[Danny]

I finally got off my arse and got this next chapter onto paper (metaphorically speaking). I'd been running the first half of it through in my head for a couple of weeks, so this ought to be good... (No guarantees, of course...)

Chapter 4

“…just over half an hour ago…”

“Shhh!”

Bemused, Visk closed the door more gently than he had opened it, and joined his colleagues, who were crowded silently around the Television.

“His bodyguards, who claim to have been ordered to wait outside, say they heard the shot and rushed into the Warehouse, only to find the Vice-President already dead. They have so far prevented reporters from going near the scene of the crime, as they wait for police investigators to arrive at the scene…”

Visk sidled up to Frack, and whispered in his ear. “What’s happening?”

“Vice-President Kilk’s been murdered!”

“…go direct to Kryll Valley Construction Co. Head Office, where President Olek has been informed of the Vice-President’s demise: “Kilk was a good friend and a close associate. But we’re not gonna let something like this stop the Dam from being built. That’s just what these murderers want to happen!” Olek is referring, of course, to the planned damming of the river Kryll, which the City Council are expected to give the go-ahead to later this week…”

Flakit thumbed the remote, silencing the flickering screen. “We’ve seen enough. Sergeant Frack, you and Constable Visk are on this case. Get to it.” He shot a glance at Visk, who shivered, but knew that the CEO was giving him a second chance.

One of the other Constables spoke up. “How in Odd’s name did the ****ing Press get to know ‘bout this before us?”

Flakit sighed. “Information always seems to reach those rats before us… I’m not sure why.”

“’s cos they pay for it…” Frack muttered, not quite quietly enough.

“I don’t remember asking you, Sergeant. You’ve got a job to do, and I suggest you do it.”

Frack nodded sheepishly. “C’mon, Visk…”

* * *

“What was he doing in an Abandoned Warehouse?”

Frack shook his head as he hurried down the street. “We don’t know. He didn’t tell his bodyguards, he just ordered them ter follow ‘im, then ter wait outside.”

“We should check his Office, there might be some information there. Diaries, notes, that sorta thing…”

Frack looked at Visk. “Why don’t you go check that out? Yer’ve seen two corpses in as many days, why don’t I handle this one?”

Visk nodded. “I’ll meet yer outside the warehouse in two hours, yeah?”

“Well, whenever ye’re done; I’m gonna be there anyway…”

Visk nodded again, and set off towards Kryll Valley Construction Co. Head Office…

* * *

“…always very private in his affairs…”

Visk sighed. “Look, I’m not asking ter ransack his home, I jus’ wanna look around his office!”

The old Glukkon who ran K.V. Construction’s records office looked at Visk over the top of his glasses. “There is no need to speak to me like that. It isn’t as simple as that, anyway. There were a lot of secret records in that office. Only I was allowed inside, and then only rarely. Since I have received no contrary orders, I am legally bound to uphold the agreement between the Vice-President and myself.”

I hate Bureaucrats… Visk gritted his teeth. “Look, I could always go ter the crime scene and get his own key, so yer’re not stopping me from going inside. All yer’re doin’ is slowing me down…”

“You are perfectly welcome to do so, if you so wish, but I am still not allowed to give you the key that the Vice-President himself gave me, in trust, and told me not to put into the hands of anyone but himself, should he lose his own.”

Visk closed his eyes and counted to 10. “Listen… Kilk’s been murdered. I think yer can take that as the end of that particular contract. Now, if he were here now, I’m sure he would want his murder investigated, would he not?”

The Glukkon stared at Visk, sighed, and turned to the cupboard behind him. Unlocking it, he took one of the keys from its hook, blew the dust off it, and handed it to Visk. “You have one hour. No more.”

