Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings) (12 page)

“Acknowledged, Investigator.”

Coj signed off, leaving Gelan to stare at Wynhod.  “I used to love this job.”

Wynhod shut his computer search down and glared at the remaining vid detailing the case.  “With all the Delir problems in that sector, I’ll bet there will be a new dealer in place by tomorrow.  If not today.”

His comment gave Gelan an idea.  Excitement surged in his gut, erasing the disappointment of only a moment ago.  “You’re right.  We need to be ready.”

He clicked his com to life again.  “Connect to Undercover Ops, Supervisor Dramok Nost.”

An instant later, the smooth tones of the undercover department’s supervisor came over the com.  “Head Agent Nost.”

“Nost, it’s Gelan.”

A loud, theatrical groan spun out from the com.  “Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have picked up.”

Gelan chuckled.  Nost was a good friend who had been trying to lure him into working for his department for the last three years.

Nost laughed back, then his tone shifted into concern.  “How are you?”

For a moment Gelan was confused by the question and the worried tone in Nost’s voice.  Then he remembered Amik.  Damn, he hadn’t thought about his fallen partner all day.  Hadn’t had a moment of impotent rage over the Nobek’s death.  He supposed that was a good thing, but it made him feel guilty.

Gelan wasn’t much for soul searching, and he brushed aside the moment of confused worry.  “I’m okay.  Listen, I’d love to spend time talking about what an ass you are—”  

“Stop trying to flatter me.”

“—but I need someone from your department on the Delir case, and I need him fast.”

Nost’s tone was all business.  “Details.”

“Change of dealers in the Sko Mountain government housing area as of now.  If you can get someone in place, we stand a good chance he won’t be fingered as a new face in the neighborhood by the gang.  I’ve even got an identity and residence he can assume providing the landlord can be bought.  Nobek Hurs.”

“Shoot the file over and I’ll get it moving.”

Gelan grinned.  “Thanks.  I owe you.”

Nost snorted.  “Damn right you do, and don’t think I won’t come after it.”

Gelan signed off and turned his delighted smile to Wynhod.  The Nobek grinned back.  “Loving your job again?”

Gelan sat down at his computer and sent Hurs’ case file to Nost.  “For the moment.  The Delir gang has been really careful so far, but we might just catch one of them if we do this right.”

His com went off again.  “Investigator Gelan.”

“Enforcer Coj, sir.  Affirmative identification by Nobek Hurs.  The attacker was his dealer.”

“Acknowledged.”

Wynhod’s expression was hopeful as Gelan signed off.  “Are we going to the hospital?”

Gelan considered his next move.  What he came up with knocked his happy moment down a few pegs.  “Not yet.  First, I need to make nice with that Imdiko in Criminal Psych and pick his brain.”

Wynhod grimaced.  “The brain trust again?  Can I sit this one out?”

Gelan stood and regarded his partner with narrowed eyes.  “Dream on.  Where I go, you go, partner.  Come on.  I’m not looking forward to it any more than you are.”

Wynhod uttered a groan as dramatic as the one Nost had done before.  Gelan felt hard pressed not to join in as he led the way out of Investigations.  He wasn’t thrilled to be dealing with Imdiko Krijero again so soon, but he didn’t feel left with much choice.

Chapter 7

In a matter of minutes, they were in the Criminal Psychology department, weaving through the labyrinth of desks to get to Dr. Krijero’s.  As they neared, Dramok Jomik, who sat near Krijero, scowled at Gelan.

“He’s out.  Go away.”

Gelan jerked to a stop between Jomik’s neat workspace and Krijero’s much messier desk.  There was no sign of the Imdiko assigned to Gelan’s case.

He stared at the other psych.  “Go away?”  His earlier urge to punch someone came back.

Jomik’s stare didn’t waver.  “Leave Krijero alone.  He doesn’t need jerks like you two making him feel bad again.”

With biting sarcasm, Gelan said, “I’m sorry his feelings were hurt.  He wasn’t exactly the most empathetic person when it came to my partner’s death.”

