New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Chapter 36: Gathering Intel

That was Marty Robbins, telling you all about the man with the "Big Iron" on his hip. You're listening to Radio New Vegas, keeping you company out there in the Mojave wasteland. It's the top of the hour, so it's time to bring you some news. Rumors continue to persist about the package courier who survived being shot in the head near Goodsprings. No one is sure of his real identity or where he comes from, but Freeside and Westside locals have started referring to him as "The Indestructible Courier" or simply "The Courier." Our sources also indicate that he has somehow drawn the ire of Caesar - but so far, every one of Caesar's attempts to kill The Courier have failed. Maybe he really is indestructible? Who knows. The preceding segment was sponsored by the Silver Rush: feel the rush of a warm laser in your hands.

I don't think I've ever been happier to get away from my friends for a few hours.

On the surface, Veronica and Arcade had stopped fighting and shouting and yelling at each other. But now they were having a stupid silent fight, which was just as annoying. Seriously, watching the two of them clean up their mess in the kitchen - and I felt like I had to watch them, just to make sure neither of them started anything - was the most passive-aggressive thing I've ever witnessed.

Once they were finished, I realized that keeping the two of them in close proximity (at least for the time being) was probably a bad idea. So, to try and keep our living area from getting any more destroyed, I gave them both a couple hundred caps, and sent them each out on some errands - in opposite directions. With luck, that would keep them occupied for another few hours.

Cass wasn't fighting with anyone like those two, but was still fuming and was utterly pissed off. Granted, over time she went from "pissed off" to merely "pissed" - she spent most of that afternoon in the common room next to the kitchen with half a dozen bottles of whiskey, alternating between pool and darts. And when she wasn't doing that, she was on the balcony, looking out over Vegas and chucking her empty bottles off the side as hard as she could.

Boone was the only one who didn't have any problems with anyone or anything. Sadly, I didn't have too long to appreciate that small nugget of comfort, because he left the 38 with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, saying that he was going to head out for some more ammo and "target practice," and that he wouldn't be back until late.

Still, it's not like my schedule was empty either. So, as soon as the sun set, I left the 38 as well, got in my car, and drove out into Freeside on my little recon mission for Cass, with ED-E following close behind. I made my way towards the Silver Rush first. I figured that if it was as heavily defended as I suspected, then it would be best to do that first; get it out of the way, and leave the easier one for last. No matter what though, I was going to scout out both places for evidence and be done before the sun came up.

On the way, I started remembering the first time I'd snuck into a heavily fortified installation. I had to sneak into an NCR base just outside Calexico, south of the toxic Salton Sea. I was given a job to transport a package from San Felipe down in Baja up to Dayglow. I never bothered to ask what was in the package, and on the way it got confiscated at an NCR checkpoint by an officer who felt that I hadn't paid enough for his "stop toll." I was tight for cash back then, and really needed to make the delivery, so I figured out where it had been taken, waited until dark, snuck into the base quick and quiet as you please, and stole it back. When I finally got back to my car, I decided to stay off the roads until I got deeper into NCR territory - past all the quartermasters and their "stop tolls" stealing money off people just trying to get by.

I've had to sneak into a couple other places - some even more heavily fortified - since then, and overtime I've amassed a rather eclectic assortment of tools to help me when it comes to sneaking around. The stealth boys would just make things much, much easier. Honestly, if I'd had the stealth boys when I'd had to go to the Fort, I wouldn't have bothered trying to venture there in disguise. Oh well.

I parked my car just outside the run down (and mostly collapsed) old courthouse, a few blocks away from the Silver Rush. There was an abandoned car park much closer, but even I could tell it was being used by squatters as a makeshift flop-house. Ironic as it was, the car park was probably not the best place to leave my car.

