly their boss appeared and the crowd fell silent.

“Men, I have an important business trip to take, and I need some people to ride by my side. There might be trouble and I may need someone to smash good for me.”

Rama spoke up and threw his name out there. When Maliq saw his boss smile and nod, his anger rose and he stepped forward.

“Just like that? You take the tiny man? What about the rest of us who like to smash things?”

“Did I say that? I didn’t say that, did I?”

“Then what are we all doing here?”

“I need me who like to smash good for me. You want to prove it? Let’s see you two fight.”

Rama instantly regretted the situation he was now in. He needed to impress the bosses and he needed to move forward in the gang, but Maliq was his direct superior and well respected, and Rama didn’t think kicking his ass was a good way to make friends amongst the rest of the gang.

“You’re not serious, boss, are you?”

His boss shrugged. Maliq stepped forward and mocked Rama.

“You’re not scared are you, tiny man? You afraid of me? I’m gonna tear you apart.”

Maliq played to the crowd and got them excited. Rama shook his head, knowing there was no way out of this situation. The gang members broke out in cheers, yelling support and betting on the fighters.

Bagus leaned in to Rama and said, “you got this, boss. No sweat.”

Rama couldn’t tell Bagus what he was thinking, but he whispered to him and told him not to bet on the fight.

Rama walked towards Maliq, who was already in a boxing stance. He was ready to pounce, throwing out a few jabs at Rama approached. Rama danced away and kept his distance, watching and studying Maliq’s fighting style. He was good, well trained and disciplined. If Rama had wanted to find, it might have been a decent enough match. But Rama wanted this to end without embarrassing Maliq or jeopardizing his standing with the men.

Maliq was busy grandstanding for the crowd, and Rama knew he could have caught him unaware. Instead, Rama approached slowly and let his guard drop just enough.

Maliq charged and leapt at Rama. He swung just as Rama dropped his guard more.

The punch landed and Rama hit the ground. One punch.

The men shouted and cheered. Bagus helped Rama to his feet.

“What happened? You--”

“I did what I had to do.”

Maliq celebrated with the men. Their boss walked over to Rama.

“I’ve seen you fight. I know your reputation on the street.”

Rama didn’t answer, but nodded in agreement.

“You let him keep his honor. I can respect that in front of the men. But on this job, there’s no room for that.”

“When the time is right, I know how to do the right thing.”

“Good. I’m counting on that. I’m about to risk all our lives, but the rewards will be worth it.”

Rama smiled, and shook his boss’ hand. He had found his way in and it was only a matter of time now before justice would be served.

Day 126 - Onward to Jakarta

 Onward to Jakarta

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

66 sat in the back row, leaned his head against the window and tried to fall asleep. He would be in Jakarta in three hours, traffic willing, and he could really use the rest. A friend had done his best to stitch his wounds, but there was only so much that could be healed in three days with Gatorade and vitamin supplements. He needed a doctor and rest and perhaps surgery, but 66 had burnt all his contacts in Bandung. Once the fighting had broken out, he knew there was no going back. On the road again, but this time with fewer resources, and even fewer friends.

66 rolled his sleeve down to hide his tattoo. The tattoo that was his life. The tattoo that was his name. It used to mean something. He used to be part of something. That tattoo had taken him around the world and back. It had made him a man. Made him part of something.

But that was all years ago when he hated his brother and father and his nephew that was secretly his son. He had left and never planned to look back. But life was long and had other plans. But now all that was gone as well. Everything and everyone he knew were victims of having known him. It was his curse.

66 wasn’t sure what he’d find in Jakarta. Once there were would have been an organization. Once his tattoo would have been a passport, to be feared and respected. But that organization wasn’t organized. It was a loose conglomeration, a confederacy at best. It made it hard to destroy the group. It made it harder for them to stick together.

33 had been his friend. 33 had tried to kill him. He had never killed another member, but he had acted in self-defense. He hoped that would be enough and the others would understand.

It had been years, but he had met 22 in Jakarta before. There was a chance she was still there.

If only he had his motorcycle, he’d be there already. But that was at his brother’s garage, and that was probably swarmed with police by now. Plus, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stay upright.

66 closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It might be his last chance to get a few solid hours for a very long time. The bus pulled out of the station and rattled off into the night.

