War Table, or Lack Thereof

[Unit 202, 420 Al Retro Road | 1545 Central Time, Day 1]

There was a knock on the door.

"Password?" asked Becks at the door.

"Scheherazade with 3 as the 'e's and 4 as the 'a's--now are you gonna let me in or not?"

Becks had heard that specifically-targeted-at-him aggressive tone before.

And so he opened the door, and...

Sui. With Mendez and Foy behind him.

Not exactly the number one person he wanted to see right now, but better him than a bunch of BP thugs.

"Of course it's gotta be you," scoffed Becks.

"And you, with that ridiculous-ass password," shot back Sui. He then shook hands with Morgan. "Kyle Sui. Most of the time I go by 'Chop', though."

Becks shot into the conversation before Morgan had the chance to introduce herself. "Chop, huh? Let me guess: your favorite band is System of a Down."

"And let me guess: your favorite album must've been 'Wired'," retaliated Sui.

"'Wired'? The hell are you talking abou--"

"--and I'm more of a Weather Report girl myself, but that's beside the point," chimed in Morgan. "Morgan Cassidy, pleasure to meet you."

As Morgan and Sui got to know each other, Mendez tapped Becks on the shoulder. "That laptop still on you?"

"Yeah, right there on the table," answered Becks as he pointed towards his heavily littered table. Sure enough, Wedelton's sleek silver laptop sat nicely on top of the mess. Becks had brought it with him when he entered the apartment with Morgan.

"Nice," quipped Mendez before turning to address the rest of the group. "Right then, let's get up to speed on who we're against, shall we?"

The rest of the group shifted their attention towards Mendez, who asked Sui a question. "Top management still the same guys, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Alright then," said Mendez as he started his brief consisting of pictures found in Wedelton's laptop.

First BP top lieutenant is a man in his late 30s of African descent with cool almond skin, a no-nonsense crew cut and a light but noticeable stubble. He appeared physically fit, although his build is noticeably bulkier than Mendez.

"Mikey Kenburn, former Navy SEAL, in charge of security," explained Mendez. "That means internal and external affairs. BP got a mole? Kenburn's job is to sniff 'em out and shut 'em down. Some rival syndicate planning an assassination? That's on Kenburn to make 'em miss and run a counter-op if necessary. He's also responsible on the offensive side, meaning he oversees BP forward operations and missions. Hell of a job desc, but he's been managing it for more than fifteen years. Really nice guy, would've made him my best man if things worked out."

Then the second, a Caucasian man in his early 40s. He's even bigger in stature than Kenburn, and yet his attire was less rugged than Kenburn's, sporting a shoulder-length slicked back blond hair complemented burgundy-colored aviator sunglasses.

"Rafael Cezaro, logistics," began Mendez. "Served in COMSUBIN of the Italian Navy, trained in field medicine. Basically runs BP's inventory. Guns, supplies, rations, medications, and now apparently people. Pretty sure he runs the finances as well with some of the sharpest and nitpickiest accountants in the world. Definitely not your average bookkeeper though, as you guys have heard he's basically ex-Italian Navy SEAL."

Next one, an Asian man in his mid-40s. Easily the sharpest-dressed of the bunch, and apparently the best-looking too: short mid-parted hair, sharp facial features made apparent with a clean-shaven face complemented with smart-looking rectangular glasses. In all the pictures he's in, he was never seen without a fitted suit-and-tie combo.

"Gabe Sagawa, public affairs," explained Mendez. "Born in the US, Sagawa's son of a high-ranking Yakuza lieutenant. Apparently knew about good ol' dad's day job too, since he had a lot of friends in high places, both in the underworld and in the... above-world. He's in charge of public affairs in BP, that means taking care of most of the diplomacy with BP's clients and allies as well as securing partnerships. And of course, throwing the occasional party to keep shareholders happy. Used to be a Yakuza hitman, or least that's what he told me. That don't mean he can't fight, though. Gabby's full of shit, but he's real good with words. You know, the type that can sweet-talk you into going to space with a propeller plane. Kinda like--"

"--you?" chimed in Becks.

"I'll take it as a compliment, actually. Sagawa's just THAT good."

"And hold up," asked Becks again. "Way you describe these dudes, y'all seem pretty tight. So why'd they try to whack you in the first place?"

Sui rolled his eyes. "He's getting to that part Becky, thing is someone's a bit too impatient--"

"--yo, I was just asking!"

"And I was just answering."

Becks shifted his attention towards Sui, almost ready to pounce the bespectacled man, before--

"Hey!" exclaimed Morgan as she held Becks back. Sui on the other side was calmer compared to Becks, though Mendez noticed he was already bracing for a confrontation.

