“It’ll burn up before he gets to his headquarters.” The Judge’s voice came through the headset in Sea Horse’s mask. “I know, but we’ll get a general trajectory, then we can narrow it down.” “I think we’ll have more success from the cameras in your costume.” “Everybody calls it a costume. Why can’t they say uniform?” “Because you’re wearing bright yellow and blue and look like a television character.”
Sea Horse laughed, “Yeah, but I do get the cape. I love the cape.” This time, the Judge laughed. “Are you returning to base?” “No, I’m heading to the docks to do some recon. I slipped a tracer in the handle of his favorite knife last visit. Eventually there will be a gathering of the crime lieutenants after High Society has stirred everyone up. Last week, he sent a message to the Caterer ordering him to choose between him and The Organizer.
The Sea Horse positioned the Sea Swallow where he could pickup on the transmission from the tracer in the Caterer’s knife. He was in luck, a meeting was already occurring. The cameras on the docks couldn’t pick up any visuals, but at least the Sea Horse could listen in.
Caterer set in his office, having a heated conversation with one of The Organizer’s lieutenants. “I don’t care who gets the biggest part of the pie. I’m a middle man, and I like it. I’m big enough to have what I want, minus too many headaches. Why should I choose your guy over one that can fly down and destroy my warehouse in two minutes?” The Sea Horse hadn’t heard the next voice before, but he wouldn’t forget it once he had.
It was British, perfect pitch, perfect grammar. “It’s your choice of course, however, I do feel that I should point out a few things. One, the fact that you should choose carefully, neither organization is fond of neutral parties. Second, The Organizer will need to answer High Society by making an example of disloyalty. Thirdly, you’ve seen the benefit of what we’re offering, the return on your investment. If you wish to be a part of the more lucrative programs, you won’t make this threat again.”
The Caterer didn’t answer quickly, but his voice was steady. “Well, you passed my test. When you threaten a man, you don’t just threaten physical harm. You threaten across the board, but you don’t do it bluntly. The more concrete, the more thought out, the more deadly the threat. Tell The Organizer, he or she, has my support. One question though, is he thinking that High Society a major threat?”
“It’s been The Organizer’s experience that a threat always has two levels. The first is the actual danger, the second is how the one making the threat perceives their power. High Society thinks that he has enough fire power to cripple us, he doesn’t. He has apparently introduced, shall we say, personality into Oceania’s criminal element. That’s why I’m here, to match personality with personality.” “I can see that, tell me, what do we call you?” “My employer is also fond of light hearted epitaphs. He said that, given my lineage and towering stature, I should be called The British Rose.”
After the meeting was over, one of the Sea Horse’s cameras picked up an image of the exiting Brit. Apparently, The Organizer did have a sense of ‘personality’. The Rose was a perfect match of flair and finesse. According to the computers in the Sea Swallow, they estimated his height at 7’2. He wore a perfectly tailored herringbone suit, and flat cap. His face boasted a blonde Prince George style beard and mustache. His mask was in the shape of a domino mask, however, it was forged completely out of British Pound coins. He was roughly 300 pounds, apparently all muscle, and carried a huge cane. The handle, also made of sterling silver, was in the shape of a Tudor Rose.”