Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Devil's Due ❯ - 55 - ( Chapter 55 )

— 55 —

March 23, A.C. 205. Base. 1 am

“Ha,” Jordan muttered quietly, sitting up straighter. He’d been right in assuming that Turrell wasn’t in China.

Chance had forced him not to dig out the laptop for their flight home. Pretty much as soon as they’d stepped off the plane, Mouthy had called from Mario’s phone…which had led to Chance talking to the guy as they left the airport. Mario had then called Jordan himself and they’d talked as they started back for the base…which had then been followed by Jor calling his second. That conversation had taken them back to the base. The result was he hadn’t gotten to look at his information until something like twelve or twelve-thirty.

“I knew it,” he added, poking his friend with his foot. “It’s a phone based from China, but that’s not its location.”

Chance opened is eyes to give him a dark look, then rolled his eyes and sat forward. He looked around the house a moment, then at the clock in the corner of the laptop. “You letting me take that?”

“Not right now, no,” Jor returned easily. “I won’t lose it, I promise.”

Chance snorted at him as he rubbed his eyes, then shoved out of his seat. “You knew he wasn’t in China, dumb-ass.”

“Yes, but what I know and what’s true aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Chance informed him, kicking his leg…and nearly falling as Jordan grabbed it. He started laughing and shook free as his friend grinned evilly at him. “I’m going home and going to bed. My wife smells better than you.”

“And is, you know, your wife,” Jordan agreed.

Chance flashed him a grin, grabbing up his jacket and moving tiredly to the door. “Don’t stay up all night.”

“Shoulda told me that an hour ago,” Jor suggested, glancing at the clock himself.

“Night,” Chance muttered, deciding that wasn’t worth arguing about. He yawned to himself as he moved into the cool night air, gathering his jacket against his chest. If he didn’t live as close as he did, he would have bothered putting the thing on…but it would be pointless as the situation stood.

His house was quiet as he moved into it, locking the door and looking around a moment so his eyes adjusted.

“You want me to go?” Raul’s voice was tired.

“No, just crash,” the man returned, moving to push his son’s door open. From the light of the nightlight, he saw the boy was well asleep and smiled slightly to himself as he moved forward to kiss the kid’s temple. “Love you,” he whispered, then turned and moved back from the room.

Raul had settled down again, probably back into sleep, so Chance dropped his jacket on a chair before pushing into his bedroom.

“Hm?” Shin asked tiredly.

“Shh,” Chance returned, moving to kiss her. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

She smiled at him, then poked him. “I was about to freak out on you…”

“What? Why?” he gave her a confused look as he started to pull his shirt off.

“I thought you were Raul,” she retorted.

“What would Raul be doing in here?” he asked blankly.

“Exactly,” she retorted.

…and Chance remembered that she was an Angels girl. The thing about the slum area was how certain arrangements played out, including sex in exchange for services. She might know that in reality, there was no way in hell the man would ask her for that exchange, but it had been something deeply ingrained in her most of her life.

He sighed slightly to himself. “You can trust him, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” she muttered quietly. “But it’s weird.”

“Not when me and Jor set him up to do it…you haven’t been bitchy to him, have you?”

“Chai said the same thing,” Shin noted. “I tried not to be.”

“Good,” Chance muttered, kissing her again and moving back for the bathroom.

“Why were you gone? That was you I heard pulling in, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chance agreed, flicking the light on. “Jor has my laptop.”

“Why?” Shin asked blankly, rolling over to press her eyes into her pillow.

“Because the genius forgets we have a wireless network, forgot to take his machine with him, and is so focused on finishing his task that he’s overlooking fine details.”

She snorted.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Chance added, and closed the bathroom door.

- -

March 23, A.C. 205. Zenica, Tanzania. 3 pm

The former colonel, Stanly Turrell, was pensive as he stared out at the street in front of his house. His mother had praised his friends highly, saying they were such gentlemen, they’d spoken beautiful Spanish, and had made the yard look beautiful.