The other Dramok snorted.  “I told you, the right things don’t come out of his mouth.  He’s as awkward speaking as he is trying to get from Point A to Point B.  The guy’s smart, and you’d do well to listen to him rather than think you’ve got all the answers.  I know that’s difficult for you investigators and enforcers, but give it a shot.  If you’re not going to take his advice, leave him alone.”

“Are you his Dramok?”

“No.  I’m his friend.”

Gelan was getting seriously pissed off with Jomik.  It was the psychs who thought they had all the answers, with their computer programs and years of study in nice, safe rooms.  They sat in their secure little offices, never getting their hands dirty.  Never standing face to face with men who wanted to kill them or families who sobbed as they got the news a loved one would never come home again.

Gelan really needed to beat the hell out of this guy.  It might actually be worth filling out the incident reports, along with the fines and demerits.  Wynhod watched him with a look that said,
What are you waiting for?

His voice tight with the effort it took to not yank Jomik out from behind his desk, Gelan snarled, “Krijero is assigned to my case.  He’s got a job to do.  So to make it short and sweet, you can fuck off and shut up.”

Jomik rolled his eyes, as if he’d expected nothing more intelligent from someone who actually cleaned up the messes around the territory.  “Asshole.”

Gelan took a step towards him, ready to administer some respect-building therapy.  A loud thud and yelp from behind interrupted him.

“Shit!”

Gelan turned around, startled.  He spotted Krijero halfway across the room, holding one leg and hopping around in a circle.  His face squelched up in a painful grimace as he unleashed a string of impressive curses.  At Gelan’s side, Wynhod snorted in amusement.

The guy sitting in the desk next to the profanity-spewing Imdiko shook his head.  As soon as the psych took a breath, his workmate asked, “Krijero, how many times do we have to tell you, you can’t walk through the desks?  You have to walk
around
.”

Krijero scowled and stopped hopping.  “You know, you’re fucking hilarious.  Damn it, that hurt.”

He limped in Gelan and Wynhod’s direction.  With the entertainment over, Gelan turned back towards Jomik’s desk.  The Dramok had disappeared during the distraction.  Gelan decided it was a good thing because Krijero wasn’t the only one ready for the injury list.

The Imdiko stopped short when he realized Gelan and Wynhod were waiting for him.  Half his face was hidden by a shock of hair, but the half that was exposed registered anxiety and … misery?

He resumed moving towards his desk, lurching unsteadily on his banged leg.  “Oh.  Hello.”  Another grimace of pain.  “Shit.”

No humor colored Wynhod’s voice now.  “Do you need to go to Medical?”

Krijero waved him off.  “No, it’s just another bruise.  I’m used to it.”

Gelan’s eyebrows raised.  “Used to walking into desks?”  The man got odder by the moment.

The psych’s answer cleared up the confusion, however.  “Yeah, I have a balance disorder.  I try to go one way and my feet go the other.”

Wynhod seemed torn between helping Krijero to his desk and standing out of his way.  The Nobek settled for pulling his chair out to a clear spot for him.  “How did that happen?”

“Nothing important.  Something to do with my inner ear, stupid and boring stuff you don’t want to hear about.” 

Krijero reached the chair.  He didn’t sit down so much as fall into it.  He closed his eyes for a moment in relief, and then kicked back towards his desk.  The chair bumped against the workspace, sending some records drives to the floor.  Krijero ignored the cascade.

Instead, he looked up at Gelan, his expression again drifting towards melancholy.  “So.  We didn’t get off to a very good start last time you were here.  What can I do to make you roll your eyes again?”

Gelan was at a loss for the moment.  All he could do was stare into the one purple eye not hidden by Krijero’s hair and that gentle but despondent half of the face he could see.  Krijero looked as if he waited to be sneered at, as if it had happened time and again and he expected it to keep happening.

The Imdiko blushed and turned away from Gelan’s gaze.  Suddenly Gelan felt sorry for the awkward psych, with his clumsy bearing and aura of deep sadness.  He caught himself hoping the man’s Dramok and Nobek were understanding and kind to Krijero.  The guy obviously required gentle handling.

