Treasure
Void
Ladislaus Wilhelm Venlian Kienlien. An illustrious name. Not exactly fitting with the modern trends of names here in the New England area of America, but one that reminded him of the bygone days of glory! Days when he ruled by the sword, commanded mighty men of valor, and bowed only to men greater than he. Those days… no, they were not perfect. He knew better than to look at the past through rosy-tinted glasses, but at least those days he did not have to deal with Cretans as often as he did now. And even when he did, people were far more understanding if you lost your temper and beheaded a particularly vulgar one, and that knowledge really discouraged the vulgar ones from entering his presence.
William let his cold, dark eyes roam over the oval table as he leaned back in his chair. Directly ahead of him sat a thin little businessman with rodent eyes. This little businessman was directly responsible for much of the prostitution that lurked in the corners of this so-called “sleepy little town” in Massachusetts. To his left sat a large, bald man of Eurasian descent. He looked like a hairless ape stuffed in a suit and bribed with bananas to sit in the place of an actual human at a boring staff meeting. Yet this monkey-man controlled the nightclub industry and its offshoots in its entirety. Last, but not least, on William’s right sat a child who defined every stereotype possible for a street thug. This boy – though he was likely in his mid to late twenties – could not have filled people’s stereotyped expectations more if he had a checklist. He was the leader of one of the two gangs in Questing, and he had the confidence of a high school girl with acne.
Such a diverse table of royalty. He glanced at the last chair, which still sat empty even though this meeting was supposed to have started three seconds ago. The one he had expected to be on time was late. Frustrating and somewhat puzzling.
“I hope the coffee is to your satisfaction?” William asked the little man at the end just as he took a sip.
The man jumped. “Er… yes, thanks. Thank you. Good,” he stammered.
“Excellent. More creamer, Mr. Gerald?” William asked the monkey-man, his icy voice smooth as silk.
“Thank you, sir, but this is good,” Mr. Gerald rumbled. His coffee looked almost milky from creamer.
“Good.” William was about to continue when the door across the room opened, and a muscular man with chocolatey skin entered. He looked like he worked out, and his wardrobe wasn’t much to speak of, but he’d done his best to be neat like the two men in suits.
The man walked to his chair next to Mr. Gerald and almost bowed his head to William. “Sorry, sir, I know you hate lateness. My tires were slashed,” he said brusquely and sat down.
“Indeed?” William asked, noting the grease smudges on the man’s hands that hadn’t wiped off. “Most unfortunate. Any idea how that might have happened?”
The man’s black eyes darted briefly toward the gangster on William’s right, and the gangster hid a smirk, but the man’s eyes were back to William in a second. “Don’t know, sir. Might’ve run over something, but it’s just part of life here,” he stated.
William murmured slightly and twined his long, pale fingers before him. “Now that you are here… at last… we might discuss the purpose of this meeting.”
“Yo! I ain’t payin’ you no more money!” the gangster on his right burst out.
William’s eyes cut over to him and narrowed ever so slightly. On either side, his massive, black great Danes shifted where they lay, one of them growling softly. “Please relax, Mr. Slit. Have some coffee. I hear the warm liquid can calm the nerves.”
“I ain’t touchin’ yer coffee, neither. It’s prob’ly poisoned!” Mr. Slit grumbled.
Mr. Gerald looked down at his cup then took a swig. “Damn good tastin’ poison,” he stated.
“As I was saying,” William said, each word falling like lead. The sentence drew their attention back to him. “I have become aware that an unprecedented number of young females have been reported missing, and the police have a particular interest in this. I find myself curious as I assumed you would be wise enough to inform me if you were delving into such trades as human trafficking.”
The four exchanged quick glances, their expressions quizzical before closing off to their usual masks.
“Human trafficking? Girls? Nah, there’s nothing like that around here,” said the small businessman, shaking his head quickly.
“And you would know about this, would you not, Mr. Leeds?” William mused quietly. “It would not be a venture dissimilar to the one you already control. Are you certain you have not begun exploring other avenues of profit to escape my greedy clutches?”
“I… uh…” A bead of sweat formed on the man’s forehead. “That is…”
A hand slamming on the table stopped all conversation. Mr. Slit bounced to his feet, dark face pinched into an angry scowl. “What’s it to you, huh? HUH?? You come in here all hotty and totty and think yer our king, huh?”