Problem was, he didn’t remember anyone named Burion or Donn…and the guy he had looking up the records was coming up with nothing. The description his mother had given him had been severely generic as well. Two men, the one was Caucasian and the other was Asian, probably Japanese. They both had popular male haircuts and the bearing of a soldier…which probably described half of the military. Well, the haircuts suggested officer’s ranking, since un-ranked soldiers all had the same haircut…

It could easily have been government officials, but Stan didn’t figure they’d have come in pretending…and he didn’t need that on top of trying to rebuff Xu’s claims. Chaoxiang Xu…the dumb ass. Instead of trying to press his own innocence he’d fucked it all to be sure his lover got off scott-free to go back to the Americas. His lawyer was fighting something of a rear-guard action, and it looked like the blond kingpin was getting five years…only five.

Actually, that was strange as far as Stan was concerned. The reports he’d gotten from his various men all noted that out of all the weapons found on the premise of Xu’s apartment, none of them matched the majority of the murders thought to have been performed by the man. Stan also knew that Xu kept his records in a note-book…stupid, in his eyes…but that notebook had vanished as well. He’d sent a guy in to get it, because his own name had been listed in the thing, and they’d come back empty-handed.

A man moved by in front of the house, looking around the parking-area in front of the garage. He looked the house over briefly, then moved on up the road, still admiring the yard, and Stan turned back to sit in his desk.

He was disturbed that someone wanting to find him had gone to her, ex-comrade or no. His mother was a good woman, and he’d worked things out to be sure that if he ever went down, she wasn’t touched for it. She would never, in any way, approve of what he was doing, so he made sure she never had to disapprove.

And why, with the most sophisticated network of people at his command, couldn’t anyone find out who Tyler Donn or Dane Burion were? If they were really military, they’d have records…and if they weren’t military what were they doing around his mother?

Stan frowned darkly and grabbed his cell phone.

He was sending some people to his mother. They wouldn’t interfere with her in any way, but they’d make damn sure she was out of danger.

He had a feeling things weren’t going to end well.

- -

Xane cursed to himself as he moved into the convenience store at the end of his bus-ride. He’d seen someone from the house standing in the window, so he’d had to abort his little side-trip to the place…which meant he got to play in the dark. There didn’t seem to be any dogs on the premise, but he was going to go watch the house before he even tried to breach the fence-line.

“Long lunch?” a woman from the team teased as he moved back into their building.

Xane smiled at her as Mario watched him. “I lost track of time, sorry, guys.”

“It’s all right…there’s a gentlemen waiting to see you,” she pointed toward the back.

Xane moved toward his office with interest to see one of the guys who’d been watching them sit up suspiciously. He smiled at the man, offering his hand. “Hi, I’m Ranger Dwight…how can I help you?”

“Hi, Ranger,” the man muttered, rising to his feet to shake that hand. “My name’s Jeremy…I was told it was you I should speak with.”

“Right this way, please,” Xane muttered, moving into his office. As part of their cover, he and Judas were in the top two of the separate mission groups. That meant that they could have people in their offices to talk privately and gain trust. On the flip side, it also meant that they both had the many menial duties of upper staff-men. They had to decide on the amount of help they could give each individual, and that meant lots and lots of desk time.

“I’ve been trying for a few weeks to get some assistance with my rent,” the man said quietly, sitting down. “I was getting paid fairly highly for a while,” he added, pulling out some pieces of paper Xane realized were pay stubs. “But as you can see,” he set three down in focus, “my wages have gone down…and since I had that time of more, I’m not eligible for assistance in any local place…and I think next month I should be all right, but my rent is two weeks late and I barely have enough for food.”

“Wow,” Xane muttered, impressed that he was as ready as he was. It suggested to the spy two things. He had been trying, and he was willing to try anything. “Well…let’s see…how much is your rent?”

