Thursday 21/07/61, Location: 22.32964, 114.23163, Time 20:23
Spook took a similar kind of route as she had previously, threading her way through back streets, side alleys, vacant lots and through properties in a confusing barrage of twists and turns. Marius watched her driving, and was quietly impressed. She certainly didn't appear to be jacked in to the vehicle, driving in the 'old-fashioned' way with purely manual controls, and while she was a more than competent driver, that was reflected in the smoothness of the journey. What did impress him, though, was the level of knowledge she displayed in her surroundings and the route. He didn't know how far her knowledge extended, but she had an absolute mastery of the area they were driving through, and he wondered if she had some hidden data-jack or mapsoft slot somewhere, that she was referring to.
"So – this guy you're taking us to meet – Mr. Farooq? He's a tailor, right?"
"No – a weaver. He supplies many of the tailors in the area. He runs a tight ship, and provides great quality goods at a reasonable price, so he's quite well regarded."
"Ahh, I see. So we're supplying the raw materials to him, he makes the cloth – but that needs to be sold to the tailors to turn into garments for sale… so he's making some mark-up I guess, but not as much as the tailors. And that's why his cash-flow is constrained…"
"I don't know how much profit he makes, but I'm sure it's enough… but otherwise, yes. He's passing on the bulk cloth to the tailors, and getting paid by them. He sells to multiple companies, so he can probably keep making without saturating the market too badly, unless we're talking about more than you've got in the back here?"
"No, this is the lot, for the foreseeable future."
"I'd have thought that would be fine, then. He should be able to keep his manufacturing pipeline full, based on the number of tailors around here… it's just going to take time to actually do. And like I mentioned before, he can only afford so much himself right now."
"I would be in favour of leaving the raw materials here, to be managed. Let him have the first shipment, and start work on the materials. We purchase more guns and deliver them – and then go home. We can take our payment later, as long as it comes. We have enough surplus right now to avoid that, and little work here otherwise." Marius suggested. "I see no reason to delay our return to the base."
"Can we get home ok from here? Without melting the wings and things?" Tads looked around with concern. "I mean, I thought we needed supplies and replacement parts?"
"We do to use the special engine again – but I don't think we need to do that. In fact, I'd much rather we didn't! That's generally a sign that everything has gone horribly wrong, in fact!"
"Well, let's see what this guy's capabilities are, and how the meeting goes. If Spook is happy to help us out a little with the deal, and in terms of management, and he seems ok – then maybe we should do as Marius suggested. We can drip feed the raw materials over as required, and just get the money transferred to the business account, and push it through legitimate channels. Probably… but we need to size up the situation and make sure it's going to work for both sides…" Kai paused, giving an enormous yawn. "Sorry. Don't know why – I mean, we've all been up the same time… but today's kinda taken it out of me."
"Well, we'll get some hot food into you soon, Kai, maybe that'll help." Spook grinned as she pulled the van into what appeared to be a driveway, then shot across someone's back yard, through a loading area and then across another main road, causing a blaring of horns as the traffic had to brake to avoid hitting her, before they disappeared into another service road around the back of some industrial units. "So – what exactly happened earlier? If you want to talk about it…"
"I think you'd be best placed to tell the story, Marius." Aswon said quickly, glancing over at the pilot to see what he'd respond with. Marius in turn just shrugged, then sighed a little, getting his thoughts in order and deciding how much to say. Aswon clearly trusted Spook a great deal, and so far she seemed to be trustworthy and competent – he was less wary about telling her about their adventures than many others of their various contacts, but he still didn't want to reveal too much.
"Well, we were just heading out over the water, having dropped off the supplies and last of the people we moved. We think the Japanese had moved down to form a picket line, or were taking part in an interdiction exercise – not aimed at us, specifically. But we happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. We did not see the ships directly, but their sensor signatures matched the earlier readings from our way in. A small vessel, relatively speaking – probably no more than a few thousand tonnes, and maybe in the one to two hundred metre length category."
"But what we did not see at all, was the submarine. I am certain it was a full size submersible, rather than a hybrid – just based on the size of the sensor suite. But I think they had deliberately left a gap in their naval assets and surface scans, and were actually watching for smugglers trying to ingress to the Philippines, rather than egress. We unfortunately flew straight over the top of them, about as close as it was possible to get. At that kind of range, it does not matter what kind of radar-absorbent materials you have, or how good your counter-measures are – there is just too much energy to fight against."
"I think I've heard of that. Something square law?" Spook queried.