Gelan cleared his throat and got to business.  “Let’s talk about the Delir gang members, the guys actually selling the drugs and killing would-be witnesses.  What are your thoughts on the muscle of this group?”

Krijero tossed his hair back, his expression going from morose to enthusiastic in an instant.  Getting a good look at the sweet-natured and intelligent face of the Imdiko, Gelan felt terrible about giving him such a hard time at their last meeting.

Krijero typed on his computer, bringing up a vid full of notes.  He barely glanced at them before launching into his theory.  “This Delir gang is unique in that they are abnormally loyal to the group, to the point of willingly committing suicide rather than getting caught.  That tells me a lot is going on.”

Wynhod cocked his head to one side.  “Such as?”

Krijero swung back to face them, his gaze moving back and forth between Wynhod and Gelan.  “Look, members of a group aren’t all going to have the exact same priorities.  What means a lot to one man can mean next to nothing to another.  So they’re obviously working under several different threats and rewards to keep them in line.”

Gelan stole the absent Jomik’s chair so he could sit and more easily look Krijero in the eye.  “Can you be precise as to what threats and rewards?”

The psych nodded.  “Well, the most obvious reward is money.  Lots of money.  Money that will buy out whatever conscience these gang members possess.  I bet they make a percentage of however much Delir they sell, plus a bonus for surpassing certain goals.”

Wynhod stared.  “Like a commission?”

Krijero frowned, as if he expected to be outright laughed at.  When Gelan and Wynhod remained only interested, he nodded.  “I told you, this thing is being run like a business.  There may even be incentives, like new shuttles or nicer homes, that kind of thing.  Now, there is also advancement within the gang.  Ultimately, when people engage in criminal activity, it’s all about the money and power.  That’s your positive reinforcement.”

Gelan pursed his lips.  “So talk about the threat.”

“There’s always intimidation, say threatening to harm or kill a family member if the seller doesn’t waste himself when he gets caught.  Or it could be that he knows he’ll die a nastier death than what he’ll get from his own hand.”

“Something more painful?  With torture?” Gelan guessed.

“Or a really humiliating way to be murdered.  Something he’d find incredibly disgraceful.  Remember, we’re talking the majority of these guys are Nobeks, and honor is everything to them.  Even if their idea of honor is badly skewed, as it must be to sell Delir and kill others.  I’ve never met a Nobek who can stand to be degraded.”

He was right.  Nobeks were fierce to the point that dying was not such a big deal to them.  It was how they died that mattered.  Gelan thought of one body that had been found, a supposed Delir dealer.  The man’s bound corpse had some incredibly horrific injuries.  It had also been shit and pissed on, and the medical examiner had confirmed that had happened before he was killed.  Gelan couldn’t imagine how terrible it must have been to have been debased in such a manner.

Krijero’s take on what drove the lesser members of the Delir gang had merit.  Hurs’ would-be killer might have willingly gone down under blaster fire rather than be humiliated before dying.

Gelan asked, “If we got one in alive, would we be able to get him to talk without drugs or torture?”

Drugging and torturing those confirmed as violent offenders in order to get evidence was a last resort and only in the most extreme cases.  Resulting hard evidence was the only reason such confessions were allowed in court, since the means used to get them weren’t always reliable.  A tortured man might confess to anything to make the agony stop.

Krijero said, “It depends on the man and where his ultimate loyalties lie.  If he’s got family that he wants to keep alive, you’ve got a chance if you guarantee their safety.  If you can make those loved ones disappear so the gang leadership can’t find them, the perp might open up.  Otherwise, I can’t really think of anything you can offer that will get these hardcore killers to give up any important information.”

Gelan considered the Imdiko’s opinion carefully while the other two men silently waited.  He finally nodded and stood.  “Great.  Thanks for your time, Psych.”

Krijero smiled at him hopefully.  “Yeah?  Did I help you?”