“Five hundred,” the man said tiredly, running his hands over his face. “I was earning enough for that and food before, but now…”

“Is your landlord willing to wait at all?”

“No, he said that if I don’t have it by Friday I need to get out.”

“Hm,” Xane muttered, logging into their database. “I believe you,” he noted, “but I have to have proof of the hour change. Once I document the proof, we can start talking checks.”

The man sat up to look at him in amazement.

Xane smiled slightly at him. “We’re here to help, huh? These stubs count as one proof, but do you have a written notice?”

The man was still staring at him, but he did change focus to fumble around in his pockets…and pull out another piece of paper.

“And this wasn’t enough for the local help places?” he asked in confusion, unfolding the thing to note an official letter of apology.

“The pay stubs,” he said with a sigh. “Most of them require the last six.”

“That’s harsh,” Xane noted, starting the scanner program. “Can I get your I.D. for this, too?”

“Of course,” the guy muttered, digging into his pocket for his wallet. “You’re not seriously telling me this is this easy. There has to be a catch.”

“When the need is genuine, we can hop on it, but it’s not an ongoing thing. You really will have to make it next month cash-wise, but we have food boxes and clothing assistance. Do you have any children? A wife?”

“It’s…just me,” he noted, resting his hands on the desk as Xane situated the card and five of the pay-stubs on the scanner front. “My family lives inland.”

“Married?” Xane asked with interest.

“Not yet,” the guy admitted with a slight smile. “I know a girl…but my family is more my sister and her husband…their kids.”

“What do they think of you being here?” Xane asked curiously as the scanner finished, saving the picture with the file he’d just created.

“They’re worried,” the guy admitted, frowning. “They don’t like me living on the river here with the threats and everything,” he gestured toward the river.

“Threats?” Xane asked blankly, meeting the man’s eyes.

“The government isn’t saying anything,” he explained, “but Mozambique is being a little questionable…everyone’s worried about it. They want both sides of the river.”

“That doesn’t seem likely,” Xane protested. “The I.E.C. would step in.”

“I think the I.E.C. is in on it,” the man noted, shrugging. “You note they don’t have anyone over here investigating this? It’s being said that in exchange for giving Mozambique the land they’ll be able to collect a land tax.”

“The I.E.C. doesn’t charge land taxes,” Xane was stumped by that one...

“How do they run, then?”

“They take a fraction of the government taxes,” Xane explained, tilting his head. “It’s about two percent.”

The man raised an eyebrow at that.

“They also recruit world-wide…so they have soldiers from everywhere.”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy muttered, still seeming skeptical. “I suppose you know what you’re talking about, but I’m still sleeping with my gun under my pillow.”

Xane did that anyway. He shrugged slightly at the man and passed the stubs and I.D. card back. “How many people think this?”

“Most of the city,” he shrugged. “You know how it is, you know a guy who knows a guy who heard it himself…that sort of thing.”

“Strange…wait, you have a firearm? You have a permit?”

“No,” the man admitted with a frown. “But that’s not going to stop me from protecting myself.”

“How’d you get it?” Xane asked in amazement.

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” Jeremy explained with a slight smirk. “It’s all the same…you need one? I could get you one for a small finder’s fee.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Xane returned, grinning as he rolled his eyes and set the apology letter on the scanner. “What’s the gang set up here-abouts? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“You’re stepping on toes anyway,” the man noted in amusement. “Everyone is wary of any outsiders, so your being here sets their hair on end.”

“We’re just trying to help,” Xane protested, sitting back to frown at him.

“I’ll get the word out, huh?” the man started tucking his stubs away. “You can really…get me the money?”

“We’re just starting; our funding isn’t tight yet…in another six months I may not be able to do as much, but for now…I’ll do what I can.”

The guy smiled slightly at him again, then nodded his head appreciatively.

“You’re not going to tell me any of the gang stuff?” Xane added, tilting his head.

“There are one or two around, but they should all know you’re outsiders and not trying to get in on the territory. You’ll get warned if you start pissing too many people off.”