"Indeed. The closer you are, the stronger the signal – but it rises exponentially. And as I said, we were almost directly overhead, at the range of scores of metres, not even hundreds. They managed to get a lock onto the aircraft and keep it. Worse, from our point of view, was they were integrated into some kind of tactical network, and were beaming information to the vessels on either side. Those frigates or destroyers were actually right at the limit of direct visibility, almost over the curve of the earth – but they were being fed information from the platform below us, so they had solid targeting data, even though they would normally not stand a chance of locking onto us themselves. At least I think not."
"From what you've described, they sound like the Shimakaze II missile destroyers. I don't know a huge amount about them, but they're front-line warships. Not cutting edge perhaps, but very much current generation hardware and with very well-trained crews."
"That does fit with our experience. Perhaps Hunter can find out something from that name…"
"On the list."
"Thank you, Hunter. Now, where was I… Ahh, so they had a target lock upon us courtesy of the data from the submarine. I, of course, immediately tried to evade, but we were still at far too close a range, and there was nothing to hide behind on the open seas." Marius went through the attack, describing how the missiles had come scything in at three to four times the speed of sound, bracketing the Broadsword in an all-encompassing kill-box, while he tried desperately to evade. He wasn't a natural story-teller, and his description contained a lot of technical detail, but the odd comment from Hunter or the others framed his factual descriptions with an edge of human drama, and it was still clear enough how desperate the situation had been, before he'd pulled his crazy loop and 'engaged the afterburners' as he described it, before skimming down and ripping past the submarine low and close enough to damage their sensors and throw off their lock. He left out a significant amount of detail on just what it was they'd used to escape, and the rest of the team followed his lead, and didn't talk around that side much – focussing instead on outranging their enemies once the submarines sensors had been damaged.
The story consumed most of the journey, and they found themselves in the centre of downtown, amidst the towering residential and commercial blocks, fighting their way through traffic on the narrow streets. Much like many UCAS towns, Hong Kong – or certainly this part – seemed to be laid out on a grid pattern, and the last of the daylight was cut off at ground level, filtered out by the towering mountains of concrete and glass that marched down either side of the road, jagged battlements of consumerism and inner-city life.
Spook turned down one of the cross-streets, and then into a small back-alley, dodging around waste-bins and service yards and managing to find a space where she could pull the vehicle up close against the rear wall of the buildings.
"We should be fine here – do you want to grab a sample box to take into the restaurant?"
"Will do, as soon as Tads lets me out!"
Hunter waited for their shaman to take the hint and drop her spell, and then moved to the rear of the truck to open the back door and let some light in, before selecting one of the smaller boxes from the heap. The rest of the team climbed out and down to the street, stretching their legs and bodies out after their rather unorthodox journey. As soon as Tads was out, she glanced up and around, then gave a quiet little grumble and tried to calm her thoughts, before starting to summon some spirits. It had only just passed dusk, but that mean the Broadsword was sitting exposed at the moment, visible to anyone and everyone in the construction site that might look that way. She managed to get a large spirit to answer her call, and gave it the mental picture of their aircraft and the location, then sent it away to go take care of hiding things once more.
Spook led them out of the alley-way and back around to the main street, and into a small restaurant nestled in between the entrance to the residential apartments located high above, and the commercial entrance to the business premises that occupied the first few floors. The 'House of Pancakes' seemed to have somewhat dated décor, but when Spook opened the door the smell that wafted out was quite appetising, and the place seemed to have a pleasant ambience to it.
Filing in, they were met with a smiling young waitress, who greeted Spook warmly – before leading them to their table. Two elderly looking people were already seated there waiting, sat next to each other on the pair of tables that had been pushed together to make a dining space large enough for the whole party.
Both had fairly typical Chinese features – skin tone, eye structure, facial proportions – though they appeared far more elderly than they had been described. Mr. Farooq had thinning grey hair, his hairline having receded way up and over his skull, almost giving him a hairstyle more commonly associated with monks. He was dressed in a suit that looked clean, but well worn, and that was certainly several decades behind the current fashions. Gaunt and frail-looking, his skin was thin and stretched over his bones somewhat, while his cheeks were a little sunken, and his eyes appeared to be huge – though that was probably the lensing effect of his very old fashioned horn-rimmed spectacles. Next to him was a female, of a similar age – presumably Mrs. Farooq. She wore a dress that had a shimmer to it and clung to her figure, a gentle pink colour with embroidered flowers that rose up the side of the button panels. Her hair was similarly grey, but she had managed to retain more than her husband, and wore it in a tightly styled short pony tail. Her skin looked smoother, no doubt thanks to the subtle makeup she had applied, but had the same thin-ness around her neck and hands.
