Pier 21: The Boat Gang Break Bad?

[LucyXpher 1,374]

A couple weeks ago, one of my colleagues at Halfaxa Press, Lauren Lambert, reported on a missing puck.  The first goal puck of Pelayo Bolivar was apparently stolen and sold on eBay by someone looking to make a quick buck at the Boat Gang's expense.  The team managed to recover the puck and return it to the Halifax 21st Museum where it remains to this day.  And while that all sounds like a happy ending, let me just say that happy is not the word I would use and the end is nowhere in sight.  In the two weeks since that story was published, Lauren Lambert has been missing. 

 

Sure, it was possible that she may have taken an unannounced vacation, but the fact that nobody had heard from her in nearly 14 days was cause for concern.  And it didn't end there-- on Monday this week, I had a mysterious package delivered to me in the mail.  The package had no return address, but when I opened the brown envelope I found Lauren's little black notepad with a sticky note on the cover that said, "Remember, remember".  Remember what? And why was Lauren's notepad sent to me of all people?  Eager to follow up on this development, I began pouring through her notes trying to find anything that could provide a clue as to where she has been these past two weeks. 

 

One page in particular stood out to me, however, as it only read, "Pier 21: powder, treason, plots".  It stood out to me because most of the pages in the notepad were filled with scribblings, while this particular page felt empty.  The second thing that tipped me off is that the color of the ink of the "Pier 21" note matched the same blue ink of the sticky note, while the rest of her notes were written in black ink.  It seemed clear that there was a connection here, but what could it be? 

 

On Monday evening, I tucked the notebook in the top left drawer of my desk and left the office for the night.  The next morning, I returned to a shocking sight-- my office had been absolutely trashed!  My laptop was broken on the floor, the drawers of the filing cabinet had been removed forcibly and most of its contents were strewn across the office, and my desk drawers had been rumaged through as well.  My first thought was to check to see what was missing, and sure enough, it was Lauren's little black notepad.  Someone had clearly rooted through my office searching for it.  I thought back to the time I spent reading through it the day before and nothing came to mind as being particularly out of the ordinary-- except that strange connection between the sticky note and the "Pier 21" page.  

 

I slumped in my office chair, dismayed and perplexed at the state of my office, still puzzling over the notepad and who would have wanted it so badly.  I sat there for a few moments staring blankly at my broken laptop when I heard a co-worker of mine, Vincent, mumbling a rhyme to himself as he wandered down the hallway, coffee cup in hand.  

 

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot.  I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot".

 

As I heard this, I leapt out of my chair and bolted out of my office towards him, startling him so much that he spilled his hot coffee.  "Where did you hear that," I demanded, "are you the one who tore my office apart?"

 

Vincent looked confused, "Your office? What are you talking about?" He peeked around me towards my gaping office door and noticed the mess that remained.  "Jeez, Lemon, what happened in there?"

 

"That rhyme," I pressed, "where did you hear it? I need to know!"

 

"What rhyme? What are you on about?"

 

"Remember, remember-- what's that whole thing about? Where did you hear it?"

 

"Oh, that?  That's just a little thing from this graphic novel I'm reading."
 

"What, like a comic book?"

 

"I mean, yeah, basically, it's just longer."

 

"Show me!"

 

"What, like now?"

 

"Yes, now! It's important!"  I hustled Vincent back to his office where he produced a book from his backpack with what looked to be a white "Anonymous" mask on the cover.  "V For Vendetta." I read aloud, "What's it about?"

 

"Um, well it's kinda hard to explain, but basically it's this vigilante guy who models himself as a modern Guy Fawkes who fights against a tyranical gov--"

 

I didn't let him finish, "Okay, but what's that little rhyme about?"

 

"Oh, here, let me show you where it's from."  Vincent flipped to a page in the book and showed me an eerie image of the masked man with a hat staring ominously at what looked to be an exploding clocktower.  The speech bubble above his head contained the entirety of the rhyme.

 

The reference from V for Vendetta (above)

 

"Vincent, I need your book."