“Thank you…” Visk turned and left the office, fearing that if he stayed, he would lose control of his hands and accidentally open a fourth murder investigation…

* * *

Although Visk had never met Kilk, and knew little about him, much became clear about the Glukkon just through looking at his office. Everything was precisely placed in its own spot on the shelves and desks. The books were arranged neatly, in alphabetical order, on the bookcase, and were covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting that they had not been moved in years. The books on the desk, without dust, were neatly piled up, the largest on the bottom, the smallest on the top, and the books placed precisely symmetrically, each of their sides equidistant to the corresponding side on the book below. The paper documents were arranged so neatly that at first Visk thought that they were a solid white block. The pens (all black) were neatly laid out on the desk, in order of tip diameter. There was an office toy, with the five metal balls on wires, which seemed out of place, but on closer inspection, it could be seen that the balls had long been rusted together.

Visk coughed, having difficulty breathing in such a stuffy place. Looking around, he saw a closed window behind the desk. Striding carefully across the room, he pushed at the window, only to discover that it was painted shut, and that the hinges had anyway rusted away long ago.

Well, no point in dusting for fingerprints. he thought, Nobody could have got in through that window, and I’d like to see any murderer get past that bureaucrat downstairs without going insane…

He turned his attention to the desk. Tugging at the handles of the drawers, he found that they were locked. He cast a glance at the door, which looked soundproof enough, then tugged at the drawer with all his might. With a creaking noise, the drawer pulled free of the desk, splintering the wood around the lock.

Compared to the neatness that typified the rest of the room, the contents of the desk drawer were in chaos. Documents had been shoved in randomly, as if there would have been no room for them if they had been neat. Apart from sheets full of figures and statistics and business reports, there was also a small leatherbound book that looked like a diary, and an ansafone. Visk pressed play on the ansafone, and sighed when he heard nothing. There should be a message that explains it all, he thought, or there would be in a fair world… Then he noticed that there was actually no tape in the machine. That’s odd… Someone like Kilk would never forget ter put a new tape in… And there’s a whole boxful of empty ones here… He scribbled it down in his notebook, and turned his attention to the diary. The most recent few entries were boring – all about business – but he found an interesting entry for a few days previously:

“I think O. is starting to suspect something. Will have to start altering spending to cover losses. Reduce takings in future?”

He must’ve been stealing money from the Company finances. But why?

Copying down the relevant section into his notebook, Visk stood up, and surveyed the rest of the office. There weren’t any filing cabinets, and nothing apart from the desk seemed to have been touched in years. Sighing, he put his notebook away in his kitbag, and got ready to leave. Then, on a whim, he decided to pick up the receiver of the fone, and dial 1471.

[Author's Note for Merkins and other foreigners: 1471 is the number you dial in England to get the number of the last person who phoned you. I know it wouldn't be the same in Mudos, but what the hey. I'll assume they have something similar...]

“You were called. Today. At. Seven. Forty-two. A. M.” the synthesised voice spoke in a monotone. That was less than an hour before he was killed… The number was a payphone number.

* * *

Visk walked through the lobby of the building, frowning to himself.

“The Key?” The voice of the Glukkon record-keeper droned out coldly across the room. Visk strolled over and handed him they key, which he hung on its hook without thanks. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Visk frowned again. “Not sure.” Looking across at the Glukkon, he put his head to one side. “Can you listen in on the fone conversations in this building?”

The Glukkon raised one eyebrow in inquiry. “I could, but I wouldn’t do such an immoral thing…”

“Cut the crap. Did you listen in on a fone conversation on Kilk’s fone at –” Visk checked his notepad. “7:42 this morning?”

The Glukkon looked over his shoulder. Visk smiled inside, secretly glad to have been able to make the annoying bureaucrat uncomfortable. The glukkon leaned forward. “This doesn’t go beyond this room, right?” Visk nodded. “Okay, I did.”

Visk stopped frowning. “Did you keep a copy of it?”

The glukkon shook his head. “No, my budget for new tapes isn’t big enough to keep all the old ones. But I did make a written transcript.” Looking around, the glukkon reached into a low-down drawer, pulling out a sheet of paper. “Here. And nobody else finds out about this, okay?”

“Of course not.” Visk made a mental note to tell Flakit the first chance he got…