"Good evening. These are the people I told you about, and they have bought some supplies to show you – we have Kai, Aswon, Tads, Hunter, Marius and Shimazu. And these are Mr. and Mrs. Farooq, some of the finest weavers in the city. Please… let's sit."
Kai stifled another yawn, and tried to turn it into a smile, and focussed his attention on them instead of their surroundings.
"Konichiwa!" he said, his brain still playing catchup. Time seemed to slow then for him, as part of his brain realised what he'd said, and started to cringe internally. Almost as bad were the sudden reactions of dismay and alarm from the rest of the team, Spook, and the Farooqs. Shimazu let his normally impassive face drop open, staring in surprise at his boss, while Spook's eyes opened wide at his faux pas.
"Please excuse my friend. He is a pig-farmer…" Hunter blurted out in passable Mandarin. It didn't have quite the right phrasing for what he'd intended, but he wasn't that skilled with the language – but he felt he had to say something to indicate that Kai had made a horrible mistake.
"My apologies – our friends here have had a very long journey to get here and somewhat stressful day – and Mr. Kai also has a strange sense of humour. I am SURE that was a joke that perhaps was not appropriate… perhaps we can sit down, and get some tea ordered."
The Farooqs looked at Spook, then over at Kai, before nodding mutely. They looked to be trying not to react visibly, though they were clearly taken somewhat aback. Hunter had a quick look at the menus that were laid out on the table, and did a quick calculation in his head – the prices here looked to be entirely reasonable, and in the "small family run business" kind of market, rather than a tourist trap or something crazy.
"I am sure that Kai will be happy to pick up the bill for tonight's dinner, as well as any drinks bill, to atone for his unfunny comment." Hunter glared over at Kai, waiting for him to nod his head in agreement, then settled himself down into a chair carefully, listening to the furniture creak and groan as he settled his mass onto it.
"I do apologise to you – that was indeed not funny, but as was mentioned, it has been a long and tiring day, and it has been some time since we were last here on business. My sincere apologies to you both for my poor choice of words." Kai bowed his head to each of them in turn. "I do hope you will forgive me, and I will of course be happy to take care of dinner for the evening, regardless of how any business discussions go."
The Farooqs managed a wan smile and a nod, but refrained for saying anything, though they did glance over to Spook several times as if seeking confirmation from her that they hadn't slipped into some strange hidden camera show or some elaborate practical joke. Spook kept giving them reassuring nods, and prompted everyone to look at the menus, choosing what to eat and drink. Here, at least, she was successful in prompting some genuine interest, with the team choosing their personal preference of sweet and savoury pancakes, selecting a wide variety of food to be delivered. It all appeared to be soy based and heavily processed – but was at least cooked in the open kitchen in the corner of the restaurant, and was served hot and fresh, and some care was taken with the presentation and service.
"Once again, my apologies for our introductions. But Spook here tells me that you are some of the finest weavers in all of Hong Kong, and that means we very much want to do business with you. In our travels we came across a substance – new to us, but well-known in the industry, it seems." Kai confined himself to English now, making sure that he wasn't going to commit any more social blunders – but both of the Farooqs seemed more than fluent. "The people we dealt with had some alternative arrangements made for transportation, but it sounded like they were being exploited rather badly, so we offered to help them out. Hunter, if you please?" Kai waited while Hunter handed over the small box, letting Mr Farooq take the lid off and examine the contents. "We believe that this is known as 'Vampire Silk', and is relatively rare but highly prized?"
"Indeed it is. A nice looking sample it is, too. Hmmm." Mr Farooq brushed at the silk with the back of his hand, gave it a sniff, but then put the box down next to his wife and turned his attention to Kai. "So, you are looking to sell your sample? Or your stock?"
"Our stock. We purchased the stock from the supplier – they, in turn, have some needs that we're looking to meet with the purchase cost, but that shouldn't concern you. But we have what seems to be a reasonably significant amount, that we're looking to pass on to a suitable purchaser, and Spook indicates that you'd be just such people. We briefly considered taking this to Milan, which also it seems has some world-class weavers, but that is so far away, and although we have a reasonable amount, I'm not sure we have enough to justify a trip of that length. And besides, I'm not sure those Europeans have quite the same regard as people here might on the beauty and desirability of the material." Farooq snorted a little, but gave Kai a tiny smile – the first one he'd cracked since their disastrous greeting. While Kai and Mr Farooq were talking, Shimazu found himself watching Mrs. Farooq, studying her as she examined the silk.
