Hiems hadn't just gone to the door to check on the arriving police, he'd also taken his briefcase upstairs. It was now quite heavy and stretched in the middle sections, the leather giving way to the sheer amount of unknown items stuffed within. He also went to the curtains, twitching them a little. Not an unusual sight from the people here, law-abiding citizens wanting to know the latest gossip curious about the gunshots and poking their heads out of doors and upper floor windows. Timid looks, after all, they didn't want to catch a stray one.

With half an ear he listened to Keats give the Johnson's the obvious reminder they had coming their way. Took a second but the sound of his own voice gave him a reassurance that reapplied his confidence. Gift of the silver tongue, really. The kid loved to talk and it was always best to stick with what you're good at. Held his own in the house, too, if a little erratic. No fault of his though. Hiems had seen some of the toughest men turn belly up when faced with a little action.

Speaking of action, the coppers seemed to be doing their jobs. Not amazingly well, mind, and the loud requests for identification mingled with groans of pain and verbal abuse were carried over the street well enough. Now they'd most likely be carted off to the hospital for some of the more pressing injuries followed by a relaxing break in a nice cell while the police tried to figure out who they were. No I.D and the thugs refusal to tell the truth would keep them spinning in lock-up for a while. They wouldn't be showing their faces around for a week or two, that's for certain.

Leaving the curtain and walking past Clyde's profusely nodding head, Hiems opened the drawer of a bureau on the far side of the room and extracted two sheets of paper. Setting them out neatly, he reached into a jacket pocket and withdrew a pen. Flexing his fingers and wrist, then checking for ink, he began to carve letters down smoothly, pausing once to give a look to Clyde, who had mistakenly turned his way. It did not take long for the first letter to be completed. The second did, however, and there were many pauses as Hiems recalled from memory what he wanted to put down.

Five minutes, ten, twenty. The second letter was very intricate, detailed and neatly scribed down one line after the other. Type-writers were good, but you could never beat quality penmanship. Checking to make sure both pages were dry, he folded the second twice over and re-checked the first. Standing he moved over to Keats and handed over the first page, then went back to look out the window to check on the situation outside. Fortunately it had cleared up quite well. Injured men unwilling to speak anything but groans were dealt with quickly. The ringleader took three guys to haul out, a concussion being the best of his problems. For now.

The letter to Keats read as follows:

We'll not stay here long.

As soon as the police have moved on from reassuring the public that everything is fine and they are all safe we can head back to Headquarters. They'll get nothing from the boys they picked up, so they'll stew them for a long while. They won't be back any time soon.

I would like you to deliver both briefcases to Ewiv personally. Take all the credit, but don't let it go to your head. You held your own, kid, but remember that bullets don't care if you're a bum or a broadway star. You've got the gift of the gab, use it for better things than one-liners. This ain't film.

The second letter I'll give you is for Ewiv. It is not sealed, so you have the option of reading it if you so choose, but it must be delivered along with my briefcase.

Don't drink anything they offer, and destroy this letter.

Waiting for Keats to look up, he held out the simply-folded note. A stylised E was present in the corner, and lines of text in black in could be seen through the cheap paper. When it was taken, Hiems turned his eyes back to the window. Only a couple more cars to leave before they could go home. A late lunch is better than no lunch, he surmised to himself.

Keats accepted the letter, scanning it quickly and thoroughly. He stood and re-read it a second time as he walked alone to the Johnsons' kitchen. Removing the lid of a small metal trashcan, he quickly lit the letter with a match from his pocket and dropped it into the bin. He watched it burn completely. Might as well be thorough. He patted the inside of his jacket pocket where he'd placed the letter to Ewiv, confirming its presence. 

Normalcy shortly returned to the streets as the bustling conversations of pedestrians became audible once again. There was no police presence, although Keats confirmed that with a questioning look to Hiems before opening the door. Keats gave a last lingering look in the Johnsons' direction on his way out the door, then proceeded to store his briefcase in the backseat, as Hiems did, and climbing into the driver's seat once again. He drove slowly, like a guy going for a drive to the store in no particular hurry. The minutes ticked by with no interruptions as the two men carefully scanned their surroundings until the car was safely parked in the headquarters building. 