Day 125 - Greetings from Bandung

 Greetings from Bandung

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Two low-level street thugs harassed Sonny about parking on their street. He tried to keep a straight face so as not to antagonize them further. They had no idea who he was, and they wanted so little, it was laughably pathetic. Nearly still children, Sonny was sure he would be able to handle them in a fight and could have taken them to the police, but he didn’t see the point. He didn’t have jurisdiction here, and overcrowded jails didn’t need more pickpockets and petty thieves filling them up. There were murders and massacres to solve. Sonny could afford to part with a handful of Rupiah if it meant a few minutes of peace.

Sonny had more important things on his mind. He had two bloodbaths on his hands, seemingly related, men from both families at both locations. It was unclear who had set out to murder who, but what were once business partners, were clearly at war with one another, with bullets from both families interspersed in the bodies of the other. But then there were the missing parties. Yaya Amer’s daughter Fara was missing. Some of the bodyguards from the compound were nowhere to be found either. And there had also been the murder of a father and son at a local auto-body shop that was recently purchased by Jon Quer. The picture was still muddy, but Amer and Quer both had their names and hands in a number of homes and businesses that had been recently attacked, robbed or burnt to the ground. Sonny needed a connection between them though. Someone was missing. Some mutual enemy. Or a rival. These two were clearly more than legitimate businessmen and someone had decided to take them out.

One thing he had not expected to see were photos from a seemingly random killing at an apartment building on the other side of town. Throat slashed, there were no similarities with these other seemingly gangland slayings. But Sonny wanted to see any information available on all major crimes in the past few months. The local police balked and complained, but they eventually turned him loose in the files. The apartment slaying was unique for one reason – the man killed had the number thirty-three tattooed on his arm. Sonny didn’t know the man, but he had seen a similar tattoo years ago when he had infiltrated a gang of pirates in the Sulu-Celebes Seas off the coast of the Philippians. That man’s tattoo had read forty-seven, but it was in the same style. Thirty-three and forty-seven. What was the connection? If not for his time fighting pirates, he would have looked past the thirty-three tattoo as well. But there clearly seemed to be something here. He needed to recheck all the bodies from the massacres. So far, he hadn’t seen any other men tattooed quite like this, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a first step. Perhaps one more organization of criminals that would have to be looked into, or perhaps it would provide the link that would tie all this bloodshed together.

Day 124 - Nine Dies

 Nine Dies

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Seven opened his apartment door to find Nine bleeding out in the hallway. There were streaks of blood leading back to the stairs, and bloody hand prints smeared across the wall where Nine had tried to support himself. His clothes were ripped and shredded and Nine had been stabbed with a knife multiple times. Seven tried to pick him up, but Nine’s body was limp and heavy and he couldn’t do anything to assist, so eventually Seven just dragged him inside his apartment.

Nine could barely breathe, let alone talk or give answers as to what had happened. Seven tried to put pressure on the wounds with one hand, while pulling out his cell with his other. Nine tried to reach Seven’s hand and mumbled something, but Seven wasn’t listening. Then the item fell from his hand and hit the floor – a USB drive.

Nine coughed and was able to say, “…files on each of us…” before succumbing to a coughing fit.

Seven stared at the drive, aware that every second wasted was one second closer to killing Nine. But Nine was likely already gone, and what would remain was the mystery of why.

 

 

Soon, Three made his way across the street and entered Seven’s apartment building. He stopped to examine the trail of blood leading up the steps. Three took out his phone and made a call.

Inside, Nine lay on the bathroom floor. Seven had drug him there and attempted some sort of amateur first aid, using towels and any bandages he could find. The towels were soaked red and Seven had to check every few minutes to make sure Nine was breathing. He had called Three instead of the bosses. A breach in protocol perhaps, but these seemed like special circumstances.

Three made his way up the stairs, when the door opened and Seven peered out.

“Someone might see.”

“Get inside. I didn’t have time to clean yet.”

Three looked at Nine before doing anything. Seven had tried to sew up some of the wounds with a needle and thread. It was a poor attempt at stitches. It didn’t seem to be working.

“What are you doing? Help.”

“Is he even breathing?”

“I did what I could.”

“You couldn’t have done much less.”

“Are you going to help or not?”

“Why bother? He’s dead.”

“He’s one of us. He is not going to die. Not here. A medic is on his way. I need you to get to work.”

Three shrugged, opened his bag and pulled out an IV drip.

“This is saline…”

“Just hook him up. The medic will be here.”

Nine looked bad, perhaps in a coma already. Three gave Seven one last look, then turned and got to work.

“You call this in?”

Seven was silent.

“Seven, you have to call this in.”

“Look at him – I don’t know who targeted him or who we can trust.”