She set aside her mostly-eaten food and was examining the silk much more closely, delicately lifting the strands out to look at them, gently rubbing them between finger and thumb, and taking her time to really give the sample a careful look over. She pulled out a small lens and squinted through it to gain a magnified view of the thread, sampling the supply in a number of different places.
"So, you're looking to sell this to us?"
"We are indeed. But we're willing to be somewhat flexible on both the price, and the delivery conditions. We have a tendency, you see, not to go for the quick sale, but to develop our relationships with people, to seek out partners, rather than just purchasers. We would like to work with you, in a way that allows us both to make profit and prosper – rather than just sell the goods and get out. It leads to much better long-term stability overall."
"I see." Farooq glanced out of the corner of his eye, and shifted a little in his chair. Shimazu was pretty sure he'd just poked his wife under the table, or at least nudged her, and he watched as she gave him a tiny little nod, apparently satisfied with the quality of the goods. He found it interesting that while she'd not really spoken at all since meeting the team, Mr. Farooq seemed to entirely defer to her judgement on the quality assessment. "Well, we would be interested in such an arrangement. Depending on the details, of course."
"Of course. Well, we have a significant quantity of this silk, several hundred kilos, that we're looking to move on." Kai gave a little smile as Mr. Farooq coughed halfway through a bit of pancake. "That seems to be a reasonable amount, and I can imagine that represents a significant investment."
"Yes, very much so. And alas, one that we cannot undertake at the moment, much as we might want to. We recently bought some upgraded equipment for the business – new looms and such like. And while we might want to do business, that is something we cannot afford right now."
"Well, if we want to do business, we can be flexible. We can understand that cash flow is, of course, a concern – but as I said, we're in no rush for this, so we can take a longer-term viewpoint. Perhaps we can supply a small sample now, for you to take away…" he gestured to the box still sat in front of Mrs. Farooq, "and arrange for some more to be delivered tomorrow, to a value we can discuss. And then let you process that and find a buyer, and carry on your other business already in motion. Perhaps in a few weeks' time, we can arrange for a few more kilos to be delivered again, on payment for the previous shipment, and let you process that, and continue in that vein. We're happy to sell to you based on the strength of the recommendation we've received, but we don't want to make doing business difficult. We can always find a way…"
"That is intriguing. And a generous offer. One I think we would be interested in pursuing further." Again, Shimazu noticed a quick flick of the eyes to his wife and a tiny, understated nod.
"Well, we are trying to be flexible – but we are also new to the market, and the processes that drive it. So in a way, you're being generous to us with handling the material in such a way. I'd imagine that by drip-feeding the material out into the tailors, that will also prevent a glut of supply and a crash in pricing, and help maintain the exclusivity of the goods. Of course we don't have any experience in that regards, so by allying ourselves with you in this way, we can each gain something from the transaction!"
"Ahh – very wise. And quite correct. If we are to do business then, perhaps you should come to visit our humble workshop. We're very proud of it, and our staff, and I would like to show you what expertise you're gaining by doing business with us…"
Farooq seemed to be intrigued with the idea, and started to chatter on about his company and their equipment, describing the history of the business which went back several decades. It was a long time since they were just a husband and wife team working in a dingy lean-to built onto their house, handling all the raw materials by hand, but they hadn't forgotten their roots, and remained aware of how much they needed to retain quality and relationships with their buyers and sellers. As Kai and Mr. Farooq chatted, discussing the possible venture, he seemed to open up to the team somewhat, the disastrous start to the meeting being pushed out of his mind. Mrs. Farooq seemed more reserved, but it seemed that while she was the decider when it came to the product and quality of the goods, she equally trusted him on the business and planning side.
"I am curious about this silk. Is it suited to any particular type of garment?" Aswon asked, judging that the conversation was heading towards where they wanted it to be now.
"Well, it's quite soft in the natural form – so mostly used as linings for suits, and shirts, where it can be appreciated against the skin. If you can afford it of course, you can make the whole garment from the cloth, so people can see the shimmer and ripples of colour – but it's just not as durable and hardwearing as other fabrics would be. Of course, for many, that is not a concern and this is something to be seen in, rather than be practical."
"I see. So it would be more than possible to make a suit entirely out of the silk, or even a ball gown. Though very expensive, I would expect." Several of the team glanced at Aswon, giving slight grins or in Kai's case, a slightly pained expression, wondering just how expensive a dress would be sculpted to fit Germaine's generous proportions…
"Oh yes, it's no problem to make a suit. You just have to get the density right to make sure it's robust enough. A suit may take somewhere between six and twelve square metres of fabric, depending on the design and manufacture. For a gown? Hmnm, that really depends on the design a lot. Add some flourishes, pleats or a train and you can vastly magnify the amount required. And of course if you're talking the latest fashion trends or catwalk models, they tend to go for the most extreme constructions and layups."