 

"What? What for?"

 

"You'll get it back soon, don't worry." I snatched the book and started out of his office, walking quickly back towards my personal warzone.  I heard Vincent calling after me, though I didn't bother to turn and answer him.

 

I spent the next four hours devouring the graphic novel and while the story was compelling, I finished with a sinking feeling that I was no closer to answering my questions.  The reference seemed clear, but what did it mean?

 

"Remember, remember..."

"Pier 21: powder, treason, plots"

 

Then I remembered, today was the 5th of November!

 

Could the cryptic notes be a reference to something that was happening today? But where? And when?  My eyes were drawn to the clock that hung on the wall-- one of the few things that had remained in its proper place-- and it was as if the universe was speaking to me.  5:11 pm.  What if something was planned for 11:05pm? And what if, of all places, it was going down at Pier 21?  My mind raced with this realization, going over any and all other possibilities, but nothing made more sense.  

 

I stayed in my office, too nervous to leave, too preoccupied to address the mess, but too anxious to sit still.  So I paced back and forth across the files scattered on the office floor, mulling over everything that had transpired, trying to come up with some theory as to what I might find at the pier that night.  At 10pm I grabbed my bag, left the building, and drove to Pier 21.  When I arrived around 10:15, I looked for a place where I could hunker down and watch the area without being seen.  An old Canadian National railcar outside the main terminal bordered by a hedge seemed to be my best bet.  I hopped over the hedge and tried the door on the railcar-- locked, of course.  So I decided to settle down behind the hedge, hoping that it would provide enough cover in the dark.  

 

The Canadian National Railcar (above)

 

It was a chilly November night and as the minutes ticked by it felt like an eternity. I began to shiver.  At exactly 11:05pm, a black Mustang crawled up the road past the railcar with its headlights off and parked on the edge of the traffic button directly in front of the Pier 21 museum.  The dark tinted windows meant that I couldn't make out the driver, but it wouldn't matter as only a moment later another vehicle started up the road to my right.  This one was a black van, also with its headlights off.  The van rolled up to the traffic button and parked across the circle from the Mustang.  From my vantage point I could see both vehicles clearly as their occupants emerged.  

 

Three dark figures in trench coats and newsboy caps exited the black van and moved to the rear of the vehicle.  As they stepped under the streetlight I could make out their faces-- the tallest was "Novocaine" Petr Novak, flanked by "Robbertoe" Xhekajs Middletoe and "El Sidrero" Pelayo Bolivar.  They pulled open the back doors and Novak dragged another figure out of the van-- this person was smaller, their face was covered with a black canvas bag and their hands were tied-- a hostage!  The three Boat Gang members escorted their captive away from the van towards the traffic button where they met the hooded driver of the Mustang who had also exited his vehicle with a briefcase in hand.   He was trailed closely behind by a man in a pork pie hat with sunglasses, which was an odd choice for the middle of the night-- but then nothing about this whole situation was normal.

 

An artist's sketch of the man in the pork pie hat (above)

 

As everyone converged, I heard Novak greet the others in what I could only guess was Czech, and while I couldn't understand what they were saying, by their gestures and tone it seemed like there was some negotiation about the briefcase and the hostage.  Novak made a motion towards the briefcase and the man holding it handed it to his chapeaued colleague who opened it, revealing it's contents to the adjacent party.  I was a good distance away, but from what I could tell the briefcase did not contain money but some other white substance-- my hunch is cocaine.  The hooded man reached into the briefcase and pulled out a white brick, hefting it in his hand while continuing to chat, almost proudly.  He returned the brick to the briefcase and after a nod of approval from Novak, he clicked the case shut.  It was then that the hooded man drew his hood back and revealed his face.  I was shocked when I recognized him as none other than Prague Phantoms goaltender Ondrej Vencko!  What was he doing here in Halifax and what kind of deal was he a part of?

