Part 25: 15:19-17:01: Drama King

Chapter 25: 15:19-17:01: Drama King



ARIST: No more games, woman!




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I understand.” She puts her coffee mug on the table.



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I knoiw.” She looks down for a moment, hiding her eyes behind her bangs. “For what it’s worth I’m sorry. For all of this, for wasting your time.”

ARIST: For someone who’s sorry, she sure did do it a lot.

RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] This is good. Clear the air first—between you two—then move on to questions.
VOLITION: [Easy: Success] Is it? Something is off here…
RHETORIC: Shush. I can’t hear what she’s saying.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Why *did* you waste our time then?”




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “You answer to the Coalition Government—and my extension, the *Moralintern*…” She reaches for a new cigarette.
REACTION SPEED: [Easy: Success] Briefly glancing over her shoulder to the sea—as she’s done time and time again.




ARIST: You pop a pill for a little pick-me-up. You sense you’ll need full use of your faculties in the coming minutes.




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Just business—but *bad* business for some people in the Moralintern. If I show up in your records, officer, they will find me. They will…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “What happens if they do?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “They will kill me, sir. If you file my name—take me in for questioning—enter me into the Moralintern mill…”




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “It’s not nice—but it’s not illegal, not here in Revachol. Or even in Oranje.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “What *exactly* did you do?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Industrial espionage. I joined a business collective with the intention of betraying them. I did my job well enough to be asked to do it again. With a bigger company—the kind you really, really don’t fuck with. I took their ledgers—two decades’ worth of accounting.”
KIM KITSURAGI: He taps on his notebook. “I need the names of the companies involved. And who hired you.”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “The job was Loosduin County Savings Bank—they sound small but they’re part of the Looskap conglomerate. That was the second job. The first was some printer company. You wouldn’t know them.”
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] But she *really* destroyed them. She still feels it.
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “As to who hired me for the job—I don’t know. But *they’re* after me too. Along with Looskap, and their friends in the MI.” She breathes out, heavily. “Once you’re done in the competitive intelligence circuit, you don’t have allies. You’re radioactive.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “This was not a joke. Real people lost their jobs. Not just in the C-Suite either—good people. What I did to get to accounting…” She shakes her head at the thought. “A lot of people got hurt,” she concludes. But that’s just more of my shit you shouldn’t have to deal with. You’re solving a murder.”







KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Okay…” She takes a deep breath. “He was in a kneeling position, he had just entered me. I was on my back, looking at him. I heard the window behind me shatter and I turned to look—there was a hole in the glass… I turned back to him. “She breathes out. A moment’s silence. “His eyes were looking through me and his mouth was open, dumb… I could see… I could…”
COMPOSURE: [Easy: Success] Her chest rises and falls with each word. She keeps herself together, and says it…



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “He was heavy. I pushed him off and he fell to the floor—there.” She points through the window. “He only had his boots on. I bit the pillow… not to scream, then ran downstairs…” There’s a long pause. She just stands there, her arms at her sides. Then she continues: “I waited for the second shot to come—for me. I thought there would be one. It never came.”




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “So am I.” She immediately proceeds to light another one.
KIM KITSURAGI: “What time was this? When did it happen—it would help us if you could be as precise as possible.”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “11:30 to 12:15. I don’t know the exact time. Around midnight.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “That’s okay.” He makes a note. “Were you inebriated?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Not as much as usual. He’d done a line. Plus other things. I was drinking.”




KIM KITSURAGI: “Did you hear or see the shooter in the course of this?”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Nothing. I was trapped. I was stuck in my room—downstairs. I got some clothes on and crawled back up, drew the blinds. Blood was coming from his mouth—not a lot. Just a little. He was still on the floor. Slouched. I couldn’t be there with him any more. So I ran down—and out of my room. Into the hallway. Down the stairs. I knew there would be people there.”




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Sylvie was tending the bar.” She looks down. “A lot of people were there. The Hardies were at the table in front of the stage, I think the Union box was full… Ruby was there too. They were having such a good time...” She pauses. “I sat down and they all welcomed me. I didn’t even have to say anything. Ruby *knew* something was wrong.”



ARIST: Who the fuck is Ruby?!

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Ruby. You know. The leader.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “The leader? Of what?”



ARIST: Uhhhhhh, what?

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Well. Nominally yes. Ruby’s the one they go to when things happen. Like, things they need taken care of. She’s the organizer.”



ARIST: Then why haven’t you ever heard about her before now?! They’ve all been working to intentionally conceal this from you! *She’s* that mysterious eighth Hardie!