“Call it in. Worry about the rest later. You called me. You called a medic. They’re going to know. Soon. You’ve already broken protocol. If you call it in now, they might forgive you. But if he dies here and you didn’t?”

“I made a decision.”

“Why?”

Seven thought about the USB drive. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he couldn’t trust anyone with that. Not yet. He couldn’t tell Three.

“I panicked. I made a mistake.”

“Then fix it. And call the bosses.”

 

 

Later, the medics prepared to move Nine’s body. A cleaning crew had arrived and was taking care of the halls. Seven sat in his living room with Three, waiting on supervision to arrive.

“You want to tell me what’s really going on? What was Nine doing here?”

Seven shrugged. “I don’t know. I found him in the hall. I have no idea why he came to me.”

Ten arrived and the room fell silent. Where The Nine worked to protect the families and keep the peace, Ten was an enforcer with permission to enact any punishment he saw fit. He policed The Nine and was their judge, jury, and executioner. Seven didn’t like the way he was looking around the room.

“Perhaps if you had called this in sooner, Nine could have been saved.”

“I–”

“Plenty of time for excuses later. Clean yourself up. The Chairmen will want a full report. But first, walk me through it, step by step.”

 

 

A day later, Gideon met Seven in private.

“I know you tried.”

“Thank you, sir. But I still feel like a failure.”

“Nonsense. There’s still the who and the why to be solved. Who did this to my family?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you’ll have to find out.”

“What about Ten?”

“The organization trusts Ten. But you were there. He came to you for a reason. You know more than anyone else. This isn’t about protocol or obeying the system. This was a direct attack on the families, my family. On one of your fellow Ghosts. This was bold and brazen and who knows who the next target will be. There could be enemies everywhere. We can't wait for one man to do his job. We all must make sure it is done. Help my family get the answers. Help me.”

Seven bowed and nodded.

“Of course, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

“Good man. I’ll make sure the families don’t interfere with you. Now get me answers.”

Seven nodded, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. It seemed like an impossible task, but if an enemy was attacking the families, he had to try.

Day 123 - Queenie

 Queenie

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Queenie waited. She knew trouble was brewing. Somewhere out there in the ether, the city stirred and the shadows crept in, and someone was making a plan. Queenie was a child when the agreements were made and truces declared. Her great uncle was boss then and he sold his family on the promise of peace, freedom from bloodshed, and unimaginable wealth through cooperation. Promises were like opinions, and as her father had once said, opinions are like assholes, everybody has one and they’re all full of shit. It was true that there was no all-out war, but she couldn’t remember a single year where there wasn’t some funeral to attend. And the money? Well, she couldn’t tell if her family was doing better or worse than when she was a child, but she knew the city and it was easy enough to look at the other families and see that her neighborhoods were left behind a long time ago.

No one ever renegotiated anything. Not really. Not in a significant way. One street versus another made little difference. A percentage here or there. Sometimes there was new tech or new drugs, legal or otherwise. But once the city was carved up, it was going to stay that way. Except now there was that feeling in the back of her neck, that trouble in the wind, something stirring. Someone had killed an Agent. That was new. That was different. Of course, Agents had died before, once when a rival gang foolishly came to town, one was thrown out a window but that was probably from a dispute over a woman. Usually, Agents grew injured and old and got to retire and sometimes helped trained their replacement. A few got sick. Most lived a long time. When Nine died, that had been an assassination. He had been in the middle of an investigation. Someone didn’t want that investigation continued.

Queenie was feeling her age. Never married, never had kids, she was her family matriarch, but only so long as she instilled fear in the next generation. She hated her cousins and hated her nieces and nephews. But she was keeping an eye on her second cousins and there was a grandniece that had potential. Queenie was one of six siblings and there were thirty-two full blooded relatives, not counting the bastards known or unknown. Queenie held on tight to her power and protected herself with hand picked warriors and advisors. She had private meetings with the second cousins she could trust and when her grandniece turned sixteen, Queenie planned to begin mentoring her.

None of that would matter if war was to come. Queenie’s plans were years in the future, and a return to bloodshed seemed imminent. When that came, brothers and sisters could become her fulltime enemy. The younglings would have to wait.

The real question was who was behind the recent challenges. Shipments late. Pirate hijacking and kidnappings at sea. There was, of course, the murder of Nine and the slow and possibly intentionally botched investigation. And perhaps most importantly, numbers seemed low. Just a little. Not enough to raise suspicions with most of the families, but Queenie had noticed. When you’re last at the trough, you’re the first to feel hungry.

