Draco Cronnoc II
You face Graw, looking him in the eye. "I'm staying with you."
The man looks like he's about to have another outburst, but his expression softens gradually. "Right. Well, Mr. Cronnoc, you can call me Frank from now on, as we'll be together for a while. Let's go to my car and we'll drive to Louisville."
"Wait. I need to tell the office that I'll be out. Do you have a phone?"
Frank reluctantly holds out a cell phone to you. Despite the fact that police officers were all but required to have cell phones you never bothered to get one.
You call the office. After seven rings Greg picks up. "Yeah?"
"Greg. I'm going to Louisville; I got a good lead here. I'll be with Frank Graw. He's from the FBI?"
Greg pauses. You can tell something is wrong. "FBI, huh? So I guess you'll be out for awhile. Mr. Cronnoc, I would not recommend that. The office is a mess. No one knows what's going on, we haven't even disposed of Ms. Lakin's body yet?"
"What the hell?" you scream. "Get on with things! You're in charge, Greg!" You hit end on the phone and hand it back to Frank in disgust. Why did you leave the office in the hands of Greg? True, he had a lot of promise, but he's only twenty-two!
"Further ineptitude of Richland Harbor's police force, I see," Frank grumbles, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Well, Mr. Cronnoc, from your words I can tell that something is wrong at the police station. Will you still be accompanying me?"
"Of course."
"I see you are quite the adamant man. No problem though. Let's roll." You follow behind Frank, finally stopping at a sleek black car.
"This yours?" you inquire.
"Yeah. Get in."
You board the car and the ride begins. Altogether, it is a very boring trip. You and Frank discuss only the idiosyncracies of criminal justice. As the activities of a local police department and those of the FBI are drastically different, there isn't much to say.
You reach Louisville right at dusk. Frank offers to rent a hotel room, and you agree that you'll pursue Erutdi in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After consulting with the receptionist the location of Erutdi International, you head towards 1520 Walden Street. EI is quite a grand facility: the technology producer's headquarters span a total of five buildings each about half the size of Rigor Industries.
You enter the building that includes customer service. On the way in you manage to pick up an informational packet on the company:
Erutdi is a global corporation dedicated to produce the most advanced goods on the market. We supply military equipment to governments, create computers and telescopes, experiment with robots, and even dip into DNA alteration. What we do today is what you'll do tomorrow..
How touching.
You and Frank stride to the desk, and Frank extracts the bomb-proof box. The woman behind the counter stares at you in confusion. "May I help you?"
Frank speaks in a very dignified tone. "We're here to investigate the recent attacks in Richland Harbor. I'm Frank Graw from the FBI and this is Draco Cronnoc from Richland Harbor Police." Graw flashes his identification cards and you follow suit.
"Umm...I think that if this is a serious thing you have here I should direct you to my manager. Chances are I won't have the power to help you much."
"Good idea. Please do."
The woman leads you down a wide hallway to an equally wide man sitting in front of a disproportionately small desk. "Mr. Fiesel, these men are here to talk to you about the Richland Harbor attacks."
The man looks up with a startled expression. "What would I have to do with that?"
"Not you, Mr. Fiesel," Frank explains hastily. "Your company's product. We found one of your bomb-proof boxes at the site."
Franks hands over the box to Fiesel for inspection. Fiesel rubs it and takes a thorough look. "This is a D-22 edition. 2003. One of our few boxes that actually work," he chuckles. "The government's buying all of these. They're a priority customer, so any we produce are immediately sent to them. I think you have the wrong box."
"Then maybe someone stole it, because this box was most certainly found on-site."
"Not surprising, with the security our govenment's got now!" Fiesel chuckles again. "Well, if it helps at all, the specific coding is 292-B. Each box has a unique code so we can track its selling. These things can encourage dangerous behavior, you see."
"I'd appreciate it if you ran that code on your computer to see who bought the box," Frank contends.
Fiesel looks at Frank oddly. "I told you. The US government buys all of these. I don't know what they do with them but they buy them. We can't even meet demand."
"Still, please do this," Frank insists.
"Fine, I will," Fiesel shrugs and turns to his computer. He types in the code. "This is the page for all boxes of that type sold. I'll scroll through seller. Now. As you can see, every box was bought by the US government."
And he's right. Every box type D-22 was bought by the government. Fiesel continues to scroll down, revealing more of the same. However, once he gets near the end of the page, there is an inconsistency.
Five of the boxes were bought by a group called Red Exterior!
"Holy hell!" Fiesel shouts upon noticing this. "How did anyone besides the government manage to get their hands on a B-22? The US has priority!"
Frank bends over the computer and asks, "Is one of those the box we recovered?"
Fiesel takes a look at the unique codes and gasps. "Yes! It's one of the five that was bought by Red Exterior! But I still don't see how they got it..." Fiesel does some more furious clicking and just stares at his computer.
"Somehow Red Exterior got the US government to transfer their priority buying status and took five boxes for themselves!"
Frank looks at you with a smile. "Looks like we got what we want already. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this Red Exterior, would you?" he says.
"Nope," you and Fiesel respond at the same moment.
"Well then, we'll have to do a little research," Frank says. Frank's cell phone cuts into the conversation. He answers it with a "What?"
Clearly, what Frank is hearing is not good. His face blanches and he says, "Why would he do that?" and "Fine, I'll be there."
Once Frank hangs up the phone he looks at you. "Sorry, Draco, but you're on your own now. I'm needed back in Memphis. Unlike you, I return to my post when it's needed."
"Right," you say uneasily. "Well, I'll just learn more about this group on my own then, right?"
