Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Im Falle eines Falles ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Thank you to everybody who reviewed this story

_________________________________________________________________ _________________________

The Case of the Missing Exchange Student

Part 4

 

Treize removed his arm from around Marcello's waist to pour more champagne. He had been making sure that the young man's glass was never empty, even as he only slowly sipped his own drink. His effort was starting to pay off when the alcohol loosened Marcello's tongue. He learned quite a few interesting things regarding the club and its owner. What interested him the most was the fact that the Risqué offered special services to a small number of so called `VIP members'. According to the young host, Roberto Catorce did whatever he could to satisfy the wishes of those privileged - and well paying- clients. Like offering them exotic looking, underage boy-toys, Treize thought grimly.

“So…,” he said, as he once again encircled the young man's slender hips, pulling him closer against his own body. “Let's say that I wanted to take you somewhere more… private, would I have to be a VIP member to do that too?”

“Well that depends. We are not allowed to leave the club while we are working, but there are a number of back rooms which are usually reserved for VIP clients. However, Mister Catorce usually doesn't mind if one of us hosts occasionally takes a customer back there.”

“Is that so?” The tawny-haired man raised his hand, brushing his thumb softly over the young man's lips. “Tell me,” he asked in a low, husky voice, “what are my chances of ending the night together with you in one of said `back rooms'?”

Marcello gave a soft chortle. He was obviously flattered by his client's smooth talk. “Do you always move so quickly?”

“Not always,” Treize whispered as he took the younger man's hand into his own and kissed each slender finger softly, “only when I'm together with someone as lovely as you.” Oh God, am I glad Milliardo can't see and hear me right now. He would let me never hear the end of it. - Talking of which…He quickly and discreetly checked his watch. It's almost time to check in with him.

“Would you mind getting us another bottle of champagne? This one is almost empty.”

“Of course not.” Marcello freed himself from the older man's embrace and rose.

Treize waited a moment, making sure the host was well out of earshot, before he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his partner's number.

###

“That's enough!” Roberto Catorce raised his hand, gesturing for Baldy to stop the beating.

Reluctantly the thug stepped aside, rubbing his sore, bleeding knuckles. Two other goons who had been restraining the blond detective released him, and Milliardo dropped to his knees, coughing, splattering blood over the cream-colored carpet.

“Are you finally ready to talk?”

The blond braced himself on one hand, while wiping away a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the other. “I told you already; I came here to have fun, and I don't know anybody by the name of Brook or Brooks, or whatever you called him.”

Catorce stepped closer and crouched down in front of the keeling detective. He seized his captive's chin, forcing him to look at him.

Milliardo glared at the Italian, crystal blue eyes sparkling in a mixture of fury and defiance.

“You really think you are tough, don't you?” Catorce snorted. “I would love to proof you wrong. But unfortunately I have business to take care of right now. So, I'll do you a favor and give you some time to think. I suggest you use it wisely. I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

He released Milliardo's chin and straightened. “Lock him up,” he ordered.

Two of his goons grabbed the young man under his arms, pulled him to his feet and prodded him out of the room. Catorce turned, and was just about to walk back into his office when the detective's cell phone, which was lying on the table together with his wallet, suddenly rung. For a moment the tall Italian considered if he should pick up or turn the phone off, but in the end he simply ignored it and walked away.

###

Pick up, Milliardo. Where in the world are you? Treize didn't even realize that his fingers were drumming nervously at the tabletop as he waited for his partner to answer his phone. After the fifth ring Milliardo's voicemail turned on. Treize hung up, waited a few seconds and dialed the number again. By the time the got the voicemail again he was sure that something wasn't right. He knew that Milliardo would never turn off his phone while they were working and he wouldn't just ignore it.

Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea. I should have never let him come to this place.

The tawny-haired man pressed a small, white button on his phone that switched on a tracking system. It took a few seconds before the device picked up the signal from the tracer Milliardo wore in his earring. When it finally did, Treize let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.
He couldn't tell if his lover was alright, but at least he knew Milliardo was still somewhere nearby in this building. If he just went to the bathroom and left his phone on the table I'm going to kill him, Treize thought.

The special tracking devices had been custom made for them and he had paid a small fortune for them, but Treize didn't mind, because they provided peace of mind. And in a situation like this they could even be crucial. Milliardo of course always joked that he had only bought them to keep a close tap on his lover.