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Well, Ruby said let’s talk upstairs. I showed her the room… I’ve known these people since December, they know my situation. That I can’t leave a paper trail. Ruby was the first one I told… She said she’d take care of this. It’s what she does, you know. Take care of things. I helped her get the body to the bathroom—we used a belt to pull him up under the shower. To keep him upright.”
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] To mislead you! They were tampering with the body.
KIM KITSURAGI: “To produce lividity matching a hanging?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Yes.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “We *completely* missed the tampering. Looks like you got there in time. What was this—twenty minutes after death?”
VISUAL CALCULUS: [Medium: Failure] Oops…



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Ruby went outside to talk to Titus and the boys. I was just… looking at Lely. In the bathroom. I had to put his clothes back on. His armour too. It was tough, but I’ve seen him take it off and put it on many times.”





ARIST: That’s… odd. She just disappeared after helping with the body? She must be laying low. But the rest of the Hardies were all directly admitting “culpability”… You’re on to something, here.

KIM KITSURAGI: “We will need to take this question to the Hardie boys.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “When he was shot?” She thinks. “I may have. I don’t know. I couldn’t hear anything over the glass exploding.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “What?” She gathers the last vestiges of her strength. “Why would I put myself through this… insanity? Get myself cornered like this?” There’s a silence. The wind picks up. “He wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for me—I know that. But I would *never* hurt him.”
SUGGESTION: [Medium: Success] It could have been a *desire* murder. Maybe an act of jealousy?
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] He was a serviceman. He must have has a gun lying around. Close to her hand—a military weapon using *jacketed ammunition*.



ARIST: The tide of your *self* shifts imperceptibly, these disparate aspects emerging from their shared haze one by one… You’re changing your mind. Slowly, but it’s happening. Her power over you is fading. But you’re going to have to work for the rest.



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I did not kill him to defend myself from rape,” she says. “I told you before. That wasn’t what happened.”




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I don’t know. His friends have rifles, maybe those psychos did it? Coalition military have rifles. I’m not a munitions expert—and I did not shoot him.”
DRAMA: [Easy: Success] She might have been a tad disingenuous when she avoided talking about the bullet in his head *before…*




ARIST: *Did your best*!? What the *fuck* are you talking about?




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I thought they’d found me. They’ve killed him to punish me… All last week I’ve tried not to talk to anyone, or be seen with anyone…”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I just don’t know…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know anything.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “We can’t go after Looskap. Not yet. There are other, saner leads.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Because I’m an *idiot*.” The answer comes fast.
REACTION SPEED: [Easy: Success] Which *is* an indicator of truth…



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “You have to understand—the people around here… No one was making the call, and he kept rotting. And then they picked his clothes off. And that little fucker threw stones at him…”
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] Her jaw is clenched. Her throat moves. It takes all her strength not to cave in and sob… once… just one time…
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “He kept throwing stones at him for *three days*. I could hear the *thud*, *thud*…” She shakes her head. “So I called you. I hope with all my heart it’s not the last thing I do in Revachol.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Last week. Angus and Titus’ brother—I think he’s called Tibbs—took care of it.” She takes a drag.

ARIST: Matches up with what you got from Titus… hey, wait a minute, Angus is Titus’ brother?! That explains a lot…




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): She nods, silently. She doesn’t even smoke, just picks up the cold coffee and holds it in her hands.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Uhm…” The lieutenant glances at you—then at the door.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] He’s thinking—*are* we done here?
VOLITION: [Medium: Success] …or maybe you should take her to the station? For safekeeping. She *lied* to you. And she’s a flight risk.





ARIST: Come on, Drama. We need you for this. There are lies to detect, seductresses to unravel!




KIM KITSURAGI: “There may be grounds here… At least for an extended detention.”



KIM KITSURAGI: “I agree.” The lieutenant turns to her. “You wouldn’t give us your real name—not when people are after you.”




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “You log your work *every week*. It’s *all* transmitted to COMINSUR. I couldn’t just beg you not to enter my name… So I lied.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “No, it’s submerged in a plastic buoy on the coast, in the reeds. It just… doesn’t say Klaasje Amandou. It says Annouk Meijer-Smit.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Falsified documents?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Passport and visa.” She nods. “Given to me by my employer. I can’t even use them. My employer probably leaked the name—Meijer-Smit—to hurt me.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Why would they do that?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I didn’t show up to a rendezvous. They don’t take that *lightly*.” She rushes to explain: “I didn’t show up because I was afraid they’d… do something to me. The job was finished—I’m just a liability now.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “West of the boardwalk—in the reeds—on the coast there.” She points toward a clump of ruins on the western horizon. “I put it there when I first arrived. Haven’t been there since. I’m not sure I could even find it now…”



KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant makes a note of it.



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “It’s Katarzine Alaczije.” The smile on her face is timid—almost painfully so.






ARIST: Okay, you’re just reflexively lashing out and questioning everything she’s told you here. It doesn’t actually make any sense for her not to have made the call.