There was talk of an outside arrangement, organizations from overseas, looking to expand. But in fifty years, there had never been simultaneous problems like these. Anyone looking to make landfall would need local assistance. And that could come from a friendly, a fool, or perhaps another hungry family looking for an extra bite.

She had to be sure. It wasn’t like she could just hold secret interviews and ask the other family heads. If she had been a potential ally, she would have already been asked. No, if she raised any suspicious, she and her family could be joining Nine in short order. Three was a third cousin, but Three was loyal to the Dragon’s Claw, not to her or the family name. Three would be no help. What she needed was her own outsider. One who could investigate. One who could ask the right questions on the streets, find the right clues and pull at the strings, without raising suspicions, and more importantly someone who would give Queenie total deniability.

Queenie had waited, perhaps too long. Now was the time to act, but her first step had to be precise and it had to be secure. Queenie sat and thought, trying to decide on a course of an action. There was a name she knew, someone from her past, someone she could perhaps call once and only once. But if not now, when? She needed to protect her family. She needed a better position. If war was on the rise, if change was coming, this was a once in a generational chance to change her family’s fortunes. There might be no better time to use a one-time debt. Queenie weighed her options, but deep down she knew she had already made her decision and the die had been cast.

Day 122 - The Missing Agent

 The Missing Agent

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Kaylee woke up five minutes earlier than the day before, which was five minutes earlier than the day before that, which seemingly went on and on like that for weeks now. If this kept up, pretty soon she would be waking up before she went to bed the night before. She had been partnered with Office Declan and everyday he arrived before she was ready. They were foot patrol, walking the streets half the day and sitting in a police booth near the highway the other half. It didn’t seem like the type of assignment that required that level of dedication and attention to detail, but Declan was a stickler, so Kaylee matched his poise. Or at least attempted to. After the first few days, she swore she would be ready before he got there, no matter how early it meant she had to wake up. So far, she had continually failed.

Today, Kaylee had woken with the sun, performed her morning meditation and preparations. Water was on the stove boiling for hard boiled eggs and the kettle was steaming and her coffee was just about ready. Clothed and ready, she was a minute maybe two away from leaving the house, and no sign of Declan out the window. Kaylee smiled a satisfied smile, thinking that today would be her first victory, when the knock came at the door. She smiled when she answered the door, but they both knew it was less than sincere.

Declan and Kaylee began their day like any other day, on foot patrol. But soon they veered off and he led her several blocks away to a neighborhood that wasn’t normally theirs. It was odd, but Declan liked to throw in little tests and changes each day to keep her on her toes and add to her training. She figured there would be a lesson here that could be applied to the rest of their day.

“Tell me what you know about the Dragon Claw.”

Kaylee didn’t know anything about the Dragon Claw. She could feel her cheeks warming as she tried to fight off an embarrassed blush.

“It sounds like a gang.”

“Good. But are you guessing or do you know something?”

“Guessing.”

“That’s alright. Take a look around, and tell me what you see.”

It was a busy neighborhood full of street vendors and little shops. Old Town was the pinnacle of urban decay. Graffiti covered store walls. Trash littered the streets. Buildings were run down, with rusted metal, mold and broken plaster.

What was he asking for, she wondered. Workers, travelers, tourists. Food vendors. Beggars. People in the street. It was chaotic, but it all seemed pretty normal. People, cars, traffic and plenty of noise.

“Old Town? Underdeveloped. Poverty stricken. A lot of sad and desperate people.”

“There was a murder yesterday.”

“You sure? I didn't hear--”

“Right over there.”

Declan pointed and Kaylee followed his gaze across the street. She didn’t see any evidence of a struggle, let alone a murder.

“There was no police report. No files recorded. No body recovered.”

“If there’s no body, then how can you know it happened?”

Declan pointed to the graffiti on a building wall.

“Do you see it?”

Kaylee stared for a moment; it wasn’t clear at first. There was nothing there but gang tags overlapping other tags and images. But the longer she stared, the more it came into focus. Lines from several different images all came together to reveal a hidden image – the outline of a dragon claw. And then she saw the number in chaos of color – Seven.

She turned to Declan and nodded.

“When I was a kid, there was a different gang on each street. It seemed like every month meant a fight between different factions. The Dragon Claw changed all that. There was a meeting and the major crime families carved up the map, established their territories. They made rules to live by, trying to coexistence. The families incorporated. Businesses run by the criminals for criminals. And the Dragon Claw is their fist. Their private army, created to keep the peace. Highly trained and extremely deadly.”

