Black Market Merchant

Chapter 104: Uncomfortable Visit

The room burst out into a fit of excitement and chatter. This was a far better outcome than they could have anticipated. Mrs. Smithy was unable to continue the report for nearly a minute, until everyone simmered down.

"As I was explaining," Mrs. Smithy said speaking loudly over the noisy room. "Lisa has only been able to produce enough electricity to power the inner portions of the dam itself. She didn't specifically say when she would be able to produce more. Neither did she say how the electricity would be provided to us. However, she is in contact with a merchant that could bring her the needed materials. Also, Mr. McMathers will fund her project on the pretense that she beat a Match Fighter by the name of Crescent Moon."

Upon hearing that name Gillian perked up. "Crescent Moon? I know of this person." The Council members all turned to look his direction. Gillian paid them no mind and continued. "This fighter is probably one of the best in these parts. Also, one of the few fighters from this region to reach Mountain League Tier 10! The man is a local legend."

"Mrs. Smithy, do you think that Lisa or Queen, is capable of beating such an adversary?" Mr. Flanagan asked. “I am not to keen on the rankings of the MFA.”

Mrs. Smithy shook her head. "I am not sure. I didn't see her fight or personal record. Though she did strike me as a strong person."

"Hmm, perhaps we shouldn't bet on her earning the funds to fix the dam." Mr. Flanagan replied leaning back into his seat while rubbing his scruffy chin in thought. "Maybe we should just claim the dam as our own and use the electricity for free." Several other members murmured their potential agreement.

"Perhaps you're right." Mr. Zimmerman replied, looking towards Mr. Flanagan. "It might be wiser to secure funds for ourselves to fix the dam. Especially if this Lisa doesn't survive the fight, as I hear many in that profession don't, or is too injured to fix it."

"Now let's not be hasty." Gillian said raising a hand. "We shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Mrs. Smithy, is she going to be able to visit us, so we can assess her in person? Perhaps she might actually be lying about the electricity and pulling a scam."

The Council members all started speaking amongst themselves again. Mrs. Smithy sighed inwardly, "From this line of questioning, it could be possible. However, I saw the lights with my own eyes." But her opinion did really matter, only the facts she knew did.

"Yes, Lisa is going to meeting us sometime tomorrow." Mrs. Smithy announced. "We can ask her more specific questions then."

"Sounds good to me." Nathan said for the first time. He had been sitting back and observing how things were going to proceed. "Mrs. Smithy and Mr. Flanagan, you two need to come up with questions suitable to ask her in regard to the dam and the electricity. Gillian, you will find a way to determine how capable she really is. If you don't think she is all that strong, we will need to think of counter measures."

The three all nodded in joint approval. Nathan than turned to look at Miss Havens. "Is there anything we need to go over that we neglected?"

Miss Havens had been keeping a written accord of the meeting and had been furiously writing all that was taking place. Hearing the question, she picked up her large note pad and flipped through the papers to scan over them quickly. Her handwriting was about as perfect as it could get and looked as if a printer had done it, if not better.

"Perhaps we need to discuss what to do about the rich merchants. They are also going to be a big part of our future income if all goes well." Miss Havens said stopping at a particular page in the notes. "Also, if we do intend on acquiring the dam, it might be an issue with the Mad Dog gang. That is technically their area."

"Ah, yes. That is a good point." Nathan said tapping the table with his fingers. "We would bring conflict with a much larger gang than the Black Rats. That wouldn't be good for us."

"No, it would not." Gillian replied. "They are at least three times the Black Rats numbers. We would lose even with the Mechs. Besides our forces can't fight on an empty stomach."

"I can attest to that. They are also very financially secure and capable." Mrs. Smithy chimed in. "They have a walled fortress around their base and their forces were definitely very well armed."

"Well, that's out of the question for now." Mr. Flanagan replied hearing this information. "We will just have to see how things go upon meeting Lisa."

"What of the rich merchants?" Nathan asked. "Mr. Clines business is going to be secured in no time. Yet the others are all going to be needing electricity to work with us."

"Mr. Goodman said that he would inspect the facilities himself to determine how to proceed from there. Perhaps he has some way of conducting his business without electricity?" Mrs. Smithy suggested.

"That would be interesting." Mr. Flanagan replied. "What about Mr. McMathers? What was his profession?"

Mrs. Smithy thought for a moment. "I actually don't know. Mr. McMathers never mentioned to me what he did exactly. That's rather odd now that is been pointed out. Every other merchant mentioned what they did. Perhaps Lisa can answer that for us." josei

Mr. Flanagan nodded in response. Nathan saw than no one had anything else to talk about and felt it was time to wrap things up. "Well until she does come here, let's focus on the tasks at hand. We need to do the best we can with what know so far."

Everyone in the meeting gave a collective agreement and the gathering slowly scattered. Gillian was the first to come up to Nathan at the end of it all.

"Hey, want to come back and finish helping move the scrap metals?" Gillian asked in a low tone. "I just know you'd rather do that than office work around here."