“Hotty totty?” William repeated in a mild tone.
“I think he means ‘hoity-toity,’ sir,” said the other gangster.
“Ah, thank you, Mr. Davis. I-”
“I know what I meant!” snapped Mr. Slit. “I don’t need nobody translating my words, Creak!”
“Mr. Slit, I do not appreciate being interrupted,” William said softly, his eyes glinting faintly red in the low light. “I suggest you sit down. I will not ask you again.”
“Yeah? YEAH?? Well, I’m through answerin’ to some foreigner!” Mr. Slit shouted, pointing a finger at William. “I am my own man! I worked my way up, and I ain’t lettin’ you-”
“Holen,” William snapped.
Both dogs sprang to their paws and charged at the young gangster, snarling and barking. The young man had only time to blanch in shock before one sprang up, front paws thudding into his chest and knocking him flat. The man would have screamed, but one-hundred and eighty pounds of dog slamming into his chest then standing on his torso had knocked the air out. His eyes popped, and his lips took on a faintly blueish tint as the other dog stood over him, jaws clamped around his throat just hard enough to restrict his breathing. Both dogs froze, growls rumbling deep in their chests as they “held” their target for their master.
Mr. Leeds looked ready to bolt like the rodent he was, and Mr. Davis stood leaning on the table, muscles locked as he fought down his fight or flight response. Only Mr. Gerald did not look particularly phased as he finished his coffee.
“Mr. Slit, you try my patience,” William said, turning his chair so he might better see the lump of flesh beneath his muscular dogs. “I consider myself to have been particularly charitable toward your ventures, and I know you have been doing your best to keep certain… extracurricular activities from my knowledge, and I have allowed it considering you appear to be in need of pocket change to upgrade your hideous wardrobe. However,” a new layer of ice formed on his words, “I will not tolerate further disrespect from your childish mouth. This is the only warning you will receive. Next time, I shall allow my dogs to feast on your flesh. It shall not be troublesome to me. In fact, it will save me some dollars on dog food.” He sat back. “Tuton, Baltic, veröffentlichung. Rückkehr.”
The dogs let go and returned to their posts by William’s side, their black eyes still gleaming as they watched the boy cough and gasp for breath, wiping the slobber from his throat. Still on his knees, he looked up at William with a new fear and deep resentment in his eyes.
“Continue with this insolence, and I will kill you,” William repeated bluntly. “Do I make myself clear?” It was not a rhetorical question. He doubted Mr. Slit knew what “insolence” meant, but he hoped the brat understood the implications.
Mr. Slit nodded, still rubbing his throat. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Leave.” He gestured to the rat at the end of the table. “You as well, Mr. Leeds, and if you hear anything of these girls, alert me at once.”
The man nodded and scampered out eagerly, soon followed by Mr. Slit. William watched them go then rose, his black suit gleaming as it fell about his slender body in a perfect fit, the silver shirt beneath standing out in stark contrast. He strode to the window and looked down four stories to the parking lot below. It was not long until Mr. Leeds and Mr. Slit appeared and went to their respective cars. He had no doubt that once Mr. Slit’s shaking stopped, he would be back to making his old boasts. He sighed softly. How predictable. How dull.
He turned to the two men watching him, Mr. Davis with appropriate wariness, and Mr. Gerald with a sort of vague curiosity. “Mr. Slit will be a problem, I am afraid. It was most unfortunate that it was he who achieved his newfound status of leadership when his predecessor fell.”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Davis agreed tightly. “He disrupts my men all the time, and he’s bucking at the borders.”
“If it should come to it, and he attempts to take my life, I shall, of course, be rid of him quickly and efficiently, and if it should happen that you have cause to be rid of him, I trust you shall do the same.”
“Yes, sir. Best as I can. Can’t make no promises.”
“Understood. Please, no gang wars if at all possible. I like the balance the way it is, but I understand how it is to be in the shield wall. Do what you must.” He flicked his fingers in dismissal.
“Yes, sir.”
Then it was only the two. William, and Mr. Gerald. William turned his gaze out the window. “These missing girls annoy me, Mr. Gerald. If there is a new player in this game of criminal pastimes, I wish to know about it. Do what you can to discover the source, if you please.”
