Chương 10: Chapter 9 – Building Rapport

"Why don't we just let the police deal with it, Laura? That's literally their job." Laura suppressed a sigh. So far, her conversations had gone well. Most farmers and ranchers were all too happy to avoid having police trample all over their property and form a 'neighborhood watch' instead, to look out for the 'dangerous animal' currently poaching livestock. When Daniel had taken care of the goblins in the early morning, he reported a dead pig, a pile of chicken feathers, and a captured goose.

And on top of all that, the presence of a 'wild dungeon', with an accompanying explanation that sounded highly worrying. Because while the farmers were on board, many others were not. And Kerstin Herbst was, unfortunately, the most difficult case so far. The worst part was that she completely understood what the younger woman was thinking. She was a mother of three, worried about her children, the youngest of whom still went to kindergarten.

"We tried contacting them," Laura told her. And indeed, she had tried through the static-laden landline, but the central police station in the city was completely overwhelmed. Daniel would check in person during his shopping trip with the kids, but she harbored little hope.

"Tried?"

"Yes. They told me they had bigger problems right now, then put me on hold until the line died."

"That… sounds unlikely," Kerstin frowned.

"This is important! What could possibly be more pressing than a dangerous predator stalking around?!" Laura had a pretty good idea, but the sheer outrageousness of the truth would not be conducive here.

"Mama?" Kerstin's youngest was squeezing past her mother's legs to get a look at the visitor.

"Hello, Auntie Laura!"

"Hi Emma! How are you?"

"I'm good, and you?" She did not wait for a reply, launching into a full account of her favorite puppet's day instead. Laura and Kerstin shared an amused smile, cutting through the rising tension. Thanks for the help, little one.

"Could you ask Markus what the fire department has heard? He still volunteers with them, right?" she asked after Emma had found something more interesting to do.

"He does," Kerstin confirmed.

"I'll ask him what's going on. He has friends working for the police."

"Please do. Can you give me a call if you find something out?"

"Sure. Thanks for the heads-up, in any case. I'll keep the kids inside for now." After a brief goodbye, Laura hopped into her car again. The electric motor hummed to life, and she made her way to her next destination, and perhaps the most critical one. Bayer Steelworks, located roughly a kilometer out of town, was the largest employer in the region. Not that this meant much, it was slated to be shut down next spring.

Director Bayer, the mayor's brother, had actually asked for Laura's help two years ago, but it quickly turned out that the issue didn't lie with internal mismanagement, but external factors like the remoteness of the location and brutal energy costs. Still, with what felt like half of the surrounding villages' male workforce employed here, the dying company remained the economic pivot of the region.

Laura had a very specific goal in mind: getting her – or rather, Daniel's – hands on as many tons of steel as possible, and if anyone in the region had unsold stock, it would be Bayer. Together with everything else her husband wanted, the purchase would probably ruin their joint savings account, but using it now would be much better than losing it in the chaos of system integration. Besides, he had promised her an untiring workforce of magical robots.

Pulling into the pothole-riddled parking lot, she found herself greeted by angry shouting. It was not aimed at her, thankfully; instead, Chris Bayer was having an animated discussion with a weaselly-looking man in a grey suit, who stuck out like a sore thumb among the overalls-wearing, sweat-drenched steel workers. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"What the hell do you mean, 'we're not taking it'?!"

"Exactly what I said," Grey Suit groaned.

"Our client has declared bankruptcy. We're in deep shit ourselves, and basically insolvent. We'll scrounge up the contractual penalty, feel free to take anything else to court." With those words, he slammed the door of his black Mercedes and drove off, leaving the parking lot in absolute chaos as the men started hurling insults after him. Laura slowly navigated through the crowd towards Chris, who stood silently, face buried in his palms.

"Bad day, Chris?" she asked. He snorted sardonically.

"Bad day indeed. Hi Laura. What's up?"

"That didn't sound like a parking lot conversation."

"Shouldn't have been one. Bastard didn't want to come in, though. He only came in person because I couldn't hear him on the phone. What are you here for? Parking lot or office?"

"Office, definitely."

"Damnit," he sighed.

"Alright boys, back to work!" The angry mob slowly dissolved, and Chris led Laura towards his office, an air-conditioned container overlooking the loading zone.

"Coffee?" he asked, two mugs already in hand.

"Thanks. Milk and no sugar, please." While the old coffee machine whirred, Chris slumped in his chair. Laura took the nicest-looking visitor seat she found.

"Lost a big client?"

"Yeah. The only major one we had left," he grumbled.

"A set of non-standard girders. For an opera house or whatever the fuck." He pointed outside, where a huge stack of curved steel beams waited for a ride that would never come.

"No way we can sell those any time soon. Total loss. We can only recycle them, but that will take time and money. Fuck. Scratch spring, we're closing up next week." Laura could not believe her luck. Time for a change of plans.

"I'm afraid I have more bad news," she sighed.

"We've got wild animals stealing livestock over in Lindenfeld."

"Shit," Chris grumbled.

"Andrea must be fuming. But why are you talking to me about this?"

"We're forming a neighborhood watch. Can you tell your 'boys' to watch out in the other villages too? Who knows where the predators go next."

"Will do. A good distraction from this shitshow, in any case. Wait, did you come here just for that?"

"I didn't," she replied, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Chris, do you trust me?"

"What kind of question is that, Laura?"

"Do you?"

"I… I guess?"" Things are happening. Big things."

"... What are you talking about?"

"You must have noticed. Communication is breaking down. The police are overwhelmed. Now a predator in the woods that hunts cows of all things."

"Wait– cows?!" She ignored his incredulous question.

"Something is going on. I know a few things, but I can't tell you yet. But believe me, people will need steel." He made a commendable attempt at skepticism, but she knew she had him.

"Keep your company going. Just a few weeks. Trust me." Chris' eyes flashed over to the phone on his desk, and she could see him connect the dots she gave him.

"... Is it… War?" She gave him a pointed look.

"Not quite. Keep the furnaces warm, Chris."

"... Fuck, Laura. I can't do that. There is no money left. I wish I could, but…"

"I'll buy those," she said, pointing out the window. Chris choked on his coffee.

"Wh– Are you– Are you serious?!" he coughed.

"How much are they?"

"W–Well, I guess… Uh." He grabbed a calculator out of his desk drawer, occasionally looking up to make sure Laura wasn't pulling his leg.

"It's… seventy tons of high-grade steel, so I can't exactly… Damn it," he cursed.

"The contract was for half a million–" Oh. Shit.

"–but there is absolutely no way I could sell this to anyone else for that price. It's extremely specialized, for some artsy-fartsy round roof. I'd have to… Well, if we subtract the cost of melting them back down and rolling it, then…" He stopped typing, then threw the calculator into a corner of his office in frustration.

"Fuck this. Eighty grand and it's all yours." That sounds much better.

"... Can I just take half for now? The other half later?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

"If you're serious about this."

"Draw up a contract, then. Can you have it delivered right into our yard?"

"Can your yard take a flatbed?"

"Uh, I think so? My father used to park the machines there."

"Great. I'll tell the boys." When she returned home half an hour later, she heard the phone ringing before she entered the house. She knew the number, though it usually only called about choir practice: Lindenfeld's mayor, Andrea Hoffmann. Damn it. I thought I had more time.