SimCity 3000 Part #13 - Fit The Eleventh : Power, Corruption and Lies

Part 13: Fit The Eleventh : Power, Corruption and Lies

Fit The Eleventh : Power, Corruption and Lies
A quiet day in the City of the Downbeat. A harbour busy with the activity of freighters, fishing trawlers, and barges taking away the garbage of a city rank with decadence. That morning, the mayor of that city was making a fateful decision.

The mayor, that is, I didn't know who this "Cousin Vinnie" was, nor did I know how to get in contact with him. The writing on the card was drawn out as a handsome script, yet quite angular in its detail. The writer meant business.

I prevaricated through the morning, but found that my appetite had gone missing when lunch arrived. With no better leads, I lifted my phone handset and waited until the operator spoke up.

"Ah, good afternoon, operator, I'd like to call Cousin Vinnie."

"Sure thing, Moyer, I'm putting you through."

My god! The operator knew Vinnie. Had the Mob even infiltrated the telephone exchanges? And the way operators gossiped, this might be all over the city and then the nation by the weeks end. Though, perhaps the Mob had ways of making sure lips stayed zipped when it was prudent to do so. In either case, my reputation was now forfeit. Though if I hung up now...

Too late.

A gruff voice spoke up at the other end of the line.

"Is that you, Wallace?"

"Yes."

"I thought you'd get in touch. OK. 6 am. At the docks. Warehouse 6. Wait."

I slept very little that night, it reminded me a little of a night before I was sent to this place, but only due to the early hours.

Down by the docks, behind a supposedly disused warehouse (though in fact it was regularly being used as a dispatch point from the East), I waited, with my loyal bagman, I mean, financial advisor, in a car in the loading dock.

This is really unwise.

Ehhhh, she'll be apples.

Someone emerged from the warehouse. Short and stocky. He saw me, and beckoned me inside. I got out of the car, as did Mortimer, but the figure shook his head and pointed at Mortimer. He got back in the car.

I clambered up the loading shelf. The man helped me up as I did so.

Why is he here.

He's my financial advisor.

Ah yes. A foolish thing to bring him. But I'll let it pass. I'm not alone either. Come inside and we'll discuss this "fundraiser".

I walked into the warehouse after him, and up the stairs in a small office overlooking the dispatch shed.

OK, it's a very simple deal.

Hmm, sounds a bit dodgy to me. I need to talk to my advisor.

What the fuck? OK, if you must.

I quickly scurried outside, and Mortimer scrolled his window down.

I'm not here, this isn't happening.

OK. I didn't ask you about this.

I walked back inside. Vinnie looked at me as if I'd just violated his lovely sweet daughter.

So?

OK. It's a deal.

No cold feet? Well, lucky for the both of us.

One last thing; did you have anything to do with that llama's head?

Not me personally. Maybe someone found it after those Fezzes had been done with the poor creature. Maybe someone decided to put it with some other trash.

What is that supposed to mean?

Vinnie just shrugged. I guessed the conversation was over.

In spite of whatever contempt he held me in, the deal went through. I didn't have to lift a finger, I just had to keep my mouth shut.