From: dwrigley@waikato.ac.nz
Subject: The Family -- Intro 1
Date: 14 Jun 93 11:41:15 GMT

The following is my first attempt at a post. It's an idea that has been
buzzing around for sometime now, but I finally got up the courage to put on
the screen. Hope you like it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Geyadin Novarov stood slowly, rising from his leather padded chair. He looked
at the two men that had been shown into the room by the guard at the door. The
first was just over six foot, and solidly built. His cheap suit jacket and
nervous glances gave away his inexperience in the game of "business". He was a
new bodyguard, always a dangerous sign. Somebody doesn't bring a man like this
to a meeting of this potential importance, unless there is no one else.

Geyadin felt the first twinges of doubt about the success of this meeting. He
turned to meet the other man just under half way across the room, assessing him
as he advanced.

The other was tall, thin almost to the point of being gaunt, but had an air of
menace. He was dressed in a light blue suit, obviously expensively tailor-made
and nearly brand new. He carried himself with the composure of a very confident
businessman of the San Fran underworld. The two men did not belong together,
unless thing's were really desperate.

"Geyadin, my friend, it is so good to see you again." He reached out and
embraced Geyadin, gently and respectfully. "I am so pleased that your
studies went so well. The Don must be so proud of you, as are we all. I am so
happy that you made the time to see me this afternoon, especially at such short
notice."

"I am always pleased to make time for my guides from my childhood, Mikhail. You
are looking well. Come, have a seat. Can I get you a drink of anything?"

"No, I am fine thank you, but please, don't let me stop you. I hope that you
are getting the feel for real world again, away from those books and cases.
Harvard is still keeping itself distinct from the sprawl I presume."

"Indeed it is," replied Geyadin, "indeed it is. But let us move on. Can I help
you with anything? Please just ask, and I will see if I can help you."

Mikhail sat forward, steering at Geyadin, fixing him with his pale blue eyes.
There was no trace of cyberware about the steer, just the look of a desperate
man held in check.

"My investments have not gone well. I have been blocked by a number of street
punks. They have been too organised to just be that though. I think there is a
corp behind them."

"Isn't that always the way with the Japanese. They block the private business
man with their size. But they are weak. They focus too much on profit. But
please, do continue my friend." Geyadin slowly sipped at his vodka, relishing
the bite of the drink.

"Geyadin, you are respected. The Don adopted you into his household, almost
made you a son of his. You have influence. Please, ask him to help me. Rid me
of these punks that have harrassed me for the last year, shut down my stores,
killed my guards, left me in ruins. For the help I gave you fifteen years ago,
when your father died, help me now."

"Mikhail, I remember well the friend that you were, after my father was shot.
But please, I am not an advisor to the Don, I only help the Consigliori. I
advise on the law, but I will ask for what help I can get. I cannot even ask the
Don directly, I do not know if I will be able to help you, but I will try.
Thank you for remembering me and visiting." Geyadin stood, obviously dismissing
the older man, Mikhail rose from his chair, embraced Geyadin, turned and moved
to the door, where Ruganov, his bodyguard still stood. The bodyguard opened the
door for his employer, looking slightly worried about the lack of apparent
success from their visit, but quickly concealing it at Mikhail's glance.

Mikhail turned and looked at Geyadin. "Thank you for time this afternoon. I
appreciate you remembering me and seeing me. I look forward to hearing from you
again and soon." He turned and left, Rugalov following him through. The guard
outside the doors closed them behind them as they left.

Geyadin sighed and sat back down, slowly relaxing and thinking about the
predicament of his friend, waiting for Piotr, the consigliori to enter.
Carefully he sipped the vodka again, looking at how little he had drinken, and
feeling thankful of it. Piotr disapproved of most drinking during business, but
he needed the comfort of the glass in his hand sometimes. A pistol or a pen
made people nervous, but a glass they trusted.

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Usual disclaimers, copyrights, requests for comments, etc appended.

This is my first attempt, so tell me if I should keep on going {;-)

Danny Wrigley ) 1993.

dwrigley@waikato.ac.nz