Conversation · Racist lorry driver

"Yeah," he says, unsure where this is leading. "They're his little bitches. He's got them all over the unions."

"Not just the unions. He has peones everywhere. Some say he even has them in the RCM." He gets closer to him. "Dirty fucking peones who'd do anything for him. Multi-ethnic drug addicts..."

The lieutenant adopts a rodentine quality. Be cool, sire. He's getting into this.

"Wait, are we--"

"You're not peones," he says. "You wouldn't be investigating a drug-thing, if you were."

"No. Of course not. We're not peones. But if we were... and one of Madre's drivers were to be stealing from him -- then it's a good peone's job to find out who that is."

He's surprisingly good at this. Not bad at all... Look at him lurching.

"It's not a hard job. It won't take a long time. It won't make Padre Madre angry." He looks at him. "But a stupid fucking racist is standing in the way, protecting this fucking thief..."

His eyes dart between you and the lieutenant. "I'm not scared of you -- or the mob. I'm under the protection of the Lorrymen and Carters Guild."

"You've seen that corpse in the ceramic armour there?" The lieutenant points to the yard. "Did his shitty little guild protect him?"

"Nah. You wouldn't just leave him out there if you..." He tries to light a fresh cigarette, but his hands are shaking now. The sentence simply ends.

The lieutenant turns and gives you a barely perceptible nod.

I've softened him up. As best as I could. Now it's on you to finish the job.

Be careful. This man's still got some fight in him, by the looks of it. It won't be easy break him.

The lieutenant raises one eyebrow. "You've seen the corpse in the yard, yes? You took a peek. I know you did. Does it look like his friends protected him?"

Say nothing.

Cross your arms and nod.

The name resounds like a bell in the air -- a dark gong. You get a bad feeling about it.

"Actually -- we do."

"Just tell me who the god damn lady driver is!"

"You're all bark and no bite. The real dogs are up in Jamrock. Everyone knows that."

The lieutenant turns to the lorryman. "You mean La Puta Madre."

"So who does -- the lady driver?"

"Just tell me which one's her lorry!"

"Oh, alright then."

"First. You knew Siileng didn't do it."

"He did something -- he stole his employer's goods and another, honest lorryman's job. You know..." His smirk turns into a suspicious grin.

"I don't think you're as down with our fight as you'd like me to believe, brother. Why's the saffron-man still there? Talk to him -- I don't know anything."

"He did something. He stole his employer's goods and another, honest lorryman's job. Talk to him -- I don't know anything."

He's been expecting this. He's really puffed himself up.

"I found this mug in the trash." (Show it to the man.) "Yours?"

He stares at the Yellow Man mug, then suddenly... he explodes: "HAHAHA! HAHAHA! Oh man! Oh... man, that's great. Look at that guy go. Haven't seen anything that funny in a while."

"Is it yours?"

"God damn..." He wipes the tears from his eyes. "Thanks for that. But no, it's not mine."

He doesn't live in Martinaise.

"You said something about the rights and privileges of lorrymen?"

"Yeah, they're a big deal. My great-grandfather was a carter. Had a royal license and everything. We've tried to hold on to our privileges."

"Hold on, what's a carter?"

"Someone with a cart, what did you think it was? That's how deep into history our thing reaches -- before machines."

"And that's a privilege?"

"Sure fucking is! We have a guild and everything... very ancient, very prestigious."

"So it's a kind of union?"

"Hell no. It's a guild. Invitation only. Unions work for the rich fucks. They're basically the same. Been trying to fuck us out of our heritage in the name of profits. But you can't replace experience."

"Trusting street thugs with their goods is going to fuck 'em right up the ass, mark my words. Generations of practice ain't no laughing matter."

"So you're in a carter's guild?"

"God damn right. They've been trying to fuck us out of our heritage in the name of profits. But when they try to replace us they'll regret it."

"So... he was a garbage man?"

"Not at all! We're part of a guild and everything... it's very ancient, very prestigious."

"We're done for now." [Leave.]

"If it's not you, then who's running drugs through Terminal B?"

"Isn't it obvious? Fuckin' Siileng, that beady-eyed South-Samaran." He spits on the ground. "His little side business is a scam. I wouldn't be surprised if he was peddling drugs as well."

"Right. You're sure it's him and not, say, a lady driver?"

He laughs. Nervously. "Sure I'm sure," he says. "His tribe are natural liars. It's in their blood..."

No, it's Ruby running this ring like Titus alluded to. But play along for now. Find out what everyone knows first. Siileng is your next lead.

"Guess we need to pay Siileng a visit, then."

"Guess so." He grins, contented with himself.

"Wait, the street vendor south of here? That guy's a lorry driver?"

"Of course he's a lorry driver! What -- he tell you he's just some simple businessman or some shit? He's selling his employer's stuff after he broke the seals on his Humanox lorry."

"His tribe are natural liars. It's in their blood..." He nods in a sagely manner, then another puff of that cigarette: "He's your man, alright. One-hundred percent."

"I wouldn't be so sure about it -- not until we've heard what Siileng himself has to say."