Hard Espionage

The crisp bite of winter air nipped at my face as I trudged through the dark underbelly of Mortum City, feeling comfortable as I always did in the shadows. The chill chased me with the threat of seeping into my bones, but I kept walking with my head lowered and my gloved hands tucked inside my trench coat pockets.

The night was quiet, except for the occasional far-off car horn. Every few feet or so, I'd scan my surroundings. More out of habit than paranoia.

Rounding a corner, I looked up as I neared my destination, a five-story brick building on the edge of town. No lights were on, no shadows moved within. It didn't discourage me. I knew from past visits that the building was a rouse. Only those in the crime lord's employment knew where he operated, and that was below, in the bones of the fortified edifice.

I paused outside the hidden entrance, checking my surroundings to make sure I was alone, then felt around the brick wall for the hatch. It protruded further than the other bricks, making it easy to find. The hidden door crept open on creaking hinges, disturbing the quiet and announcing my presence.

No one was around to greet me.

I tsked as I stepped inside. Gunner usually had all his entrances covered, even the hidden ones. He was lucky it was me here and not one of his many enemies.

The entrance opened to a long hallway lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs. At the end of the hall was a dark, concrete stairwell, descending ominously into the abyss.

I took it.

It was two flights before I was spat out into organized chaos. Crates of munition and other artillery filled rows and rows of shelves. Unguarded.

It struck me as odd. Gunner was a well-established illegal arms trader and had never been this careless with his merchandise.

I pressed forward, winding through the maze of weaponry with a growing unease. I was deep inside when I heard voices from behind a stack of boxes. I peered around them to see about sixteen men, the majority lifting heavy crates out of an unnamed boat and stacking them in a messy pile. The rest were idly standing by, weapons at the ready as they kept an eye out toward the dark port that served as a natural barricade.

In the middle of everything was the rotund crime lord. He was wearing a classic suit and tie, his round face unreadable as he watched everyone work.

I stepped out of the shadows. "Mitchell 'Gunner' Heckler."

Everyone turned to me, weapons raised.

A shocked, gobsmacked expression transformed the mobster's face, turning him red. "Night! How'd you- never mind," he grumbled, looking both infuriated and appreciative of my ability to slip in unnoticed. He wouldn't have requested my services if he didn't.

Gunner scowled at his men. "Lower your weapons, you fools." The bodyguards complied immediately, but I didn't relax my own stance, my fingers brushing the handle of my revolver in the pocket of my coat. I was face-to-face with the notorious Gunner, a man who made a living out of violence. Who could blame me?

The crime lord surveyed me for a long moment, looking me up and down with mirth. "I see you're still as sharp as when we first met, Night."

I smiled but said nothing. I wasn't here to discuss my merits. Instead, I waited patiently for Gunner to broach the topic of business.

He huffed a laugh, the sound echoing in the cavernous warehouse like a coughing gargoyle. "Straight to business, eh? Fine by me. Last night, a case of plutonium went missing. Somehow the culprit evaded my security team." He cast a dark look at his men, who shuffled their feet under his scrutinizing gaze.

I arched an eyebrow, but again, said nothing, even though I was itching to point out just how lousy his security was. But that wasn't my business.

Gunner's stare returned to mine, his face set in a murderous visage. "I need you to figure out who did it. I promise the reward will be worth your time."

Of course, it would. He made a fortune from his illegal trade, selling arms to gangsters, other crime lords, and anyone else who could afford the price to protect their criminal empires. The underworld respected him. Needed him. They wouldn't dare cross him. Meaning whoever did this wasn't afraid of the consequences, and that made them dangerous.

"You have connections. Use them," I replied with a bored lilt.

Gunner scowled, narrowing his dark eyes on me in a way that said not to test him. "I need this to be discrete, and reaching out to the wrong people will draw unwanted attention. How would it make me look to my enemies if I, the main weapons supplier, failed to protect my own shipments?"

I pinched my lips together, keeping a poker face to not give away my inner thoughts. I already considered the implications and agreed that not only would it look bad, but it'd also embarrass him, which could result in extreme retaliation, and a war among the underworld bosses was the last thing this city needed. Besides, I could use the money. An early retirement sounded pretty good.

