Picture a gang. It conjures a certain mental image, does it not? One would think that sort of pony would try to be unique and recognize their own stereotypes, but when it came to PY-12, one would be wrong. They were all very easy to spot, especially in a club in a small town like Ponyville.
I made my approach, walking up to the booth. Rainbow had already conceded to letting me do the talking and hung back a few paces, enough to make it look like we weren’t together in the crowded club.
Building a relationship from scratch takes time. It has to feel natural. You have to manipulate ponies into meeting you halfway, making them think it was their idea.
I start off with the name. When using a fake identity, it’s important to get misinformation ahead of the facts. Ponies tend to latch on to the first thing they hear, and anything they learn later that contradicts it is treated with scrutiny. So rather than not introducing myself, I went out of my way to call myself Jazz, so if any of them happened to hear of me later, they might not immediately believe my name was Octavia.
I smiled to the four of them in the booth. “Hello folks, I’m Jazz Apple. I understand that y’all might be able to help me.”
A red-colored unicorn mare in a tattered denim vest eyed me. I took this to be Scarlet Sunrise, based on description. She wasn’t the local leader, but looked to be the highest ranking here tonight. Her cutie mark was of a Bloody Mary - maybe I should have Soarin sweet-talk her.
In response to me, she replied, “Maybe. What are you looking for?” She spoke Equish well, but had a foreign accent, from Prance, if I was correct.
Scarlet Sunrise
Prench
I glanced around with a cautious expression and took a step closer to her. “I’m looking for...protection.”
“Well like, we got all kind,” said a rather large stallion across the table. I didn’t know who he was, but the way he shut up when Scarlet glanced at him, I guessed he wasn’t important.
“Quiet, Pin,” she said. I assumed his name referred to his bowling cutie mark.
Scarlet turned to me. “Personal services, or do-it-yourself?”
“Maybe a little bit of both.”
She looked me up and down again. “You said that you were an Apple? Do you not have another source?”
What did she mean? Did she know about Mac’s stash? I had walked in here expecting to do a business deal, but maybe this conversation was about to go in another direction.
“If I still did, I wouldn’t be here.”
Scarlet considered it. “I will tell you what. If you can get me into Granny’s pantry, I will consider it.”
The trouble with cover identities and lying is sometimes you have to go along with things you don’t understand. I kept the confusion off my face. “Alright.”
“Just like that?” Scarlet said.
“Sorry?”
“You walk in here and you just give it up like that? It makes me wonder if this is a setup, if they’re moving on us.”
The Apples? Against PY-12? Into what had I just stumbled?
“I was the one who asked you for help,” I reminded Scarlet. “And...well, I wouldn’t need to do that if I was on good terms with the rest.”
“So you can get us in?”
“I…” theatrical hesitation “...yes, yes I can.” And then, just to ensure Scarlet didn’t think this was too easy, “But don’t forget, you have to hold up your end, too.”
“Why don’t we talk somewhere else?” Scarlet suggested. She pulled a card out of her pocket and slipped it to me. “This time tomorrow.”
Her name wasn’t on the card. Instead, it was for a business called Dirtcheap Discounts. The address was listed. It was in Ponyville, but it must have been new because I’d never heard of it.
“You want to wait that long?” I said. That would give me time to do some research. Then again, that was probably why they wanted to wait - to research me.
Jazz Apple was a cover I’d used before. If they actually had the resources to do some digging, then they would find a few records - instead of nothing. A persona that is seasoned regularly with activity and paperwork makes it seem more real.
But externally, I was supposed to have dinner with my mother tomorrow. What was I supposed to say to Scarlet - no, sorry, that time doesn’t work for me?
“Come alone,” said Scarlet, closing the conversation. “See you tomorrow.”
I walked away, spotting out of the corner of my eye Rainbow shadowing me. I assumed I would be watched all the way out of the club, so I made no move to speak to her.
Diamond was still flirting with the guy at whom I had pointed her. I passed by close enough that she noticed me on my way to the door.
Outside, I was alone for a moment. Rainbow apparently had enough tradecraft to avoid following me out directly, or maybe she just wanted another drink. Soarin spotted me and began to approach, but suddenly paused, turning away. From behind me, I heard Diamond ask, “Hey, how was that?”
I scanned the area before addressing her. “Great, thank you.” I hesitated, and then asked, “I have a question. Have you ever heard of Dirtcheap Discounts?”
“They’re across town. Daddy says they aren’t a competitor we should be worried about. Despite their name, they can’t beat our prices.” She cocked her head. “Why? Do you think it’s related to what happened?”
Diamond was once again proving to be too sharp for her own good. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her.
“We’re looking into all possibilities. I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least glance at all business competitors.” I shifted, and pointedly glanced up at the starry sky. “Have a good night, Diamond.”
I glanced at Soarin and walked away. Within a few moments I was out of view of the club and Diamond, and Soarin and Rainbow had formed up on me. We did a quick data-dump between us. The two pegasi then flew off to recon. Not only the Dirtcheap Discounts building, but also to follow anypony connected to PY-12 that emerged from the club.
“Remember to feed Garcon,” Soarin said as he took off. For my part, I went back to Soarin’s place and did just that.
