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Chapter 16: 15:31-17:13: Let’s Get Wild
Time to bamboozle a capitalist.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Good afternoon, officers, I’m Joyce.” She extends her hand in greeting.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Nothing, honestly. I’ve said it to every drunk in town and you’re the first one who’s responded.”
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] What is implied here?! That you’re a *drunk*?!
JOYCE MESSIER: “I’m glad to see you here.” The woman and the lieutenant exchange a brief handshake.
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] She is unfazed by your rudeness, probably chalking it up to local custom.
JOYCE MESSIER: “I was dispatched to handle a strike, not a lynching. Anything I can do to assist the RCM in this matter, I will, gladly.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “That is good to hear, madam.” He opens his notebook. “My colleague will take the lead on this interview. I should let you know that he’s recovering from an *unusual* medical episode—*very* unusual—but I can assure you of his ultimate competency.”
Thanks, Kim!
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] There’s a trace of irony in his voice. Mischief even. This is a tactic.
Oh.
JOYCE MESSIER: “I haven’t seen anyone else drive a souped-up Coupris Kineema motor carriage either.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Actually,” the lieutenant becomes defensive, “that motor carriage has been specially issued to serve as a patrol and *pursuit* vehicle. It’s for crossing long distances in the Greater Revachol Industrial Harbour. It’s not a toy.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Neither is this.” The woman pats the cabin hardtop. “A toy, I mean. It’s a machine for crossing long distances in the bay of Revachol. Between the city and the islands.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “The boat? No. *It* is called Cor-de-Leite ‘19—because that’s the type of sloop it is.”
INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] The word *it* feels strange. Such a beautiful boat deserves a proper name…
JOYCE MESSIER: “Okay. How about Cor-de-Leite ‘19. Why?” She taps on the side of the boat, it makes a hollow sound…
JOYCE MESSIER: “My sloop? I like it a lot.” Her lips curl into a wry smile. “It’s the *eel’s hips*, baby.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “I’m enjoying this part of the interview—it has *so* little to do with the murder we’re investigating.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Officer, I assure you I’m a highly qualified pleasure craft operator.”
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Easy: Success] The crowns of her teeth are porcelain, white as the boat’s hull as she smiles.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Detective, may I remind you that Mrs. Messier is a *professional negotiator*?” He doesn’t look like he thinks you’ll best her in single combat.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Then what does that say?” She points to the plaque on the side of the pier. “Does it say *docking reserved for residents of Rue de Saint-Ghislaine 33A*?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I assure you, they drove quite the hard bargain for this space—but you’re right. I am a bourgeois woman and this is my long, incredibly lightweight, interminably bourgeois boat.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “What *we* do—I’m afraid I don’t speak for Wild Pines as a whole. It’s a giant undertaking.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “The Pines’ *core competency* is logistics—container shipping, freight, that sort of thing.” She points to the small dots on the horizon. “See those airships there, blinking? Those are the shipping side of things…” …then to the east, toward the harbour: “And that is the terminal. Another subdivision deals with energy—oil and gas exploration. Offshore platforms.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I’m not at liberty to discuss the company balance sheet, but I *can* tell you that last year the company booked more than 20 billion reál in revenue.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Twenty billion is a large number, but the conglomerate employs 72,000 people. They all need to be paid. Then there are capital improvements, interest payments…” A wave hits the sloop, she grasps the mainstay for balance.
JOYCE MESSIER: “They started as an exploration and cargo fleet conducting trade between the Samaran and Insulindian isolas—250 years ago, when Pines’ ships explored the South-Semenese and charted Lo Manthang on behalf of the suzerain.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Good luck—It’s only kept in place by the vested interests of half the civilized world, including your own.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “What the ma’am means is that the Emergencies Act and the RCM both get their authority from the Coalition Government.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I believe the official title is Senior Labor Negotiator. In practice I’m a grocery clerk. I relay the Union’s demands to Wild Pines, and return with Wild Pines’ counter-offer…”
KIM KITSURAGI: "And how are the talks going?"
