As soon as I pushed open the glass doors of the Zaibatsu building, a chill ran down
my spine. The place looked desolate and imposing, all dark marble with a giant statue in
the middle of the floor. I walked up to the huge sculpture, a twenty foot tall stone man
in some sort of pose while holding a globe of the world on his shoulders. The plaque below
the statue read "Zaibatsu: We carry the world on our soldiers". It looked more like a burden
to me. I shrugged and walked over the hole in the wall where a receptionist sat, carefully
filing her nails. She looked to by my age, maybe a few more years older, with a crop of
perfectly kept red hair in some sort of hairstyle that was trendy this week. I tried on a
smile, and when it finally felt right, I approached the counter, Graves' suitcase in hand.
"Hello. My name is Vegas Minor. I'm here to take a meeting with Simpson."
She looked up from her nails and took me in when her face clouded. Apparently I didn't
look like the standard Zaibastsu clientele.
"Regarding?" she murmured.
"Just give him a buzz, honey. He's expecting me."
She gave me the hard stare a few moments more, then picked up her little phone and started
pushing buttons on some sort of high-tech console. I stepped away and glanced at the
upward; the joint looked big from the outside, at least fifty or sixty stories into the
sky, but the lobby was so high that I could barely make out the top of the ceiling.
"Someone will be down momentarily to take you up to him."
About a minute later, a couple of mechanical-looking well dressed thugs piled out of the
elevator, complete with the subtle-yet-obvious gun bulges on the side of their jackets and
little radio coils attached to their earlobes. I wondered how they could see me behind
their shades in the gloom of the lobby. They marched over, and led me to the elevator.
"Arms." Robot #1 said, as I folded mine.
"With two legs one nose and a cock. What's it to you?"
"Arms." he repeated again. I considered fucking with the robots, but these cats seemed
like ice, and nothing would rattle their cage. So I forgot about it. I rose my arms and
the Robot briefly frisked me. He pulled a nine from the back of my pants and held it in
front of my face.
"It's not loaded." I said.
Then he popped out the clip and glared at me.
"Well, NOW it's not loaded. Those are some nice looking threads. JC Pennys?"
They grabbed my arms and dragged me into the elevator, then pushed a button to one of the
top floors. I looked from Robot #1 to Robot #2, then back to Robot #1. They really looked
the same, and I considered that maybe they were robots,
complete with a shitload of wires and circuits under their collars.
"You guys can let go of my arms now. I'm not going anywhere."
They didn't. The elevator soared to floor fifty-two. Eventually, the doors parted and an
enormous office appeared in front of me. Before the robots could lead me inside, I
violently shrugged them off my flanks and sauntered into the room. I didn't look behind me,
but apparntly they didn't follow me in. Instead, they just stayed put, like the good
little machines that they were.
The office was phat. It might not be right calling it an office, because it appeared to be
more of a den that a person would find inside some sort of Victorian mansion, except the
den was the size of Wrigley Field. A mass of tasteful oak furniture and paintings decorated
the office, and a chair with its back to me, facing an roaring fireplace. I walked over
and stood beside the chair, as Simpson sat with his head bowed, San Andreas Chronicle open
in his lap.
"Mr. Minor," he said without looking at me, "pleased you could make it."
"So how is the Family Circus doing these days? Billy still fucking everyone's shit up?"
He looked up at me from behind his Lennon styled specs, brow furrowed.
"Forget about it. Got anything to drink?"
Simpson nodded and rose from the chair. He led me over to a full length wet bar on the
side of the office and opened an expansive liquor cabinet.
"Two fingers of bourbon, neat."
He poured a double bourbon into a glass and I threw it back, smacking my lips.
"That's not bad. Must be the expensive shit."
Simpson made me another.
"We're Zaibatsu." As if that was supposed to explain everything. He led me back to the
fireplace and I took a seat next to him. I pointed to the flames.
"How does the smoke get out?"
"Mr. Minor, we're ZAIBATSU."
What? Whatever.
"You cannot know how happy I am that you returned my call." he continued, "I've been
anxiously waiting to hear back from you."
"Hey, you're ZAIBATSU. You could've gotten back to me."
"But you got back to us. The briefcase?"
I handed it to him.
"Inside is Graves' laptop. Shit has all sorts of dirt on everybody. And I mean everybody.
Lawyers, doctors, crooked politicos, gangsters, all sorts of business folk. Thought you
might like to have it."
"My deepest gratitude, Mr. Minor."
"Hey, Simpson? Call me Vegas."
"Very well. I expect that you want something in return for this?"
I finished my second double.
"A friend of mine in Liberty got pinched a while back for some bullshit possesion rap.
It's his third fall, but I need him here. Have him help me with a little job I've got going
on, but he's on lock. I'd like to know if you could help him be a free
man again."
"I think something could be arranged."
"Lovely. That's all I ask."
"Job?"
"It's just something I've got going down. I might let you know about it when it's done."
"Vegas, I could always find out if I wanted to."
"Nothing in this life is free, Simpson."
"So be it. Regardless, I will assist your associate."
"Great." I gave him Graves' cell phone number. "Give me a jingle when he gets to town,
huh?"
"It will be done."
I got up and shook his hand. He nodded and picked his paper back up. Walking out of his
office, I wondered what my "associate" was up to, and how he was faring in Liberty City's
Jail. He has a good head on his shoulders, but jail in LC could be rough, so the sooner he
was out, the better. Once back in the lobby, I saw Robot #2 and I stuck my finger onto his
chest.
"What's that?" I said.
He looked down. Once he did, I flicked my finger into her face.
"You gotta work on that, chief." I said as I left the Zaibastsu building.