The conversation continued to flow, and the team learnt a little about the world of fashion and tailoring in Hong Kong. Mr. Farooq was well-informed and knew plenty about the tailoring business, though he went to great lengths to ensure they knew he was not a tailor and had no skill in the tailoring process – but he clearly knew his target market well, and kept a close eye on the trends and developments in the industry. He also seemed genuinely proud of his company and their efforts, and once again extended an invitation to the team to come and visit their workshop the following day, getting Kai's agreement and then arranging to meet at ten the following morning.
Mrs. Farooq tapped her watch quietly not long after, and Mr. Farooq took the hint, lidding the sample box and checking that they were still ok to take it, before they stood, politely thanked the team for their meal and left. The team retook their seats, and Kai felt Spook staring at him intently.
"I know… I know… I made a booboo…"
"He can do that in fifteen different languages, you know. Make cockups, that is…" Aswon grinned. "Though being fair, it has been a somewhat stressful day for all of us."
"Just don't ask him to say hello in Russian. At least not if the other side have heavy artillery!" The rest of the team sniggered at Hunter, or shook their heads in mock dismay, while Spook looked around at them with a quizzical expression on her face.
"Guess that's a story for another time… Well, at least we seem to have recovered things ok. Now – let's get the bill sorted and you lot to the lockup to dump the gear, and then the hotel. I've got stuff planned for tomorrow, so I'm going to have to leave you to your own devices. You can probably get a taxi from the hotel easy enough, though you could also walk over. It's probably only a kilometre or so from the hotel."
"Ahh, we'll walk, I think. Probably be good to stretch our legs and see what's going on."
"Fair enough, Kai. Now, seriously for a moment. I think you did put their noses out of joint a little at the start of tonight, so I would suggest when you take over your sample, maybe throw in a little gift or bonus or something, just to sweeten the pot? It's your call, of course, but if you're serious about what you said for long-term relationships, I think it'll help you out."
"No problem. Come on, let's get moving…" Kai pulled out a credstick and wandered over to pay for the evening, and then joined the rest of the team as they headed around the service alley and back into the van, then headed towards the waterfront and the hotel.
They'd been driving for no more than thirty seconds, barely having made it out onto the main road when Tads suddenly stiffened and her head came up, looking around the darkened interior of the van rapidly.
"Mana surge!" She called out sharply over the team channel. "Some kind of build-up. Maybe a storm. Coming from the south, moving fast!"
"Any idea what we're looking at, Tads?"
"No idea, Aswon, I can just feel the power building up. It's…. moving very quickly now, heading towards us, from out in the bay, I think. I'd have to get check to get more information."
"No – don't do that. I think I can see something. Spook, how close are we? There's some kind of freak mana storm coming in."
"Couple of hundred metres maybe, it's just down here."
"You might want to put your foot down, things are about to get a bit freaky, I think."
"What's that down there – towards the harbour?"
"Looks like rain… no – that's a storm front. Step on it, Spook!"
Those in the back felt the van accelerate, weaving from side to side as Spook cut through traffic amidst a blare of horns from those that hadn't seen the danger. The tall buildings made the road feel like a canyon, and at the far end all they could see was a wall of weather approaching them. Closer and closer it came, advancing at nearly fifty kilometres per hour. Now the traffic ahead had noticed it – or the people further down the road screaming and panicking, running for shelter in the stores and businesses to either side of the road. Spook hauled the wheel around and sent them down a ramp into a basement garage just as the weather front hit them, sending a shower of hailstones each the size of a golf ball slamming down to the road, denting car rooves and smashing people who hadn't made it under cover down to the ground.
The van slowed as it descended the ramp, Spook breathing heavily after the sudden spike of adrenaline, but mindful not to let her emotions overwhelm her. The concrete walls on either side were scarred and battered, and had a large number of streaks emanating from the corners, tales of careless driving from the past, and she was determined not to add to them. Threading her way through the tight confines of the underground garage took enough concentration that it made her forget about the weather up top – or at least disregard it for the moment.
"Ok, we're here…" She gestured towards a large metal locker in the corner of the garage, plastered in warning signs and details. As the team emerged from the van, Aswon walked over to check it out. There weren't any cameras covering the locker itself, though there were others around the place, covering the approaches – but he did spot the tell-tale signs of a pressure pad in front of the locker, making it almost impossible to reach without standing on the pad.
