"Bloody shit cakes!" The balding man banged on his desk, causing the computer monitor to shake. He was wearing an ill fitting red track suit, that didn't quite cover his bulging stomic. His beard, moustache and thick eyebrows didn't make up for his dramatically receding hair line. He had the dark complexion of an South Asian.
The poorly lit office was filled with furniture from the seventies, with wood grain paneling and squeaky blue-green chairs.
He looked over to the other man who was wearing a brown corduroy suit complete with elbow patches. "These Nigerians is such cock-suckers, Mr. Bibb. Iqbal sent them my account number and their transaction fees and now they want wire transfer fees," Iqbal said in his thick East Indian accent.
"I'm not sure the transaction is going to be as profitable as they say it is going to be," Mr. Bibby replied with the English accent of an educated man. He continued, "I'm afraid we have a bigger problem."
"What! Where all eight prostitutes unavailable?" Iqbal asked.
"No. There has been a sudden change of leadership. Boss Bourassa has been replaced by a Boss Mandy. I don't think we will be able to go through with the original plan with her."
"You mean she don't secretly want to hang around with a black panther and dress up like Cyber Six?"
Mr. Bibby considered his answer. "I'm not sure, but I don't think we would be able to use that to blackmail her."
"Pity, you made a good Data Seven. Iqbal got all money tied up in this scam."
"While your 50 quid contribution was welcome, I'd be more concerned about what your cousin will do if we lose his money."
"Oh my balls," Iqbal's hand reached under the table. "You're right."
"However, we could have a much bigger opportunity. If we eliminate Mandy and with Boss Bourassa and his second now dead, I will be the top choice to take over the Endsville territory."
"So we kill this girl, take over the gang, drive them into the ground, steal all their money and run like little girls?"
"Exactly. However, we need to find a way to get her to come to us. She has set up a system to communicate through encrypted email. Only a couple of people have even seen her. But, she doesn't know you, so I could set you up as a rival gang leader who she needs to take out. When she shows up, we'll have our men ready to take her out."
"Iqbal likes. It got intrigue, violence and sex."
"Actually the plan does not involve any sex."
Iqbal rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself."
"This better be important," Mandy said, looking up from her computer monitor.
Mr. Bibby stepped into her apartment. It was a small place haphazardly furnished. A coach sat one the corner. The rest of the living area was empty, except for tall cupboards lining one all. The kitchen was barren, except for a pile of boxes labeled Chez Delivery, a service which delivered food from Endsvilles finest restaurants.
The desk held a large computer monitor and was cluttered with various electronic devices, many of which he could not identify.
"Of course, Miss Mandy," Mr. Bibby began. "I've heard reports that a rival gang has formed to take advantage of the disruption caused by the change in leadership and take over the underworld of Endville."
Mandy looked up in shock, "The underworld?"
"Yes, the organized crime of the city."
Mandy looked back at the screen. "Of course. Continue."
"They have started recruiting, both independents and some of our low level people. It is being led by Iqbal bin Ibrahim Maurice Kandallah."
"An ethnic gang?" Mandy asked.
"Not ethnic, more ex-British ex-African ex-Canadian ex-Cyprus or something."
Mandy looked at Mr. Bibby confused, "Greek side or Turk side?"
A cell phone rang. Mandy dug through the mess on her desk until she found it. She picked it up, "I told you not to call except in an emergency. ... Well, put pressure on it and hide in the basement until they leave. ... Don't bother contacting us again." Mandy rolled her eyes and threw the phone at Mr. Bibby who clumsily caught it. She said to him, "Toss that in a dumpster somewhere across town."
He nodded and continued, "As I was saying, I believe we should take decisive action. I recommend you take care of it yourself. If you present yourself as someone to be reckoned with early on, it can make things smoother in the long run."
Mandy seemed to be ignoring him as she typed on the computer, "Fine. Whatever. Keep me updated on his whereabouts."
There was a knock at the door. Mandy stood up. Bibby glanced at her short grey shirt and reminisced about better days.
"Let him in," Mandy told him.
He pulled open the door and saw a young man with short blonde hair and a bad teenage moustache. He was wearing a white sweater and a blue neckerchief as a head band.
"Hello," he said cheerfully. "I'm Dean. Dean Venture. I was told to come here by this text message." He held up his cell phone. Looking at Mr. Bibby, he said, "I know you. You're that British guy."
Mandy walked towards them. "Mr. Bibby was just leaving. My name is Mandy. I've asked you here to ask you a few questions."
Mandy lead Dean into the apartment as he said, "Golly, Mandy, are you the new boss? I'd sure be happy to answer any questions you have."
Mandy sat him down on the coach and turned towards the cupboards. "So I've heard. Tell me, who else have been asking you questions and what have you been telling them?"
Dean stuttered as Mr. Bibby collected his things to leave.
Mandy sorted through the cupboard as she said, "We are friends, right Dean?"
He nodded and said, "Sure."
Mandy worked on something out of sight as she said, "You know Dean, you can pick your friends."
He nodded.
"And you can pick your nose."
He looked at his finger confused.
"But you can't pick your friend's nose."
As Mr. Bibby closed the door to leave he heard the sound of a surgical glove being pulled on.