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Chapter Twenty-Three

“That’s a bad sign,” Jackson said, looking down from the balcony that ran around the upper stories of the Twin Star offices.

Chalmers nodded. Another crash sounded from below.

“Is it, though?” Vat said.

Jackson waved his hand. “That’s like the third raid in the last two nights.”

“Fifth, actually,” Vat corrected. “The market is adjusting.”

“The market?” Chalmers said.

Vat smiled. “We…well, I upset a few apple carts. No one likes price fixing, so they’re regulating the market.”

“But haven’t we been price fixing?” Jackson said.

“If anything, we’ve been undercutting the local market,” Chalmers said.

“And we haven’t been hit since the deliveries in the first week,” Jackson added, looking thoughtful.

“You mean the deliveries I had—” Vat began.

“You had me on a roundabout path through the docks,” Jackson interrupted.

“And made sure no one but locals were with it when it got robbed,” Chalmers added. Suspicion in full flame, he added, “And discussed at length with me at the fights.”

“Yeah, those,” Vat said. For some reason, the grin splitting his face reminded Chalmers of a shark.

“What was in the crates, Vat?” Jackson asked, his tone telling Chalmers he had his suspicions.

“Oh, nothing much, just clear evidence that two of the most powerful brokerages have been engaged in artificial price-fixing to shore up their profits.”

“But those were our shipments, with Twin Star markings.”

“Were they?” Vat asked, his grin becoming positively shit-eating. “Yes, they were marked for our warehouse, but the contents and the shipping manifests uniformly declared we were acting solely as shipping agents for Masok and Sons. What’s more, all records indicate we were the middlemen for shipments between their mainland offices and Fangat Trading.”

“I was wondering why we made a payoff to Masok and Sons,” Chalmers said. When Jackson sent an old-fashioned look his way, he shrugged defensively. “I thought we were just kicking up a bribe to keep them off our backs.”

“As far as anyone at Masok and Sons knew, it was,” Jackson said, an edge of admiration creeping into his voice. “But to everyone else it looked like we were making good on their financial losses, confirming the evidence you gave them.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Of collusion, naturally. Price-fixing, more specifically. The only sin that counts here on the island.” Vat’s smile was no longer simply feral; it was positively beaming with pride. It somehow made his expression that much more malevolent.

“Jesus, man,” Chalmers breathed. “That’s some dangerous fire you’re playing with.”

“Not so dangerous, really.” Vat shrugged, grin vanishing. “At least, not as dangerous as facing a motorized battalion of angry satrap goons.”

Chalmers and Jacks shared a look at the apparent non sequitur.

Guess we all have our share of bad memories, Chalmers thought.

“But won’t Twin Stars get spattered with the fallout?” Jackson said.

“Yes, but only in the sense that we will come out of this with some prize, some ‘fallout ass,’ I believe you breeder boys call it?” He grinned again. “Indeed, we should expect some representatives of the second-tier brokerages to come by tonight or tomorrow, latest.”

“What?” the partners chorused.

“I’m going to assume you understand what fallout is, and are wondering what the rest meant.” Vat chuckled and gestured out beyond the balcony. “The middle and lower-tier brokerages are the ones pulling the raids on the primary houses. The ones who show up here tonight will likely know my play for a ruse, but also know it for a very useful ruse, one that allowed them to take direct action against the biggest brokerages without fear of reprisal from either the brokerages or the surveyors.”

“Because they’re all doing it, ‘for the good of our collective reputation with the surveyors,’” Jackson breathed.

Chalmers glanced at his partner, stunned. Vat had done wonders to establish Twin Star Trading as the up-and-coming brokerage, to the extent the business was actually generating a profit, even without the regular influx of free goods from their allies on the mainland or the SpinDogs. The brokerage was now so large as to require a headquarters big and impressive enough to house the offices and critical employees of the organization, but this was an entirely different level of crazy.

“Jesus.”

The doorbell rang. An old-fashioned thing, it was an actual bell. On a rope.

Vat leaned back in his seat, his eyes glittering in the lamplight. “Someone want to get that for me?”

Chalmers and Jackson looked at each other. Neither one moved.

The bell clanged again.

“Moose!” Chalmers called.

“I got it, you lazy fucks,” Moose stage-whispered from the hallway.

“Still, would have been nice for you to tell us your plans,” Chalmers insisted.

Vat shrugged. “If you couldn’t figure it out, from your position next to me, then I was sure the opposition couldn’t follow the shell game I played.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying this,” Chalmers said.

“Oh, I am enjoying it. I mean, the more I’m here, the more I dig it. Cutthroat, sure, but everyone is so busy watching their opponents, they fail to see the board. I’ve earned—and spent—a king’s ransom or two since we got to this island, and I’m getting ahead in a game I was not born to. All while being appreciated for my skills. What’s not to like?”

“That and there’s no one to keep you in line.”

A murmur of voices from downstairs.

“No one?” Vat sniffed. “Shit, there’s no law, just custom and power,” Vat said. The erstwhile arms dealer’s expression said he loved that lack.

“Just so long as you remember who your friends are, Vat,” Jackson said, smiling to take the sting out.

Vat looked at him, did not smile back. “For all the bullshit, it’s still straightforward to me: we’re alone among enemies. Makes things very easy on the conscience.”

Moose made some noise at the bottom of the stairs, said something apologetic and loud enough they were warned of his approach.

“I still think there’s gonna be some violent pushback on this shit,” Jackson said.

“And you didn’t tell us the nuts and bolts of your plan. Kinda like a certain person we all know and love,” Chalmers said, pointing skyward.

Vat frowned. “I’ll ignore that aspersion for the moment to concentrate on my real reasons for keeping you all in the dark: When our shipment got hit on its way from the docks, would you have been able to act like you were as pissed as you really were?”

“Maybe,” Chalmers said.

“Well, I wanted to be sure. We can’t very well rely on maybes…” Vat said, trailing off as Moose escorted the broker’s messenger into the room.

Chalmers bit back a retort. Knowing the logic backward and forward didn’t make it feel any better to be the one duped.

The messenger bowed.

Vat’s eyes flickered over the man’s elaborate face paint. He must be reading it far faster than Chalmers could, because he immediately said, “Greetings, servant of Broker Thilokmes. What brings you here at this late hour?”

“Matters of import meant for your ears alone, Lead Broker Vat.” The messenger looked at the others, haughty and dismissive.

Vat sat straighter, stared at the messenger. “You are not here to tell me who in my brokerage is worthy of trust, servant of Thilokmes. I will have you removed if you continue to behave so presumptuously.”

Moose put a hand on one of the man’s narrow shoulders and squeezed.

An audible swallow. “Apologies, Broker Vat.”

Vat nodded acceptance of the apology and waited. Moose removed his hand from the man’s shoulder.

“Thilokmes requests your backing in Council tomorrow. It is time the Fangat were ousted from the Chair of the Broker Principle. In return—” The doorbell rang again.

Moose glanced at Chalmers and smiled. The message was clear.

“In return?” Vat prompted.

Chalmers got up and started for the door.

“In return, he offers a waiver of fees to the amount of five percent of annual dues and duties.”

“Five percent, eh?” Vat shook his head. “What Twin Stars requires is that five percent you mentioned in addition to preference for certain labor contracts—” Chalmers closed the door on the conversation and started down the stairs. The doorbell rang again before he’d made the landing. He sighed and wondered when they’d all become Vat’s servants.


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