They each exited the car, and Keats caught the eyes of Hiems for a moment.

"It was nice working with you, Hiems. I'll make sure Ewiv gets these, as well as your letter, as soon as possible. And- uh, thanks. If you ever need a hand with anything, please let me know."

Briefly bowing his head respectfully and picking up both briefcases, Keats made his way inside the headquarters to find Ewiv. 

With a single wave, Hiems let Keats set off into the building laden with both briefcases. Probably a lot more than Ewiv expected, but what mattered most was that the situation was dealt with. For now at least. Maybe those wise guys would show up again in the future, trying for some payback. It'd not be a good decision for them if they did. Maybe the heads of Black Rock would see fit to move Clyde into other accommodations, moving the business so if they do come sniffing around they'd lose the scent. Or maybe not. As long as there were people like Keats and himself to deal with it.

Patting his suit down neatly, erasing some crumples from today's efforts and being sat in a car, Hiems walked into the Headquarters, navigating the twisting corridors and plush rooms until he reached his broken-doored abode. There were some notes on the floor he picked up and browsed through, but other than that everything was left just the way he liked it. He glanced at his watch, only to find it was barely halfway through the day. If Keats was lucky, Ewiv would have no more tasks for him, and he could spend the rest of the day flirting and drinking.

With his daily affairs organised, Hiems walked out of his room and out of the headquarters, leaving the door wide open. He'd probably find out how Keats got on later, down the hatch.

Keats walked briskly through the Black Rock HQ. There were some people around- earners, wise guys, and the occasional Boss passing through, but it wasn't as busy as it'd be later. Making his way to Ewiv's office, Keats placed the lighter briefcase on the carpet and rapped on the door. The LHM was in, and as Keats entered he calmly placed the two briefcases on Ewiv's desk and bowed his head respectfully.

"Good afternoon, sir. Hiems and I were able to handle that matter you'd mentioned to us previously. The contents of these briefcases should assist the family. There is also the following letter, from Hiems. 

Keats slipped his hand inside his jacket and removed the letter, handing it to Ewiv. 

*Ewiv takes the letter from Keats and begins reading it, ignoring him for the moment*

E.

Contained in this briefcase is a message I have sent to those that decided to cause inconvenience to Black Rock. A brief list is as follows:

Four wallets containing identifications, cash and miscellaneous junk
Notes containing observation of C.J's trading
Various buttons cut from waistcoats, jackets, trousers and dresses
Several shoelaces
Screws and bolts from various household appliances and furniture
Handles from various furniture
Handles broken from crockery
Cutlery
Two radio dials
Assortment of cards from a single deck
Two lighters
Multiple broken lighting filaments
Soap
It is my intention to send a message that states one simple fact. Black Rock is a necessity. When a necessity is inconvenienced, it must be shown that it effects everyone involved, regardless of their position. I hope that they learn swiftly even the simplest and tiniest of things can make the difference between a good day and a bad one.

While they cope with the lack of wearable clothing or grumble about the broken furniture or appliances, or even having their precious identities known they will be forever thankful that those minor inconveniences can be recovered from. Next time it'll be fingers.

Regards, H.

*Ewiv sits back and thinks for a moment before nodding his head.*

Well done Keats, you and Hiems seem to have handled the situation smoothly enough. Leave the identification and notes here. Take the cash to storage. The rest you can discard. Its an inconvenience to them, it doesn't need to be a burden of space to us. When I receive word from the boys in storage that you have delivered the cash and the exact count, you and Heims will receive your share as payment for work done.

Keats knew that the Left Hand Man of the family appreciated the practical, perhaps, more than flowery speeches- and besides, he was a busy man. So, keep it simple.

"It is an honor to serve. If there are any jobs to done in the future, I look forward to assisting the family, whether it's on my own or with Hiems, who was indispensible."

Leaving the identifications and notes behind, Keats picked up the briefcase containing the cash and drugs, bowed his head respectfully, and exited the room to head for storage immediately. Once this was dropped off, though? Time for a celebratory drink. He had, he thought, earned one.