Lupin III Fan Fiction ❯ The Final Heist ❯ chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

         Fujiko shivered, pulled her lace shawl tighter, and tottered forward a few steps. She was cold. And tired. And her feet hurt.
         "Customers." she said, mimicking the Matron's shrill voice, "Customers like happy girls. Pretty girls. Party girls. So if you're not happy, you'd better get happy. If you're not pretty, you'd better put on more make-up and stand under a dim light, 'cause girls, there's work to be done. The city is full of men waiting for you to fuck them. And when you've finished, you'd better hope they've lined up for an encore, because if you don't fuck them, you don't get paid, and if you don't get paid, you don't eat."
         Fujiko tossed her hair, and stifled a yawn. Such a slow night. But it was far too cold for the balding business men to drive the streets with their windows down, furtively eying the female merchandise, and too early for the young men to have left the loud warmth of the strip clubs.
         Warmth. To sit on your ass and be warm. To wear comfortable shoes. To plunk down your money at one of those all-you-can-eat places and stuff your face until you hurled.
         She paused, turned at the corner, and strutted slowly back up the street. Even with three pairs of socks, her Matron-issued boots were still too big, and they slipped painfully against her heels.
         A car slowed down, splashing her, and she paused, smiling, preening. It passed, and Fujiko wearily pulled her skimpy shawl up, her skirt down , and rubbed ruefully at the wet spots on her tights, quietly cursing the Matron for lack of a better target. It didn't pay to get angry at a potential customer, even if they had just ruined a new pair of stockings.
         "Bitch." she muttered, scrubbing at the spots. "Crooked, scheming, evil--" It was wrong, even by Fujiko's admittedly liberal standards. Pick up run-away girls. Give them food, a roof over their head, send them to school. Let them buy junk food and trinkets in the Matron's store; run up a debt. Then the girls could do slave labor at third world wages to work it off, or they could hook. Matron made sure the first couple of jobs were easy; the girls felt pretty, had fun. Then she sold them drugs. It worked well until the girls starved to death or overdosed.
         There were plenty of new girls to fill the empty beds.
         Turn at the corner, down the street. Remember to mince and swing her hips.
         Besides, Matron had the finest collection of diamonds Fujiko had ever seen. That, alone, was reason enough to hate her. Fujiko intended to get her hot little hands on those diamonds. She just wasn't quite sure how, yet.
         In the mean time-- in the mean time, all she had to do was survive. Well, that and make enough money to eat. It wasn't much; she could handle it. Yeah. Turn at the corner, up the street. He feet started to cramp, and for a moment she envied Denise, lying on her narrow bunk, coughing piteously. At least Denise was warm.
         As she turned, Fujiko saw a man, hidden in the shadows, watching her as she turned and preened. Frightened, she sank into a defensive stance; then stopped. Helpless. She had to look helpless. Just a desperate hooker. Could you even rape a hooker? And would anyone care if you did? She straightened up and tossed her hair back, striding towards him, trying to look confident, or at least coy.
         "Hello Handsome, you look lonely. Let's go have some fun." She reached out, trailing her fingers along his arm, drawing him into the flickering orange street light. "Inspector Zenigata? What are you doing here?" Fujiko gasped, and mentally smacked herself.
         She'd just blown her cover; blown it to an Interpol agent. Oh Jeez, she deserved to get busted for this.
         Of course, if he took her in, they'd have to feed her and give her some decent shoes. But then Rochelle and Denise wouldn't get fed, and Denise was sick as it was, and oh crap, Pops was reaching for his handcuffs, and if she was going to do something she'd better think of it right now.
         "Inspector, please." Her voice came out in a breathless rush. "Before you cuff me, please listen.
         "Fujiko?" He jumped, and fumbled with the cuffs. "Where's Lupin? This is some kind of sick trick isn't it?"
         "No I swear , Inspector. Lupin has nothing to do with this. He's not here. In fact," she added, reaching up to grab his tie and pull him closer, " if you let me go, I'll tell you where he is."
         Zenigata shoved her away, torn between distaste and curiosity. "What's the matter, Fujiko? Trying to earn some honest money between jobs?"
         Fujiko took a deep breath and went for broke, praying she wouldn't have to run for it in her ill-fitting boots. "Why do ask Inspector? Are you lonely tonight?"
         Zenigata looked at her for a long moment, cuffs dangling from one hand. "I'm going to regret this in the morning." He muttered, and Fujiko knew she had won. "But what the hell, I think I am."