JOYCE MESSIER: “They’re *not*. That’s the problem. The Union stopped all negotiations a week ago. After that awful lynching took place.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Let’s say I was not making the kind of progress I’d hoped for when I first arrived…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “And when did you first arrive?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I arrived three weeks ago…” She thinks. “Yes, in the middle of February—the bay was still partially frozen then. I prefer to do these things on-site. Like the RCM.”
KIM KITSURAGI: He looks at his notes. “But the strike began in *December*.
JOYCE MESSIER: “I wasn’t the original negotiator here. I took over after Mr. Gaumont hit a wall with Mr. Claire, the Union boss. Mr. Claire refused to speak with Gaumont, despite *concessions* he’d granted the Union in prior negotiations.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “This isn’t the first time the Union has gone on strike?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Heavens, no. There have been *two* prior strikes. Both times the Union won significant concessions—including overtime pay *and* a medical plan. This time their demands are more… I guess you could say *aggressive*.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Mr. Claire told him to, how did he put it?” She pauses to compose herself…
JOYCE MESSIER: “Keep in mind, this is a negotiator Mr. Claire has worked with before, and who was more than fair with him and the Union.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “There are leaflets everywhere, and banners… what did they say again? Oh, yes… *EVERY WORKER—A MEMBER OF THE BOARD!*”
JOYCE MESSIER: “It’s quite simple, you see. Every time the Wild Pines group makes a decision—about, what? About *anything* really—it needs the signature of *each* of the 2,200 workers in its Martinaise terminal.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I’m not sure. Naturally I assumed that was just their opening position, a hard-nosed tactic with a side of mockery. But there’s been no follow-up, just the same nonsensical slogan repeated over and over again… And *now* people are getting *lynched* I hear. Behind the Whirling-in-Rags… a disastrous situation if there ever was one.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Excuse me,” the lieutenant looks up from his notes, “From whom did you *hear* about this lynching?”
JOYCE MESSIER: Her reply comes quick: “I first heard it from the *boia* at the gates—ther one whose very name advertises his aversion to work. I think he said it was *Call Me Mañana.*”
JOYCE MESSIER: “The *scabs*?” She raises her brow. “You mean the huddled masses of Jamrock, come to plead for work where the Union refuses to? If they were organized by Wild Pines or its affiliates then it would be a company secret. I could not share it with you—not right now at least…”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Edgar looks *exactly* like his brother, except for that lazy eye. He also *talks* exactly like Evrart does. And when one’s term as foreman is up, the other takes over.”
JOYCE MESSIER: The Débardeurs’ Union was once a perfectly normal institution. Twenty years ago, anyway. It must *not* have been easy to establish under the Emergency Act, but they did it. I can respect that.” She adjusts her hair. “Organized labour at its best, as they say. Then something happened in the local chapter elections. The Brothers Claire came and transformed it into a… how do you say?” She hesitates, looking for the right expression.
KIM KITSURAGI: “A mob.” The lieutenant says succinctly. “The Débardeurs are a crime syndicate. Sad as it may be, we’re forced to cooperate with them.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Refreshingly honest, officer.” She nods. “The company has tried appeasing in the past, but I’m afraid our concessions have only emboldened Evrart and his brother.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I’m glad you asked. There was a woman—the previous forewoman of the Union. She disappeared.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Disappeared?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Yes. On the last day of the local chapter elections her daughter phoned in and said she wasn’t running any more—or coming to work. Ever. End of story.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Indeed. The company suspects foul play, but there’s nothing they could do, it was a Union matter. The point of the presentation is—these kinds of things *happen* around the Claires. Watch out when you’re dealing with him.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Of course,” she curtsies slightly. “You are an honourable man—*way* above the money I could offer, so I won’t even try. And of course… I do not *expect* you to share anything Evrart told you with me—not being a corrupt *würm* myself. She pauses. “However, if you felt like passing *some* information… how could I stop you? Are we not human? Are we not *curious* to hear another person’s take? It’s only natural. We could only be…” she smiles, “gossiping.”
CONCEPTUALIZATION: [Medium: Success] Intellectually speaking… it would be quite *interesting* to hear what she has to say about these things…
JOYCE MESSIER: “*Beyond* curious. I will *choose* to interpret that as you turning the alcohol in the strike brew *down*—for the sake of our professional relationship.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Oh!” Her eyes become large and round. “That’s so *helpful* of him…”
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant looks at you and you can swear his jaw muscle is trembling.