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I *did*.” she takes a step forward. “What is this?” I called your *Desk*, or whatever it is. The numbers are all over town: Call 8-100-2 for Emergencies. There was an older woman on the other end. It sounded like she was smoking. She took my complaint. She coughed.”
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Easy: Success] That *is* the Emergencies Desk number…
DRAMA: Anyone could know that, sire. By looking around and calling the desk. I don’t believe a single word she says!
KIM KITSURAGI: “What time did you make the call?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Thursday night. It was late. Some time after twelve.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “But I know the *time* of the call too! She breathes in. “I know I have not been 100% truthful with you, officers. But I *am* now.”
EMPATHY: [Challenging: Success] You sense a little hesitation there—or maybe even fear? The stress was on the wrong syllable.





KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “But I haven’t *done* anything…” She backs up against the railing—with a forced smile on her face. “Anything *illegal*.”
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] Failure to aid a police investigation.
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] She purposefully misrepresented information crucial to the case.
HALF LIGHT: [Easy: Success] Fucking *mind* games! Enough!



KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant produces a pair of handcuffs…
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Please, no.” Her eyes become round with fear. She tries to back further off…



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): She’s silent for a second—as if looking into herself for certainty. Then, in a hushed voice, she says…
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] Gearing up for this betrayal is hard for her.




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Sex—and more. I made the mistake of confiding in her—I told her I was on the run. She started *protecting* me. It became an unhealthy relationship. When I started spending time with Lely,” she says in a near-whisper, “She told me to end it. Said there would be *shit* if I didn’t. It was not a good meeting. We stopped talking after that, but…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “I don’t understand.” The lieutenant sounds incredulous. He still has the cuffs in his hand. “What exactly in your relationship made you think she’s romantically interested in you?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “She said she’s in love with me. She even asked me to run away with her, when I told her I’m a fugitive. She started developing… *notions* about our relationship.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “And you led her on?” The lieutenant narrows his eyes.



ARIST: You’re a little disgusted with the turn this has taken. You’ve never met Ruby, but Klaasje—Katarzine—selling her out like this, using her feelings against her, rubs you the wrong way. Still, get more information. You need it.

KIM KITSURAGI: “This is just an assumption.”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I know what it sounds like. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you before.” She raises her eyes to meet yours. “But she *knew* what had happened—when I came downstairs. Somehow she *knew* Lely was dead. She wasn’t surprised at all. When we came up here she was calm as a stone too. She cleaned it all up, like she had a… plan.”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “She came over one night. Drunk. Said she’d turn my life into a *living hell*. I’ve been threatened before, so I can tell when someone *knows* how to do it. And she’s a pro. She must be. To keep the Hardies in line. I tried severing ties with her after that. I thought it had worked, but…” She looks through the window of her room.
HALF LIGHT: [Easy: Success] Some of that fear is still with her. She exhales sharply…



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “You said there was a secret route there, right?” She points to the door that leads to the pinball workshop. “She could have come up through there, then taken the shot—right here, where I stand. It was too dark outside, I wouldn’t have seen her.”
SAVOIR FAIRE: [Easy: Success] Then slipped back downstairs without anyone noticing? That *is* possible…
KIM KITSURAGI: “Interesting theory. Did she know that door exists? Had you been out here—with her?”



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “She would have seen us. My bed is right next to…” She’s forgotten her cigarette in the ashtray.
KIM KITSURAGI: “You mean to suggest—she made it?”
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “No.” She shrugs it off. “No—why would she do that to herself? No, I just remembered you told me about it, and…”



ARIST: Is it just me, or is she trying not to seem desperate to pin this on Ruby? It’s not really working.

VOLITION: Okay? And WHAT?!?
DRAMA: Arrest the liar! Now.



ARIST: Would not have called Authority being one of the ones still calling on us to go easy on her.



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “*Still…*” she says, her voice breaking. “After all this. Sir, please… it’s a shitty world and I know I’m shitty too, I know…” Her hand turns into a fist, slowly, crushing the cigarette she’s still holding. “But I don’t deserve to be sent to the Moralintern and ground into paste just because I disturbed the *sanctity* of accounting at some multinational…”

ARIST: Didn’t she say someone killed themselves because of her?




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “You have those *station calls*, right? Where I have to show up at the station or I’ll become a fugitive. You can write me one. You don’t have to take me in right now… I promise I won’t go out any more, at night. I’ll be right here. I know you can do that—just let me come in on my own. In two months. Or maybe even one month. That’s all I need…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “You do have the form…” He looks at your ledger.



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): *Everything* could change.” She looks around. “This city, the extradition rules… The people after me could be in jail. Or maybe Revachol…” She falls silent.
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] There is desperation there—in that silence. A cornered animal looking for a way out.
KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Maybe Revachol could be free? I could be tried in a free Revachol? An independent state that doesn’t hand its detainees over to the Moralintern.”