"This yours?" He gestured at the rectangular area.
"Yeah, just a monitoring platform. Got a sensor on the lock as well, and the doors. All show green. I've deactivated the alarms and unlocked, though." She swung the doors open and revealed a few small bottles of bleach and cleaning solvent to one side, and what looked like a large backpack, bulging with packed equipment. While the outside of the locker was battered and stained, with a few rusty spots that made it blend in with the rest of the garage flawlessly, the inside of the locker was spotless and in pristine condition.
Tads wandered off back towards the entrance to check on the storm, but the rest of the team helped unload the supplies, stacking them neatly in the locker and around the bag. It didn't take long, and Tads came back looking a little unhappy just as they were finishing up.
"It smells like salted caramel out there."
"That's not so bad, is it?"
"I thought that at first, Spook. Salt probably from the sea, or the salt in the water at least, coming down as rain or the hailstones. But the caramel… well, there's a burnt undertone to it. I think that might be the people…"
"Oh."
"The storm's already passing through by the looks of things. Weather was certainly slackening off, and it looked like normal rain, just sheets and sheets of it coming down. But still advancing quickly up the street and inland."
"Is it safe to move on?"
"The magical part of the storm seemed to be just the front. I think so."
"Ok, well, we're done here… let's go."
They climbed back aboard the van, now carrying only twelve kilos of raw silk in a few boxes, and grabbing hold of the side of the van, while Spook turned them around and headed out of the garage, carefully heading up the ramp at a slow speed, letting her stop before she stuck her nose out of the covered area. To their right they could see the storm advancing inland, still pelting down massive hailstones and causing panic and dismay, but to their left, they could see only the aftermath of the storms passing. It was only two blocks to the hotel, but they saw plenty of wounded and injured people along the way, as well was one car that was abandoned, a massive hole blown in the roof and a series of scorch marks and burns radiating outwards from it. Aswon wondered if he should say anything – but elected not to mention the wounded to those in back, and they passed them by, heading for the hotel at speed.
Once more they found the same night-staff working the desk, and after a quick chat with Spook, they were shown up to their rooms – on the same floor as they had stayed previously, though they had different rooms this time. Hunter spent some time examining the bathroom this time, informing them over the comms channels that he'd found some of the 'extra' controls and had made the toilet sing to him, much to his delight. Despite Hunter's new found control over the sanitation hardware, the team were soon asleep, spending a comfortable night in real beds – even if they were in a tiny room – and getting a good rest after the activities of the day.
By the time they arose the following morning and headed out for breakfast, there was no sign of the storm the night before. The car that had been hit by the lightning bolt was gone, and the damage to awnings and shop windows from the hail stones seemed to have been repaired, and there were no signs of the blood that had stained the pavements from those injured. The team found a place to grab some soy-caf and pastries and had breakfast, then started to head inland, wandering along the busy street and doing some window shopping as they headed for their meeting with the Farooqs.
Aswon crossed the road and walked along the opposite pavement, while Hunter dropped back behind the main group, both of them keeping a wary eye out for any tails or signs of surveillance, just in case. The journey was uneventful through, with all of them drawing a few odd stares from the locals, no doubt because of their appearance in general, but no action taken that made them suspicious or warier.
Closing in on the north-western part of the area, they saw their target – a vast building that took up the entire block. Nestled up against the natural barriers of the highway and railway to the north and west respectively, a huge edifice had been constructed that stretched down both the roads laid out in the grid pattern. Built out of concrete, it stretched nearly twenty stories high – nothing compared to many of the apartment blocks and condo buildings they'd passed – but all of those were generally fairly slender towers, sometimes built to an interesting or novel shape, but rising up like a blade of grass, far taller and higher while not being that broad or dense. This building was the opposite – short, squat and fairly ugly, it was a solid mass that seemed to hug the ground, row after row of prefabricated concrete sections that had been slapped onto the building, presumably to form the facing over a steel shell.
The building looked like a squat prison, harsh concrete exterior pieces that were designed purely for function, rather than having any spare artistic effort spent upon them. Brutal and oppressive, the exterior panels were studded with small windows in a regular pattern, and a thousand tiny panels for whatever primitive air-conditioning system was present.
Closing in, they could see the road had a wide sweeping entrance and exit, looping under the front of the squat building into an enormous loading area, covered and protected from the elements by the floors above, and with a fairly grand-looking entrance into the building proper. Crossing the road they finally saw the signs proclaiming the entire block as the property of the 'Godown Corporation' – not one any of them were familiar with. Kai racked his brain, thinking about all the mega-corp subsidiaries he'd ever heard of or worked for, but this seemed to be something purely local.