"Alright," I said and cocked my head. "Have any leads for me?" I didn't bother asking if he had any enemies with motives. That was a given.

He rolled his stout shoulders, huffing with exasperation. "None."

"Perhaps one of the gangsters did it?" Gunner's assistant, Lennoard offered, poking up from behind the new stack of boxes with a clipboard in hand. "I heard the Vultures' main base got raided last week. The cops confiscated everything. They'll be needing more weapons and ammo for that territory feud they'd been having with the Wildlings."

I shook my head. "They aren't organized or clever enough to pull something like this off." Their names regularly popped up in the paper for getting caught in criminal activity, always leaving evidence that pointed to them.

"Could it be the feds?" A jocky asked, earning a scathing look from Gunner.

"Think before you speak! If it were the feds, they would've arrested you all on sight!"

"This has expert larceny written all over it," I agreed.

Gunner regarded me thoughtfully, and I got the impression I wouldn't like what came out of his mouth next. "Seems you already have a few suspects in mind."

I gave him a cool look. "That's not how this works."

Gunner's skin blotched as he fumed in outrage, not the least bit pleased to be denied information. "Yeah, yeah." He flicked a beefy hand at me. "That code of honor of yours. You'd never sell out those you do business with or it'd blemish your hard-earned name."

"Those are my services. I'll get your plutonium, but the culprit stays anonymous. Deal?"

Gunner ground his teeth, his jowls quivering as he considered me for a minute before nodding.

I turned to leave but stopped short as curiosity plucked at me. "By the way, who organizes your security?"

Gunner's brows furrowed. "My daughter." His expression darkened. "If you're suggesting that she-"

"I'm not suggesting anything," I cut him off and paused. "Other than maybe reassigning the task to someone with a better understanding of illegal operations and the risks involved."

He looked away, glowering at something in the corner. "She's my only child and wanted a spot in my empire. It's the safest job. How could I refuse?"

"Safe for her but she's clearly not cut out for safeguarding your supplies, and it's costing you." I gave him a pointed look to punctuate my message and turned my heel. "I'll be back by morning," I tossed over my shoulder and rolled my neck as I sought out my first target.

The clinking of chips and spinning of slots traveled through the air as I stepped inside the casino. Neon signs above the machines blinked obnoxiously to draw the eye. Whoops of joy blended with the groans of disappointment as players and dealers alike showed their hands. The House was alive with activity, and the upbeat music set a deceptive tone for the customer's potential to win big when really, it was Roulette who'd walk away with his pockets loaded.

A noxious smell of cigarette smoke invaded my senses as I made my way toward the VIP area where I knew the casino owner would be. The entrance to the luxurious lounge was guarded by a velvet rope and a rhinoceros of a bouncer who stood on its other side.

Eddy scoffed at me as I approached. "Back so soon, Night?"

I winked at him. "Can't keep me out."

He shook his head, and I made a show of leaning in to give him tonight's passcode. "All in."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved me off and pulled back the rope. "Boss'll be glad to see you."

Ah, the perks of building rapport, I thought to myself with a smirk and clapped Eddy on the back as I passed him. It was one of the many clever subterfuges I used for my surreptitious operations. Nothing beat the thrill and rush of adrenaline like hard espionage.

Upon entering the dimly exclusive, crowded enclave, my attention instantly found my target on his "throne". The mogul Waylon Roulette sat with his arms splayed out across the back of a dark booth, his seemingly casual pose commanding the room. The old man had style and class. His clothes were impeccably tailored, and he wore a luxurious watch on one wrist. Beautiful women surrounded him on both sides, batting their lashes and touching him anywhere they could.

Roulette earned his bachelor billionaire status ages ago by using the casino to launder his dirty money, which he amassed through the imports and exports of foreign goods. I never looked into what those goods were, but I knew it wasn't ethical merchandise.

A pretty blonde whispered to him as I approached, pressing herself against his side and rendering him distracted.

"Roulette," I said in greeting, announcing myself, and his amber irises snapped to me in surprise.

"Night!" He exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, making the corner of his eyes crease and the lines around his mouth deepen. "Join us, we're about to have Champagne!" He motioned with a snap of his fingers for the girls to scoot closer to him so I could take a seat.