Detainees do indeed require special care. Prisoners and hostages have to be treated differently. In either case, it requires practice to tie knots that are impossible to loosen, but not tight enough that it causes permanent injury.
He was still where we had left him. I exercised his joints a little and slightly adjusted the ropes to ensure he still had circulation and then went to get the food.
“I don’t really like yogurt,” he said.
“That’s too bad,” I replied.
Soarin and Rainbow were back later and we once again compared notes out of earshot of Garcon.
“I’d heard of Dirtcheap Discounts before, but never went there,” said Rainbow. “Seems like a small store.”
“I figure it’s where they launder their money,” Soarin said. “PY-12 didn’t get as big as they are without having big-boy infrastructure like that.”
“Did we figure out the connection to Granny - presumably Granny Smith?” I asked.
“So...my best guess is that Mac’s stash has become legendary, like some kind of gangster Holy Grail,” said Rainbow. “Granny’s pantry might just be a street name. She did get him into the hobby, after all.”
I felt like I had learned more about Ponyville in the last few days than I had during the years I lived here. At the same time, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to accept that answer.
My look must have conveyed that. Rainbow shrugged. “I mean, I could be wrong. Maybe they were being literal and they want into Granny’s kitchen pantry. Barnyard Bargains is the company that has exclusive rights to Zap Apple Jam, so maybe PY-12 is looking to get into the condiment business.”
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to buy that one, either. Well, I suppose we would just have to ask when the opportunity presented itself.
Before the meeting the next evening, there was much to do. Particularly, I was supposed to visit my mother again. While I would much rather not, I cajoled myself that perhaps it would put me in the right frame of mind to fight some gangsters.
Soarin, Rainbow, and I made a few plans. We were going to have to do some prep.
With enough time to prepare, there is no excuse for failure. While it’s true that no plan survives contact with the enemy, that’s why you have multiple backup plans. That’s why you rehearse. That’s why you go prepared for contingencies. We knew the members of PY-12 and where they would be, giving us ample time for recon. They might have suspected that I would not actually come alone, but didn’t know anything about my backup. Also, we had C4 charges.
There are many things you can do with plastic explosive. It ranks right up there with duct tape as an all-around useful tool.
After our planning session that night, the next day I ran a few errands. I had to go out to the farm and pick up a few other things. Mac seemed even less talkative since Rainbow wasn’t with me, and even turned down when I tried to pay him.
“Well, I suppose I’ll owe you a favor, then,” I said. “Can I do anything for you? Maybe something for Granny’s pantry?”
No reaction. This guy was either very good, or had no idea what I was talking about. Either way, it didn’t get me closer to knowing what the so-called pantry actually was.
PY-12, whether they believed it or not, had at least suggested the idea that the Apple Family might be their competition. I had no information to confirm that, beyond Mac being an arms dealer/hobbyist.
Playing organized crime groups against each other can be a useful gambit. However, try not to involve more than absolutely necessary. It gets complicated, and the more that are involved, the greater potential they will end up angry at you. Also, Rainbow might have something to say about using Mac and his family as pawns. Not to mention, I had nothing against them to get them drawn into this.
I felt as if I should apologize to Mac in advance for even thinking it, if I thought he cared about things such as that. Maybe that was why Rainbow was into him, because she could project her vivid emotions onto him as if he were a blank canvas. Maybe. I’m not a romantic.
At any rate, I needed to get going. I had quite a few things left to do today.
I stopped by Barnyard Bargains to get a few of the essentials: duct tape, pliers, wire, yogurt. I also picked up some cello strings. The store hadn’t changed much since I’d left town. It was large, filled with everything, and cheap. It almost made me suspicious, now that I had grown cynical of the world after experiencing too much of the worst parts of it, but after I’d seen how Rich treated his daughter, I was actually willing to believe that he wasn’t that bad of a guy. Surprising. In my line of work, I rarely dealt with good people.
Back to the turnip barn, I sat down on the old mattress I’d scavenged and restrung my cello. I spent a few moments tuning it, but forced myself to put it aside to finish off a few projects I’d been working on for this evening’s meeting. I’m quite deft with my hooves, if I do say so myself.
However, all the finesse in the world hadn’t been able to keep me out of my mother’s grasp. I was going to have to go to her house before meeting PY-12. I wasn’t sure which I’d rather do.
My mother was waiting at the front door again when I arrived, not quite late again.
“Tonight we need to look through the old photo albums,” she said. “They need a good sorting.”
In addition to playing the cello for her, which she’d ordered me to bring that evening? “I don’t think I have time,” I replied. “I have another appointment after this.”
“What could you possibly be doing that is more important than this?”
Breaking up criminal groups, saving lives, getting my old job back so I could continue working for the betterment of Equestria. But I couldn’t say that. I also didn’t have an excuse, or at least one that she would accept, to answer her question. The only option, much as I hated to do it, was offer something more attractive, so I grimaced internally and suggested, “How about we do that on a weekend, when there will be more time?”
“Very well.” She stepped back to let me into the house. “Dinner is almost ready.”
I was already regretting not bringing booze this time.