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I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] kelkyag's second prompt.  It's a sequel to Slow Mail.

Segwin Industries skirts the boundaries of not being a good corporate citizen.  It’s not that they don’t report to any Stock Exchange because as their shares aren’t traded, they don’t need to.  The maze of holding companies based offshore to anywhere and the subsidiary companies kept to a size that avoids government reporting and taxation requirements might be eccentric but not suspicious in a retailer of household domestic items but rings alarm bells in a manufacturer of items requiring end-user certificates.  Not to mention their firms that specialize in supplying people qualified to use items requiring end-user certificates.

The Agency and Segwin Industries have had a number of run-ins over the years.  These have mainly been disagreements about whether something they were doing was legitimate pursuit of their business interests or frankly illegal.  The Agency’s been winning a lot lately and it seems Segwin’s looking for another way around our road block.  They’re backing Kildaire in the election and one of his promises is to close the Agency down.

Once they do that, Runyon’s may not be the only death.  They’re the sort of people who figure that once we’re off the government payroll no-one will care.

What we need is a smoking gun.  One we can take to court.  One that will drag in their executives so we can open up the whole ant heap, for once.

Runyon’s death and the steps taken to destroy the information he had collected are our only legitimate subjects of inquiry.  If you want to take things to court you can’t just do everything and anything you can think of.  It was Addison who came up with the idea.  He’d come back from the pub to pick up his coat and Mzeke, who was on night shift, found him staring at the map of Runyon’s last movements.

When Mzeke asked him what he was doing he said, “All those turns, road crossings and almost doubling back.  It’s like he was seeing people in front of him, isn’t it?  Would they have kept in touch by phone, do you think?”

Burn phones, of course.  Memo to all staff, if you’re using a burn phone for work never give the number to your girlfriend or kids.

We found a link.



Slow Mail

Jul. 6th, 2012 10:08 am
rix_scaedu: (Default)
I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] aldersprig's second prompt.

Runyon was dead.  With him all hope of success had died too.

We traced his last few hours, his last few days in the end, but we found nothing.

The trail of targeted destruction was impressive though.  Every mail box he might have used, every post office he might have ducked into, and every courier company he might dropped something off at as he passed: firebombed, burgled, done over.  Someone, probably those who killed him, had been trying to stop the information he’d gathered being put to use.

We tried to put Runyon’s information back together again but after what had happened to him, his sources had either gone to ground or weren’t talking.  If we couldn’t find his notes or a report and couldn’t reconstruct it either, then we were in the hole.  Kildaire would win the election and then, frankly, it would be our backs against the wall.

And, much as we all loathed Kildaire and his people, this didn’t feel like them.  Kildaire’s people were all gab men, PR hacks and flim-flam operators.  This clean up and Runyon’s death itself spoke of professional violence.  Either Kildaire had a backer or Kildaire had been hiring.

Then, three weeks after Runyon died the letter arrived at our office.  Large, white envelope addressed in a hand none of us recognised, just as we didn’t recognise the return address on the back.  When I say “we” I mean the operatives but it didn’t get to us until after the mail room had opened it.  Fortunately the mail room recognised what they had almost as soon as they’d slit open the envelope and brought it straight up to us with the enclosed envelope unopened.  The envelope addressed by Runyon to the Senior Agent.

There was a covering letter from some lady.  Apparently a man, presumably Runyon, had knocked her library bag over at a bus stop then helped her pick the books up.  When she’d gotten home she’d found Runyon’s envelope among the books, meant to post it sooner but all the local mail boxes had been vandalised.

The contents of the inner envelope checked out as unaltered and written by Runyon.  The information in them checked out, verification being easier in some ways than original research.  Particularly when you can track financial transactions with an operative’s murder giving probable cause for a warrant.

Segwin Industries was bankrolling Kildaire.

That explained so much.

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