That Night At The Police Station

The police station looked like any of the tall, plain buildings that populated Electric City, at least this outstation did. Five stories tall, it blended in well with the skinny city. In fact, the only thing that would even indicate a police station would be a giant, water stained sign flat out stating it was one.

Luke nearly passed this building in his search, more used to the ornate police hall Phiah had to offer. He paused outside, quietly asking Alistair, "Need me to join you or wait for you 'ere?"

"They might better buy my story if you waited," Alistair surmised. "Still..." He looked around. The rain was still pelting down. "I wouldn't want you waiting in the rain."

"I'll be fine, it's just water," Luke grumbled. He wasn't going to deny it was kind of cold out, though he knew better than to mention the fact. "If you're that worried, I'll go find a pub down the street."

"Just don't wander too far," Alistair told him, handing over the umbrella. "I want to talk with you afterward."

Luke hesitatingly took the umbrella, offering his brother a little nod of gratitude before moving to head down the street in search of somewhere at least a little bit dryer.

With that, Alistair adjusted the collar on his shirt and hurried into the police station.

An eelman sat at the front desk, absently looking over records in a book. He stopped when noticing Alistair enter the station, abruptly sitting himself with the best manners he could muster. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" He asked, unblinking eyes staring at Alistair.

"I need to spea' to the chief inspec'or over a serious ma'er," Alistair answered, standing straight and correct in a good imitation of most tinners he had seen before. "There is a major smuggling ring opera'in' between this and other ci'ies and I b'lieve he should like to 'ave a feather in his cap. Upper Coppers like t' shine their buttons up. You know 'ow it is."

The receptionist blinked, recognizing the Central City lower class dialect. "The chief inspector isn't in right now, though I can call him if you like, if it's really as big as you say it is."

"'e'll want to 'ear this, I'm sure. It's 'uge. Might call the rest of th' lads ou' of bed too," Alistair assured the receptionist.

The receptionist moved to his phone and dialed several numbers, assuming each person he called that there was a human there talking about a large smuggling ring. In the first fifteen minutes, an eelman with a rough look to him (though strangely no scars) entered the room. "Something about a smuggling ring?" He asked Alistair, offering him a cold gaze even by his species' standards.

"Yessir. I'm a constable ou' of Central City, sir. I was assigned as a plan' in an undercover operation. The Chief over there reckoned there was some tobacco smuggling going on, bu' 'e needed proof. 'E wan'ed a feather in 'is cap since there's been some nasty reports in the Gazette abou' us recently.

"I was s'posed to infiltra'e the ring as a stow'way runnin' from the law, y'see, an looking for a job. Well, firs' part of the plan wen' off alrigh', but the smugglers didn' like 'avin' me aroun' so they threw me overboard ou' in the open sky. Nearly lost me life, I did. Fort'nately I was able t' make it 'ere than's to some good citizens," the con man shivered and it wasn't totally feigned. Almost dying three different times in one week could have that effect.

"Now the chief's no' going t' be 'appy I tol' you all about this. 'e wan'ed the credit, see, but we can' 'ave these bastards running aroun' any more. You can 'ave the credit. I jus' need to go back to Central City wi' the bag of items from our evidence locker we put together to ma'e my story convincing. If I do, 'e migh' forgive me for flubbing up."

The cold-eyed eelman quietly sat down and took notes. His nose wrinkled at the term "tin man", a bit of a disagreeable term for an officer to be referring to himself as. Another case of someone going native in their undercover work. "I'm certain he'd forgive you for nearly being murdered, though trying to prove it will be tough. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name and rank and what was in the bag?"

"Johnson, sir," Alistair answered promptly, "Anthony Johnson, Junior Cons'able. Badge number two-four-five-oh-eight. Bag contains numerous lux'ry goods li'e gold candlesticks, cufflinks, silverware, an' some fine clothes. If you 'and tha' back, then I'd be more confiden' t' face the man." He looked down at his boots and wrung his hands, playing the part of the shame-faced constable who was in for a good verbal beating by a superior officer.

"'e won' like tha' I 'anded this information over to you. Bes' to keep my involvemen' a secret until I can go ba' to Central City an' explain in person."

The eelman took a few moments to think it over. He sounded legitimate, and it would be a bit of a crackshot for some thief to just know if there was a container on a ship somewhere. "Can you point out the ship you were on if we take you to the shipyard? And maybe some information on where the smuggled items would be on the ship itself? And if you don't mind me asking, who's your sergeant?"

"Sergean' is Kirby, sir," Alistair answered. He was almost sure he had read that name in a paper somewhere. "An' I thin' I can. There's a special compartment down in the 'old. Nailed shut most times to 'ide it from inspec'ors."

"Ah, Kirby," The Eelman responded, a ping of understanding in his tone. He had only met the man once or twice, but he could easily see him being the type to get upset over mistakes and incompetence. "If you wouldn't mind leading the way there either tonight or tomorrow, it'd be wise to catch them before they leave port again."

"The sooner the be'er, sir! After I spo'ed those bastards in por' I knew I 'ad to get them cleaned up righ' away," Alistair answered with a smart salute.

"Then lead on, my friend," The eelman commented with a dramatic finger pointed at the door.

Alistair led the way, making sure the eel man followed with backup.

The eelman gathered five other subordinate eelmen (as well as a human and a centricrus for good measure) before moving to follow after Alistair.

The smuggling ship remained in the shipyard, not particularly far from The Heat herself. Crates were scattered all across the docks, carrying legitimate merchandise sealed in their holds. Large men carried more crates down the cargo door, almost done with their day's work.

"Tha's it," Alistair muttered to the chief, pointing to the ship.

The police chief headed to the boat, signaling for his men to block off the exits. The men working the boat seamed to be caught by surprise, though didn't seam only worried by the prospect and remained undetained as he explored. The chief entered the boat's premise with confidence, grumbling to each of the workers as he passed, "Surprise inspection, coming through."

The inspection was resulting in nothing despite the policemen's tapping on the the walls of the first cargobay of the boat. After ten minutes of checking themselves, the eelman asked Alistair, "Can you show us where the goods were kept?"

Alistair walked over and pointed to the wall as best he could remember from the few minutes he had seen the hold. "Nailed shu', likely pa'ed. I didn' ge' the best view of the 'old, bu' I think this is the spot."

The eelman stared at the wall, examining it closely. Finally, he ordered, "Well, rip it open."

The other policemen moved to unnail the wall, their hammers quick at work despite the protests of the crew. Sure enough, once the planks had been removed, several crates could be seen hidden behind them. With a glance back to the hall, the chief demanded, "Check the boxes. And you two, go grab the captain for me. I think we're going to need to discuss this in more detail."

Two of the policemen headed up the deck's stairs and returned with the gruff captain in tow. He gave Alistair a subdued look of surprised followed vindictive irritation. "Weren't you running from something?" He asked Alistair.