Officer Kaylee looked around at the various gang signs on the street corners, looking for other clues. She turned back to Declan.

“How could you know any of this?”

“Because... I used to be one of them.”

Kaylee stepped back, shocked.

“Why are you telling me? I don’t… I don’t know--”

“I’ve been watching. Testing you. Researching you. You’re honest, you’re talented, and there’s nothing in your past to indicate you’re corrupt. My past is in the past. I’m putting together a team. It will be dangerous. But if we survive, it will make your career. I’m going to take them down, one by one, until there is nothing left. And I’m asking you if you want in, if you want to be my partner.”

Kaylee stared at him, nervous, but she already knew what her answer would be.

Day 121 - Naxis

 NAXIS

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Rama had worked his way inside the gang over the past year, and recently it seemed as if he was on track for middle management of some sort, but after drawing the ire of Maliq, he was being shut out at every opportunity. Rama knew the smart thing to do was keep his head down, double down on hard work and ignore Maliq. But time was not on his side. His days consisted of walking the streets, collecting protection money and loan shark debts. He was small time and it would lead nowhere if he didn’t get better opportunities. It had been more than a year since Kris was killed. If anyone had suspected Kris was an undercover officer there would have been more death, and purges of anyone suspicious. If anyone knew the truth about Kris, Rama would have been on the list. Kris had vouched for him and trained him, both as an undercover office and as a member of the gang. Kris was gone, but Rama still worked the case, and was determined to bring the gang down.

It seemed as if the investigation had stalled and Rama was going nowhere, when fate intervened and a courier from Japan was killed before his arrival in Jakarta. Suddenly the gang was on high alert and it was all hands on deck. Maliq had his issues with Rama, but Rama was a fighter and his skills were suddenly in need. There were doors to be kicked in, rivals to question, answers to be beaten out of someone if necessary. Rama didn’t particularly like this part of the job, but to refuse anything would draw suspicion. And this was his chance to show management he was reliable. Rama didn’t know what the courier was supposed to deliver, but he knew it must have been important.

Answers were scarce, but Jakarta seemed quiet. One theory was that the courier never made it out of Japan. That was possible if they were making moves behind the backs of the Yakuza. Rama’s personal opinion was that there were new players on the board. He didn’t share his thoughts with Maliq or the bosses, but he was fairly confident. Every lead he followed, every person he questioned, seemed to lead to the same answer. There were new faces the streets. Territorial lines not being respected. Boundaries were being tested. They were a small outfit, barely associated with the families of the inner city. They ran a small dock and paid tributes, but mostly they were left alone. But not now. Something changed. Something was coming. If it came for them, they’d be wiped out. Rama knew it was time to turn to the families for protection. Better to give up half your power but survive, but no one asked him his opinions.

Rama knew he should get in touch with his police captain and share his suspicions, but Rama didn’t know how to get away unnoticed. Besides, if he started expressing danger, he’d probably be removed and then the whole last year would have gone to waste.

Late one night Maliq gathered some men and Rama was lucky enough to make the list. They were picking up a delivery up at the docks. That was all they needed to know.

The package was a cargo container, the cargo inside was a man with a briefcase. A new courier perhaps? A well-guarded one if that was the case, thought Rama. He called himself The Foreigner and he apologized for any problems caused with the previous courier’s death. Rama wasn’t spoken to nor was he in a position to speak. He was an escort, as were they all. Maliq might have had rank in the situation, but even he wasn’t speaking for the bosses. Their sole job was to the The Foreigner to a meeting, not to discuss what had come before or future plans.

Rama guarded a door at the warehouse. He didn’t know what was said in the meeting, or what had been in The Foreigner’s briefcase. Bagus asked him what was happening and Rama told him to keep his mouth shut.

Later though, while making his way to check in with his boss, Rama spotted the door to a money counting room was slightly ajar. He couldn’t be certain, but he was pretty sure that he spotted metal plates, the sort used in printing presses. As he inched closer, he heard someone say the name Naxis. It sounded like a tech company to him, but what he did know. It could have been an enemy, or ally, or anything.

Rama took another step towards the door, when a face appeared in the opening – Maliq. Rama opened his mouth to speak, but Maliq shut the door in his face. Whatever secrets were being shared, Rama wouldn’t be privy. And whatever headway he had made with Maliq in the past few weeks, was probably ruined in an instant. Still, he had a name – Naxis and a vague idea that they were involved in counterfeiting of some sort. There were still a million questions, but at least he had a place to start.