       &n bsp; His room was almost as small as hers. A single bed, a chair and a tiny table. 'Jeez,' thought Fujiko giddily. 'If this is how Interpol treats their agents, no wonder the turnover rate is so high'. She sat on the floor and started to unlace her boots.
         Zenigata sat on the chair and watched her. "So, how much does it cost to buy The Great Fujiko Mime these days?"
         She snorted. "Wouldn't know. I'm not Fujiko at the moment. Besides, Pops, no offense, but I'm not sure you can afford me."
         He leaned back in the chair considering. "If you give me some info on Lupin, I could bill you as a business expense." He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a battered wallet, and tossed a handful of bills on the rickety table. "Here. Is this enough?"
        Fujiko considered, then nodded. It wasn't as much as she had been hoping for, but it would be enough to buy food for the girls and satisfy the Matron. "If you feed me, than I'm yours for the night." She gathered the bills into a neat stack, and slowly bending over, slid them into the hidden pocket on her boot. She zipped it shut, and ran her hands slowly up her legs, hiking up her skirt.
         Zenigata coughed, blushing, and tore his eyes away. " I'll um-- just go and heat up some water for the noodles."
         "You do that." Fujiko leaned back against the bed and trailed the shawl fringe slowly over her shoulders. "I'll just sit here and wait for you."

      &nbs p;           "I'm sorry Pops, really, that's all I know." Fujiko said, her mouth full. "Lupin wasn't exactly thrilled with me after I took his share of the loot." She held out her cardboard bowl again, and looked at him hopefully. "Lupin and Jigan went to Mexico, he's got a couple of hideouts there, and Goemon said he was going west, to watch the sunset and meditate on futility." She snorted ruefully. "Boy, could I tell him a thing or two." She snatched the full bowl back from Zenigata and nodded her thanks in between bites. "You know, these aren't too bad."
         "They grow on you." Zenigata said glumly, looking at the empty pot. "But why are you ..."
         "Hooking?"
         "Working. Surely you can't have spent all the cash from the last heist." He refilled the kettle at the tiny sink and and set it back on the hot plate. "Do you want some more to eat?"
         "Please." Fujiko slurped hot tea, and sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Do you have any chocolate?"
         "Maybe." Zenigata poked at the box of packets next to the burner. "I have some coca, if you'd--"
         "Yes." Fujiko gulped the last of her tea and held out the chipped Interpol mug, unconsciously tracing the logo. "You can put it in here." He stared at her, and she blushed, trying not to sound so eager. "I mean, just so you don't have to wash any more dishes."
         He ripped open the packet, and added water, then, holding the cup out of her reach, he asked again, "Fujiko, why are you working?"
         She reached for the cup, but he held it a bit higher, and waited. Fujiko paused, considering. "Is this off the record?"
         Zenigata sighed, and handed her the cup. He'd never been good at the whole interrogation routine. "This whole evening is off the record, as far as I'm concerned. First thing tomorrow I'm filling out the thug-knocked-me-down-and-stole- my-wallet form."
         "Pops! We're rubbing off on you. I'm so proud." Fujiko grinned and drained half the chocolate in one gulp. "Oh, that's hot. Well, then, it's like this. The Matron has these lovely diamonds ..."