"Hey, ED-E? I'm gonna have to go on my own for a while. Do a little sneaking around. Can you watch my car while I'm gone?" I asked the eyebot as I exited my car. He hovered close to my head, and let out a trio of sad beeps. I sighed. "Look, I know, you're worried about me, I get it, and I appreciate it. But I need to move quiet, and I can't do that with you bobbing along in the air behind me." ED-E made a weird, indignant mechanical squawk. "This isn't like the Fort, ED-E. They're not going to be able to see me this time." I lifted up a stealth boy, and ED-E backed off, hovered over my car, and sounded off a single resigned beep.

I checked behind me after heading down the side street about 20 feet, just to make sure ED-E was staying put. Satisfied he wasn't going to come after me, I headed down towards the Silver Rush in earnest. There were a few scattered lights here and there, but only Vegas Boulevard and Fremont Street had working streetlights... and that meant my short walk was bathed in a pale green glow, thanks to my bionic eyes.

First order of business was to scope out the front door - not because I had any illusions that I'd be able to get in that way, but because it was always a good place to start, and it would give me an idea of what I'd be up against. So, I stuck to the shadows, headed for a boarded up building across the street, and found a side entrance in an alley. I took the crowbar I'd brought with me off the sling on my back, and after a few seconds work, the door was open. Inside, the building was impossibly filthy, and full of cobwebs. And, lucky me, I could see every single one of them.

The inside was deathly quiet, but that wasn't really a surprise. The only noise came from the creaking under my feet when I went up the stairs. Thankfully, it didn't collapse under my weight on the way up, and before I knew it, I was kneeling next to one of the second story windows. The window was entirely too filthy to see out of, but with a bit of elbow grease, I was able to force it up just enough for me to look out. I reached behind me, and pulled a pair of binoculars off my belt to get a closer look.

The entrance to the Silver Rush was a pair of identical metal double doors underneath a large lamp, spilling light everywhere. The doors were flanked on either side by a duo of big burly men wearing combat armor. I switched my eyes from nightvision back to normal sight, and could see that it was that same matte-black armor that Cass and I had found at the last caravan site - and both of them had the same golden lion emblem in the corner of the chest armor.

What they had in their hands was what really worried me though. Both of them were carrying plasma rifles. And these weren't broken down, rusted pieces of crap like I'd found before: these rifles looked almost new and scarily well maintained. Even from this distance, I could see the rifles had been fitted with magnetic accelerators and hi-energy ionizers. That's some pretty heavy armament they were packing, and that was just the guards at the front. Not exactly the most comforting of views.

Alright. Front door is a wash. I shifted around, trying to get a better view of other parts of the building. The building had windows, but none of them looked like they opened. Above the door was the Silver Rush sign, but it was tilted at an odd angle, since part of the 2nd floor was collapsed. It was an old neon sign, which probably meant the Silver Rush was a casino before the war, and that meant... I looked higher, above the main part of the building, and I could see the framework of what used to be a high rise. Only about three of the high rise floors coming out of the building were still standing; everything above it was twisted and collapsed.

If I could get up there, it was a good bet there was a way I could get inside.

A few minutes later, I was in the alley behind the Silver Rush, looking up at the wall I had to climb. It was an old brick building, very sturdy... but not smooth at all. And in this situation, that was a very good thing. There were enough bricks that weren't quite even with the wall, and there were enough of them that I could easily use them as hand and foot holds.

The climb was pretty slow... but I made it up. Eventually. I had to climb through the remains of a window frame before I could see the interior of the building. The floors to the high rise part of the Silver Rush were in even worse shape than I thought. The entire center part of the building looked collapsed in on itself. But there weren't any guards up here.

I started poking around, carefully working my way past the piles of rubble, until I found something: it looked like a trapdoor. Based on the height of the surroundings, I'd say I was right above the 2nd floor. Time to get serious. I pulled out the stealth boy, and slipped it on my right arm.

