MTB read off the crime, his nostrils flaring like he had caught the scent of approaching justice, and it was as tantalizing as cooked meat to a starving man.
“Boss, Sav-juhn had his door closed when we came by.”
I looked at Sav-juhn, the barkeeper and owner of the establishment.
“Get an adjudicator in here,” I said to MTB.
The crowd started quietly placing bets amongst themselves when I said that. Adjudicators were part of the judicial branch of Belvaille. They kind of argued on behalf of the criminal like lawyers. All of them dreamed of being real judges and having real offices and not having to stomp around with us. But I dreamed of being able to pick my own nose with my own fingers.
The adjudicator who was riding with us today was a young man named Nelstle. He dressed like a judge in flamboyant robes and thus was perpetually in a state of near-trip. Robes weren’t meant for street patrolling.
“His door was to remain open,” I said to Nelstle.
“My patrons don’t want to sit with their backs to the open street,” Sav-juhn replied.
“Your patrons murdered four of your other patrons in the last two months. I doubt they care about noise,” I growled. “That’s why your door was to remain open, based on a previous ruling.”
“Erroneous testimony,” Sav-juhn yelled.
“Sham! Sham!” One of the gamblers chanted. A Kommilaire hit him on the side of the head with a truncheon.
“Your Honor, coercing witnesses!” Sav-juhn said at the abuse.
Nelstle looked.
“Not my jurisdiction,” he answered.
Unless we actually brought a charge, Nelstle had no power. Adjudicators didn’t really do a lot but they made the citizens feel better. Like it wasn’t just Kommilaire making things up as we went along—which is exactly what it was.
“Five hundred thumb fine,” I demanded.
Some of the patrons cursed or cheered and swapped money based on my initial fine. They continued to wager.
Thumbs were the colloquial term for Belvaille’s currency. Our scrip. The exchange rate was set by the local Ank Reserve. They were called thumbs because they used to be tubes about that size, until that proved to be too unwieldy. Now they were a complicated metal-plastic weave fabric. But the old name stuck.
“Your Honor, that’s excessive,” Sav-juhn pleaded.
Nelstle pondered this like he was running for office.
“Was this a good faith bilateral contract?”
Someone. Somewhere. Had copied a legal dictionary and sold it to all the adjudicators. They were completely insufferable now, throwing around cryptic phrases and pretending that was helpful.
I stared at him.
“Two hundred thumbs and probation,” Nelstle finally said.
“What’s ‘probation’ even mean? That’s too little. Four hundred and he keeps the door open for a month.”
“Three hundred,” Nelstle countered.
“Deal.”
The trial concluded, everyone exchanged money again.
“What if I don’t pay?” Sav-juhn asked.
“I throw you in jail. The Royal Wing.”
Sav-juhn’s face drained. I had the ability to order public executions. But that was nothing compared to prison. We didn’t have enough forces to patrol the city but we didn’t even bother with the Belvaille penitentiary. It was a whole other world.
In fact it was a whole other body of mass. The Royal Wing was a freighter floating next to Belvaille. We handed off prisoners via shuttle. They accepted them. No one left.
Ever.
One of my Kommilaire went to Sav-juhn to collect the money and I walked to the entrance. From the back of my waist, I took my electromagnet and pressed it against the building’s thick front door. It took a moment to activate and secure itself.
I turned to the street, took a few steps, and ripped the metal door off the building. It didn’t even break my stride.
Some people ran outside to see what happened, including Sav-juhn.
“New guy, disconnect that for me,” I said, pointing to the magnet on the ground.
“One day, Hank, someone is going to get a big enough gun and blow your brains out,” Sav-juhn sneered.
The Kommilaire seemed ready to grab him based on that vague threat.
Valia stopped disconnecting me from the door, curious what my reaction would be.
“I’m sure they will,” I said matter-of-factly.
CHAPTER 2
A few days later two gang bosses were in my living room sitting facing each other.
I had allowed each boss to bring one, and only one, enforcer with them. So they picked the biggest, meanest guys they could find, and they were practically standing nose-to-nose.
“You two want a breath mint?” I asked the pair, at their display of machismo.
“We’re here under a white banner, Dimi-Vim, have your man sit down, you’re making Hank nervous.” The boss who spoke was Vone. He was an angular man. His face and muscles looked like they were cut with a chisel from some hard stone in long gashes. He was kind of ugly as a person, but would have been artistic as a statue.
The white banner he mentioned was gang protocol. It allowed for safe envoy and negotiations. It also meant I was dealing with them as Hank and not as Supreme Kommilaire.
“I’m not worried about Hank, I’m worried about you. You’ve already broken one agreement and cost me two men,” the other boss, Dimi-Vim, responded. He had a lot of hair on him. Just about every square inch except for his actual eyeballs was covered with brown hair. Or fur. I wondered if he trimmed it.
“I’m not here to judge the past,” I said. “That was between you two. I’m here to work out what the problem is now. But seriously, if you guys don’t sit down or back away, I’m going to have to make you wait outside.”
The two thugs took a begrudging step back. Now it would be merely inconvenient if they wanted to kiss one another.
I sighed.
Bad blood already. This is why you leave the crazies at home. If you got two guys a hair’s breadth away from fighting right next to you, it’s hard to be conciliatory.
“Hank, I claim a grief. Dimi-Vim opened a club on my street after striking he wouldn’t,” Vone said, throwing out some gang terminology.
I knew the answer but…
“Is this true?” I asked Dimi-Vim.
“No! Lies and wrongs. I have a bigger footprint on Knost Hill than he does. I’ve been there for years and years.”
“Abandoned buildings,” Vone declared.
“Not abandoned. But so what? I opened a club.” Dimi-Vim shrugged.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“He’s siphoning my business. He even has people in front of my club offering discounts into his.”
“If you can’t handle the competition, move blocks. I’ll buy your club,” Dimi-Vim smiled.
The two thugs stepped forward again and were about to come to blows. It’s like they were the mental puppets of their bosses and responded to their anger.
“Buy my club?”
“Hey! Hey!” I yelled. “You two, I’ve had it. Go outside.”
The thugs were glaring at each other, barely hearing me.
“If you make me stand up, I’m going to drag you outside and I promise you’ll regret it,” I warned.
The bosses each nodded and their surrogates tromped to the door. I watched them go, and it was funny, they reached the door at the same time and had already morphed into normal people. They held the door for each other and walked out. They were just doing a job and the job was over until their bosses came back out again.
“Right, so I don’t know who is lying and who is telling the truth. You should have put something down in a real contract,” I said.