        They sat smushed together on the bed, blanket wrapped around them.
         "Well, I'm yours for--" Fujiko squinted at the clock, "--three more hours. What do you want?"
         "Actually, I'd kill for a slice of cherry pie right about now. Someone ate all of my noodles." Zenigata looked down at Fujiko and pretended to glare.
         Fujiko giggled and snuggled closer. "Wouldn't you rather cuff me and pretend I'm Lupin? "
         There was a long pause, and Zenigata looked oddly uncomfortable. "No. No, that's not really my idea of a good time." He stood and went to the window, pulling back the dingy curtain to stare at the row of quiet apartments outside.
         The silence stretched, and finally Fujiko offered awkwardly , "I could go and get you a cherry pie. I mean, if that's what you want." She picked up her boot, convinced that she had somehow said something wrong. Perhaps she had misinterpreted what he meant by 'cherry pie'. But that was ridiculous. She yawned, feeling clumsy and suddenly stupid.
         Zenigata took the boot out of her hand, and set it back on the floor. "No. Stay here, get some sleep. Tomorrow you can look for a real job."
         "But I can't leave now." She yawned, and leaned against his arm, rubbing her eyes. "--Wouldn't survive."
                  Zenigata grabbed her chin, turning her towards him. "Look at me. Now Fujiko, open your eyes. What are you on?"
         "Mm?" His hands were hurting her. He shook her shoulder, and asked again. "What are you taking?"
         What was she taking? "Nothing." She said, confused. "You paid me, Pops. I didn't take anything else."
         He waited and glared at her, arms folded, managing to look somehow intimidating even though he was wrapped in a ratty blue blanket.
         Fujiko yawned again and tried to work it out. Taking? She couldn't leave because she was taking something? Hell, he knew about the diamonds already. But wait, he'd said something before. He couldn't think she was really-- But that had to be it. "I'm not! Come on, how long do you think a drugged thief lasts?
         "So leave her, Fujiko." He said triumphant ally. "There are plenty of other diamonds." And he grinned at her, confidant he'd won.
         "I'm not leaving Rochelle and Denise." she shot back without thinking. Wait, what was she saying? He didn't need to know about them. Interpol would be in there in a heartbeat, the diamonds sacrificed on the alter of bureaucracy; the girls would probably be deported. She opened her mouth to explain and found herself continuing.
         "Denise is so young, and she won't stop coughing. She needs medicine , probably some antibiotics. Rochelle's hooked bad. And she gets hungry. And every time she hooks for food money, Matron sells her drugs instead. I've been feeding her and making her take care of Denise at night to keep her off the street. Matron keeps talking about how I'll have the bedroom all to myself, soon. Bitch. You have no idea how much I want to leave, but it's not right, damn it--"
         Zenigata sat behind her and gently brushed her hair, pretending he didn't notice the tears streaking her thick make-up. "So she's selling drugs?" he said at last.
         "Yes, but she's careful. She only sells them to the girls, and then only after they've worked there for a while. You'll never get an agent in there, if that's what you're thinking. And I don't know who her supplier is."
         "I don't need an agent." Zenigata replied, looking far too happy for Fujiko's taste. "I have you."
         Fujiko moaned, and slumped down on the bed, covering her face with her hands. "Pops. I can't. There's no way it'd work. She'd never believe me. And what if I had to actually take it. What if I got hooked? And the diamonds! Pops, think of the diamonds. I'm risking my chance at the diamonds."
         "Perhaps I could convince you." Zenigata smiled down at her, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a battered card, and, clearing his throat, solemnly recited. "You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer any questions. Anything you say may be used against you in--"
         Fujiko laughed hollowly. "All right, Inspector, you win. What kind of evidence do you need?"
         "For the drug charges, not much, actually. But if you want her to pay for the rest of it, it's going to be a bit more complicated. What do you think you can get us?"

       &nb sp;          "I-- this doesn't seem fair." Fujiko muttered, yawning. "You paid, I'm taking your bed, and we haven't even--"
         "I told you, my wallet was stolen by a street thug. A very beautiful street thug." Zenigata shrugged, and balled his coat up, stuffing it under his head. "I've slept on the floor plenty of times, and besides, it's almost morning."
         "Oh baka, come here." she said, and kissed him.
        

       &nb sp; Fujiko pulled the ragged curtain back and looked out at the quiet street. "Hey Pops, it's almost dawn. I need to get back." She sighed and sat on the chair, lacing her boots once again. "Inspector, I'm going to leave now."
         Lupin!" Zenigata muttered, twisting into the blanket, "I'm going to get you. You're not gonna get away this time. Not this time ...." His voice faded into a soft snore.
         Fujiko snickered and tucked the blanket tighter around him. 'This was the time to double cross him', she thought, carrying her cup over to the tiny cabinet. 'It didn't get any easier than this.'
         "But I'm not going to." She said out loud, startling herself. "He's the lesser of two evils." But I am going to get those diamonds. Interpol doesn't deserve them, I've worked for them, they're mine. "Besides, madame Matron isn't going to need them. Not where she's going." With that happy thought, she closed the door behind her, and stepped out into the morning mist.