Chapter Sixty-Three - A Very Nice and Civil Discussion

“The art of writing died in 2023, and it’s a machine that killed it.”

--GPT-9, 2023

***

It took ten long minutes for a manager to finally show up.

She was a middle-aged woman, with a swept-back haircut and a suit right off the rack from Corps-R-Us. She walked over and bowed her head, fake smile locked firmly in place. “Hello, Miss Stray Cat. I’m August, one of the on-site managers of the Hitman Cooperative. If I understood correctly, you’re looking for some information?”

“Yeah,” I said. “One of your employees shot someone, and I shot them in turn. No one died, because... well, mostly luck, I think. But I’m not too keen on relying on luck in the long-term.”

“I’m very sorry,” August said with all the genuineness of a pair of brand-name sneakers bought from a guy in a trench coat. “I have reviewed the case in particular, and I assure you that the gunman was not an employee of the Hitman Cooperative.”

“He wasn’t?” I asked. “He certainly got paid by you.”

“It is possible that he was a contractor.”

“Possible, or he was?” I asked.

“Such information is--” she began.

I raised a hand, stalling her. “Look, August, I don’t give a singular fuck about what you are or aren’t allowed to disclose, alright? This is twenty-fifty-seven, there’s no such thing as private information. That means that what I want to know is something that you know.”

“We have a reputation to uphold,” she said. “I imagine that our contractors would be very upset to learn that we leaked information about a job to the first person who asks. You understand, I hope? Samurai also rely heavily on their reputation to get things done in a timely manner.”

I crossed my arms. She was being an obstruction, which wasn’t ideal, not when I needed what she knew.

Then again... how much effort was I willing to put into finding out?

“Alright,” I said. I nodded and started walking towards the door.

“Pardon?” August asked. Her high-heels clicked after me. “Miss Stray Cat?”

“Yeah?” I asked over my shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” she asked.

“What gave it away? The fact that I’m moving towards the exit?” I asked. Her jaw worked, and I saw her eyes twitch before I reached the elevators.

She jogged to keep up. “If... if there’s anything the Hitman Cooperative can do to assist you, you only need to ask.”

“I told you what you could do to assist me already,” I said. This was weird, why wasn’t she just letting me go?

Catherine, it seems as though they are purposely delaying the arrival of the elevator. Should I work past their interference?

I shook my head, just a tiny bit. Myalis would catch on. “Look, August, I came here for something, you can’t give it to me. I’ll figure shit out on my own.”

“Of course, of course.” She grinned, but judging by the way she was cringing a little, someone was giving her an ear-full. “We sincerely hope that you, ah, look favourably upon the Hitman Cooperative.”

“I mean, you didn’t give me what I wanted and made me waste my time after one of your employees--sorry, one of your contractors--shot a buddy of mine in the chest. I’m not gonna insult your little company to your face, but I sure as shit ain’t going to compliment y’all either.”

“The Hitman Cooperative is merely an organization that aims to provide a service, we aren’t responsible, legally, for the actions of any sub-contractor, only the actions of our employees.”

“Sub-cons, employees. Same shit, different assholes.”

August stared at me for a while before glancing away. “Perhaps the Cooperative could assist you in a small way. As an apology for our... minor involvement in the incident that led you to coming here.”

“Yeah?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it was working.

She nodded, then gestured through the air. I received a file. A relatively small packet, encrypted.

August bowed slightly while stepping back. Her smile was back on, relieved now. “We hope you consider the Hitman Cooperative in the future. We’re the deadly family you never had.”

“Right, thanks,” I said. The elevator arrived just then, and I stepped into it, my shoulders only loosening when the door shut. “What’s in the packet, Myalis?”

Information, as you might suspect. In particular, the routing information for a payment that, once fees and the Hitman Cooperative’s cut are taken into account, match the amount paid out to our gunman.

“Well well,” I said. “So, who paid him off?”

That’s the interesting part. The person who paid used a third-party money laundering system. Naypal. It isn’t an entirely secure method to make a transaction though. I was able to dig deeper and track the transaction to a small non-profit.

“A non-profit?” I asked.

Yes. The Burringham Gala Planning Committee, LLC. Technically labelled as a non-profit organization.

“What the fuck,” I said. The elevator arrived at the floor with the parking garage, and I stepped out just as my hoverbike came around the corner and slowed to a stop before me. I was still trying to process what Myalis had figured out as I swung a leg over the seat and sat down.

Had Burringham hired someone to shoot him?

That had to be one of the most contrived and stupid suicide attempts I’d ever heard of. The city had a thousand skyscrapers to plunge off of. Hell, a few of them were pretty popular jumping-off points for burnt-out suits.

That didn’t make sense. So maybe he wasn’t planning on dying?

I gave the hovercycle a bit of gas and eased my way out of the building, then upwards. Once I reached the skyline I turned over and landed on a roof-top landing space next to some fancy rich-type’s car.

“Do you think Burringham planned on me saving him?” I asked.

It is possible. Though it doesn’t fit with the psychological profile that Longbow sent you regarding Jeff Burringham. He has used underhanded methods and trickery in the past, but never to aggrandize himself, and never while putting himself or others at risk. Usually it’s as a tool to allow an opponent to trap themselves.

“Yeah, this doesn’t fit,” I said.

Where are you heading to now?

I glanced down, then around me, at the wider city. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go pay Burringham a visit. Can you follow the money trail any deeper?”

One moment. Burringham is currently at a meet and greet in T-Man Square. As for the money trail, it isn’t as useful as you might hope. Most of the credits deposited in the non-profit’s accounts were placed there from donations coming from various other organizations or corporate entities. Jeff Burringham is the largest contributor. The money there is controlled and spent by a number of people. The purchase leading to the hiring of a hitman was disguised as additional security expenses.

“Great, so the person we’re looking for has a sick sense of irony.” I noted the opaque line guiding me across the city, then gunned it to follow after it. “We don’t have an exact idea of who could have made the payment?”

Not an exact idea, no. A list of suspects can be provided. Jeff Burringham himself isn’t directly able to spend the money in the foundation, but it is possible that he, or another, tricked someone else into making the purchase.

“Who signed off on it?” I asked.

His secretary. She also signed off on fourteen other purchases within the same hour.

So someone could have slipped the order, or the payment for the order, in with the rest. We were dealing with someone who was actually clever, which was always a pain in the ass. I liked it when my enemies were brain-dead idiots.

“Think Burringham might be able to help us narrow it down?” I asked.

It’s possible. There are other options for discovering the culprit, but they would take either time, or a spending of other resources. Which begs the question; how much do you want to invest into all of this?

I frowned as I drove over a skybridge then blurred past a hovering police platform, the two cops within not even glancing up from the doughnuts.

“I don’t know. Look, let’s bother Burringham now, then we’ll see what we see. If we need to spend too much on this, then I’ll poke Longbow about it, maybe he can figure it out. I can probably do other, more productive things with my afternoon.”

Wonderful. You should also consider spending more time at home with your family. You need a little more rest still.

“I slept for like, ten hours,” I said.

You spent that many hours on a bed. The things you did there did include sleep, but not for the entire duration.

I pouted.

***