"Calma ey, calma," defused Mendez. "Save the excitement for the BP guys, alright?" He then turned towards Becks. "Besides, here comes the good part that you've been waiting for."

The next picture depicted a Caucasian man in his late 20s, easily the youngest of the bunch. His sleek black sports coat and pink t-shirt underneath was complemented with an abundance of vanity accessories, including numerous golden rings on each hand, a single golden chain, and silver earrings, all topped with a pair of round sunglasses with a golden frame and a short dark brown curly hair. If BP was supposed to be a gunrunning syndicate, this man definitely does NOT fit the image.

"Adam Evans, BP second in command. Though I'd rather call him the son of a bitch that ruined it all. Brought into BP round four years ago for some ungodly reason. All the messed up shit BP does, the human trafficking and all that? That's all him. Before he became right-hand, Evans' basically the one scoping out opportunities for BP, like new areas to operate or new partners or clients--which isn't a bad thing, but this hijo de puta thought 'opportunities' mean selling women and children for cold hard cash. Top that with a punchable face, and we've got a perfect scum of the earth on our hands."

Silence.

It's as if the room realized that Evans is the most crucial piece to the BP puzzle, the one top lieutenant that Mendez actually despised, and although the crew hasn't figured out exactly how, Evans was the one responsible for Mendez' "death" years ago.

It was Becks who broke the initial silence. "Hold up, you said second in command, meaning there's gotta be the big man on top of the food chain, right?"

"Right you are," said Mendez as he pulled up another set of pictures.

A seasoned Caucasian man, easily past his 50s. Identifiable with his chiseled and stern facial features, a light grey stubble, dark fedora, and black leather jacket which he never took off in any of his pictures. It's also apparent that the man didn't get appointed leader last year--he's been around for an incredibly long time. There's pictures of him with Kenburn and Mendez, with Cezaro and Sagawa, with all four at the same time, all with varying qualities, from the grainy picture quality of the late 1990s to the clearer-but-not-crystal early 2010s. The crew also picked up one detail: once Evans got introduced into the mix, Mendez was increasingly becoming left out of the photos with the man.

"This, my friends, is Greg O'Donnell," explained Mendez. "What a man indeed. Founder and current head of Blackpoint Paramilitary. Used to be that he's the one giving the green light on operations, counter-operations, and trade partnerships. Gave guidance and knowledge to us the subordinates, you get what I'm saying? Nowadays he's just the 'face' of BP, kind of like the Queen of England. Not that he wasn't the face of BP back then, it's just that it's more about putting an appearance than calling the shots these days for him, you know? And like Her Majesty, he's the one who gives power and promotions to his goons and lieutenants. A stupidly dangerous thing when people like Adam Evans are involved, let me tell you that much."

After the laptop got passed around the room as it was before and the room had a good look on O'Donnell's face, Mendez resumed his briefing.

"Now that we all have a better picture on who runs what, we can soon get started on how we can hurt BP. We all know how this works: start from the bottom, work our way up to the top. Thing is I'm pretty sure none of the boys are in town right now, what with BP being an international syndicate and all, so we need to dismantle whatever business they got going on in San Laureola to lure them here and take them out of the picture. Foot soldiers and hideouts are Kenburn's thing, skin trade is, sadly, Cezaro's, while parties and politicians are Sagawa's."

"Question," raised Sui. "By taking them out, do we have to, you know, actually take them out?"

Mendez paused a moment before giving his answer. "I know these people. Dangerous people. Too dangerous to be left alive. They know it, I know it, they know I know it," said Mendez. "That being said, while this is a team effort, know this: none of you have to cross that line, nor should any of you let me force you to. Not all of us are cold-blooded killers, after all."

Foy raised his hand. Mendez noticed. "Let's say any of us got a solid lead but not enough time to bring it to the table. What next?"

"Ideally we always discuss leads that we get, but if pressed with time, at least, AT THE VERY LEAST let the rest of us know, leave us a message or something. That way we know where you're headed, and if something happens, we can get on the case as well," answered Mendez without a beat. It's as if he knows someone would ask that kind of question. "Communication, people. Leave nothing up for debate."

Mendez then turned to Foy again. "Speaking of leads, let's start with Foy's. Before I came in and tried to audition as your punching bag, you were supposed to meet with Wedelton and some guy called Oakley. Mind telling me what the meeting's supposed to be about?"

Foy straightened up on his seat. "A shipment's supposed arrive tomorrow morning. It's all set for BP: they paid off the dock officials, security, and everyone that's working on dock 7. Definitely an off-the-books shipment, and with the amount of money they spent to keep a lot of mouths shut, I believe it's important to them. Thing is..."

"What's the matter?"

"I'm sure your appearance at my club has spooked them and cause them to dock the ship somewhere else."

