March 10, 2008
Peterson Trucking, outside of Manchester, NH

"It came through without a hitch, Mister Romanov. Mister MacDonald was very cooperative in helping the loan go through. A quarter of a million dollars will buy a lot of trucks as well as a terminal upgrade in Lebanon, and a smaller one down in Boston if I do it right and use that contracting company my wife's cousin owns... yeah... he'll usually give me a good deal... honest too... least with me," Roland Peterson said into the phone, as a wide grin remained plastered to his face. Everything had been working beautifully, and the money had started to roll in with new contracts from Boston and out of Maine and Canada, and that airport deal had been wonderful, allowing him to save money by paying his truckers less for the short hauls, but still keep the thick transportation contract.

"Goot," spoke the voice on the other end of the phone, "As you can see, Roland, everythink has gone as ve have planned. I am vorkink on a very large contract for you... it is comink soon. It vill be comink out of your Conneticutt branch... I vould propose havink a few more trucks down there in a few months, and men ve can trust to.... remain discreet."

Roland sat up straight at those words, "Whoa... we're not talking about smuggling here are we? I can lose my license for shit like that if my trucks are off weight by even a few pounds and they get inspected."

The voice chuckled softly, "Nyet, comrade. Merely a client who vishes to keep themselves very private. Nothink illegal vill be shipped, just thinks of great importance."

Roland nodded to himself, "I'll see what I can do... so long as it's not illegal, I don't think there'll be a problem." Roland usually limited his illegal activities to bribery, when both sides had a great deal to lose and loyalty was easily enforced that way.

"See to that, Roland. I vill call you later, vhen I have more news for you. Until then, enjoy the vodka I sent you. Dosvadonya." The line then went dead.

Roland Peterson took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He was moving in on Peter Milford's territory up in Lebanon, but there was just too much money to ignore there, and he had to go for it, and with the bank money rolling in he could afford to try.

March 11, 2008
Hartford, CT

"Yes, Lord Regent, the increase in manpower has been proceeding as planned," spoke the Apprentice.

John Reis made a sharp gesture, cutting off anything else the apprentice had to say, "Good. You are dismissed." The apprentice bobbed her head and scurried from the office of the Regent of Hartford Chantry.

Once alone, Reis turned to the safe that had replaced one of the drawers of his mahogany desk, opening the faux wood panel to reveal the electronic combination lock. After a few taps of the buttons on it, and extracted an object about twelve inches long. It could have been a stake, if not wrapped in paper and bound with twine. After shutting the safe and moving the object to a regular drawer within the desk, a light rapping came on the door, followed by Reis' call of "Enter!"

Albert Yeardley entered, "Lord Regent, you called me?"

"Yes, Apprentice Yeardley. Shut the door," Reis said with a smile. Once privacy was assured, "The splinter servant is ready, Apprentice. Are you ready to fill your role."

Yeardley nodded, "Yes, Lord Regent. I shall do as the Clan requires."

"Good. Your target will be returning the chantry three evenings hence. Do you have any questions concerning the plan?"

"No, Lord Regent."

"Good," and Reis smiled even further, like a cat who had just caught a mouse. John Diamond, Pontifex for the House and Clan Tremere was in for a /nasty/ surprise.