Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ You're Joking, Right? ❯ Chapter 18

"I can't believe you told Omi you were seeing a psychiatrist."

 

"I figured I needed something he'd want to give me time off for."

 

"He's going to check, you know."

 

"I know he's going to fucking check, Yoji," Aya snapped. "It's covered."

 

"How?"

 

"Manx will tell him I went to a bloody psychiatrist. Anger management. Or for bedwetting. Who knows?" Aya shook his head, frowning. "I can't believe the shit she comes up with sometimes."

 

"Manx lies for you regularly?"

 

"All the fucking time. She's a sneaky bitch, too."

 

"But if she lies for you about this, she'll know you were out doing something you shouldn't have been doing, and -"

 

"She thinks I'm doing her a favor. A side job. I took care of it earlier this afternoon."

 

"She won't be able to tell?

 

"Her guy's dead, and I messed with the system so the time stamp on the security video will be two hours ahead. Could she go into the system and trace the hack? Yeah. I don't think she will, though."

 

"Aya -"

 

"Yoji, for Christ's sake, would you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to concentrate."

 

They'd put on the stolen uniforms and snuck into the Electric City dock without incident, and now they were negotiating the unwieldly truck through early evening traffic. It had all gone off without a hitch, but Yoji still had the yips. He shut up, though, because Aya seemed dangerously high strung, and Yoji saw no advantage in making it worse.

 

Yoji understood why Aya would be nervous. It looked like a lot was riding on this, in addition to mundane, secondary concerns like their well-being. And Yoji still thought they needed more people for the job. Aya probably did too, though. He was crazy, but not in that way.

 

Slumping back in his seat, Yoji thought about last night. He'd been so close - he'd caught a glimpse of whoever Aya was, underneath his elaborate system of defenses. But Yoji had poked at the wrong spot, apparently. Ah, well - he'd made some progress with Aya, and Rome wasn't built in a day.

 

Yoji knew he was on the right track with Schwartz, too. Aya probably hadn't flat-out lied last night, but he hadn't exactly been straight with him, either. It was too much of a coincidence that he'd be tied to Farfarello, who was part of a team that had a precog and a psychic, and that he was also backed by someone who gave him information only a precog and a psychic could get. The only other way Yoji could think of was if Aya had a source inside the target's compound, but that seemed unlikely. If nothing else, he would have let Yoji know who not to kill.

 

Aya wasn't what he said he was. Yoji was about to go into an extremely dangerous situation and kill people he knew nothing about, for reasons he couldn't trust. He was beyond being surprised that he didn't care. At least he was curious, thinking it through, trying to work out the mystery. And that was a big fucking improvement over being bored.

 

"Keep your head down," Aya said, pulling into the driveway of a walled compound. He presented the paperwork to a guard, who checked it out carefully. He also had Aya open the back of the van before finally letting them through the gate. Yoji would have preferred a little less professionalism, all things considered.

 

Aya drove around back, as directed, and parked in a small lot near the rear entrance. Yoji concentrated on memorizing his surroundings without appearing to do so. As they unloaded the equipment, he surreptitiously checked the cameras and the distances for the escape routes. Aya was undoubtedly doing the same, although he appeared to be thinking of nothing other than how to carry all the boxes in.

 

"We'll have to make two trips," Aya grunted. Yoji nodded. All the better for measuring the lay of the land. Someone was waiting to escort them inside, someone who looked them both over with the clinical detachment of a professional. Too bad - it was so much easier when the targets used rent-a-cops.

 

The path through cool, deserted hallways was exactly as Aya had described, and when they entered the office, they saw the three people they were expecting. Nakayama sat in a club chair, scribbling notes. Yoji knew it was him because he'd looked him up. The secretary was taking a phone call at a massive wooden desk, and a brutal, effective-looking bodyguard hovered. Nobody else. The secretary looked up and motioned toward a desk on the other side of the room, and Aya nodded. They the boxes down, and their escort moved them back the way they'd come, never a word spoken. In fact, the silence blanketing the house was almost tangible. Yoji wished they could use their usual weapons because even silenced, those gunshots were going to ring out like dynamite. He hoped to hell Aya was right about there not being anyone else in that part of the house. He also didn't see how everybody in that room wasn't going to hear Aya take out the secruity office, but Aya hadn't seemed worried about it. Maybe the main office was sound proofed.

 

When they got back with the rest of the boxes, the secretary was waiting to check all the equipment against the work order. Aya handed over the paperwork and waited placidly.