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] He’s able to contain the anger and surprise.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] When I said *be wacky* I didn’t mean *wildly, grossly irresponsible and damaging to the RCM*.
Sorry, Kim, but this is what I have to do. I’m blazing new trails in negotiation, and if this doesn’t throw her off, what will? Remember, you asked for this.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Unconventional police officers sometimes *lose* their guns. They then go around and tell people about this—to gauge their reactions. It’s all part of *detecting*.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Ah yes. As you said.” She looks confused for a moment.
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
KIM KITSURAGI: “Please don’t get him into a loop. If he gets in a loop it will last *forever*. Ask him to say something else please.”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] That’s wrong! You don’t get into loops!
JOYCE MESSIER: “Of course. Thank you for the advice—I’m glad you were here to assist.” She turns to you: “Your *other* dealings with Evrart are still of considerable interest to me…”
where’s the option to tell her we’re breaking into someone’s house for Evrart
JOYCE MESSIER: “Of course, detective,” she simmers down. “Should something come up, later down the road—don’t be afraid to drop by for a chat.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Quite a few things, I’m afraid…” She falls silent for a moment. Contemplating something.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Of course, ma’am. We should have introduced ourselves…” The lieutenant hands her a piece of blue plastic. “I’m Lieutenant Kitsuragi, from Precinct 57…” He points to you. “And this is my colleague from Precinct 41, Detective Du Bois. I’m afraid Harry doesn’t have his badge at the moment. I hope mine will suffice.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “*Oh*. And what happened to yours, detective?” She returns the lieutenant’s badge and turns to you.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Oh, *dear*…” She sighs with compassion, sadness even. “I suppose this does explain some of the more *curious* turns in our conversation.”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] She must have been suspecting something for a while now.
KIM KITSURAGI: “As I said, ma’am,” The lieutenant interjects, “his technique may be *very* unconventional. But he *is* an officer of the RCM.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Of course. I sympathize. But I’m afraid I simply can’t share anything more until I’ve seen that badge…”
SUGGESTION: I mean favours for favours. A *dirty* alliance of some sort.
JOYCE MESSIER: “I will be frank with you.” She puts down her thermal cup. “If I’m going to break protocol I need to be able to justify it to my superiors. They’re going to want to see something very *tangible*.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Reports from inside Terminal B suggest it’s a hub for the local drug trade. This is an open secret in Martinaise. The Union *controls* the terminal, so it goes to reason…”
You should have listened to Logic, idiot. Look what we’re getting roped into now. Rhetoric is gonna be so pissed we’re becoming capitalist toadies.
JOYCE MESSIER: “The company has tried looking into the matter before—to no avail. Perhaps someone with *your* authority and resources might turn over the right stones? Or…” She picks the cup back up. “You can recover your badge—though if my may be blunt with you, it sounds like that may be a lost cause.”
Ah, fuck. Now Kim’s come to pull us into the principal’s office, who is also him! Never trust a capitalist.
Before Kim chews us out, we get this thought. It’s another one that lowers Encyclopedia, which I’m annoyed about, but it’s totally worth it for a +3 boost to Perception.
Also, here’s the description for The Fifteenth Indotribe.
Finally, we have two leftover skill points we haven’t spent. Let’s put them into Drama and Reaction Speed.
Now, Kim time.
KIM KITSURAGI: “This woman is running circles around us. She might have known about your *misplaced badge* all along—or she’s simply an adept improviser. Either way, we’ve played straight into her hands.”
If this lady costs us our headlight replacement session with Kim later I’m gonna lose it.
KIM KITSURAGI: “No. If there is reasonable suspicion we must investigate. Otherwise she could claim we’re siding with the Union. Or that we’re on their take. We’d never hear the end of it…”
KIM KITSURAGI “Oh,” he nods slowly. “That would be *fantastic*. But do we have the time? The world is large—and your badge is eight-by-six centimetres.”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] The situation might have changed drastically by the time you locate it. Time is of the essence…
Alright, let’s get back into the frying pan.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Sadly I need this one myself. It’s hydrophobic, repels water, almost *magically*. The company makes them for offshore platform personnel. Very sturdy.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “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.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Ingredients for *what*, ma’am?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “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.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “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?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “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.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “*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*. 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.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] Her irises are light green, like the river Esperance in bright daylight, upstream where it’s clearer.
