The Industrialist

"To become a pure businessman, one should be able to establish a system for his business that it should run independently even without the owner’s supervision.

If the business owner could not run his business without his presence, then he is not a business owner, it is still called self-employed like doctors do."

Erik Berkley lecture to his son

***

The police came with two Aventador-like police cars. Lowered suspensions, 17-inch rims, and efficient for road pursuits. Although, they were cheaper than the hovercrafts used by higher police ranks.

Surprisingly, the inspection route for the police officers should only cover the streets as they always do, but not within the scrap yards.

Lance hated the thought of the tranquilizing cuffs that they always carry. A double-jeopardy, Lance would call it, the perp would be handcuffed and then tranquilized to suppress movement.

"Fecking Polz!" Rigor cursed. The second goon was rather silent and collected.

As the police cars were about to approach the bunch, the Mafia thugs covered the EazyCage units with scraps hastily and closed the garbage hatch right after.

2 policemen disembarked their vehicles. Rifles were clear from the silhouette figures sauntering towards them.

The rebel members retreated to the piles, concealing themselves from the sight of the policemen.

"Howdy, officers!" Rigor asked, covering his eyes against the bright front headlights of their vehicles.

"Just a routine inspection, boys," The first cop ambled closer to the truck, his metallic boots crunched the pebbled ground. "What do we have here?"

"Ah ya know, routine hauls officah," Rigor responded. His nonchalant approach hoped that the police would not sniff out the illegal merchandise in the truck.

"Nice truck, is it Jonaz?" The second police said, tapping the side of the truck.

"Yeah, your garbage is our responsibility!" Rigor said with delight like the advertisements. Solidifying the alibi that their business was legitimate.

"Fancy. Now, what we are wonderin’, as we follow the truck from a few blocks away, we haven’t seen a Jonaz garbage truck in this Sector. Jonaz Enterprises only served Inlands, right?" The first policeman squinted at his partner who stood a few meters back from him.

The second officer nodded to confirm. Most of the policemen were also low-lifers and had lived beyond the commoners’ sectors the longer they worked with the force, they would be transferred to their officer’s bunk houses.

"Well, there were changes of route plans, just adjusted last minute," Rigor answered. "I was surprised myself, I mean, Steelpoint?" His hoarse voice still appeared warbled even though he tried to speak clearly to prove his point.

"Really? Let me call your office, I know one clerk there," The first police said. He took out his cell phone, which they were authorized to own such technology, and started dialing.

"Officah, there’s no need to call the office. If you want, our representative will submit a written report tomorrow in your station to clarify this misunderstanding," Rigor explained. He seemed to handled the situation swiftly even under the circumstances that these officers were trained to be elaborate with their investigation.

Rigor must have experienced this kind of confrontation. Lance had not intervened in such an exchange as he might reveal the truth at some point. In this situation, it was an art, as Lance had evaluated, and Rigor was the artist.

"What’s your name again?" The officer asked Rigor. "I am gonna need some identifications."

The second officer ordered Rigor’s companion to open the garbage hatch. The Mafia needs to justify the reason why the Garbage reached this side of the City. But seemingly, the police officers were resilient.

"Rigor," Rigor responded.

"Rigor, who?" The officer persisted

"Rigor Cruz," Rigor answered. Seemed a made-up name. This raised Lance’s hairs at his nape.

"Identifications, Mr. Cruz," Police asked and Rigor activated his holographic ID from his wrist. The police had his little interrogations again, the Standard Protocol type of questioning. Then he nodded. Seemingly, Cruz was Rigor’s true surname.

During the exchange, Lance had utter difficulty of masking his shivering limbs. Luckily, his jacket vaguely covered his cowardice.

"Ok, Mr. Cruz. Who’s the kid?" The officer asked. The officer’s eyes darted towards the cowering teenager. Lance did not move, just stood there almost nonchalant looking. He had this stance that portrayed confidence, legs spread, hands on his pockets, and broadened chest.

"He is a scrapper here in the yard. I just needed his help to look for better scraps as instructed in the office. Hey, I just delivered the instructions, Officer. I will call my supervisor to submit a report tomorrow at your precinct." Rigor insisted. Probably who noticed Lance’s dangerous disposition.

"A scrapper, you say," The officer was nearing Lance. His metallic soles had this ominous crunching sound as he took every step.

Lance only smiled, however, perspiration loomed beneath his jeans. He could feel cold sweat soaking his back. He was afraid to utter a word as it could reveal his shivering lips.

’Short and simple answers only, idiot!’ Lance forced the thought.

"Yes, officer. Rigor is telling the truth," Lance realized his lame response.

"Truth, ya say!" The officer closed their gap, "Show me your ID." Then the officer smiled as if he knew the lies behind the kid’s statement.

"Here it is, Officer, sir," Lance was panicking inside but he had to maintain his composure. It was his first encounter to be interrogated, trying to shroud their illegal activity. However, he was assured that the Zelkians’ shrieking could be unheard as one of the features of the EazyCage.

"Lance, Berkley, 16 years old, Scrapper Tier 2," The officer read the holographic ID. "Ah, a scientist. A good citizen of our beloved city!"

"Ya, all know that the Salt Caravan was attacked by the Abominants last night. And Police roving routes are stringent nowadays to maintain the peace," The officer spat as he continued.

The hydraulics of the hatch hissed as it opened revealing the load of the Garbage truck. Now, it gave Lance gooseflesh. His journey might end at the hands of the policemen, or in prison.

’I don’t wanna be ICED!’ Lance shrugged the thought. ICED was the term for the incarcerated who served for life. Lance only exaggerated the thought. Or be stripped of his license in that manner. If being banned for life would greatly affect his mission. Avenging his parents by the fall of Corporation would be just a dream, an unrealized dream.

"Kid, do you have something to say?" the officer continued his interrogation.

Lance shook his head.

’Maybe I showed signs of dishonesty,’ Lance thought as the train of questions from the Officer were persistent. As if he knew something.

’It is just a protocol.’ He convinced himself again.

At the back of his head, the thought of rebels might spark a gunfight. The rebels should not reveal themselves. Thanks to them, his life was safe. But revealing themselves if such a situation dictates, violence would ensue. Probably jail, and most unfortunately, the nullification of his deal with Jonaz.

"What is this?" The second officer’s voice rose from behind the truck together with the other thug.

"Ah. Scraps, of course, officer," The second thug answered plainly. The officer tried to inspect the piled scraps inside the Garbage truck.

"What’s that smell?" The second officer was alarmed.

"Scraps, of course, officer. We are hauling garbage here so it explains the smell." The second thug replied.

Lance knew that the Zelkians, even caged in EazyCage units, smell would always seep out.

"Are you sure? It’s like a living animal you hauled in here," the second officer started to rustle his hands below the scrap items.

Lance heart beat fast. Hammering strongly every second against his chest. This operation was of most importance. His first step for his revenge. Without this, all his hard work would come to waste. He must think of a way to divert the police’s attention.

"I know Jaqi Leric of CISU!" Lance said, his voice was loud intended for the second officer to stop his search.

"Ms. Jaqi?" The first officer asked.

He did not know if the diversion was effective but the second officer seemed to discontinue his search maybe shocked by hearing the name.

Apparently, they knew Jaqi. And frantically, Lance should know the next steps on how to answer their questions pertaining to Jaqi’s name.

Only questions remained for Lance, ’Who is Jaqi Leric!’

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