 

My mind raced once again with theories and I thought back to some articles Lauren Lambert had written back when Vencko played with Houston.  Vencko was known then for being a bit of a loose canon and there were even allegations that he may have been involved in the drug trade.  Come to think of it, he was even linked to notorious Czech drug dealer, Valtr Bílý.  And as I looked at the man in the pork pie hat, I had a sudden realization that he was him-- the Heisenberg of the Czech drug world.  After all this time it turned out that the rumors were true-- Vencko did know Bílý, or had at least come to know him-- and now it seemed they were involved in some kind of shady business with the Boat Gang!

 

Boat Gang (Left to Right: "Novocaine" Petr Novak, "Robbertoe" Xhekajs Middletoe, and "El Sidrero" Pelayo Bolivar)

 

The attention of everyone then turned to the hostage as "Robbertoe" shoved them forward and reached out to remove the black bag from the person's head.  It was Lauren Lambert!  At first I was relieved to see that she was alive and seemingly unharmed, but then I began to fear what might happen to her and why she was apparently part of this deal.  Vencko stepped towards her and his demeanor changed.  Somehow he seemed more compassionate and concerned-- a shift from the aura he had exuded only moments before.  He murmured something to Lauren in a low voice before nodding to Novak.  Bílý, who had been holding the briefcase still, stepped forward to stand next to "El Sidrero" as Vencko simultaneously escorted Lauren back towards the Mustang.  The Boat Gang members. now with Bílý in tow, turned heel and the four of them piled into the black van and drove off.  Meanwhile, Vencko proceeded to pull a rather large knife from his leather jacket and used it to cut Lauren free.  Apparently he had no intention of keeping her hostage, but his motivations remained unclear.  Vencko then escorted Lauren to the passenger seat of the vehicle and opened the door for her as she climbed inside.  Returning to the driver's side, Vencko himself entered the vehicle and it roared to life.  With the squeal of tires, Vencko kicked the back end of the car out as he rounded the traffic button and peeled off down the road away from the museum.  

 

I waited a few minutes before I dared move.  I had no idea what I had just witnessed-- a drug deal? A rescue? A trade?  What did the Boat Gang want with Valtr Bílý?  And what motivation did Vencko have for ransoming Lauren?  When enough time had passed, I walked back to my vehicle around the side of the pier and drove home in silence, mulling over everthing and still coming down from the adrenaline rush of the whole experience.  When I got home, I plunked down on the sofa and stayed there the entire night.  I didn't sleep a wink.

 

The next morning I returned to the office and was surprised to see Lauren there.  She was in the staff kitchen showing off photos of her trip to Spain... you know, where she had been for the past two weeks.  I had to shake my head to make sure I wasn't in some weird dream state, but it was all real. Stranger still, when I returned to my office, I found it had been restored to it's previous condition-- the whole mess had been cleaned up and my previously broken laptop sat open on my desk as though nothing at all had happened.  Very odd indeed-- though not as peculiar as the little yellow sticky note on the laptop screen.  Written on the paper in blue ink was the message, "We do it for the lore! - Ben".  

 

Dear reader, I have no idea what is going on.  I don't know who Ben is and, quite frankly, this whole ordeal has made me feel like I'm losing my mind.  What lore? Do what?  The best thing I can think to do is write everything down to share with you in hopes that someone can piece this together.  I don't know if it's even safe for me to write this, but in the event that I go missing, look for me at the bottom of the harbor.

 

༻❁༺

Lemon LaCroix for Halfaxa Press

11/6/2024

2300+ words

Spoiler

@SMYLS4 @Xhekajsleftankle @LastGoon007 @Mutti

 

Edited 5 hours ago by LucyXpher

[Mutti 181]

"I sure wonder who is this Ben guy and what lore does he mean.."

- Ben Icio del Torro

 

"My attorney advised me not to comment on this rather thrilling story."

- Ondrej Vencko

 

"This is awesome. Beautifully structured, perfectly paced.

.. Now it's my turn to develop the lore, I guess.."

- Mutti

[LucyXpher 1,374]

18 minutes ago, Mutti said:

"I sure wonder who is this Ben guy and what lore does he mean.."

- Ben Icio del Torro

I wonder...