###

Wufei was doing what he had been doing most o the time since he had been locked into his cell again; lying with his hands interlaced behind his head on his cot, brooding. It wasn't like there was much else to do.
To make sure that he wouldn't try to escape again they had even chained him up like a dog. A chain, long enough for him to reach the table, sink and toilet, was attached to his ankle with a solid steel manacle. Of course he had tried to free himself, but without much success. Unless he could get his hands on the key he would need some kind of a tool to pick the lock.

The young man frowned and pushed himself up on his elbows when he suddenly heard noises outside his cell door. His captors had brought him his dinner a few hours ago, it was sitting untouched on the table, and he hadn't expected to see them again till the morning.

The door was unlocked then pushed open, and a young man with long, silver-blond hair was pushed into the room. They shoved him so hard that he was barely able to break his fall.

Wufei cringed as the young man hit the floor with an ugly thump. He sat up and eyed the stranger with a mixture of wariness and concern.

The blond groaned, and braced his left side as he pushed himself up onto his knees. He was bleeding from a cut on his lip; his face somewhat bruised. He looked like he had been worked over thoroughly.

“Are you alright?”

Wiping away the blood from mouth the young man turned his head. A ghost of a smirk curved his lips as he looked at the Chinese youth. “Wufei Chang?” he asked.

Wufei's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know my name?”

The smirk deepened. “I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to say `Hello Princess, I'm here to rescue you'.”

“What?” Wufei stared at the man in bewilderment.

“That was what Luke Skywalker said when he rescued the princess, wasn't it?” the blond grinned, as he staggered to his feet, his right hand still pressed against his rips. “Not much of a Star Wars fan, are we?”

“I think you have gotten hit one too many times on the head,” Wufei snorted. “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name is Milliardo Peacecraft. I'm a private detective, hired by your host family to find you.” the tall man explained.

“You must be kidding. They hired a private detective and this is the best they could come up with?”

“Excuse me? What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“In case you haven't noticed, we are both locked up down here. What are you going to do Jedi Master; use the force to beam us out here?” Wufei asked sarcastically.

“Don't worry; I'll get us out of here,” the blond assured him as he walked somewhat unsteadily to the sink. He turned on the faucet and splashed his face with cold water. “… as soon as the room stops spinning.”

#####

“…so I say, what the hell are you talking about. Don't you recognize your own lipstick? You kissed me good-bye when I left yesterday, didn't you?” Zev Sieracki told his partner with a smooth grin. The two men were doing `duty' at the Risqué's backdoor, probably the most boring and least desirable job in the club.

“And, did she buy it?” the other man asked.

“First she insisted that she didn't even have a lipstick of that shade, but I explained to her how neon light can affect colors; and being all night in the club and the smoke and the lights and such…”

“Geez Zev, you are so slick,” Trent Westbrook laughed.

“Well, it isn't really that hard, you know. I mean she is hot and everything, but not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not that I'm complaining though. I'll take boobs over brains any day.”

The two guards burst out in laughter. When Trent turned his head he noticed a person in a dark suit stagger through the alley and into the yard. He huffed as he elbowed his partner. “Look at that guy.”

The obviously drunk, tawny-haired stranger noticed them too and walked unsteadily toward them. “Hey, you!” He stopped, searched through his pockets and finally pulled out a slightly crumpled valet ticket. “Get me my car, will you,” he demanded, as he offered the ticket to Trent.

The two guards exchanged an amused look before Westbrook answered. “Sorry, but I can't do that. I'm not the valet.”

“You are not?” the stranger's prominent eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Then how am I supposed to get my car?” he asked with a heavy tongue.

“You took a wrong turn, Buddy. The valets are right next to the front entrance.”

“Oh?” The man gazed around, puzzled, as though he was looking for said entrance.

Zev chuckled. “I think you had a little bit too much fun tonight. Let me show you the way before you get lost and end up somewhere you shouldn't be.” Directed at his partner he added. “I'll be right back.”

Trent shook his head, an amused smile curving his lips as he watched Zev steer the drunken man back toward the passage that let to the street. He pulled out a pack of Marlboro and put one of the cigarettes between his lips. He was searching for his lighter when he heard a thump, then something that sounded like a moan and finally another thump.

The man frowned. “Zev?! Is everything alright?”

There was no answer. His frown deepened as Trent opened his jacket to reach his weapon quicker if he had to, and cautiously headed toward the alley way. As soon as he reached the dark passage way he noticed his partner, lying sprawled out on the ground, apparently unconscious. “What the hell…”

He looked up and froze, swallowing the rest of the sentence, as he stared into the barrel of a gun.

