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The game's afoot

Posted on Sat Mar 9th, 2013 @ 2:38am by Lieutenant Lissan zh'Zarath & Civilian Haqtaj Matlh

Mission: Part of the Team

Jones waited until Tambleton and Karin were through the door. He pressed a button under his desk.

=^=Yeah, boss.=^=

"FIST!" get in here Cracky Jones roared.

Reg Fistinhand straightened his uniform and tie then walked through the double doors into 'the office'. He was a big man, though not as big as Jones, and he weighed considerably less, being more muscle than fat. He was over six foot and as broad as he was tall with blue eyes and a shock of log black hair. He kept his hair tied up in a leather braid in Jones' presence to make it appear short. He knew only too well how 'sensitive' Jones was to his lack of hair following an unfortunate event with Mac Mohune of Moonfleet.

Reg had been working as one of Pirate Havens' 'Protective Agents' for quite some time. They were more commonly known as 'rent a thug' among the population and they weren't known for being friendly or nice to anyone. Cracky didn't pick them for being friendly or nice; that wasn't his style.

Reg Fistinhand woke up at the beginning of every shift with only one thought in his mind. He hated his job and would give anything to leave it but he owed Cracky Jones. Reg shouldn't have asked Jones for a favour all those years ago. He was not likely to ever be able to pay him back so the only way he'd escape Jones' clutches was through death.

He could have been an opera singer, a famous one at that. He should have followed his dream. Yet here he was again in 'the office'; once more ready to be told what to do. What was it to be this time? G.B.H or Kill? He faced Jones across his desk ready to Jones' bidding.

"Your to follow them, Fist. I want to know what they are doing, where they go, who they talk to. I don't care how you do it. Then report back to me. Understand?" Jones ordered.

"Yes Boss," was all that Reg could answer. "Follow and report."

Reg left 'the office' as silently as he had entered. He was surprisingly light on his feet for someone so muscular and of such large build.

He had never been asked to just follow anyone before. Someone his size wasn't that easy to blend in. Reg made his way back to his quarters and decided to change into civvie clothes. Within minutes his hair was free of it restrictions and he set off to find his quarry with his guitar in his hand.


As the trio moved off they did not notice another shadow detach itself from the general gloom and follow behind. Being careful to check she herself was not being followed, the Nausican ex-pirate-captain, Warig, kept her eyes firmly on Jones' goon. She also watched Tambleton carefully. She was not yet certain if he was someone she could throw her support behind. But his money was good, and he had a ship and contacts. And he had enough sense to have her play bodyguard.

Tambleton was feeling very pleased with himself. That had been much less difficult than he expected. Jones had paid good money for a worthless fake. It was a very good one but a fake it was, nonetheless. It had been worth the expense of those spices back on Deep Space 12. Packing it in them had given the statuette the right odour of a funeral offering which had been placed in a tomb on the burial of its former owner. Tambleton knew Jones relied on his senses. He held them to be more reliable than a tricorder or similar scanning device.

He offered his arm to Karin.

Karin just looked at him, 'I've told you. Touching in public costs extra. I still haven't been paid for that little stunt yet, and I really need a bath. That man was rank."

The credits chip appeared in Tambleton's hand without him seeming to reach for it. He flicked it into the air, watched it spin then caught it. He smiled ingratiatingly.

She glared at Tambleton, who still stood there with his arm out. Finally she rolled her eyes and took the offered arm, "Things I do for latinum now days."

 

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