JOYCE MESSIER: “We *did*, on more than one occasion. Apparently there’s some sort of inter-precinct disagreement about whose jurisdiction this area falls under.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “We know the company has launched its own probe into the Union’s alleged involvement—we also know it’s come up empty. It’s not just the RCM—*no one’s* been able to find any hard evidence.”
We take a brief moment in the middle of this conversation to add a point to Encyclopedia to offset the one we lost from the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua thought.
JOYCE MESSIER: 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…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Well—at least this solves *one* mystery.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “What is that, lieutenant?”
KIM KITSURAGI: “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.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “How do you think they’re financing this strike? There are thousands of unpaid dockworkers going strong for the fourth month straight.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “There was a shakedown of local businesses preceding the strike. Many were squeezed to bankruptcy to fund it.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “The two *might* even be connected.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Or not—though if you have evidence to the contrary I’m *eager* to hear it.”
Fuck it, you already told Cuno you were a narc, might as well make it official.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Excellent.” She takes a long sip of tea. “According to my reports there are at least three lorry drivers lingering near the roundabout. Hopefully one of them will know something. It may come to nothing, or it may just blow the case wide open. I can keep the drawbridge up for a few more days at least. You should have the time you need.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Better not to tie the forestay to the backstay on this. I hope there is something else I can help you with?”
Oh boy, finally time to ask her about reality! You’ve been salivating over this option since you started talking to her!
JOYCE MESSIER: “This… *reality*?” She pulls her hood closer around her neck.
DRAMA: [Medium: Success] Yes, reality is your side-case.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Ah yes—the *episode*. Sounds like an acute case of encephalopathy now that I think of it…” She puts down her thermal cup and looks at you.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Don’t be fazed, madam. He functions perfectly well. He only needs a… *lowdown* on all of reality.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “We may be here awhile, then.” She takes a long sip of tea. “Ask away, officer—I’ll help however I can.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Ha!” She smiles. “Aren’t we all?”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Martinaise is a district of Revachol.” She looks around, her green raincoat flapping in the wind. “A very small district tucked away near the Industrial Harbour. North of the 8/81 and Jamrock.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I’m not a good ambassador. I’ve only been here once before, as a teenager. Not a lot has changed…” She closes her eyes. “There are ruins, a terminal, fishing boats, reeds. Boys with boxy shoulders.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “Yes. We are on an island in an ocean. The world’s largest body of water—the Insulindic.”
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Medium: Success] Known to the early Revacholians as *les Immensités Bleu*—The Blue Immensities.
JOYCE MESSIER: “Caillou, as you already know.” She looks to the waters. “Imagine a pebble, a smoothed-over pebble amidst a great blue sea. Mis-shapen, cracked. The cracks are the River Esperance. We’re in the delta of this river, on the sixth branch—the Martinaise distributary.”
EMPATHY: [Easy: Success] It is clear this *pebble* is of enormous value to her…
JOYCE MESSIER: “The *Great* kind.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “They say it’s where the *terrible* questions of our time will be answered—the tensions are highest, the faultlines deepest.”
JOYCE MESSIER: “I think it’s fair to say so. Martinaise is about…” She points across the water, where the skyscrapers rise…
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] A collection of tall ghosts behind the water vapour, light reflecting off their glass windows.
JOYCE MESSIER: Silence. She lowers her hand.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Trivial: Success] The water, the light… It’s as though you’re seeing it for the *first* time.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Easy: Success] This is one thought you *need* to complete. Where are you?
JOYCE MESSIER: “Was there something else you wanted to know? I remember something about a low-down…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “This has been informative, thank you ma’am. I’m sure my memory-impaired partner has *many* more questions to ask…” He turns to you. “…about even more fundamental aspects of reality…”
“Fucking magnets, how do they work?”
As interesting as this has been, Kim is correct. You have other stuff you need to do today.
You’ve been shanghaied by a capitalist into the seedy world of (investigating) drug trafficking. Will you follow up on that next, or finally go talk to the Hardies?