"Yeah. Come, and I'll drop you off at a taxi station."
How fun.
The man looks like he's about to have another outburst, but his expression softens gradually. "Right. Well, Mr. Cronnoc, you can call me Frank from now on, as we'll be together for a while. Let's go to my car and we'll drive to Louisville."
"Wait. I need to tell the office that I'll be out. Do you have a phone?"
Frank reluctantly holds out a cell phone to you. Despite the fact that police officers were all but required to have cell phones you never bothered to get one.
You call the office. After seven rings Greg picks up. "Yeah?"
"Greg. I'm going to Louisville; I got a good lead here. I'll be with Frank Graw. He's from the FBI?"
Greg pauses. You can tell something is wrong. "FBI, huh? So I guess you'll be out for awhile. Mr. Cronnoc, I would not recommend that. The office is a mess. No one knows what's going on, we haven't even disposed of Ms. Lakin's body yet?"
"What the hell?" you scream. "Get on with things! You're in charge, Greg!" You hit end on the phone and hand it back to Frank in disgust. Why did you leave the office in the hands of Greg? True, he had a lot of promise, but he's only twenty-two!
"Further ineptitude of Richland Harbor's police force, I see," Frank grumbles, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Well, Mr. Cronnoc, from your words I can tell that something is wrong at the police station. Will you still be accompanying me?"
"Of course."
"I see you are quite the adamant man. No problem though. Let's roll." You follow behind Frank, finally stopping at a sleek black car.
"This yours?" you inquire.
"Yeah. Get in."
You board the car and the ride begins. Altogether, it is a very boring trip. You and Frank discuss only the idiosyncracies of criminal justice. As the activities of a local police department and those of the FBI are drastically different, there isn't much to say.
You reach Louisville right at dusk. Frank offers to rent a hotel room, and you agree that you'll pursue Erutdi in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After consulting with the receptionist the location of Erutdi International, you head towards 1520 Walden Street. EI is quite a grand facility: the technology producer's headquarters span a total of five buildings each about half the size of Rigor Industries.
You enter the building that includes customer service. On the way in you manage to pick up an informational packet on the company:
Erutdi is a global corporation dedicated to produce the most advanced goods on the market. We supply military equipment to governments, create computers and telescopes, experiment with robots, and even dip into DNA alteration. What we do today is what you'll do tomorrow..
How touching.
You and Frank stride to the desk, and Frank extracts the bomb-proof box. The woman behind the counter stares at you in confusion. "May I help you?"
Frank speaks in a very dignified tone. "We're here to investigate the recent attacks in Richland Harbor. I'm Frank Graw from the FBI and this is Draco Cronnoc from Richland Harbor Police." Graw flashes his identification cards and you follow suit.
"Umm...I think that if this is a serious thing you have here I should direct you to my manager. Chances are I won't have the power to help you much."
"Good idea. Please do."
The woman leads you down a wide hallway to an equally wide man sitting in front of a disproportionately small desk. "Mr. Fiesel, these men are here to talk to you about the Richland Harbor attacks."
The man looks up with a startled expression. "What would I have to do with that?"
"Not you, Mr. Fiesel," Frank explains hastily. "Your company's product. We found one of your bomb-proof boxes at the site."
Franks hands over the box to Fiesel for inspection. Fiesel rubs it and takes a thorough look. "This is a D-22 edition. 2003. One of our few boxes that actually work," he chuckles. "The government's buying all of these. They're a priority customer, so any we produce are immediately sent to them. I think you have the wrong box."
"Then maybe someone stole it, because this box was most certainly found on-site."
"Not surprising, with the security our govenment's got now!" Fiesel chuckles again. "Well, if it helps at all, the specific coding is 292-B. Each box has a unique code so we can track its selling. These things can encourage dangerous behavior, you see."
"I'd appreciate it if you ran that code on your computer to see who bought the box," Frank contends.
Fiesel looks at Frank oddly. "I told you. The US government buys all of these. I don't know what they do with them but they buy them. We can't even meet demand."
"Still, please do this," Frank insists.
"Fine, I will," Fiesel shrugs and turns to his computer. He types in the code. "This is the page for all boxes of that type sold. I'll scroll through seller. Now. As you can see, every box was bought by the US government."
And he's right. Every box type D-22 was bought by the government. Fiesel continues to scroll down, revealing more of the same. However, once he gets near the end of the page, there is an inconsistency.
Five of the boxes were bought by a group called Red Exterior!
"Holy hell!" Fiesel shouts upon noticing this. "How did anyone besides the government manage to get their hands on a B-22? The US has priority!"
Frank bends over the computer and asks, "Is one of those the box we recovered?"
Fiesel takes a look at the unique codes and gasps. "Yes! It's one of the five that was bought by Red Exterior! But I still don't see how they got it..." Fiesel does some more furious clicking and just stares at his computer.
"Somehow Red Exterior got the US government to transfer their priority buying status and took five boxes for themselves!"
Frank looks at you with a smile. "Looks like we got what we want already. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this Red Exterior, would you?" he says.
"Nope," you and Fiesel respond at the same moment.
"Well then, we'll have to do a little research," Frank says. Frank's cell phone cuts into the conversation. He answers it with a "What?"
Clearly, what Frank is hearing is not good. His face blanches and he says, "Why would he do that?" and "Fine, I'll be there."
Once Frank hangs up the phone he looks at you. "Sorry, Draco, but you're on your own now. I'm needed back in Memphis. Unlike you, I return to my post when it's needed."
"Right," you say uneasily. "Well, I'll just learn more about this group on my own then, right?"
"Yeah. Come, and I'll drop you off at a taxi station."
How fun.