Conversation · Joyce Messier

"Well," she smiles and points toward the roundabout, "here's your chance."

"Actually, let's discuss something else for now."

She simply nods.

"We already have some suspicions that one of the drivers was present at the lynching."

"The two might even be connected."

"Or not -- though if you have evidence to the contrary I'm eager to hear it."

"As eager as I am to share it, lieutenant, once the job is done."

"It's no coincidence the lorries are stranded there like that, is it?"

"No. We asked East Motor Tract to raise the drawbridge. The road company is a partner of one of our subsidiaries. However..." She pauses, looking to the sea.

"This is a limited-time opportunity. Once the complaint has been processed by the trade committee they'll have no choice but to lower the drawbridge -- and the operation will continue." She looks north.

"Thousands of litres of raw ingredients will pour onto the streets of Revachol. Not the East, across the river, but the West. The vulnerable, the weary..."

A cold breath rushes in from the bay, making its way down the alleyways and potholed streets -- from Martinaise to Jamrock. In the traffic you hear the clinking of glass vials, concealed beneath tarpaulin. Or is it just your teeth chattering in the cold?

Shake it off.

She continues: "The literage the local producers must get from this terminal alone must be oceanic."

"Well -- at least this solves one mystery."

"What is that lieutenant?"

"Why I had to call East Motor Tract -- and beg them to open the drawbridge for me. I'd wondered since I first drove in. On my motor carriage."

"I am sorry for the inconvenience, Lieutenant Kitsuragi. But we need them trapped here. This is a unique opportunity. I'm sure you understand."

(Shiver.) "Fucking misery."

"A lot of it," she nods. "It comes in from large Samaran factories. In South Safre, Siigay and Hsin-Yao. The literage they must get from this terminal alone must be oceanic."

"The lorries are still stuck at the roundabout -- if the police is asking, one of the drivers might admit to it."

"It's quite straightforward. Someone is using Terminal B to smuggle raw ingredients from the Samaran isola into Revachol with the Union's blessing. Wild Pines has suspected it for years."

"Ingredients for what, ma'am?"

"Meth- and dextro-amphetamine, GBL and various synthetic psychedelics. Honestly, it might be quicker to say what you can't make from the stuff."

Shit yeah, baby, it's the Party Pipeline! Why would you want to shut that down?

"Let me get this straight -- the materials come from Samara to Revachol through the terminal?"

"Yes. After they clear the terminal we lose track. The actual production is taking place at various sites in and around Jamrock Quarter. North of here."

"Wild Pines seems to be well apprised of the local drug trade, ma'am. Do you mean to say the Union also produces the product? Sells drugs, I mean?"

"We're in logistics. It's our business to know -- and no. As far as the company knows, the Union does not produce it. They transport the ingredients. For a cut."

"And you want us to investigate." (Move on.)

"Yes. But you won't get anything out of Evrart and the Dockworkers' Union. Still --" she raises her bony finger, "every chain has its weak link."

The hand-off. The motor lorries at the roundabout.

"The lorries."

"Precisely. Someone needs to move the ingredients from the harbour into the city. Once they reach Jamrock they're distributed to a network of local manufacturers, well beyond our grasp. But in transit they are vulnerable."

Didn't Titus mention that Ruby ran a complex operation out of her lorry? Could it be connected? Only one way to find out -- investigate!

How convenient that they're stranded like beached whales at that roundabout.

"Perhaps you've noticed that a number of lorries are tangled in a traffic jam at the roundabout just now? Interview the drivers who are still hanging about. One of them might be waiting for a crucial shipment." She gives you a knowing look.

Her irises are light green, like the River Esperance in bright daylight, upstream where it's clearer.

"I'll be explicit: if you find this driver, I will share company secrets with you."

Uncovering Union secrets could also give you an upper hand when dealing with them.

You'll be indebted to her, in a way. But one step ahead of the Union in another...

"Am I going to need bolt cutters for this?"

"Unlikely, officer. I'm talking about the lorries. Once the ingredients reach Jamrock they're distributed to a network of local manufacturers, well beyond our grasp. But in transit they may be vulnerable."

"What do you mean?"

"The lorries," she stresses. "Someone needs to move the ingredients from the harbour into the city. Once they reach Jamrock they're distributed to a network of local manufacturers, well beyond our grasp. But in transit they are vulnerable."

"Why are you trying to shut down the Party Pipeline?"

"I assure you, officer, these are not the sort of parties you'd want to attend."

She has no idea what kind of parties you've been to.

"What kind of ingredients are we talking about here?"

"Officer, I am so sorry for the whole pier situation."

Her concern is sincere, her eyes round and affectionate.

What situation?

"Ma'am. You humiliated me."

"Officer, I don't mean to be rude but are you sure your recent medical episode wasn't a stroke?"

You're being handled. Don't stand for it.

"How about we concentrate on the dishonourable thing that happened, huh?"

"Of course." She slightly bows her head. "Please accept my apologies. What can I help you with?"

"His medical condition makes him a little grumpy, ma'am. I hope that's not a problem."

"Oh no -- not a problem at all."

It truly isn't. She controls herself very well.