If you've never used a stealth boy, it's a rather... interesting experience. I unlocked the control pad, and punched in the activation sequence and... I felt all the hairs on my body stand on end, and a belch of ozone forced its way into my nose. It felt like cool water was being poured over me, and after it passed, my body, my clothes, and even my Pip Boy became see through. Up close, it didn't make me completely invisible; it was rather like looking through very still, very clear water.

The charge on the stealth boy would last about an hour, so I was now officially on the clock. I tried to crack open the trapdoor... and missed. The fact that my arms were now mostly transparent was really fucking with my sense of perspective. Eventually though, I got my bearings, opened it up, and peered inside - it led into what looked like an overhead crawlspace, the kind of space between floors where buildings kept all the lighting and HVAC ducts. It would be a squeeze, but it was wide and high enough for me to crawl into. It's not like I was trying to crawl through the air vents themselves.

I crawled through the tight space, occasionally lifting up ceiling tiles or peering through cracks and holes to check where I was... and then I started to hear voices. I moved towards the sound as quickly and quietly as I could. A large shaft of light was bleeding through the dusty air ahead of me, and I situated myself almost on top of it. It was large enough that I could see down into the entire room: it was a corner office.

In the center of the room was a large metal desk. On top of the desk was a stack of papers with a plasma pistol sitting on top like a paperweight, and a RobCo terminal off to the side. Behind the desk was a black woman with dark hair so short it looked buzzed, sitting in a large leather chair like she owned the place. She wore what I'm sure she was trying to have pass for a business suit, but really it was a blue suit jacket that looked tailored specifically to show off her figure, and a matching blue miniskirt that was uncomfortably revealing - especially considering how her legs were crossed. I'm sure that from ground level, the neckline of the outfit was designed to show off her rather generous bust line, but from my view directly above her, the amount of revealed dcolletage was absolutely ridiculous.

Sitting across from the woman was a greasy looking pale man in a grey suit, with a head of thinning dark hair. He looked simultaneously nervous and like he was attempting to be intimidating at the same time... but all it did was make him look more out of place. Behind him and standing at the door in a suit of that matte black combat armor and carrying a modified laser rifle was an incredibly large black man. His face looked frozen in a permanent sneer, and his arms were so huge, I could've easily fit a skull into each bicep. Each wall looked like it had been lined and reinforced with metal.

"Mr. Soren," the woman behind the desk steepled her fingers in front of her face as she spoke. "Please get to the point. The second half of your payment is late, and I want to know why." The man sitting across from her - Mr. Soren, apparently - coughed, and adjusted his tie.

"Ms. Van Graff, my associates and I have decided that we wish to renegotiate the terms of our deal," he said. I could tell he was trying to be forceful.

"Might I ask for what reason?" the Van Graff woman asked. "The shipment was delivered. The weapons were tested before leaving this facility."

"Regardless," Soren coughed again. "We feel that the quality of the weapons is below expectations, and hoped to adjust the price accordingly."

"Ah," the Van Graff woman got up from her chair, and started slowly walking around her desk. "I think I understand what the issue here is. Excuse me for a moment, would you?" She stopped in front of the hulking man in combat armor. "Jean-Baptiste, would you bring out the volunteer?" He gave a single, guttural grunting laugh, and turned on his heels out the door. The Van Graff woman then turned around, and started leaning against the spot where Jean-Baptiste had been standing. "This is a lesson, Mr. Soren. A lesson in faith."

Before I could work out what was happening, Jean-Baptiste came back into the room - but only after shoving another man in through the doorway. What was immediately apparent was his lack of clothes - he was only wearing a pair of cotton boxers. The second thing that was apparent was how his hands were bound in front of him. He stumbled a bit when Jean-Baptiste pushed him, and then was forced to kneel on the floor in front of one of the metal walls by a massive hand the size of a pie plate. He looked positively terrified.

"W-what is this, Ms. Van Graff?" Soren wasn't even trying to hide his nervousness now. "I don't understand. Who is this man? What does he have to do with our deal?"

