Coffee With Kimmura
Mal made himself a cup of coffee and brought a second one with him as he climbed the stairs to Kimura’s. By the time he’d showered, shaved and brewed a fresh pot the sun had come up, and the boys, Cain and Dogo had crashed in their beds. He wanted to get the debrief out of the way while details were fresh.
Holding one mug in the crook of his arm, he knocked on the door of what he called ‘the sub penthouse,’ a large suite one floor below Katsu’s residence, or at least, the residence he’d use when he came to visit.
“Come in.” Kimura called a fresh cup of coffe in her hand as she look over reports of another forming issue.
“Great minds,” he said with a lopsided grin holding up two mugs. “It’s okay, it’s a double sort of morning, TL.”
“Did you and the boys have fun?” Kimura asked, her lips quirking into a smile.
“Cain had a blast. I don’t think Dogo knew what hit ‘em,” Mal chuckled. “As expected.” Cain - Cain could have fun anywhere, that’s just who he was. He looked for the good, the bright side, even when things were bleak, Cain could always make them laugh. Dogo tended to be more guarded. The rave was loud and difficult to keep on lock down if need be, so he was a bit more on edge.
“And you?” Kimura asked with a raised eyebrow.
Mal hid a smile behind his mug of coffee. “All business last night,” he tried to say with a straight face. “Intel gathering. All work and no play?”
“Hmm hmm. What can I say I’m my father's daughter.” Kimura smirked sliding the the reports to the side. “So other than scantly-clad girls rubbing up against you … any leads?”
Mal sucked a breath in through his teeth and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Did they ever, he remembered fondly. “ Leads, yes, two.” He said, focusing on the task at hand. “I think both are undocumented, so I don’t know how much facial recognition we’re going to get.” He absently typed a few things on the tablet in front of him, opening a folder with two photos he’d isolated. “This,” he said, zooming in on a red-headed man in a patchwork leather coat, “they call him Candy-man, he was selling a ton last night, but near as we could tell, all raver party drugs. Something called Red Devils, Third Eye, Blue Dragons, Supernova…” He pulled a small bag from his pocket, with half a dozen different colored wafers. “Boys and I tried to buy a bit of each, talked to some of the ravers for recommendations, got a few phone numbers, you know, for intel gathering sake, but everyone had pretty much the same take. For a good time, you go to the Candy-man. He’s at almost every rave in the sprawl and a lot of the territory in the city.”
“I’ll send these to the lab.” Kimura nodded. “Do you think he might be dealing AC-17? Speaking of we still don’t have the street name for it.”
“Not exactly. When I asked about the norm who glitched like an Anom, everyone clammed the fuck… er… the hell up. I heard the name Carbon Copy a few times, but far as I could tell no one was dealing it, and one rave bunny told me it was too high-end for the sprawl, but,” he rubbed the back of his neck and finished draining the first coffee mug. “It could have been a misdirect. Check this out.”
He opened another file on the table, with a report of 4 bodies found in an alleyway, incinerated. “No video feed, of course, not a lot of reason for cameras in the sprawl, Jaggs don’t regularly patrol, not their jurisdiction.”
“It’s damn near no man’s land down there.” Kimura snorted. “And people down there aren’t quick to talk. Unfortunately, it’s just going to take time.” She said sliding him three invites.
“Oh no, Lead, not more parties,” Mal said, shaking his head. “Work, work, work.”
Kimura laughed. “I’m such a taskmaster aren't I? Getting your faces to be regulars is going to be key. The more familiar you three become with the scene the more people will be willing to talk to you.”
“Wait til I tell Dogo,” Mal answered with a mischievous grin. “He will be beyond excited.”
“Oh good. Boy needs to loosen up a hair …” Kimura smirked refilling Mal's mug with fresh coffee.
“I’ll station him outside,” Mal decided. “The DJ was this foreign guy - every time he did a vibe check, Dogo looked like he was turning the handle, dreading the jack popping out of the box. He doesn’t know the meaning of loosen up.”
“Well, here I was hoping he would stop shitting diamonds long enough to enjoy himself. See what you find out about our party dealer. He might be a good in to finding out who supplies him and if they are also supplying dealers with Carbon Copy.” Kimura said refilling her cup.