I eyed him curiously as I claimed the edge of the booth. "Celebrating something?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," he boasted, puffing out his chest, and the girls shimmied with excitement.

"Oh, yeah? What are we toasting to?" I pressed playfully, taking a flute from a bottle girl as she made her way around and patiently waited for him to deliver the intel.

"My wins," he said ominously, a twinkle in his eye.

Anticipation gripped me as he cleared his throat loudly, preparing to give his toast, and the crowd grew quiet to listen. "I've been dealt a good hand in life, despite the risks of rolling the dice and making high-stake bets." He gave me a suggestive side eye, subtly hinting at his covert criminal business acumen. "And if I've learned anything in this industry, it's always smart to cash out when you're still up. That being said, I'll be trading in my deck of cards for a deck chair on a yacht as I enjoy the spoils of my labor in retirement." He raised his glass, and we all followed. "I bid adieu to my enterprise, grateful for the memories and fortune. It's been one hell of a run."

"Here, here!" Everyone cheered, clicking their glasses before sipping the Champagne. Laughter and chatter filled the room as people praised his future endeavors while I made a mental strike through his name for stealing the plutonium.

Although Roulette was a gambler, he’d never stake his money on a risk unless he was prepared to pay for it. Even then, he’d settle those debts so he could freely enjoy his peace, not spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.

"Well, looks like congratulations are in order," I said, holding out my hand to shake. "Glad I showed up, old man."

He laughed and took it with a strong grip. "Me too, kid." Years of camaraderie and all our hijinks passed between us for a moment before we released each other. "Now, who's down for a game of blackjack?"

No matter how many times I'd visited, when I stepped inside the exalted lobby of Sky High Hotel, it was like I’d been transported to another world. With its towering ceilings, intricate marble floors, and a mesmerizing array of glittering textures, it felt like a palace.

The magnificent building towered over the city, a modern marvel of glass and steel. At the top of the skyscraper was a rooftop club where guests could let loose and enjoy the panoramic views of the city below. Only those with a keycard could enter the private area, and I was one of the privileged few.

Fifty floors later, the elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out of the metal box and into a world of luxury. The place was a veritable playground, with an indoor pool, acrobats, dancers, and musicians performing on the stage. A large chandelier of crystals hung from above, sparkling like a million stars.

Charity spared no expense in glamourizing this high-end retreat, designing it with sophisticated elegance in mind that left her guests spellbound.

An intimately small crowd of patrons mingled around a white crescent couch, the music providing the backdrop for their laughter and conversation. I casually made my way toward them, spotting a few familiar faces as they indulged in libations. I recognized the bag of little white pills they passed around, unconcerned about being seen with the illicit substance. And why not? Charity was the creator of the forbidden buzzy, a drug that made you feel like you could fly. Here, in her cliquish club, there were no consequences for using it.

Inebriated giggling carried to my ear as I stepped up to the group. Like everyone else, my attention was stolen by the woman in the center. Charity was a vision, with pink hair, dazzling eyes, and an infectious smile. Moreover, she exuded a certain confidence that made her impossible to resist. She was the very definition of beauty.

It was a shame that she capitalized on her charisma to make people addicted to her.

"Night, Darling!" Charity gasped when she spotted me and reached for me with her free hand, the other holding a pink drink. "Come 'ere."

I let her drag me to the seat next to her, struck by the alluring scent of her rich perfume.

She planted a kiss on my cheek. "Oh, how I love when you visit! You always make my day."

I smiled at her, familiar with her flattery, and returned it. "Likewise. It's hard to stay away from that irresistible charm of yours."

The table erupted in agreement, feeding her ego.

She beamed a playful grin, basking in the attention, before gasping and turning to me with a sultry smile. "Oh, Darling! You'll never guess what happened last night!" She squealed, her eyes shining like twin diamonds.

Intrigued, I leaned in. One thing I loved about Charity was that she always had a story to tell, and had no problem confiding her dirty secrets in me. She loved to gossip. Loved to brag about herself. Most of all, she loved to brag about her exploits.

She squealed with delight like she couldn't contain her excitement. "Last night, my latest flavor was released!" She whispered excitedly, emphasizing the word 'flavor' to make sure I understood her meaning.

