“A public storage locker, isn’t that super tropey for drops like this?” Chiulu had been watching too many crime dramas. “And with a camera watching it too?! If they’re not worried about being seen by it, does that mean they’re watching us right now?!” She was clearly getting a little paranoid.
“The camera is fake,” Tusmon assured her as he knelt down to pick the locker’s lock. “There’s nothing actually in the black sphere. It’s just there for show. Or maybe it broke a long time ago and they just never replaced it.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem like this place gets much traffic…” Chiulu glanced around and frowned at the grime. They were currently in the basement of a seldom used bus station. All that was around them were these lockers, a mechanical room, and bathrooms that she wouldn’t enter for any amount of money. The entire space clearly hadn’t felt the loving touch of a janitor in quite some time.
There was a click and Tusmon smiled. He’d only needed to open the one locker since it was the only one that was actually locked. “That sure was fast,” the woman couldn’t help but comment, as she did every single time when the detective exhibited his more criminal side. When she asked why a man of the law knew how to lockpick, he’d only responded with, ‘warrants take too long.’
“And there’s our briefcase,” the detective pulled it out from the locker with his gloved hands. He even layed out a handkerchief on the ground before setting it down so that it wouldn’t touch the dirty floor.
“Huh, cash?” Chiulu’s eyes had been sparkling with anticipation while the detective pried the case open, but confusion was all that was left when only bundles of bills were inside. A lot of it too, an amount that would make her envious when they showed a briefcase full of it in movies. Now here it was right in front of her, but it didn’t hit the same anymore. “I’m surprised there’s even enough cash left to fill this thing. Does that mean this transaction has already happened?”
“Yes, and it most likely means our dealer hasn’t made the swap yet. She must have felt like mixing up her route.” Tusmon quickly closed the briefcase and stuffed it back in the locker. Just as soon as he quietly closed the door, locking it as they found it, did they hear a footstep coming down the steps.
Without warning, the detective dragged his assistant into the dingy men’s bathroom. When she went to voice her complaint, she found her mouth covered by his hand, unable to make even a muffle. But she relaxed from his grip yet tensed up all the same as the footsteps got closer and louder, and then they stopped suddenly.
The locker clicked open a moment later, and they could hear the same briefcase being dragged out of it. Tusmon was clearly trying to get a look at their new friend, but was having a hard time with the angle. So Chiulu pulled a pocket-mirror out of her purse and angled it so they could get a glimpse.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t their dealer, but someone else entirely. He wasn’t a Lesser or Fiend at all, just a regular human caught up in some shady business. The detective then pulled out his phone and took a quick picture of the man’s face so they could scan it through their databases later.
The man checked the contents of the briefcase and smiled, not actually counting it, so it was likely not his first time. He then swapped it out with another identical briefcase and closed the locker. The man then left as quickly he’d come, in and out in under a minute.
Finally, Tusmon released his grip on Chiulu’s mouth and relaxed his arm back to his side. She took a few deep breaths of fresh air and then asked. “So do we have it all backwards, then? Is he the dealer and the Lesser is the buyer?”
“Hmm, quite possibly,” the detective pondered on it for a moment. “But something still doesn’t feel right. Let’s check to see what they’re selling then.” Another round of lockpicking later and they had the new briefcase in hand.
“A Common Card?” Chiulu was just as surprised as the last briefcase. The screen was lit up as well, ‘Transaction Waiting. Touch Receiving Card.’ “I thought someone had to be touching them for it to work. I just don’t get it.”
And to add to her confusion, Tusmon suddenly burst out laughing. “Ahaha! I get it now! Cash isn’t the payment. It’s the product!” His assistant looked at him like a raving madman, so he had to explain further. “Common Cards only have to be touched to initiate a transaction. They don’t have to be held the entire time to be more accessible in case you want to pass it around or not get too close to the other person.”
“But why would anyone want cash?” Chiulu was still stuck on that part. “You can’t spend it anywhere. I guess they could be collecting it, but that shouldn’t require dead drops. It’s not like it’s illegal to own it still.”
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“They want it because it can’t be traced,” the detective was sure of that. “Every commons transaction is recorded and stored into a database that’s accessible by the Central Peace, the Fiends For Hire, and the user’s respective bank. If someone wants to buy something with no evidence left behind, they have to use something physical, something besides commons.”