"Unless we intercept it," said Mendez. "You know the name of the ship?"

Foy shook his head.

"Know someone who does?"

"The two gentlemen I'm supposed to meet, actually," said Foy. "Wedelton--you know him--is kind of the landing officer, the BP man on-site, responsible for handling the shipment when it arrivies. The other man on the other hand--Oakley--he's in charge of the ship. Until the ship touches solid ground, it's all Oakley's."

"But since Oakley's supposed to meet you, he won't be on the ship, right?"

"You're right, but like I said, you must have spooked him when you showed up at the warehouse, so I believe as of now we have no way to find him."

Mendez rubbed his chin, thinking.

"If that ship's arriving tomorrow morning, it needs to arrive on your side of the docks, the side that you ran," he began. "He can't delay its arrival for sure, but at the same time he can't arrange for it to arrive somewhere else. Not enough time."

"You know anyone he might contact instead of you?" Mendez asked again.

Now it's Foy's turn to contemplate. "Some guys actually, but we can start with Sanchez."

"Sanchez?"

"You know him, just not by name."

Mendez recalled only one person other than Foy interacting with him in the dockside fight club. It was that one fighter that tried to interrupt his negotiation with Foy.

"Doubt he can even pick up the phone after all that," chuckled Mendez. "Call him. Ask the ship's name and ETA."

"ETA?" asked Foy.

"What time it's gonna arrive, basically," answered Mendez. "It's for Estimated Time of Arrival."

And so, Foy called Sanchez. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"The ship is called the 'Mondega'," announced Foy as he hung up. "It's supposed to arrive at 4 AM tomorrow."

"Good," said Mendez as he set for the door. "You know where we can find him?"

"But why? He already gave as what we wanted."

"That's the problem," replied Mendez. "What we wanted, not what we need. He gave that information too easy, no persuasion needed whatsoever. Chances are, Oakley already got in touch with him and told him to give us false intel."

"Oh," acknowledged Foy, followed by the rest of the room.

"So now we need to give him a more personal touch, see if he's not lying. At least now we know Oakley reached him, we don't need to ask any more of your associates."

"We going now?" asked Sui, his voice raising. "We just got here, didn't we?"

"Nah, only Foy's coming," answered Mendez. "You stay here with Morgan and Becks."

There was a sigh of relief coming out of Sui's mouth.

"'Cause I got something else for you to do."

There was a faint 'fucking hell' whisper coming out of Sui's mouth.

"Shit, what's up?" Becks asked Mendez.

"It's Morgan," explained Mendez. "They know she's with me, they're gonna try to get her in order to get to me. She needs to disappear."

"Man, you're cold," remarked Becks. "You really wanna ice her before they get to--"

"--he means faking her death so that they can't get to her, Becky," interrupted Sui before turning to Mendez. "Right?"

Mendez nodded. "Can't just drop her clothes by the docks and tip the local news though, they'll suspect we're up to something. You need to make them think it's a successful attempt on her life."

"Holy shit, how the fuck are we supposed to that?" remarked Sui, both irritated and confused.

"I'd go back to the cafe, there's a good chance BP's gonna stake the place out," suggested Mendez. "Set up a trap for them. Make sure--or at least make them think--they got the shot on Morgan."

"That's a tall-ass order bro," said Becks. "Also, isn't Morgan supposed to get a say in all this?" he then turned to her. "She been awfully quiet, don't y'all think?"

And quiet Morgan has been, staring into the floor before finally lifting her head and opening her mouth.

"Since this morning, nothing is normal. I've come closer to death today more than I've been in my entire life. And yet, during all those times, Rock was there, making sure I come out in one piece."

She looked to Mendez, then to the entire room. "As long as they know I'm alive, they'll always find a way to get me, and the last thing I want to be is being a burden to the person that's helped me through all this," she said. "I trust him, and if he trusts you guys, then I trust all of you."

Mendez knelt to pat Morgan on the shoulder. "Thanks, Morgan. Sorry you had to go through all this."

Morgan put her hand on Mendez' in response. "Don't be."

Becks whistled teasingly, which took both Mendez and Morgan out of the moment. "So let's get this straight: you and big boy Maguire look into the shipment, while me and Choppity-chop-chop fake Morgan's death?"

"Pretty much, yeah," confirmed Mendez followed by a shot of disapproving glare from Sui directed at Becks. "Chances are, we can find more connection to Cezaro from that upcoming shipment. You guys stay here, do some bonding if you want, and come up with a plan for Morgan's vanishing trick."

"Very well then, I know where we can find Sanchez," said Foy as he went for the door alongside Mendez. "Oh, and Becks?"

Becks looked up from his phone. "Yeah?"

"My last name is not Maguire."