083 THE CASE OF THE MISSING KITCHEN ORDER
Damen's smile stayed. "Someone wants to kill me? I'm really surprised … lot of people would like that, if they had the guts."
"This is serious." Dorin shut the door behind her and dropped into a bench. "It involves the Order of the Black Cockerel."
Damen's grin faded. "The Black Cockerel? What did I do to… wait a minute who the heck is Black Cock?"
"It's not a who," Dorin cut in. "It's an order — a covert assassination society. They are efficient, anonymous, and… untouchable."
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Our intelligence unit intercepted the contract," she said.
"Then you should bloody arrest those Black Cocks if you intercepted their contracts? How hard is it to arrest some killers?" he asked.
"Erm… we are still investigating the Order. Their operation is too secretive", she replied.
Damen rolled his eyes before replying, "Who the hell wants me dead?"
"We don't know. Not even the Black Cockerel knows the client," Dorin said. "That's their business model: absolute secrecy and deniability. Customers pay through anonymous channels; the Order never reveals who hired them because even they don't know."
Damen leaned back, thinking. "So, what's your plan?"
"You stay in the gym. Don't go back to school for now. Don't leave the building," Dorin advised. "With your current stats, you could graduate high school outright. There is no need for school. It'd be safer for you to train here."
Damen shook his head, a slow smile forming. "No. We don't hide. We take the fight to them. We have a killer organization to bust."
Dorin's jaw tightened. "You mean we hunt the Order of the Black Cockerel?"
"Yes." He stood before clapping his hand, "Now we've got work to do."
Dorin stared at him for a long second, then nodded once — not because she trusted his recklessness, but because she trusted him.
-----
"Do we have any leads on the Order of the Cockerel?" Damen asked.
Lander looked up from his data pad. "I didn't assign you to this case."
"Come on," Dorin said. "Damen's talented. He might notice something we've missed."
Lander smirked.
He was the SIA's top detective. He didn't need an intern's help… but Dorin wasn't wrong. Damen had a knack for seeing what others overlooked.
"Our tech specialists couldn't trace the client's network or the Black Cockerel's," Lander said. "We only intercepted the contract on your head—and the payment amount: one million Aurs. That's all we've got so far."
Damen frowned in thought. "Not matter how efficient, a crime organization can't be flawless. There must be a pattern, a signature, something we missed."
"Let's start simple," Lander said. "Who would want you dead?"
"Me?" Damen asked, then he smiled wryly. "A million Aurs narrows it down. Those who could afford such a crime… Probably one of three families—the Veyrans, the Zetheris, or the Aukuomas."
"Can we check their financial records?" Dorin asked. "See who's recently spent a million unaccounted for?"
Lander's fingers danced across his data pad. A moment later, a list flickered onto the holo-screen.
Desline Fair, Veyran Industries – withdrew 2,000,000 Aurs, no official record.
Wayne Bore, Aukuoma Industries – withdrew 5,000,000 Aurs, no official record.
Garius Zetheris – transferred 1,000,000 Aurs to Shawn Zetheris.
Damen's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Garius transferred a million to his son, Shawn?"
"Let's dig into Shawn," he said.
Lander typed again, scrolling through the data stream. "Interesting. Shawn received the money, but there's no record of what he spent it on. No purchases, no transfers, no asset trails."
"So, Shawn Zetheris could be our client?" Dorin said slowly.
Damen nodded. "Check everywhere he went after the School Challenge. That was where I must have pissed him enough to make him kill me with a contract."
Moments later, a list appeared:
School
Black Owl Club
Gym
Six O'Clock Diner
"There are too many places that he went," Dorin said. "Where do we start?"
"We start from the places that doesn't seem to fit", Lander suggested.
Damen leaned closer, studying the list. "Wait. Why did Shawn Zetheris eat at the Six O'Clock Diner?"
"It's just a popular diner," Dorin said. "I've been there myself. The food is okay and the price is reasonable. What's strange about that?"
Lander's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Someone like Shawn Zetheris doesn't eat in a common diner like us. He lives on five-star menus. If he went there, it wasn't for the food."
The room went quiet as the implication sank in.
"You've got a point", Lander admitted with a smile.
Damen crossed his arms. "Then that's where our trail begins."
-----
Lander sat in an unmarked van across from the Six O'Clock Diner, watching the flow of customers through the glass doors. The place was busy, packed with office workers, students, and families — a steady stream from morning till night.
"Maybe we're barking up the wrong tree," Dorin said, scanning the crowd through her handheld scope.
"There are too many people coming and going. We can't possibly check every one of them. The Black Cockerel could've just sent an agent to meet Shawn there. The diner itself might just be a meeting place. We won't achieve much by waiting here all night," she elaborated.
Lander didn't agree.
His instincts were prickled. "In the past week, several upper-society patrons have come here, usually alone, and with no reservations. There's a pattern."
"Did any of them meet someone?" Damen asked. "That might be our link."
Lander tapped a few commands on his data pad, projecting several surveillance clips onto a holo-screen. They watched footage of the VIP diners. Each visitor entered, sat alone, tapped something on the tablet menu, paid, and left shortly after.
No one approached them. There was no exchange at all.
"There's nothing suspicious about ordering food," Dorin said, frowning.
Damen didn't answer.
He replayed each clip carefully, his eyes narrowing at small details — timestamps, body language, transaction moments. After every video, he shook his head. "Next one."
Finally, after the last clip, the one showing Shawn Zetheris — Damen leaned back in his seat. "Do you notice what's common in all of them?"
Lander glanced at him with a knowing smile, "Go on."
"They all paid for their orders," Damen said slowly, "but none of them stayed to eat. Not one. Including Shawn Zetheris. They didn't eat the food that they ordered and paid for."
A faint smile crept across Lander's face. "I noticed that too. And here's the more interesting part — the kitchen never received their orders. The system shows no record of any meals prepared for those tables either."
Dorin's brow furrowed. "Wait …. if the kitchen didn't get the orders, then where did the payments go?"
Lander looked up at the diner again, his eyes narrowing. "That," he said quietly, "is exactly what we're going to find out."
"Shall we call this the case of the Missing Kitchen Order?" Dorin asked in jest.