The Storm Maker by Sid K Page A

small quantities. The gold ships
could easily pay enough fees to port owners to keep them in profit at the same
time leaving underutilized a significant ship handling capacity. The Gold
Harbor port owners took this opportunity to offer massive discounts to west
coast shippers up and down the coast, bankrupting their competitor ports all
the way down to Southstar, where finally the cost of transportation made
Southstar port price competitive with Gold Harbor.
           Presently
the city generated much more commerce out of its ports and its shipping than it
did out of gold mining, refining and jewelry work; but all of it was built on
the back of the shiny yellow metal.
           Sayett
drove for another hour, driving slower at around seventy miles per hour as he
passed through the city itself, all the way to the other side. Here were the
most expensive neighborhoods of Gold Harbor. Here were vast palaces of old
mining tycoons, majestic mansions of port and ship owners, big beautiful
bungalows of industrialists, all of them facing the ocean and one amongst them
was the palatial residence of Duke Ragfelvyk.
           Sayett
drove up to the house of Duke. The property itself was shaped as a square
surrounded with walls of concrete and one door of blue steel bars, large enough
for two cars, located in the center of the front wall facing the ocean view.
Sayett pulled up to the gate. There were no guards outside but there were a
couple of them inside. They kept their rifles well hidden underneath their
coats.
           Sayett
knew Duke was a much more social fellow than Mr. Barryvk who was content to
live on the outskirts away from most people. Duke on the other hand liked to
hobnob with the rich and powerful of Gold Harbor. Thus he did his utmost to
conceal his source of wealth. Some of his high class friends probably knew,
some others might have suspected, but for his part, he did not give an image of
being an intimidating underworld don, but on the contrary was known for his
joviality in the parties.
           And
thus the concealment of his tough, muscled gunmen behind the walls, away from
the sight of the city elites who might take a drive or stroll along the coastal
road.
           The
two guards walked up to Sayett’s car and asked of his business.
           Sayett
showed his badge to the guards and said, “I am from SPASI and I am here to meet
Duke Ragfelvyk. However, I am here on a friendly visit, just to talk, no legal
matters at all.”
           “Duke
is out now, but wait here,” one of the guards said. He walked over to a small
guardhouse and returned a couple of minutes later. “His son Dayett Ragfelvyk
will see you. Drive up to the car parking on the left side of the house and the
guards will escort you to him.”
           They
opened the gates for him and Sayett drove inside. Ahead of him was a large,
forty-to-fifty room, three story mansion in the center of a sprawling well-maintained
lawn. He looked out of his windows to his right and left and saw gunmen with
rifles on their shoulders patrolling the length and breadth of the walls from
inside. He drove into the parking on the left and got out as two men walked up
to him and led him to the back of the mansion. They were not openly carrying
guns, but Sayett did not doubt that they were packing pistols.
           There
was a big swimming pool in the back. Chairs and tables had been set up all
around it but only one set of them was presently occupied. A young man in a
swimsuit was wiping water from his slightly surly hair with a towel. A pretty
young girl, also in a swimsuit, with long hair and long legs was standing next
to him and waiting on him.
           The
two men pointed Sayett to the young man and then stood in the distance where
they could not hear the conversation but could watch from afar.
           “I
will come pick you up tonight,” the man said to the girl.
           She
nodded, kissed him and