"Everything," she said with a voice like venom laced chocolate. She knelt down and clutched the mans chin between her thumb and forefinger. "Up until recently, this man was an employee of mine. He's quite handsome don't you think?" She turned to Soren, maneuvering the bound mans head towards the businessman so he could get a better view.

"I... er..." I'm not sure how he wanted to respond. I wouldn't know either if I was in his shoes, to be brutally honest. The Van Graff woman let go of the man's face and got up.

"I know I did. We became... close. I warned him that I was a very jealous woman. He said he understood. Apparently - he didn't." She leaned back against the wall. "Last week, I chanced upon him in Gomorrah, being serviced by one of their two-cap whores. I was not pleased. I tell you all this because I want you to know that this man means a great deal to me." She turned to Jean-Baptiste, who was now standing right in front of the bound man. "Do it."

Without hesitation, the massive man carrying the laser rifle leveled the barrel at the head of the bound man and fired off a burst of energy into his face at point blank range. There was an actinic taste of metal in the air, and a blindingly bright flash. For a moment, there was a giant molten hole in the middle of his face - and then he had no face at all. His body glowed red hot, then white hot, and then disintegrated into a pile of smoldering ash on the floor.

Mr. Soren was paralyzed with fear. He was recoiling back in his chair, a look of abject terror on his face. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. The Van Graff woman stepped forward, and grabbed onto the man's head, forcing him to look at her right in the eyes.

"Never break faith with the Van Graff's, Mr. Soren. I expect you'll have the rest of our payment ready tomorrow morning." She let go of his head, and he started nodding frantically. She smiled. "Good. Get out." He didn't need any more encouragement; like a shot, he was out the door, his footsteps echoing down the hall. As soon as he left, Jean-Baptiste started laughing deep and heartily.

"Hahahaa! Ahh, I think he pissed himself before he left. That was pretty good, making up that part about sleeping with Jacob," The Van Graff woman gave the giant man in combat armor no response - if anything, her lack of a response was answer enough. He looked a little worried. "Uh... you did make that part up... right, Glory?" She continued to stay quiet, but stared at him with a look of exasperation. Jean-Baptiste countered it with his own look of frustration. "Damnit girl! What has mama always said about tipping the help? I thought this was about him stealing money from us!"

"He was stealing money," she said, walking out the door. Jean-Baptiste followed her, and their voices started to fade as they left the room - but not before I heard her say "Though he could have kept it for all I cared. God knows he earned it..."

As soon as I was sure they'd left, and weren't coming back - at least for a while - I moved. I removed one of the ceiling tiles and very carefully lowered myself down into the room. I made sure to replace the tile, and then I set to work. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that the Van Graffs here in Vegas were just as ruthless as their reputation would have you believe, but I needed to look around - and, if Cass was right, find some sort of evidence that would link them to the burned caravans.

I booted up the terminal on the desk first, and ran the debug command. Lines of code flashed in front of me, and it took me a couple of minutes to parse through the massive amount of seemingly random characters, and sort out the password through the noise. Once I'd hacked into the terminal, it took me several more minutes to look through the files and realize there wasn't really anything there... just before I logged out, however, I noticed a command that seemed out of place: it was a command to disengage a lock on a nearby safe.

I looked around, and realized that under the desk, built into the floor, was a safe similar to the one Jeannie-May had in the Novac motel office. I hit the command, and the safe underneath me popped open with a hiss. I logged off the computer, and opened up the safe, peering inside: several stacks of NCR bills, some old-world money, a couple stacks of caps, a few poker chips, several dozen legion coins... and several folded up pieces of paper. I took one of the papers, unfolded it, and read: it was a letter.

Dear Ms. Gloria Van Graff

It has come to my attention that Cassidy Caravans have suffered a number of setbacks recently. I can only hope that these latest unfortunate events drive that young booze-hound of an owner to finally sell me her remaining assets.