ARIST: You stifle a pained laugh that ultimately comes out as a pronounced wince. This is pure, desperate bargaining. It’s pathetic and sad, as much as you like the idea…

SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] A free Revachol… There is a low, distant rumble on the motor tract. A great machine, shaking the pillars down south. Electricity runs up your spine.




KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “Don’t. The world can change. It has changed before…” She looks at you, frozen to her spot.



ARIST: Just decide and end this. It’s becoming physically painful to listen to any more.

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): She looks at you in silence, her face filled with fear, lips parted…



ARIST: SHIT. Good catch, Logic! That complicates things.



ARIST: Wait.

>1. Wait for what?

ARIST: Remember. Remember the bond you share.

>1. What bond?

ARIST: Oranjese lit.

1. Right, of course…/>2. Goddammit, not this again…

ARIST: You see her for the first time. Truly see her. She’s a scared, lonely soul. She was one even before all this. She’s a kindred spirit. She knows what it’s like to writhe in your own uselessness, to attempt to spin your pen into gold, into truth.

VOLITION: [Medium: Success] What the fuck are you *talking* about?!

>1. She deserves this. She’s hurt people and wasted our time./2. What should we do, then?

ARIST: Does anyone deserve certain death? Really? At the hands of an unfeeling state? Especially one who understands my—our—plight? The bottomless, pathetic sadness she expressed—does it mean nothing? Take pity on her, so that others might do the same for you.

1. No. We’re arresting her and that’s that./>2. Fine. But only because I can’t afford to lose Kim for the day./3. I am picking the mercy option, will that shut you up?




ARIST: In the chasm of your mind, you may come to regret this—but regret comes easily. Empathy is another story. Don’t allow yourself to talk yourself into having less of it, for it will be hard to get back when you need it.

EMPATHY: [Easy: Success] Man, don’t bring me into this.



KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): She slowly-slowly lights another cigarette and steadies her breath. As if in the presence of some tiger.





SHIVERS: The sky is low and cold. You hear the distant murmur of motor-connections somewhere south of here. That is all.









KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER): “I don’t know…” She looks down at the yard—then back into her coffee.




We put a point into Logic.




ARIST: Right, you know what happened now, so you can do some of the ol’ Visual Calculus on the window here.





VISUAL CALCULUS: Like the witness said—the man is kneeling, the woman is on her back. It’s the night of March 4th and a shot has just been fired.







VISUAL CALCULUS: 72%. With an antique weapon that fires military grade ammunition—a Belle-Margrave rifle, for example. This is a good short distance, but not too short. The perpetrator aimed with their back against the railing, or possibly kneeling for precision. This would explain why it only took them one shot.










VISUAL CALCULUS: 1km away. A point beyond the docks, on an islet in the bay. The fort is ruined but the perpetrator may have found a stable spot on the beaches surrounding it, where the concrete crumbles into the sea—as you saw in the coin operated viewer…







ARIST: You like where this is going. *Thorough* investigation.




ARIST: Now that you’re feeling a bit more *logical*, you decide to ask Kim something that’s been burning in your mind.










KIM KITSURAGI: “Safe? No. But you’re old. You’ve made it this far. *Something* has brought you through. We’ve only just started working together, so I don’t know what it is yet. But it’s there. So no, I don’t think they sent you as a joke. And even if they did, they are in for a surprise.”



ARIST: Kim




ARIST: You *could* go question Titus about Ruby, but the prospect of investigating the coast is just too appealing right now. Besides, you promised Lena you’d find Morell, and you’re running low on time today.



ARIST: But first, one last trip to the Coupris Kineema to see if Alice *finally* got the armour information.






ALICE: “He was found as a newborn, in a leaf compactor, near an abandoned farm. He spent 4 months in the neonatal unit—survived, apparently—and was assigned to a foster family at two. This is what the ICP knows about him: He was raised by foster parents, entered the Ijsbrand Military Academy—in Vredefort—at 17, then served in the Oranjese forces till he was honourably discharged in ‘41, just a year before the Semenese conflict.”



ALICE: “It’s a garden tool used to press leaves into these… cubes. It’s a detail the hospital had—the only detail in these files. So I thought it would be good for you to know.”




KIM KITSURAGI: “Even that is a small miracle—these *organizations* usually double check their inventory.” He leans closer and shouts: “Thank you, Alice. Great work!”
ALICE: “No problem, lieutenant.” She sounds pleased.





INLAND EMPIRE: [Challenging: Success] This means something to him. To know that name. Like naming a case. It’s important.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Medium: Success] Sometimes police work is about human dignity—about giving back names to anonymous victims.




We put another point into Rhetoric.



ARIST: Finally, now that the water lock is fixed, you decide to make your way down the coast.