“Yes, sir. Thanks for the coffee.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across William’s face. “You are welcome. It is Turkish.”
“Hmm. Tastes good.” Mr. Gerald wandered out, leaving William alone to watch the activity of the night from his high tower.
William let his cold, dark eyes roam over the oval table as he leaned back in his chair. Directly ahead of him sat a thin little businessman with rodent eyes. This little businessman was directly responsible for much of the prostitution that lurked in the corners of this so-called “sleepy little town” in Massachusetts. To his left sat a large, bald man of Eurasian descent. He looked like a hairless ape stuffed in a suit and bribed with bananas to sit in the place of an actual human at a boring staff meeting. Yet this monkey-man controlled the nightclub industry and its offshoots in its entirety. Last, but not least, on William’s right sat a child who defined every stereotype possible for a street thug. This boy – though he was likely in his mid to late twenties – could not have filled people’s stereotyped expectations more if he had a checklist. He was the leader of one of the two gangs in Questing, and he had the confidence of a high school girl with acne.
Such a diverse table of royalty. He glanced at the last chair, which still sat empty even though this meeting was supposed to have started three seconds ago. The one he had expected to be on time was late. Frustrating and somewhat puzzling.
“I hope the coffee is to your satisfaction?” William asked the little man at the end just as he took a sip.
The man jumped. “Er… yes, thanks. Thank you. Good,” he stammered.
“Excellent. More creamer, Mr. Gerald?” William asked the monkey-man, his icy voice smooth as silk.
“Thank you, sir, but this is good,” Mr. Gerald rumbled. His coffee looked almost milky from creamer.
“Good.” William was about to continue when the door across the room opened, and a muscular man with chocolatey skin entered. He looked like he worked out, and his wardrobe wasn’t much to speak of, but he’d done his best to be neat like the two men in suits.
The man walked to his chair next to Mr. Gerald and almost bowed his head to William. “Sorry, sir, I know you hate lateness. My tires were slashed,” he said brusquely and sat down.
“Indeed?” William asked, noting the grease smudges on the man’s hands that hadn’t wiped off. “Most unfortunate. Any idea how that might have happened?”
The man’s black eyes darted briefly toward the gangster on William’s right, and the gangster hid a smirk, but the man’s eyes were back to William in a second. “Don’t know, sir. Might’ve run over something, but it’s just part of life here,” he stated.
William murmured slightly and twined his long, pale fingers before him. “Now that you are here… at last… we might discuss the purpose of this meeting.”
“Yo! I ain’t payin’ you no more money!” the gangster on his right burst out.
William’s eyes cut over to him and narrowed ever so slightly. On either side, his massive, black great Danes shifted where they lay, one of them growling softly. “Please relax, Mr. Slit. Have some coffee. I hear the warm liquid can calm the nerves.”
“I ain’t touchin’ yer coffee, neither. It’s prob’ly poisoned!” Mr. Slit grumbled.
Mr. Gerald looked down at his cup then took a swig. “Damn good tastin’ poison,” he stated.
“As I was saying,” William said, each word falling like lead. The sentence drew their attention back to him. “I have become aware that an unprecedented number of young females have been reported missing, and the police have a particular interest in this. I find myself curious as I assumed you would be wise enough to inform me if you were delving into such trades as human trafficking.”
The four exchanged quick glances, their expressions quizzical before closing off to their usual masks.
“Human trafficking? Girls? Nah, there’s nothing like that around here,” said the small businessman, shaking his head quickly.
“And you would know about this, would you not, Mr. Leeds?” William mused quietly. “It would not be a venture dissimilar to the one you already control. Are you certain you have not begun exploring other avenues of profit to escape my greedy clutches?”
“I… uh…” A bead of sweat formed on the man’s forehead. “That is…”
A hand slamming on the table stopped all conversation. Mr. Slit bounced to his feet, dark face pinched into an angry scowl. “What’s it to you, huh? HUH?? You come in here all hotty and totty and think yer our king, huh?”
“Hotty totty?” William repeated in a mild tone.
“I think he means ‘hoity-toity,’ sir,” said the other gangster.