As per our agreement, I have bent my not inconsiderable efforts toward weakening your competitors, the Gun Runners. You can expect a mysterious and sudden surge in sales in the near future.

The bottom of the letter didn't have a name, but was signed: "AM."

I folded the paper back up, closed the safe, and felt around my chest, trying to find the invisible pocket inside my jacket where I could keep this. As soon as the letter was put in the pocket, it disappeared and became transparent.

Alright, time to get out of here. I didn't think I could get out the same way I came in - not without causing an awful ruckus, at least. So I did the only thing I could think of, and leave the office into the adjacent hallway. And none too soon - Gloria and Jean-Baptiste were turning the corner, heading back towards the office. I pressed myself against a wall and stayed deathly still - I didn't even dare breathe.

"I just don't like it, is all," Jean-Baptiste said. "I mean, we're tricking the Legion, and setting them up for an NCR ambush. Helping out the NCR feels like... I dunno, like we're betraying mama's trust."

"Jean-Baptiste, what has mother always said about you?" Gloria asked - but kept talking before getting a response. "She's always said that you're not going to go far in life..."

Jean-Baptiste sighed. "But you're gonna make a lot of people come up short. Yeah, I know."

"Leave the thinking to me, brother. We're not helping the NCR - we're helping ourselves. If Caesar takes over the Mojave, he won't suffer the likes of us. He doesn't have friends or allies - he has servants. NCR, on the other hand, is an enemy we can deal with, bunch of corrupt, bullying fools who think they can tell everyone how to live their lives that they are... but easily dealt with, regardless."

"I still don't think mama'll like it," he said, shaking his head.

"She'll come around when she hears about the profit we'll make," Gloria said as the two of them entered her office again. "If she's smart - and she is - she'll turn this to her own advantage and make a bundle off our new... 'connections' in the NCR military..." She shut the door behind her, and I finally gave myself time to breathe.

I had no idea how long the stealth boy was going to last. I needed to get out of here now. Quickly, I made my way down the hall where Gloria and Jean-Baptiste had came from, checking each door quickly as I passed. Most of the rooms were either storage rooms, or bunks for the Van Graff guards. I turned a corner, and it lead me down a staircase, into the main hall of the building.

The downstairs was incredibly open and wide... or it would have been, if hadn't been partitioned off by sheets of metal and chain link fences. All around, I could see weapons and ammunition mounted on the walls, lying on shelves... and guards in that same matte black combat armor patrolling the area. The chain links made the downstairs a maze, and with all the guards... it would be a veritable killzone if I suddenly became visible in the middle of it.

Right, back upstairs.

Back through the same hallway... except this time, I didn't see any decent way out. Before I knew it, I smelled ozone. A crackle of an electric shock crawled over my skin, and my limbs suddenly became visible again. This was exactly the kind of situation in which I didn't want to be.

I hugged the walls, moving as silently as I could, but every footfall sounded in my ears like cinderblocks being tossed off a building; it felt like my breathing was as loud as the wind in a sandstorm. I tried to shake it off - it was just nerves making my mind exaggerate every little sound.

I tried to think - which of the rooms that I'd looked into had windows? Gloria's corner office, sure, but it's not like I could use that. None of the storage rooms faced the outside, and all the bunks had thick metal plates over where all the windows should've been. At the far end of the hall, there was one room I hadn't checked, so I made a beeline for it. I cracked open the door. Inside was a dimly lit, dingy bathroom - and a window on the far end. It was small, and above one of the toilet stalls, but-

There were heavy footfalls on the floor behind me, and the sound of a door creaking open. I rushed into the room, and into the nearest stall. I closed the door, and stood up on the toilet, making sure I'd be hidden from view - and held my breath. The door slid open slowly, and I saw the shadow of someone standing in the doorframe. I pulled out Roscoe as silently as I could, keeping it trained on the door. The silhouette on the floor didn't move.

