Calgary, Alberta Canada March 6th 1939
"In other news today, the police are warning citizens that there have been a rash of house-break ins and robberies. Please be advised to keep your windows and doors locked when you leave and when you are in your house. Events have been reported ranging from all over the city..."
----
"Hey Tidy! You got a request pick up over on 36th!"
"What's the package?" 'Tyson' hefted his bike over one shoulder and a messenger bag over the other, jogging up to the dispatch kiosk.
"No saying, just that you're to get there to pick it up." Neal, the current shift and dispatch supervisor shrugged, Tidy Tyson always had to ask who he was going to and from sometimes. He just chalked it up to the guy wanting to keep his nose clean. Some outfits for couriers ended up with some damn shady characters, and it wasn't always worth the extra scratch for the trouble. "They asked for you specifically. Guess you're making a name for yourself over in that part of town."
"Well, if a good name'll earn me some more good clean money...can't save enough, you know?"
"Hey, ain't you worried about your place, with all these break ins goin on?"
"Nah, I live in too poor a part of town, this Calgary Catburglar's only been hitting middle class places and upwards." Tyson snorted, reading over his other morning deliveries. "Sides that, my bike's the most expensive thing I own."
"...yeah about that..."
"What? I modified it."
"Most people don't modify a Schwinn B-9."
"....so? Look, all I did was fix up the chain on a busted model and made the front and rear crowns to hold a wider tire, and adjust the handlebars." Tyson gave Neal a look. "Nothing illegal, couple of the other guys've done it. Makes for tires that handle the snow and ice better."
"Whatever you say peaches. Don't be late with that sheet."
"Later Neal." Tyson was already out the door, swinging on a helmet and getting his bike down into the slush of the snow.
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"Also in the community news today, Martin Thadgradger, age 54, leader of the Veteran's Support Society, suffered from some sort of collapse in his home today. He is in the hospital at this time, as doctors are looking for a cause to his sudden breakdown. Friends and family members wishing for support can visit the.."
-----
"Mr. Reeves, you are impeccable with your timing and delivery as ever."
"Thank you sir," Tyson smiled and bowed with a slight semi-formal salute to the cleanly dressed man. "I hope to be of service to you in the future."
"Perhaps you will, I have friends who could always use your...unique talents in the future. In the meantime, have a good day, here is your tip."
"...Thank YOU sir,!" He exclaimed looking from the wad of 10's in Mr. Goldschtein's outstretched hand. "I'll remember this."
"Yes, I'm sure you will." The man smiled, closing the door and watching Tyson 'Tidy' Reeves as he got back onto his bike and made his way speedily down the street to his next assignment. "Well, your thoughts on him as a footsoldier?"
"...an improper place for someone with such obvious intelligence and devotion to the cause, but we'll see if he is true later. You're quite certain he's the burglar?"
"Quite. I had him studied for being a...lesser soldier, until I noticed an odd correlation between his delivery stops, and who was robbed. It's just speculation, but it is interesting."
"We'll see how he fares...would he strike us?"
"Never, too loyal to the party."
"Hrrm. We could use someone like him. Have him watched closely."
"Yes, sir."
Outside Tyson smiled, three blocks away as he recieved every word from the rapidly dissolving radio transmitter. There would be no trace that he had heard every word of that conversation...at all.
----
"Hey Tidy! You got a request pick up over on 36th!"
"What's the package?" 'Tyson' hefted his bike over one shoulder and a messenger bag over the other, jogging up to the dispatch kiosk.
"No saying, just that you're to get there to pick it up." Neal, the current shift and dispatch supervisor shrugged, Tidy Tyson always had to ask who he was going to and from sometimes. He just chalked it up to the guy wanting to keep his nose clean. Some outfits for couriers ended up with some damn shady characters, and it wasn't always worth the extra scratch for the trouble. "They asked for you specifically. Guess you're making a name for yourself over in that part of town."
"Well, if a good name'll earn me some more good clean money...can't save enough, you know?"
"Hey, ain't you worried about your place, with all these break ins goin on?"
"Nah, I live in too poor a part of town, this Calgary Catburglar's only been hitting middle class places and upwards." Tyson snorted, reading over his other morning deliveries. "Sides that, my bike's the most expensive thing I own."
"...yeah about that..."
"What? I modified it."
"Most people don't modify a Schwinn B-9."
"....so? Look, all I did was fix up the chain on a busted model and made the front and rear crowns to hold a wider tire, and adjust the handlebars." Tyson gave Neal a look. "Nothing illegal, couple of the other guys've done it. Makes for tires that handle the snow and ice better."
"Whatever you say peaches. Don't be late with that sheet."
"Later Neal." Tyson was already out the door, swinging on a helmet and getting his bike down into the slush of the snow.
-----
"Also in the community news today, Martin Thadgradger, age 54, leader of the Veteran's Support Society, suffered from some sort of collapse in his home today. He is in the hospital at this time, as doctors are looking for a cause to his sudden breakdown. Friends and family members wishing for support can visit the.."
-----
"Mr. Reeves, you are impeccable with your timing and delivery as ever."
"Thank you sir," Tyson smiled and bowed with a slight semi-formal salute to the cleanly dressed man. "I hope to be of service to you in the future."
"Perhaps you will, I have friends who could always use your...unique talents in the future. In the meantime, have a good day, here is your tip."
"...Thank YOU sir,!" He exclaimed looking from the wad of 10's in Mr. Goldschtein's outstretched hand. "I'll remember this."
"Yes, I'm sure you will." The man smiled, closing the door and watching Tyson 'Tidy' Reeves as he got back onto his bike and made his way speedily down the street to his next assignment. "Well, your thoughts on him as a footsoldier?"
"...an improper place for someone with such obvious intelligence and devotion to the cause, but we'll see if he is true later. You're quite certain he's the burglar?"
"Quite. I had him studied for being a...lesser soldier, until I noticed an odd correlation between his delivery stops, and who was robbed. It's just speculation, but it is interesting."
"We'll see how he fares...would he strike us?"
"Never, too loyal to the party."
"Hrrm. We could use someone like him. Have him watched closely."
"Yes, sir."
Outside Tyson smiled, three blocks away as he recieved every word from the rapidly dissolving radio transmitter. There would be no trace that he had heard every word of that conversation...at all.