As they crossed the street and entered the area under the canopy, transitioning from sunlight to artificial lighting, the building went from being huge to just too hard to imagine. It must have stretched two or maybe three hundred metres in either direction, a squat fortress of concrete that seemed to defy sense. Heading towards the entrance doors though, they found some information terminals and some sense of what the building was. Floorplans showed a maze of lifts and corridors in the building, split up into zones and sectors, each inhabited by different types of trades. The directory listed hundreds and hundreds of businesses here, renting space from a few square metres to large volumes that could hold a hundred people or more, with every trade imaginable having a place inside the massive business centre.
"Want to bet there's a good few shell companies or corporations listed on here? Seems like a great place to have a registered address just occupying a small office location as somewhere to be official."
"Not taking that bet, Kai – I agree." Aswon scrolled through the list a little. "Ahh, here we go. Farooq Weaving Incorporated. Fifth floor, east side, suite five-dash-twenty-two. Even shows a little map and which lift to take to get to them."
"Looks like they have weapon scanners inside the entranceway, though." Shimazu said quietly. "Let me go check them out, see how good they are." He headed over to the archways that formed a natural pinch point in the lobby, jostling his way through the people that were entering and exiting the business centre. He strode through the closest archway, trying to keep himself calm and impassive, expecting a siren or alarm to go off at any moment as it detected the sword concealed under his outer clothing – but there was nothing. He moved on, making room behind him for the people following and turned to examine the archways, and spotted that there seemed to be no power to any of them, or certainly no lights or status symbols on the displays at all. "Looks turned off, or broken. Come on through."
The rest of the team followed him inside, merging in with the flow of workers and delivery men carrying parcels and packets in and out of the building. They weren't heavily armed – nothing bigger than a pistol really, but they'd expected to have some kind of issue here, and to have to hand them in to security.
"Weapon scanners may be off, but the video is certainly not, and it looks pretty comprehensive." Aswon scanned the cameras covering the entrance, getting an idea of the areas covered and trying to see if there were any blind spots or weak areas, without success. "I'm guessing with so much gear coming in and out, they turned the scanners off to stop false alarms just slowing things down. But they're recording everything in detail, so they can pick up the pieces nicely after an event…"
"Come on, let's get upstairs…" Kai looked down the two corridors they could see, trying to work out which way to go, until Hunter shook his head and brushed past him, leading them through the facility with laser-like focus. They travelled up in one of the oversized lifts, which despite it claiming to have a weight limit measured in the thousands of kilos, rattled, rumbled and creaked as it climbed up through the building, before depositing them on the fifth floor. Moving along the corridors they continued to spot the security cameras at major junctions, covering all the access ways through the building with high-resolution and decent quality surveillance, and they also noticed that most of the units or workspaces also had very high-quality locks and doors. Security seemed to be passive, but high-tech, and with the constant movement of people through the building wouldn't be the easiest thing to crack.
They found the Farooq Weaving office easily enough, and buzzed the intercom to be let in. On entry, they found themselves in a very different environment to the one they'd been imagining or expecting. It was a large and airy space, brilliantly lit with a grid of overhead lights, shining down brightly on the spotlessly white floor and walls, with slick and modern furniture also painted a matt white. The area looked more like a clean room for chip fabrication or a surgery rather than a weaving establishment.
Large computer-controlled machines were laid out in neat rows, each attended by what appeared to be a young female worker, carefully monitoring the processes as robotic arms carefully guided and spun threads together in a complex ballet, while filter hoses sucked out stray fluff and bits of broken thread through a filtration system. The machinery looked new and very modern, and the whole setup was about as far away from the concept of 'sweatshop labour' as it was possible to be. They saw the Farooqs approaching them, dressed as smartly as they had been the night before, and moved in to meet them, crossing a surprisingly sticky patch of floor to get to them.
"Please excuse me as I attempt to greet you formally – just in case I get it wrong. But without practice, there can be no improvement." Kai said, then took a breath and rolled out a very polite and formal greeting in Mandarin. Shimazu saw a brief moment of trepidation in their hosts' faces, then relaxation as Kai apparently got it right.
"Welcome, and thank you for the greeting." Mr. Farooq responded in English, apparently deciding not to stretch Kai's Mandarin any further than he had to. "May I offer you some tea? And perhaps seats, so we can discuss things?" Kai nodded, and Farooq smiled, and then led the way through the building. As they passed the machines, he briefly explained what each of the looms or fabricators were doing, showing off the various cloths and weaves being produced. The machine operators nodded at them in greeting, but remained concentrated on their work, adjusting parameters and variables as they deemed necessary to keep things running optimally. One of them had her machine open, and was very delicately splicing two threads together using a magnifying headset and two incredibly fine tools that seemed to require a great deal of finesse to use.