"Hurm," I heard the voice say. "Guess it's nothing..." The door slid closed with a squeak, and the room was wrapped in darkness again. I let myself sigh.

Right, time to leave. It was a bit of a squeeze, but the window was, thankfully, wide enough for me to get out. Of course, halfway though pushing my upper torso out the window, I remembered - I'm on the second floor. Probably a bad idea to exit head first. It took a little tricky maneuvering (including some rather awkward and uncomfortable compression of some rather tender areas) but I was able to twist myself around until I was hanging down by the outer window ledge.

A few minutes - and a bruised shin and shoulder - later, I was back on the ground, keeping to the shadows and heading back to my car.

I really have to learn how to fall correctly.

The Crimson Caravan's camp was a little less than half a mile from the north entrance to Freeside, just outside the wall. It was a relatively small compound, surrounded on four sides by about 12 foot high concrete walls, with two wide doors - wide enough for something like my Corvega to fit through at least twice - at the east and west ends of the camp. Above each of the doors was a sign that said in red lettering "Crimson Caravan Co."

There were a few broken buildings around the edges of the camp, and I used them as cover while I scouted out the exterior of the compound. The Crimson Caravan wasn't like the Silver Rush at all - this wasn't the headquarters of a paramilitary organization, it was just a civilian trading company.

There were only two guards that I could see, and neither of them looked very attentive. They were both wearing leather armor, and each had an assault rifle slung across their chest. The one guarding the east entrance was busy smoking, and the one guarding the west entrance - the one facing the Freeside wall - looked like he was asleep. Slipping in past them under cover of darkness would've been incredibly easy at the worst of times; with the stealth boy, it was like I didn't even have to pay attention.

Of course, this time, I made sure to bring extra stealth boys. Just in case.

The inside of the compound consisted of a series of small, one-story buildings. I recognized their design - it was the same sort of old world barracks design that the NCR used when they wanted to set up a forward base with structures a bit more solid than tents, but not quite as permanent as something made out of concrete. Aside from the half dozen buildings, I saw a brahmin pen at one end of the compound, and a series of small huts that looked like they could've been merchant stalls, as well as some park benches scattered around in seemingly random places.

Even though I didn't feel like I had to even be all that quiet - this was a civilian outpost, which meant that aside from the two guards, everyone was asleep - I still tried to move as quietly as I could, checking the exteriors of the buildings for any indication of what they were. Most of them were exactly what they looked like, with signs like "Men's Sleeping Quarters" and "Women's Sleeping Quarters," but at the far north end of the compound was a building with a sign that said "Crimson Caravan Main Office."

I tried one of the doors - not the front, but one of the doors on the side - but it was locked. Not all that surprising. If I'm honest, things were going just a bit too smoothly. I looked around over my shoulders, and made sure that nobody was nearby. When I was satisfied nobody was going to see me, I felt around on my arm, and searched for the button on the side of the stealth boy. There was an electric tingle, and I became visible, which let me look for the lockpicking kit I'd brought with me. What can I say, I didn't really feel comfortable enough with being invisible to try picking a lock without seeing what I was doing.

A minute later, the door slid open with a click.

Inside the building was a short hallway, and two empty doorframes leading into a pair of offices. In front of each office was a small metal desk. The air was still and silent, and the few lights from outside spilled in through the windows and a skylight in the center of the hallway, illuminating every speck of dust floating in the air.

I went into the closest office first. Next to the door was a plaque, that read "Don Hostetler: Human Resources Manager." On the desk was a terminal, and a black and white photograph of a very grim-faced man in a suit, standing next to a woman in a dress, and a teenage girl. I hacked into the terminal easily enough. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anything of interest on his computer, except for a series of emails that heavily implied he was having an affair with his secretary.

Content there wasn't anything that I was looking for, I logged off, and started checking the drawers for something. The bottom drawer had reams of paper - it looked like files on every employee of the Crimson Caravan currently working in the Mojave.