“Hm,” Xane made a face. “That’s what I hate about new situations,” he shrugged his shoulders slightly, “it always gives me this uncomfortable sensation between my shoulder-blades.”

Jeremy laughed at that. “I think you’re safe…not vouching for it, but as far as I can take it, you’re all right.”

Xane grinned at that in return, then clicked into the check program. “So…be sure to warn me, huh?” he muttered, typing in the information he needed. “Who should the check be made out to?”

- -

March 23, A.C. 205. Negamono, Mozambique. 6 pm

“Yo.”

Judas looked up from the computer-screen at Morgan.

“You’re doing your job, aren’t you?” Morgan asked, closing the door behind himself. “You’re not getting swept away by the goody-goody shit, huh?”

“Don’t be offensive,” Judas retorted, saving his work and sitting back to pop his fingers. “The people I’ve talked to all think that Tanzania’s going to attack, but they’ll be okay because most of them have become armed citizens and didn’t want to trouble the government with all the pesky paper-work and what have you.”

Morgan sat across from the guy with a frown. “You’re serious?”

“Serious,” Judas agreed, sitting back further. “How many more are out there?”

“None for now,” Morgan shrugged. “Since we didn’t have an ad campaign or anything, people are slowly getting pointed our way…I hit one of the other help places in town, so they’ll send us more.”

“What I can’t figure out is where it’s all coming from,” Judas mused, looking to the ceiling. “I mean…this sort of thing doesn’t just come out of the wood work. Someone’s inciting it.”

“Wasn’t that decided on before you were even pointed toward your plane?”

“Yes, but see, this is called thought-processing. If I get you on the same page as me you might come up with something I hadn’t thought of yet. It’s a spy thing.”

Morgan grinned at that, sitting back himself as he also looked up to the ceiling. “If you put a picture of a hot chick up there, people won’t think you’re thinking.”

“You’re so helpful,” Judas noted, rolling his eyes. “Wufei must love you.”

“He keeps me around,” Morgan shrugged with a grin. “I can’t say more than that.”

Judas grinned in return, then looked back to the ceiling. “I wonder if Xane’s found anything yet.”

“You have your scrambler on, and I highly doubt he doesn’t have his. Call and ask him.”

“Maybe tonight,” Judas returned, shaking his head. “It’s hard to know what he’s doing at any given moment. He could be out of range of his scrambler.”

“Well, he should be holed up in his office,” Morgan noted, sitting back to rest his feet on the thing. “Call him and see.”

“You’re like…not a spy,” Judas retorted, giving his shoes a dirty look. “Let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.”

“No you won’t,” Morgan retorted happily, dropping his feet and sitting forward. “I want to go get food. You coming or not? That mall has my attention.”

“Sure,” Judas muttered, grabbing his small pile of flyers he’d printed out. “Let’s go do that.”

“You’re seriously taking those with us?” Morgan demanded in disbelief. “You like…can’t leave work alone, can you?”

“If I did that, I’d end up dead,” Judas retorted, closing his office door. “Hey, Stace? We’re gonna go put these flyers up around the mall, all right? If anyone else comes in for me, just tell them to come tomorrow.”

“I’m not your secretary,” the woman shot back, stamping her foot.

“If you were and I had a wife, she’d be jealous of us working together,” he noted, turning his back to her like it was a passing comment as Morgan also turned with slightly raised eyebrows.

“What?” she asked blankly.

“Hm?” he asked, turning to meet her eyes with interest. “Nothing…we’ll be back.”

Her cheeks, however, were very slightly flushed.

“Asshole,” Morgan muttered quietly as they exited the building.

“Hush,” Judas returned. “Wait ‘til we’re out of eye-shot.”

Morgan grinned at that, then looked up and down the street. “Nice day, huh?”

“I’m starving,” Judas returned, grinning more as they started off.

Maybe, if he played his cards right, he might be able to get himself a girlfriend.