“Ah, thank you, Mr. Davis. I-”
“I know what I meant!” snapped Mr. Slit. “I don’t need nobody translating my words, Creak!”
“Mr. Slit, I do not appreciate being interrupted,” William said softly, his eyes glinting faintly red in the low light. “I suggest you sit down. I will not ask you again.”
“Yeah? YEAH?? Well, I’m through answerin’ to some foreigner!” Mr. Slit shouted, pointing a finger at William. “I am my own man! I worked my way up, and I ain’t lettin’ you-”
“Holen,” William snapped.
Both dogs sprang to their paws and charged at the young gangster, snarling and barking. The young man had only time to blanch in shock before one sprang up, front paws thudding into his chest and knocking him flat. The man would have screamed, but one-hundred and eighty pounds of dog slamming into his chest then standing on his torso had knocked the air out. His eyes popped, and his lips took on a faintly blueish tint as the other dog stood over him, jaws clamped around his throat just hard enough to restrict his breathing. Both dogs froze, growls rumbling deep in their chests as they “held” their target for their master.
Mr. Leeds looked ready to bolt like the rodent he was, and Mr. Davis stood leaning on the table, muscles locked as he fought down his fight or flight response. Only Mr. Gerald did not look particularly phased as he finished his coffee.
“Mr. Slit, you try my patience,” William said, turning his chair so he might better see the lump of flesh beneath his muscular dogs. “I consider myself to have been particularly charitable toward your ventures, and I know you have been doing your best to keep certain… extracurricular activities from my knowledge, and I have allowed it considering you appear to be in need of pocket change to upgrade your hideous wardrobe. However,” a new layer of ice formed on his words, “I will not tolerate further disrespect from your childish mouth. This is the only warning you will receive. Next time, I shall allow my dogs to feast on your flesh. It shall not be troublesome to me. In fact, it will save me some dollars on dog food.” He sat back. “Tuton, Baltic, veröffentlichung. Rückkehr.”
The dogs let go and returned to their posts by William’s side, their black eyes still gleaming as they watched the boy cough and gasp for breath, wiping the slobber from his throat. Still on his knees, he looked up at William with a new fear and deep resentment in his eyes.
“Continue with this insolence, and I will kill you,” William repeated bluntly. “Do I make myself clear?” It was not a rhetorical question. He doubted Mr. Slit knew what “insolence” meant, but he hoped the brat understood the implications.
Mr. Slit nodded, still rubbing his throat. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Leave.” He gestured to the rat at the end of the table. “You as well, Mr. Leeds, and if you hear anything of these girls, alert me at once.”
The man nodded and scampered out eagerly, soon followed by Mr. Slit. William watched them go then rose, his black suit gleaming as it fell about his slender body in a perfect fit, the silver shirt beneath standing out in stark contrast. He strode to the window and looked down four stories to the parking lot below. It was not long until Mr. Leeds and Mr. Slit appeared and went to their respective cars. He had no doubt that once Mr. Slit’s shaking stopped, he would be back to making his old boasts. He sighed softly. How predictable. How dull.
He turned to the two men watching him, Mr. Davis with appropriate wariness, and Mr. Gerald with a sort of vague curiosity. “Mr. Slit will be a problem, I am afraid. It was most unfortunate that it was he who achieved his newfound status of leadership when his predecessor fell.”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Davis agreed tightly. “He disrupts my men all the time, and he’s bucking at the borders.”
“If it should come to it, and he attempts to take my life, I shall, of course, be rid of him quickly and efficiently, and if it should happen that you have cause to be rid of him, I trust you shall do the same.”
“Yes, sir. Best as I can. Can’t make no promises.”
“Understood. Please, no gang wars if at all possible. I like the balance the way it is, but I understand how it is to be in the shield wall. Do what you must.” He flicked his fingers in dismissal.
“Yes, sir.”
Then it was only the two. William, and Mr. Gerald. William turned his gaze out the window. “These missing girls annoy me, Mr. Gerald. If there is a new player in this game of criminal pastimes, I wish to know about it. Do what you can to discover the source, if you please.”
“Yes, sir. Thanks for the coffee.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across William’s face. “You are welcome. It is Turkish.”
“Hmm. Tastes good.” Mr. Gerald wandered out, leaving William alone to watch the activity of the night from his high tower.