Out of a sense of morbid curiosity, I checked to see if I could find... there it was. Lowenthal, Ringo. According to the file, as soon as he returned from Goodsprings, he tried to apply for a position as boss of a caravan trip heading to New Canaan... but the last thing in his file indicated he was sent on a different assignment, but didn't say what it was. It also didn't give any indication that he was dead; he was still scheduled to leave at the middle of next month.

The top drawer, on the other hand, had no files. I saw a 9 millimeter Beretta, a box of ammo, and about half dozen empty jet inhalers.

Right. Plenty of things incriminating this asshole, but not the kind of incriminating that I was hoping for. Time to move on to the next one.

The sign next to the other door said "Alice McLafferty: Vegas Branch Manager." This office was much bigger than the other one - the desk was larger and it looked like it was made out of wood, rather than metal, the wing-back chair behind the desk was leather, and button backed, that sort of thing. There were pictures and certificates lining the wall as well. Almost every picture included the same short-haired, platinum blonde woman wearing a business suit - I assumed that this must have been McLafferty. One of the pictures even showed her shaking hands with Aaron Kimball, the NCR's president. Whoever this Alice really was, she was obviously pretty important back west.

First thing I headed for was the terminal on the desk. The encryption was a little harder than the other terminal, but it was still simple enough to break in. Most of the information was boring spreadsheet after boring spreadsheet, but there was one thing that caught my eye: an email.

Alice-

Your push for a new tariff on Gun Runner weapons didn't make it past the Senate. They've got too much pull in California. We're going to have to find some other way to get the upper hand in the weapons market.

-Jason Tagg, Modoc Branch Manager

The letter to Gloria mentioned something about the Gun Runners as well.. so I downloaded the email to my Pip Boy, along with everything else on the hard drive I thought might be important.

There was one other thing I wanted to check before I left: there was a safe on the floor, next to the desk and hidden out of sight. The lock was a combination turn lock... so I pressed my ear to the safe, and very slowly and very carefully started turning the dial.

Turning... turning... click. Now, the other way.

Turning... turning... turning... still turning... click. Good. Back again.

Half a turn, and the click, which was followed by a dull, low pop as the safe door released.

Like Gloria's safe in the Silver Rush, this safe had plenty of different and varying currencies. But this one had, alongside several pieces of paper, a holotape. I grabbed the papers, and flipped through them - they were all various agreements, signed by both Alice McLafferty and Gloria Van Graff, to undercut or eliminate rival caravan companies in the region. Cassidy Caravans, Griffin Wares, Durable Dunn Caravans, 3-Some Caravan Company, Happy Trails Caravans... even Gun Runner caravans were targeted. I looked at the agreement they'd signed regarding Cassidy Caravans again; it looked like Gloria Van Graff agreed to use mercenaries against the caravan to drive down the company's value, allowing McLafferty to buy the remaining assets at "a bargain price."

I grabbed all the agreements and put them in my jacket, and decided to see what was on the holotape. I checked the bottom of my Pip Boy and pulled out a small cable with a connection on the end, and plugged it into the tape. The screen on my Pip Boy flashed, cycling through lines of code until the contents of the holotape showed up.

At first, I didn't know what I was looking at... but then I saw an electronic design credit: this belonged to the Gun Runners. I kept looking through it, and I could see that these were weapon schematics, stolen from the Gun Runner factory just a couple miles south.

I disconnected my Pip Boy, and grabbed the holotape along with the agreements.

Part of me was sorely tempted to grab some of the cash, but... I'd already been here too long. I closed and locked the safe, back just the way it was, and punched the activation code on my stealth boy.

Time to leave, and get back to the 38. There was a lot I grabbed tonight that I had to stew over... and that included working on an apology for doubting Cass' instinct. Still... at least I had plenty of evidence, and plenty of proof.

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM