Bang and Blame { Amos }

[Deleted]

♛

Office work made her restless.

At least, the anticipation of being in the field really got to her. She really was more of a fieldwork kind of girl, but it seemed the higher you climbed in the organization of MI6, the less time you spent on the field, and the more time you spent in the office. Some people actually preferred that. After all, it increases your chance of not being killed in the field. But at the same time, she enjoyed her job for the rush. Pursuing justice and being on the sly had its perks. 

But nope, when she reached the stage of being a Detective Chief Inspector, she slowly fell into more office work. As senior investigating officer, she was required to work more in the office to coordinate investigative efforts. And because of her connections with MI6, she was in the running for Detective Superintendent. Not that she was particularly keen on obtaining the position, despite the fact that she would be able to wrest more control of tackling London's crime. She enjoyed being in the field, and that was that.

She simply trudged through her office work. The office wasn't that bad, especially with the fact that it was one of the most technologically up-to-date offices. The computers and operating system were advance-released; none of these computer models or operating systems would be available to the public until five years later. The state-of-the art break bar was welcoming with its customizable coffee and tea maker, pastry dispensary, and asprin. Especially the asprin, for the senior ranking officers. Her own office was very comfortable, a place that she often fell asleep in. With a comfy swivel armchair (!!!), a map of her native Wales hanging upon the wall, her personal tea set readily available in its viewing cabinet, a comfortable love seat for those days when she simply needed a nap, her cork boards with pins and strings detailing the progress of investigations she was in charge of, her whiteboard wall with just as much information, an her stuffed sheep from her older brother, her office was a home away from home. But staying home made her restless. 

The one thing that she truly enjoyed about having a higher position was perhaps the fact that she was allowed to spearhead higher profile cases. Seen as one of the most prestigious policing organizations in the world, and certainly the highest authority in policing in the United Kingdom, Interpol and the United Nations often approached Scotland Yard when it came to safety and security within London. With London's position as a hub of global power, the safety of London's citizens and interests was held in high regard. It wasn't uncommon for foreign police agencies to visit Scotland Yard to acquire information about their policing practices (though they couldn't give away everything, of course). Cerys had the honor of being able to interact with such peoples if they had the intention of working with the investigative units. Of course, the Superintendent Investigator probably should be doing so, but with the bureaucracy of things, and the current Superintendent Investigator's tendency to digress from duties when it came down to money, Cerys often received such orders. 

Not that she minded at all. It gave her a sense of self-importance, that was for sure. 

"We will be receiving a central intelligence agent from Interpol, who will be working alongside us on the issue of organized crime at the international level. He will be working in close contact with his fellow agents in Indonesia, France, Russia, and Zimbabwe. He won't have an office here, but I expect that he will be coming here quite often. Therefore, I am allowing him to use your office when he needs office space, and you will be working alongside him," the Superintendent Inspector said. "He will be arriving in a couple days' time."

Besides the initial thought of "Oh god, you just leased my office without telling me beforehand," it was an interesting prospect and opportunity. Plus, she knew that refusing the Superintendent Inspector wouldn't be such a great idea. And besides, organized crime was her specialty. Organized crime was something that got her riled up. Organized crime, she believed, was the most despicable and destructive of crimes. Organized crime create victims among the criminals. Those who want to leave feel much too intimidated to leave, and they get pulled along in the system. The victimized civilians live in fear, as laws are rewritten and the law enforcement are found to be powerless. They lose faith in their country's strength to protect them, see corruption in the ranks, and see that the only way to protect themselves is join the gang or die. Scotland Yard took pride in its ability to purge itself of traitors and miscreants, but it would never be possible to become 100% clean. They could only hope that Aylesbury Estate could pull itself form its urban decay. But one thing at a time.

"I'll take to welcoming him, then."

835 | Amos Knyarilay | i promise i won't ramble i swear

❖ nox ❖

[Amos Knyarilay]

Amos was nervous. A little. Alright, he had to admit he was quite nervous.

Rubbing his rough palms together, Amos re-read the e-mail on his smartphone once again, just to be sure he had understood its contents thoroughly. Beside his phone, a plate of half finished breakfast -- reheated dinner leftovers -- was laid forgotten as its owner's busy mind kept jumping from food to work to coffee and work.

Today he was scheduled to meet his contact in the Scotland Yard (what a strangely fancy name for a police headquarter). Amos believed at least three other officers would be going along with him, but the Interpol needed all the resources they had to solve an art heist happening in the Netherlands. The case had been a mystery for two decades, involving famous paintings being replaced with their identical duplicates, and somehow escaped even the most scrupulous eyes. Only him who had no experience with European smuggle rings, hence he was chosen to stay in London. Too bad, the country was listed in one of the places Amos wanted to visit while he was working here. Maybe another opportunity would come up later.

He had two hours before his scheduled meeting, so Amos picked up his spoon and began finishing his cold food. The person he was supposed to meet was the Detective Chief Inspector; someone named Lewis. Or Kirkland. Or Lewis Kirkland. Then the Chief Inspector would brief him about the criminal organizations in London and together build plans to lure them out. That simple, yet the man could not shake off his nervousness. He had this feeling too before his Lyon job started months ago. Adaptation was not easy, though he did managed it anyway. His doubts were based on different business culture in London and Lyon, which was logical. Amos expected he would not need a long time to fit in.

After cleaning his empty dishes, Amos changed into his working attire -- a dark blue buttoned shirt with matching belt and trousers, gathered his important belongings and headed to the Scotland Yard -- his mind silently chuckled at why it was named such despite being at the heart of London; nowhere near any Scot's yard, even. During his train ride, Amos busied himself with his phone, and nearly missed his stop had a restless kid who sat beside him did not mimic the announcer's words aloud.

Scotland Yard building was huge, an at least fifteen story building of steel wrapped in glass. Even the police headquarter in Jakarta was not this big. Holding his briefcase close, Amos passed through the security checks and went to the receptionist. "I have an appointment with... Detective Chief Inspector Lewis Kirkland. I believe my presence has been expected."

"And you are...?"

"Amos Knyarilay from the ICPO."

The receptionist was a woman, ten years older than the Indonesian judging from her graying hair. "Ms. Lewis? Hmm, no one else is named Kirkland in here... I'll take you to her office, young man." As she left her post and Amos followed behind, he tried not to think about her words too much. Mid forty was nowhere close to 'young' in any culture's definition.

She led him into an elevator, and accompanied him until it reached the seventh floor. "Her office was the third door on the left."

"Thank you."

There was no striking difference between this floor and the ground floor, except the lack of people walking here and there. The interior was rather minimalist, the walls were paneled with faux wooden textures, contrasting the steel structure that sustained this building. Amos found his destination without much trouble, and about to knock it, but a young man went and opened it for him. "You have been expected, Mr. Knyarilay," said he, magically succeeded pronouncing his last name just with a tinge of British accent.

Why of course. It's been five minutes since the appointed time.

Much to his surprise, Detective Chief Inspector Lewis Kirkland was a woman, and quite young too. Amos estimated she was no older than thirty. He kept his surprise for himself and walked forward to properly introduce himself, just like he did to the receptionist a moment ago. Afterwards, he went straight into business.

"I have been told that there is a noticeable rise in criminal activity in London. My superiors indicated that several international organizations are using the city as their operation bases. I wonder what makes them suddenly take an interest in London." Once the sentences were spoken, his nervousness diminished greatly. Relief flooded his nerves.

[Deleted]

♛

Scotland Yard had a penchant for making Cerys feel small.

Perhaps it was her age. After all, to be Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard was no small feat. Most Chief Inspectors were much older than her, men with much experience. Older men, not younger women. She knew what some at the precinct would say about her. She's heard the whispers of her only obtaining the position due to her familial connections with a certain M down in MI6, who had certain connections with Scotland Yard and the government. She knew that her breakthrough work in the Redwood Killings, which M had brought up in her discussions with the higher ups in Scotland Yard, was sometimes brushed off as simply luck. It was these conversations that made Cerys a bit weary of the higher ups at Scotland Yard. What if her work really wasn't worth the position she was given? Was she truly worthy to command those that she outranks? 

The job really did allow her to pursue the very thing she wanted to take down. Organized crime was the most heinous of all, and to be able to tackle it head-on was an honor. And to work with a specialist in organized crime that spanned the globe was an amazing opportunity.

She readied her office the best she could. The whiteboard was wiped clean of her latest work— its contents were transferred to the hands of a Detective Inspector. With the Interpol agent coming, Cerys would have to focus solely on the task at hand so the agent may fulfill his duties. And besides, some of the budding Detective Inspectors are vying for Detective Chief Inspector positions, whether those positions be in Scotland Yard or not. Though she wouldn't be relinquishing her position anytime soon, she might as well give them a shot at working for what they wanted.

The phone rang as she watered her slender palm lily. Putting down the watering can, she picked up the phone from her desk.

"Good evening, Criminal Investigation Department, Detective Chief Inspector Cerys Lewis speaking."

"Miss Lewis, Amos Knyarilay of the ICPO has arrived. He will be arriving shortly."

"Thank you," she said, hanging up and promptly sinking into her loveseat, letting out a deep breath. Mr. Knyarilay would be her most important personal visitor as of yet. A man like Mr. Knyarilay should really be working with a higher ranked official such as the Superintendent Investigator. Cerys simply wasn't so certain she was the right person for the job, in all truth. She was confident in her abilities to manage the cases she had been assigned, confident in her ability to lead and conduct investigations with her usual Scotland Yard team. However, to work in direct collaboration with Interpol? This was high-security, high-risk stuff.

Her front door swung open, the courier Philip Donovan waving an arm at the door to invite the interpol agent inside. Donovan gave her a nod as she stood up from the loveseat. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knyarilay. I apologize if you faced any inconvenience on your way here, and I trust that your journey wasn't too trialing. My name is Cerys Lewis, Detective Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard," she said, holding out her hand for a firm handshake. She kept her tone as cordial and formal as possible, making sure to use the proper BBC accent that resonated as the most professional accent to use with in the British professional world. Using her typical Welsh accent wouldn't get her anywhere in terms of demanding respect from the higher ups in Scotland Yard. That would be the equivalent of asking to work back in Cardiff. 

"I apologize that Superintendent Investigator Mark Hudson will not be able to work directly with you at this time due to other obligations that he must attend to. However, I hope that we will be able to effectively work together in addressing the problem at hand."

She then walked back to her desk to retrieve the files that she had prepared for Mr. Knyraliy. Files containing information on London's major crime organizations suspected of having international ties. FOL, White Lotus, the Bratva (whose name Scotland Yard has yet to procure), the British branch of the Italian mafia, and the British branch of the Yamigawa-kai. She had never heard of many of the names that she had compiled, as the main focus of her investigations had been Seamus O Ceallaigh's Trifolium Repens Syndicate criminal activities and influence. However, through studying and compiling the material, she deemed herself an expert in London's internationally-oriented crime organizations. 

"I have been told that there is a noticeable rise in criminal activity in London. My superiors indicated that several international organizations are using the city as their operation bases. I wonder what makes them suddenly take an interest in London." Mr. Knyraliy said.

"According to statistics and current investigations, the organizations have been well-rooted in London for quite some time. We might attribute some of the extra attention to Trifolium Repens Syndicate, a local Irish gang's extremist activities. Perhaps they see more leeway with the law. However, we clamped down several years ago and had disbanded the gang and captured its leaders, though O Ceallaigh had escaped and is still at large," she said, stating the rotary facts that she had prepared. "However, that still doesn't explain why the actual size of these organizations are growing, nor does this explain why they are centering more activities in London. London has always been a major target due to its status, but..."

She didn't have an answer. Not having the answer was never acceptable in Scotland Yard, in an office where all the answers were expected. Where all answers were meant to be obtained. She only hoped that her explanation would satisfy Knyrilay. Her superiors wouldn't be happy if he was unsatisfied and demanded more answers.

"I suppose that is what we will have to investigate."

989 | Amos Knyarilay | PERFECT

❖ nox ❖

[Amos Knyarilay]

Blinding. Her office was blinding -- too clean, too sharp to his liking. He felt out of place, and somehow glad that it was not his office. Although if the ICPO were to assign him an office, Amos would request a small modest room on the first floor with quick access to the garden. At least she had a plant to soften the whole atmosphere.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knyarilay. I apologize if you faced any inconvenience on your way here, and I trust that your journey wasn't too trialing. My name is Cerys Lewis, Detective Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard."

Firm handshake. Not too strong, not too soft. Professional tone. If they were meeting on the streets, he would not guess Ms. Lewis as a cop. She could be a secretary, a teacher, a manager or any other jobs but not a cop. Her first impressions were good, now he just needed to see her capability as a chief inspector.

Amos seated himself, welcoming the soft cushion with a brief sigh. Even a short walk from the underground train station tired him. Darn, he's getting old. Maybe he should get one of those fancy segway-thing so he would not have to walk anymore.

"I apologize that Superintendent Investigator Mark Hudson will not be able to work directly with you at this time due to other obligations that he must attend to. However, I hope that we will be able to effectively work together in addressing the problem at hand."

He only nodded at that. The British Police were easy to work with, that was what her superior in the ICPO said. If things sailed smoothly they probably would never need Hudson's help save for an announcement or two. Ms. Lewis took a handful of documents and laid them on the table. Amos recognized several names printed on them: White Lotus, Front of Liberation -- now that was a name he could not help but recognize; they had occupied some columns in other European newspapers. The "Bratva" was not uncommon among his coworkers; it was an unofficial code for a large mafia sprawling all over Europe originating from Russia. Some names were less known to him, but he guessed he would find more information about them once he accessed ICPO's database.

Now, where to start...?

"...O Ceallaigh had escaped and is still at large."

Amos' attention went back to Lewis, his hand pulling the TRS document closer to his eyes. Their base was close, their objective was more than mere money, their leader had escaped and as they were talking now, might be gathering his old allies to strike London once more. FOL too.

"I will need more information about the White Lotus and the Bratva. In the meantime we can focus on TRS and FOL." He placed the document back. "Money is not their sole objective here, unlike the other two." He fell silent. Both Bratva and Lotus might have other objectives, yet as long as it remained unknown to them, they should focus on the bigger threats first.

"I can contact Lyon for further assistance if needed," he referred to the French town where ICPO headquarter lies. "How about the Counterterrorism Initiative? I have been told that they lead the investigation about them." Come to think of it, a CI staff should be here with them.

Something did not feel right. Amos opened the TRS document again and began to read it thoroughly.