At the other end of the manufacturing floor, there was another sticky piece of flooring that clung to their shoes and made a strange noise as they walked across it, before a door opened into a small recreation room. Farooq ushered them in and had them sit at the tables, then busied himself with a small tea-set, providing everyone with drinks.
"I see that you have some supplies with you. Let us hope that we can reach an amicable business arrangement!"
"Yes. We have more of the same stuff we showed you last night, about ten kilos worth. And a small box with some extra in, to help establish our business dealings and as a token of our esteem. As I said, we're looking to establish good relations, and we'd rather have an excellent relationship with you and pleasant dealings, rather than something with the maximum profit in the shortest time period."
The door opened and Mrs. Farooq appeared in the opening. She saw the number of boxes present on the table, and then called out into the main room. The machines were paused or set to idle, and the dozen or so employees all headed their way in response to her summons. After checking with Hunter and Kai, she directed each of the young ladies to grab a box and examine the contents, and the room was soon full of excited noises and a rapid babble of conversation as the raw material was compared. They seemed happy, excited even to have access to the silk, which the team took as a good sign – but it looks like they were also doing a quality check, as each of them gave a thumbs up to Mrs. Farooq, one after another. She hadn't been standing idly, but had pulled out a large set of floor scales from a compartment, and had placed a large basket upon it before zeroing the scales out. As each box of material was approved, she tipped it carefully into the larger container, until they were all added.
"Twelve point one three five kilos," she announced when it was all accounted for.
"Well, let us call it ten kilos for our first delivery – with the rest as a bonus or introduction fee, to help our relationship get started." Kai smiled at them, then took a sip of his tea and made appreciative noises. "Think of us perhaps as facilitators, and not suppliers?"
"I see. So what is the price you are looking for here?" Mr. Farooq asked casually, taking a sip of his own tea, but his eyes were locked onto Kai as he studied his face.
"We have done some initial research, and we have a proposal for you. Slightly unusual perhaps, but we hope it will be appropriate. We propose two hundred Nuyen per kilo, for the first ten kilos as an introductory price, then three hundred per kilo thereafter – but, the first bolt of material made, should be deemed a gift or tribute, to Grandfather Fan – to thank him for his wisdom and guidance in looking after this area?"
"Most intriguing." Again Mr. Farooq's gaze flicked over to his wife for a brief moment, and there was a tiny nod of the head. "And entirely acceptable. It will be a pleasure to do business with you, Mr. Kai." He set down his tea cup and approached to shake hands, and Kai gently took the man's hand, being careful not to apply too much pressure as they formally shook on the deal. "Let me get you the funds for this first shipment. I'm sure we have some spare capacity at the moment, and can get started on the production straight away. Le-oh? Can we get this running on machine six?" One of the workers nodded her head and took the small container away with her towards one of the machines, starting to get it set up for production.
At the opposite side of the table, Aswon stirred as his commlink buzzed. Frowning, he glanced down and saw the call from Spook.
"I'm sorry, please excuse me." He set down his own half-drunk cup of tea and then rose from his seat, taking a few steps to get to the far side of the room. He could see out of the high window, looking down at the tower blocks, straight roads and teeming mass of humanity that made up the dockside district, as he raised the commlink to his ear and lowered the volume, not wanting to intrude on the negotiations behind him.
Instead of Spook's voice coming through clearly though, he got a weird medley of sounds. Some shouted slurs, the sounds of something hitting the floor with a clatter. Stamping. Then he heard Spook's voice, distant and indistinct. Muffled and distorted… as if her hand, or perhaps her commlink was in her pocket. He wondered if she'd called him by mistake, until he heard her speak and a chill ran down his spine.
"Gentlemen, please. I understand the situation. Let us remain professional, though. You are here to take me and my family. I accept that, no matter how distasteful the situation. But there is no need for violence – I can see the situation is beyond my control. Please, let the boy come to me, and I will keep him quiet and obedient. Better for us, but better for you too, yes? Easier all around…"
He placed the call on mute, and kept it near his head, listening in carefully and trying to filter and catalogue all of the sounds he could hear.
"Team – got a problem. We need to wrap this up, immediately. Sorry."
He looked out of the window again, his eyes flicking over the crowded city, looking for landmarks and routes. They were only about three blocks away from Spook's home, and he wondered how quickly they could get there…