“But it’s stupid that they’re still using cash—just holding onto the past and refusing to change. They should be using silver or something similar whose value doesn’t alter very often, but I guess even criminals can get stuck in their ways and refuse to adapt. This is an economy that will implode in no time at all, even if we do nothing.”
“Yes, especially since cash flow is limited,” his assistant had to agree. “Once they run out of easily attainable cash to peddle, what will they do then? Buy it or steal it back from their customers? It doesn’t seem well thought out.”
“The cash is fake,” Tusmon spouted certainty #2. “There’s probably some real bills sprinkled in there to fudge the authenticity if the criminals are ever asked to prove it. But from just a quick glance, I could tell that the serial numbers were nonsense. I, uhh, spent a lot of time looking at forged bills when I was just starting as a cop. No one else had the patience,” he mentioned when Chiulu glanced at him like he was a weirdo.
“But the point is that these counterfeiters are playing with fire. Their direct buyers probably don’t care that much, but when those on the receiving end of the cash transactions find out they’re fake, it will lead to a chain reaction of blood. We should shut this down now before it devolves into a bigger issue.”
After leaving the bus station, the pair continued following the map around until they were certain of each location. They also watched their now-confirmed buyer pick up a few more briefcases before he drove off somewhere for the day. Tusmon didn’t bother checking the contents of the other cases, only watching and recording what was happening as evidence.
The two ended their day there, had a nice meal for dinner, and then turned in early for the night. But then they got up early the next morning, mentally preparing themselves for the action that lay ahead. Before the sun was even peaking itself over the horizon, the Fiend and Lesser were staking out the dealer’s house that they saw yesterday.
They had no idea what time she’d get up and start her work, but based on how early she was out delivering cases yesterday, it was assumed that she wasn’t a super late riser. It seemed being a ‘courier’ was a rather lucrative gig for the Lesser criminal. She was in a nice house in a safe neighborhood, and this was only further compounded by the luxurious car they saw when her garage door opened.
She was out of her home bright and early. Apparently some criminals these days operated during normal business hours. Tusmon tailed her, following along in their inconspicuous rental car, quizzing Chiulu the entire way on the proper etiquette for tailing—how far behind they should be, where their eyes should be looking, purposely missing some turns only to catch up with the suspect later.
It was a textbook performance by the detective, and they watched the Lesser stroll up into a briefcase manufacturing plant. Well that was a bit on the nose, but it was honestly a great place to operate a briefcase-centered criminal organization. No one would think twice if someone came out with a few dozen briefcases, even if they were normally shipped out by freight.
The dealer didn’t have any cases with her when she entered through the side warehouse—a clear annex from the main factory. It was certainly where all the illicitness was happening, and quite possibly without most of the actual workers knowing anything nefarious was going on.
But the two didn’t rush in right away, wanting to stake it out further and get a good eye for things. It didn’t take long for the dealer to return, wheeling out a cart of a dozen or so briefcases and then loading them up in her car before driving off. Not long after that, several more unidentified workers showed up, and Chiulu scanned them all.
Most looked pretty inconspicuous at a glance, and they headed into the main factory entrance, likely the standard workers. But a few veered off to the side entrance, noticeably a few Lessers among them. “Hey, isn’t that the guy who had the gun?!” Chiulu pointed out, prompting Tusmon to veer his binoculars in the man’s direction.
“Yes, the very same,” the detective couldn’t hide his smile. It had only been a few days ago when they’d lifted the fingerprints off the gun of a man who had no trace left at all, and now they’d already found his place of employment. It was moments like these when Chiulu was reminded how good of a detective Tusmon actually was, though a lot of it was based off the map the Fiend had found, but that had only been a shortcut. Knowing Tusmon, he would have taken the gun apart anyways and found it eventually. He was just that obsessive.
The two pretty much ignored the rest of the factory from then on, just monitoring the side annex. A few more briefcases came out, but not loaded up into any individual's car like before. They were on pallets instead, and put inside a box truck for shipment. These were certainly being sent all over the world, which was why the gang’s mark had been appearing elsewhere.
There were likely other groups of this gang across the world, but if they were shipping cash all over, then this was likely the only manufacturing plant. That made it even more pivotal to shut the place down.
“Looks like you were spot on, Chiulu,” Tusmon had to give kudos where needed. “Our gunman hasn’t come back out in several hours. So he was taken off the street like you said, probably forced to help with the counterfeiting operations until his heat dies down. So what do you say? Are you ready for your first solo infiltration?”
“Eh? Just me?!”