Three Little Lovebirds
Chapter 7 – Jack The Ripper
Superficially, the room was just like any other executive office. A large, one-way window allowed the fortunate occupant to admire the striking vista of the Citadel arms in all their majestic glory. This was a rare luxury, but not uncommon amongst the rich elite that were lucky enough to own penthouse apartments around the circumference of the presidium ring. The décor too spoke of someone exceedingly wealthy, although this particular individual appeared to prefer more subtle, simplistic aesthetics than most. All the walls were panelled with real hardwood, and actual honest-to-God carpet covered the entire floor. Mahogany tables and desks blended seamlessly with high-tech computers and huge, wall mounted monitors. It was a perfect balance between the old and the new...just the way the room's owner liked it.
The Shadow Broker stood rather than sat. He had no need for comfort...his mechanical limbs never tired, just like the rest of his body. That was something of an advantage in a job such as his...a business where you had to be constantly alert. Monopolising the information trade in the seat of galactic politics was no mean feat...lies were a dime a dozen here and it took a keen mid to sift the gold nuggets from the silt.
Gazing through the glass wall at a passing Volus trading vessel, he identified its serial number in the blink of an eye. X-327K...he had three agents and two informants aboard that particular ship. There was no point in posting any more; it was an unimportant little craft which only ever made trips between the Citadel and the Volus homeworld. Still, it never paid to overlook anything completely...secrets surfaced in the most unexpected of places and as always, he would be the first to know when one did.
The grubby cargo ship departed as the Shadow Broker withdrew a pack of Cuban cigars. Widely considered to be the finest in the galaxy, they were only available on special import from the human homeworld. Each one cost as much as a session with the consort. He'd acquired a lifetime supply after one of his agents had dug up a rather nasty little story about the head of the manufacturing plant and a certain Turian's wife. After that it had been a simple extortion job and now every month, a small, unmarked shuttle delivered the choicest crates to a privately owned wharf.
Of course he'd had to have his agent killed...it was the usual way if someone discovered something that was of direct interest to the Broker himself. Covering his tracks was vital...and thankfully easy for someone of his position.
There was a saying that no matter where you went, you were never more than five metres away from one of the Shadow Broker's information sources. Amongst those to whom the sensitive knowledge might actually be relevant, it was more like three metres. The Citadel was rife with people willing to squeal for a little cash in hand...not to mention how archaic some database security systems were.
The Shadow Broker clamped one end of the cigar in his skeletal, metallic jaw and the self-lighting tip burst into flame. It was times like these he was thankful for his lack of organic weaknesses. He had no lungs for the smoke to befoul, nor a tongue with which to taste its acrid, choking flavour. Other races however, did, and he found the habit made most people decidedly uncomfortable. It was a small advantage, but one that could be gained with no extra effort on his part. Instead, his unblinking red eyes stared fixatedly through the grey wisps of soot and out down one of the vast Wards. There could be no doubt...this station was eating from the palm of his chromed hand.
A brief buzz of an intercom from his desk interrupted the synthetic's musings. Irritated at being disturbed, he jabbed the receive button venomously.
"Knowledge is power," came the familiar callsign his agents used to identify themselves.
"Hide it well." he replied tersely, indicating they were alone.
The door slid open and a portly Volus stepped nervously into the office. To Barla Von, the Shadow Broker was no more than a dark figure, silhouetted against the Citadel's awesome bulk. The only source of light within the room was the faintly glowing tip of the imposing man's cigar. The Volus hated that particular habit...the smoke clogged his air filters if he remained in it's presence for too long. No doubt his employer knew that...he knew everything, especially the weaknesses of those who he worked with most closely.
Swallowing his misgivings, Barla Von made his way to the line of red felt that ran horizontally across the carpeted floor. No one crossed that line...ever. In fact, the Volus was one of a select few who ever got to 'meet' the Shadow Broker. He knew he should be honoured, but it was more a burden than anything else. A man who went to such efforts to remain hidden had to ensure those who were aware of his location would not be at liberty to divulge it. There were probably about a million different ways the Broker could silence him...should he ever be foolish enough to betray the information dealer.
Barla Von was a smart man however; smart enough to realize those who crossed the shadowy figure did not live to tell the tale. Fist was but one example of that fact...and the Volus was sure Saren would soon be a second. It was because of this that he had to choose his next words very carefully.
"You requested a meeting," the Shadow Broker began, skipping the pleasantries, "And I have obliged...please say your part."
"I would like permission to speak candidly sir," Barla Von began, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea.
"Why my friend, without free speech we'd be out of business." the Broker replied without a hint of sarcasm. That was the problem with synthetics...they were impossible to read. For all the banker knew, there were already several guns pointed in his direction.
Taking the comment as a request to proceed, Barla Von continued.
"I am aware that I am but a humble middle man...but if I may be so bold...I-I have to question the wisdom of your recent actions."
Ouch...those words were going to cost him.
"You feel that my current trend of delivering information for free is unwise Mr. Von?" the Shadow Broker said emotionlessly. He'd called the banker 'Mr. Von'; that wasn't good.
"I-I-I merely wanted to enquire as to the reasoning for this surprising display of...generosity."
Wreathed in shadow, the mechanical man's features were inscrutable.
"Barla...you of all people should know there is no such thing as free information. Just because financial gain is not made, do not think for one moment that I gave these people something for nothing. Believe it or not...I did this for the good of the galaxy as a whole."
"I don't understand," the Volus protested, wishing that he could wipe the cold sweat from his brow.
"You see, there is more to my trade than credits...something a banker may find hard to grasp. Money is a bonus yes, but the real goal Barla...is power. By sowing the seeds of ideas amongst others, I am able to guide their paths down routes that I desire. The rewards of such a venture are far greater than if I had forced them to offer up material wealth in exchange for my services."
"But how does alerting a Quarian Admiral to the whereabouts of his daughter stand to benefit anyone? Surely his interference will just hinder Shepard's progress."
The Shadow Broker gestured for the Volus to be silent. Barla von obeyed immediately.
"That is a certain piece of information that I alone am privy too. Lest we forget you are but 'the middle man' and as such do not have the full picture of galactic events. Suffice to say I have some experience when it comes to these matters and you would do well to trust my judgement."
The banker gulped and fell silent. He realized now that the meeting had been a mistake...he'd be lucky to escape with his life.
"Thank you sir, I will not impinge upon your time any longer."
The Shadow Broker remained silent...time to leave. As the Volus waddled away, the mechanical man toyed with the idea of drugging him. It would be a simple matter to erase his entire recollection of this brief conversation. In the end, he decided against it. As always, he had been careful to ensure that nothing but the illusion of answers had been divulged...just enough to convince the banker that he'd gotten what he wanted.
Turning back to the window and extinguishing the expensive cigar, the Broker smiled ever so slightly. Everything was playing out as anticipated.
When the Reapers came, his place at their side would be assured.