“I changed my mind; I'm going to stay a little longer after all,” the tawny-haired stranger declared clearly and calmly. All of a sudden he seemed very sober.

Almost instinctively Trent's hand went for his own gun.

“I wouldn't do that; not unless you are eager to find out how it feels to travel in the back of the coroner's van.”

The guard relaxed and slowly raised his hands.

“Good choice,” Treize told him. “How slowly and with two fingers pull your gun out, drop it and push it toward me with your foot.”

Westbrook complied.

“Excellent,” Treize said. “I think we will get along nicely. Now take off your partner's tie and belt. Tie him up and gag him.”

####

“So what you are saying is; there are others who were kidnapped like me?” Wufei asked.

Milliardo nodded. The blond detective was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had told Wufei about their investigation, but he had left out the part about the murder. “We are pretty sure that Catorce is behind at least three more kidnappings.”

“I don't understand why, though,” the younger man frowned. “My family isn't rich or anything. My parents used almost all of their life savings to pay for my education here. It would be of no use to try to get any ransom from them.”

“I don't think it is ransom they are after.”

“But…”

“See, Catorce is offering host services to members of his clubs, which is really nothing else but a fancy word for prostitution. There are people out there who would be willing to pay a lot of money to spend time with someone with your looks and your body.”

“What are you saying?” Wufei's frown deepened. But suddenly he seemed to grasp the implication behind the other man's words, and his cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson. “That bastard!” he growled.

“I think we should try to get out of here as soon as possible,” Milliardo suggested. “Let me take a look at that chain on your leg.”

“You can't just break it. I tried that already,” Wufei told him. “You'll need the key to remove it.”

“Keys are highly overrated.” The blond detective smirked smugly as he opened belt and started to take apart the buckle. A few second later he held up something that looked like a lock pick. “This,” he announced, “can be just as reliable, if you know how to use it. Let me demonstrate”

The younger man rolled his eyes. “Aren't you rather full of yourself for somebody who has been used as a punching bag?”

“Are you always that testy, or am I just bringing the best out in you?” Milliardo countered.

Wufei, who was sitting on the cot, huffed. He had been kidnapped, drugged and held captive for days; as far as he was concerned he had a right to be testy.

The blond walked over to the Chinese youth and crouched down in front of him. It took him less than a minute to open the lock and remove the shackle from Wufei's ankle.

“That was quick,” Wufei seemed actually impressed. “It's not the first time you have done something like this, is it?”

“Picking locks?” Milliardo asked. “Its part of the job description you could say.” Still on his knees the young man straightened up. He pulled out a tiny foil package that had been hidden inside the belt, ripped it opened and removed something that Wufei couldn't clearly see. “Open your mouth. I need you to swallow this”

Wufei frowned. “What? What is that?”

“Just a micro tracer. In case we get separated my partner will be able to track you. You have nothing to worry about. Those things are made to work only for about 24 hours. It will make its way through your system in the most natural way”

In the most natural way... Wufei blushed slightly. “Forget it,” he shook his head resolutely. “No way; I'm not going to…”

Before he was even able to finish the sentence Milliardo literally pounced at him, throwing him back onto the cot and holding him down with his superior weight. “Sorry, but we don't have time for this.”

When the young man opened his mouth to protest the blond slipped the little silvery disk into his mouth, and then before the Chinese youth could react pressed their lips together.

Wufei wasn't sure which part of the detective's action surprised him more. He was caught totally of guard and swallowed reflexively. It took him a few moments to overcome his shock, but when he did he jerked his knee up and at the same time rammed his elbow in Milliardo's throat.

The blond stumbled backward, coughing and sputtering. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked as he massaged his neck.

“Serves you right, you pervert,” Wufei growled as he pushed himself up. “If you ever try anything like that again I will kill you.”

“It wasn't that enjoyable.” Milliardo huffed. “I'm not above giving you some pointers though, if you'd ask nicely.”

“You…” Wufei snarled.

The blond detective suddenly raised his hand, stopping their little squabble. “What's that sound?”

The younger man listened. There was something that sounded like an alarm and a lot of commotion. “I'm not sure. But something is going on.”

Milliardo nodded in agreement. Moments later they could hear footsteps outside their cell. “Someone is coming.”

_________________________________________________________________ _________________________

T.B.C.

 

Author's Note: 

Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)