NEXT:
CHAPTER 12---8-BALL AND THE ARYANS
my spine. The place looked desolate and imposing, all dark marble with a giant statue in
the middle of the floor. I walked up to the huge sculpture, a twenty foot tall stone man
in some sort of pose while holding a globe of the world on his shoulders. The plaque below
the statue read "Zaibatsu: We carry the world on our soldiers". It looked more like a burden
to me. I shrugged and walked over the hole in the wall where a receptionist sat, carefully
filing her nails. She looked to by my age, maybe a few more years older, with a crop of
perfectly kept red hair in some sort of hairstyle that was trendy this week. I tried on a
smile, and when it finally felt right, I approached the counter, Graves' suitcase in hand.
"Hello. My name is Vegas Minor. I'm here to take a meeting with Simpson."
She looked up from her nails and took me in when her face clouded. Apparently I didn't
look like the standard Zaibastsu clientele.
"Regarding?" she murmured.
"Just give him a buzz, honey. He's expecting me."
She gave me the hard stare a few moments more, then picked up her little phone and started
pushing buttons on some sort of high-tech console. I stepped away and glanced at the
upward; the joint looked big from the outside, at least fifty or sixty stories into the
sky, but the lobby was so high that I could barely make out the top of the ceiling.
"Someone will be down momentarily to take you up to him."
About a minute later, a couple of mechanical-looking well dressed thugs piled out of the
elevator, complete with the subtle-yet-obvious gun bulges on the side of their jackets and
little radio coils attached to their earlobes. I wondered how they could see me behind
their shades in the gloom of the lobby. They marched over, and led me to the elevator.
"Arms." Robot #1 said, as I folded mine.
"With two legs one nose and a cock. What's it to you?"
"Arms." he repeated again. I considered fucking with the robots, but these cats seemed
like ice, and nothing would rattle their cage. So I forgot about it. I rose my arms and
the Robot briefly frisked me. He pulled a nine from the back of my pants and held it in
front of my face.
"It's not loaded." I said.
Then he popped out the clip and glared at me.
"Well, NOW it's not loaded. Those are some nice looking threads. JC Pennys?"
They grabbed my arms and dragged me into the elevator, then pushed a button to one of the
top floors. I looked from Robot #1 to Robot #2, then back to Robot #1. They really looked
the same, and I considered that maybe they were robots,
complete with a shitload of wires and circuits under their collars.
"You guys can let go of my arms now. I'm not going anywhere."
They didn't. The elevator soared to floor fifty-two. Eventually, the doors parted and an
enormous office appeared in front of me. Before the robots could lead me inside, I
violently shrugged them off my flanks and sauntered into the room. I didn't look behind me,
but apparntly they didn't follow me in. Instead, they just stayed put, like the good
little machines that they were.
The office was phat. It might not be right calling it an office, because it appeared to be
more of a den that a person would find inside some sort of Victorian mansion, except the
den was the size of Wrigley Field. A mass of tasteful oak furniture and paintings decorated
the office, and a chair with its back to me, facing an roaring fireplace. I walked over
and stood beside the chair, as Simpson sat with his head bowed, San Andreas Chronicle open
in his lap.
"Mr. Minor," he said without looking at me, "pleased you could make it."
"So how is the Family Circus doing these days? Billy still fucking everyone's shit up?"
He looked up at me from behind his Lennon styled specs, brow furrowed.
"Forget about it. Got anything to drink?"
Simpson nodded and rose from the chair. He led me over to a full length wet bar on the
side of the office and opened an expansive liquor cabinet.
"Two fingers of bourbon, neat."
He poured a double bourbon into a glass and I threw it back, smacking my lips.
"That's not bad. Must be the expensive shit."
Simpson made me another.
"We're Zaibatsu." As if that was supposed to explain everything. He led me back to the
fireplace and I took a seat next to him. I pointed to the flames.
"How does the smoke get out?"
"Mr. Minor, we're ZAIBATSU."
What? Whatever.
"You cannot know how happy I am that you returned my call." he continued, "I've been
anxiously waiting to hear back from you."
"Hey, you're ZAIBATSU. You could've gotten back to me."
"But you got back to us. The briefcase?"
I handed it to him.
"Inside is Graves' laptop. Shit has all sorts of dirt on everybody. And I mean everybody.
Lawyers, doctors, crooked politicos, gangsters, all sorts of business folk. Thought you
might like to have it."
"My deepest gratitude, Mr. Minor."
"Hey, Simpson? Call me Vegas."
"Very well. I expect that you want something in return for this?"
I finished my second double.
"A friend of mine in Liberty got pinched a while back for some bullshit possesion rap.
It's his third fall, but I need him here. Have him help me with a little job I've got going
on, but he's on lock. I'd like to know if you could help him be a free
man again."
"I think something could be arranged."
"Lovely. That's all I ask."
"Job?"
"It's just something I've got going down. I might let you know about it when it's done."
"Vegas, I could always find out if I wanted to."
"Nothing in this life is free, Simpson."
"So be it. Regardless, I will assist your associate."
"Great." I gave him Graves' cell phone number. "Give me a jingle when he gets to town,
huh?"
"It will be done."
I got up and shook his hand. He nodded and picked his paper back up. Walking out of his
office, I wondered what my "associate" was up to, and how he was faring in Liberty City's
Jail. He has a good head on his shoulders, but jail in LC could be rough, so the sooner he
was out, the better. Once back in the lobby, I saw Robot #2 and I stuck my finger onto his
chest.
"What's that?" I said.
He looked down. Once he did, I flicked my finger into her face.
"You gotta work on that, chief." I said as I left the Zaibastsu building.
NEXT:
CHAPTER 12---8-BALL AND THE ARYANS