Last Chance: Myn and Lara - pt. 17


Rithkin led the way to the Greens, the favoured tapcaf of the local Corellian Security personnel. "If I buy you lunch as well, maybe you'd be game to give Thera some pointers?"

Myn shook his head in amusement as he slid onto the seat of the booth they were shown to. He stowed his rifle under the seat, and ordered a cup of caf to sip while he perused the menu. He was informed by the waitress there'd be a few minutes' wait for the caf.

"It's worth it, though," Rithkin informed him, still standing beside the table. "The midshift just went on duty, so they've got to brew a fresh batch up, isn't that right, Bayja?"

The waitress, a harried-looking middle-aged woman, softened under his regard and smiled up at him. "You got it, Rith," she replied. "For you, I'll make sure we use the good stuff." She moved away, her whole demeanor more relaxed.

"Ladies' man, hm?" Myn asked with a smile as Rithkin took his seat.

"Nah, not really. My wife's a powerfully jealous woman. But every lady deserves to feel appreciated, you know? And besides, you do get better caf for the little extra effort."

Myn nodded, his eyes scanning over the menu, "Better caf is worth almost any effort," he said wryly, referring to the old joke that CorSec personnel brewed their caf over periods of five days instead of the usual five minutes.

"If you know that, you're quicker on the uptake than most rookies!" Rithkin chuckled. "It's bad enough here in Spaceport Precinct, but over in Capital it's even worse!"

Myn felt a sudden chill when he heard the name of the other major district where the corruption was occurring large-scale. "You serve over there too?"

"Not so much anymore," Rithkin replied, eyeing the menu. "I did a couple cases off their backlist last year. Just some sloppy work they needed cleaning up. I've got seniority and it needed doing."

Myn relaxed a little, as his investigation had shown that the corruption was relatively new, in both precincts. "Backlist?" he asked, to make conversation.

"Well, the busier districts see more than their fair share of violent crime, and sometimes a case'll slip in importance, newer cases take precedence over older ones. Me and some of the others too old and slow for street work will have a look over the sidelined cases, and sometimes we re-open investigations. That's what happened last year. We had a serial murder and some of the cases hadn't been linked. Me and my partner caught the guy, but we spent some three weeks pretty much sleeping in Capital's offices."

There was familiar catch in his voice over the mention of his partner, and Myn knew better than to ask. Security Officers served in a dangerous line of work. It was obvious from the shadow that passed over his face when Rithkin mentioned his partner that the man was recently deceased. Rithkin gave him a sad smile at the silent understanding. "Jem was a good man. He deserved better," he said quietly. "I'm doing what I can to help his family out: widow's pension ain't much."

They ordered their food, and Myn noted that Rithkin had been exactly right, the caf had been worth every minute of the wait. By the time the food arrived, Myn couldn't deny he was enjoying himself. The other man was an entertaining and charismatic speaker, with enough years at the agency to have a tonne of interesting stories, and Myn himself had only to listen. Over the course of a leisurely lunch, he learned a great deal about almost all aspects of police work.

He agreed to meet Rithkin's second-eldest daughter (of four children: his eldest was on her own, and his younger son and daughter just entering college) for a training session on the range the next morning, at a slower time of the day. Rithkin invited Myn to dinner at his house the next evening as well.

"I'll have to see," Myn replied, "I'm expecting a friend to get back into town any day now." But the homely invitation reminded him that he needed to find a way to send a message to his own family while he was planetside. I've been here three days and I still haven't figured out how to contact them without blowing my cover.

They parted with another firm handshake. "That's all the contract I require, Ardmin," Rithkin said as Myn confirmed the time for the next morning's session with Thera.

Myn made his way back to his room in the hostel, truly relaxed for the first time in days. It was a relief to have met a decent man in the ranks of the Agency: Myn's recent investigations had led him to wonder if any truly existed. Rithkin Larsen was an honest man, supporting a large family and helping a deceased friend's family on whatever he could make.

The pilot showered and changed and took up a new datapad, glancing over the addresses of various businesses he planned to visit for the rest of the day, in the hopes to garner whatever additional data he could. Regardless of the assurances of the Internal Investigator he'd met with earlier that day, Myn couldn't bring himself to surrender his own investigation of the corruption just yet. There were some small business owners near the edge of the sector that he hadn't yet questioned, and the list of officers implicated in the protection racket still needed final confirmation on two of the names…

Myn froze as his eyes passed over a name one-third the way down the list.

He had to re-read it several times to make sure, but there was no changing it. Terrine Lasca and two of her business contacts agreed: Rithkin Larsen was one of the officers to whom they'd been forced to pay protection money.

Suddenly deflated, Myn sat heavily on his bed and frowned down at the datapad in his hands. He found his eyes stinging as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea that he'd been wrong about the man he'd just spent two hours with, who had reminded him so much of his own father. He'd been dead wrong. Rithkin wasn't everything that was right about the Agency: he was one of the worms, eating out the core of integrity from the force he'd served for over twenty years.

Was no one worthy of the uniform?

~*~


part 18

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