Disappointment nearly crept onto my face, but I quickly hid it behind a celebratory grin. "No kidding? That's fantastic! I know it'll bring you a lot of business."

A smug expression crossed her features as she relished the praise. "Exactly! This batch promises to be a smash hit and will make me richer and more powerful than Gunner and Roulette combined."

I narrowed my eyes, turning over her words. If that were true, what need would she have for plutonium? She thrived on growing her empire, gloating about having the city at her fingertips and throwing it in the other crime lords' faces. Stealing the plutonium would've been an assertion of dominance, but given this information, it seemed unnecessary. This was far bigger than stealing a metal that'd be useless to her, and it made an even bigger statement, one that seemed more like her style.

Having gotten what I needed, my disappointment faded, replaced by a triumphant grin. "Now that's something to brag about."

A clamorous roar flooded my ears, coupled with the odor of sweat and blood as I entered the underground fighting den. As usual, the crowd was thick, packed with manic onlookers. Men and women shouted and hollered at the top of their lungs, cheering on the two men locked in a fierce struggle inside the pit. It was a chaotic scene, but the energy was exhilarating and contagious.

The clamor grew to a deafening level as one of the fighters tapped out, signifying the victory of the other.

I pushed through the horde, making my way to the ring, where the men who ran the joint stood around collecting their share of the take. The Croft Brothers were a trio of scruffy-looking men with a mean glare and a penchant for brutality. They laughed as they recounted the fight, reveling in the anarchy.

The eldest, Ringer, spotted me first, and a broad smile split his bruised face. "Night! Was wonderin' if you'd show."

The other two brothers turned, their smirks widening.

"Are ye bettin' tonight or fightin'?" The middle brother, Brawler, asked.

"Watching," I replied, and they laughed like it was the funniest joke they'd ever heard.

Ox rubbed his scarred hands together. "Well, ye picked the right time to show up. We've got a surprise in store."

"And it ain't a fight," Ringer chimed, his smirk growing.

"Oh?" I asked, curiosity piqued. They led me to the back of the building, where they kept the more nefarious aspect of their crooked business from prying eyes.

Brawler opened a heavy steel door, revealing a room basked in a dim red glow, and a table with a large black box resting on it. My pulse quickened at the sight.

"This here's a special delivery," Ox said, walking over to the table and reaching for the box. "Ye'll never guess what's in it."

I kept my face blank, not wanting to give away my eagerness as Ringer opened it. He pulled out a small vial, and my optimism sank. "S'posed to boost yer energy and strength," he provided, staring at the pink liquid greedily.

A thought clicked. "Is this Charity's new flavor?"

They all looked at me in bewilderment. "Course ye knew," Brawler muttered, disappointed at my lack of surprise.

"We're gonna test this baby tonight, and if all goes well, we won't need Gunner's overpriced weapons for security no more," Ringer said, acrimony imbued in his tone.

At Ringer's words, the missing piece of the puzzle slid into place. How didn't I realize it sooner? The Croft Brothers weren't the ones who stole the plutonium, but I knew who did.

The clouds were a dark gray as the first signs of dawn began to poke through. Give me the night and you'll have results by light. That was my motto and how I earned my moniker- always fruitful.

Tonight was no exception.

I stood in the shadows, waiting for my target to appear. Wasn't long before the young lady strolled out of the brick building, scanning the shadows to make sure she was alone.

She didn't search hard enough.

"Natalie Heckler," I said as I stepped into the light.

She gasped and came to a halt, her eyes wide with nervousness, and dare I say... relief? "The legendary Night, I presume? To what do I owe this honor?"

I found her reaction amusing. If she knew me, then she knew why I was there.

"Weakening your father's security was clever," I said. "Impressive if I do say so myself, making it a cinch to steal his plutonium."

Gunner's daughter wasn't incompetent, but rather a genius. I was ashamed to admit it took me longer than it should've to put things together. If it weren't for Ringer's earlier words, I'd still be searching.

"Not as impressive as finding your mark in a night." She stared at me, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "You're a hard man to reach, you know? Stealing the plutonium was the only way I could think of getting you."

Didn't see that coming. "Why's that?"

She lifted her chin, her face set in determination and defiance. "I have a job for you."