Nathan glanced around and no one was paying them much attention. "Sure. Let's hurry."

Before anyone took notice, they had left the room.

…

Saul was feeling rather annoyed. The triplets were his only real option at this time and he had to go find them. He knew of the towns south eastern golf course that Rickshaw had mentioned. It was an area that the Mad Dogs had controlled for an exceedingly long time and had even been their headquarters for a while. Though he had never been to the mansion himself, its reputation proceeded itself. It was known for the large production of meth and serums. The gang’s main sources of income.

When the Mad Dogs first arrived in the town, their objective was to find a place outside of Moab City, along the river, so they could make the meth and serums without interference and a means of transportation. The Damn was the perfect place. It was out of the way, easy to takeover and had plenty of people to force to work for them.

The reason they picked the golf course and mansion was that they intended to build the meth lab, and eventually serum factory, underground. The golf course grass would provide the perfect cover. The area around the course was mostly sandstone and sand, as was under the course's grass. So, if they hollowed out under the course and scattered the rubble it around it would appear no different to any possible law enforcement surveillance drones.

How big the factory now was or how much it produced, Saul did not know. All he knew was that a lot of packages were leaving that place, heading right for the river docks. The triplets were currently charged with monitoring the place.

When he finally arrived at the golf course he was rather astonished. The course was completely green and well kept. It stood out vibrantly compared to the desert scrubland and tan sandstone rocks all around it. His only guess as to why it was in such great condition was that the same person in charge of the compound's grounds oversaw here too.

Following the main path, he soon arrived at the mansion. There was a tall metal fence surrounding the entire building and two guards carrying assault rifles stood under a veranda by the gate. Both men were in matching uniforms, with the gang’s symbol printed on an arm band and military bulletproof vests. They saw him approaching and stepped forward to interrogate him.

"What are you doing here? Go back the way you came. This is private property." The first guards said.

Saul could hear the sound of the guard’s gun safety being turned off. Though he felt nervous he didn't show it when he spoke. "It's alright. I am with the Mad Dogs. I am Saul, a Match Fighter manager and I am here to get the triplets to come and fight someone. Jackson and Rickshaw told me they were here."

The two guards glanced at each other. They didn't seem convinced. They were definitely part of the gang’s elite force. They didn't seem the least bit fazed by his mentions of the higher-ranking gang members.

"Got any identification?" The other guard asked, and he reached out with an open hand to Saul.

Saul nodded understandably and took out his wallet. He took out a special looking card with the gang’s symbol of a snarling dog and his own name. "See, it says I am a member of the gang and MFA. I am also here on Martinez's orders, so you might want to let me see the triplets."

"Fine." The guard sighed and handed the card back to Saul. "Now spread your legs and raise your arms. Need to check you over."

Saul complied. He fully expected this kind of treatment. After being checked over, very thoroughly, the guards were satisfied.

"Alright, follow me." The first guard said turning towards the gate. The other guard went back under the veranda and opened the electric lock to the gate. A buzzing alarm alerted them that it was ok to enter.

When Saul entered the mansions grounds it appeared just as well kept as the compound as well. At the glass double doors of the mansion stood an additional two guards. Seeing them approaching one guard opened the doors for them. Saul could only guess as to how nice it might look inside, especially considering how well kept the outside was. When he stepped inside, he nearly gasped.

The place was trashed!

Cans, bottles, bags, and sand were scattered all over the once nice marble lobby entryway. The fermentation smell of alcohol and ashy cigarettes stung his nose. Laughter and pounding music sounded from the ground level parlor room towards the back of the building. The first guard was already heading that direction, so Saul quickly followed him while tiptoeing through the horrendous mess on the floor.

Inside the parlor Saul could see many people partying. Gangsters were everywhere, some drinking, smoking, some were lounging on couches. There were also dozens of scantily clad women dancing around provocatively and serving drinks. Most of the people seemed to be gathered around some pool tables further back in the room. If he hadn't been here on an order, he would probably have loved to join in.

"Where are the triplets!" Saul shouted over the ruckus to the guard.

The guard didn't reply but simply pointed towards the pool tables. Saul nodded and headed for that direction. The guard merely watched him carefully from behind from this point on.

Saul had to push his way through the party crowd surrounding the pool tables. When he finally made it through to the front, he was shocked by the situation he saw. The triplets were the ones playing pool; however, it was the worst game of pool he had ever witnessed. The pockets were cut out from the table and replaced with living people’s heads!

The people were probably some unfortunate souls that got caught either escaping the factory or stealing the meth. They had been tied up and forced to face the pool table at eye level. The area around them on the once green fabric table was dyed with blood.

The eldest of the triplets was just then hitting the cue ball and it smacked into the nine ball. Which it then zoomed towards the corner pocket and with a meaty thud, nailed the tied-up man there squarely in the nose! The man gasped in pain, unable to move, as blood splattered out of him like a squashed tomato.

The crowd laughed along with the triplets. This heartless action was their entertainment.

"I got to deal with these guys?" Saul thought feeling a slight bit of panic upon witnessing such an uncomfortable sight.