 

"That's all in order, thank you. We won't need you to set anything up; just remove everything from the boxes and clean up, please," the man said, smiling politely. He looked dangerous, too.

 

"Yes, sir," Aya said. He kept his head down, making it look deferential. "My partner will get started, but I need to use the rest room, if I may." Yoji got out the box cutter he'd found in the truck and started slicing cardboard. The escort gestured for Aya to follow him out into the hallway. Goodbye, escort.

 

Yoji worked as slowly as he possibly could without obviously dawdling - as Aya had observed, it was in fact a technique he'd perfected. Came in handy all the time, too. He made slow, neat cuts and handled the equipment carefully, since he was wearing work gloves and didn't want to drop anything, and he put all the packaging neatly back into the box it had come from. And again. He watched the other occupants of the room as he worked. One minute. Two minutes. Open box. Remove equipment. Put away packaging. Nakayama got up and moved to the desk. He started typing furiously.

 

At just past six minutes, Yoji saw the bodyguard look at his watch and frown. Yoji had already mentally lined up his shots and was ready to go for his gun when the door opened and Aya entered, looking perfectly calm. He nodded vaguely at the secretary and walked over to Yoji. The guard was watching him, but Aya went straight to work without even glancing over at Yoji. Everything must be going as planned. They kept at it for another few minutes, until everybody had turned back to what they'd been doing before. Aya would signal any second now. Yoji kept his breathing even and his mind clear, pushing the excitement all the way to the back. He still felt it, but it wouldn't distract him.

 

Aya touched his hand. Yoji looked at him, saw him glance pointedly at the secretary. Yoji nodded, the barest movement. Aya lightly tapped his finger on the desk - one. Two. Three.

 

Yoji pulled his gun out as he turned, then he aimed and fired. It felt slow and unhurried but only took a second, or a fraction of that. Aya's shot rang out just before his, and the guard and the secretary both went down. Aya took another shot, a heartbeat later, and the target crumpled over his desk.

 

They didn't miss a beat. Aya ran to the computer, and Yoji started rifling through the paper files, grabbing what was on the list and scattering plenty of paper in the process. It was satisfying, and Yoji felt buzzed. He opened the last drawer and started to flip through the folders for what he needed when he heard the door open. Three shots sounded before he'd turned around, and he saw Aya slump, then fall to the floor, a wet stain spreading fast over his chest. Two guards lay dead in the doorway.

 

Yoji ran to Aya, crumpled on the oriental rug, an alarming amount of blood spreading beneath him. Yoji felt like his heart was going to stop, but he didn't allow the panic to slow him down. He dove behind the desk - it would provide a moment's cover, if reinforcements were on the way - and he kneeled beside Aya, feeling for a pulse. Blood squelched under his knees and sank into the canvas of his pants.

 

Aya wasn't dead, but he certainly wasn't ambulatory. Yoji grabbed the corpse closest to him - Nakayama's. Aya had shoved it out of the chair so he could sit down to copy files. Yoji wrestled the scientist's jacket off him and cut his shirt into rough strips with his box cutter. He packed the jacket as tightly as possible over Aya's wound and secured it with the pieces of cloth. Experimentally, he pulled Aya up and leaned him against the desk - dead weight.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

Yoji looked around - he didn't hear anything, so he quickly fetched the fresh corpses, dragging them into the room and closing the door. Might buy a little time, if nobody else knew yet. His instinct was to get Aya the hell out of there and fuck the files, but Aya cared too much about it. Yoji went back to the last filing cabinet and got out the final file, putting them all into a canvas bag. Then he checked the computer - forty-seven files copied. He counted the files on Aya's list - forty-seven. Yoji ejected the thumb drive and put it into his pocket.

 

Now for the blood. Esszett might not have access to Aya's DNA, but God knows what they did have access to - psychics, anything. And Kritiker certainly did have access. He'd have to cut off this section of the God-damned rug and take it with him. Looked like the thick velvet curtain behind the desk had soaked up all the spray, so that was a piece of luck. He made sure the blind was drawn before ripping the curtain down. He used a corner of it to wipe down the desk, then rolled up it up and set to work on the carpet, which would take fucking forever but had to be done.

 

How the hell was he going to get Aya out? He was too heavy to carry for long, so the escape routes were useless. Yoji couldn't make it across the grounds with 150 pounds of bleeding, unconscious assassin, and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to scale the wall. He was going to have to get him to the truck, and that's all there was to it.

 

Yoji stuffed the carpet and the curtain into a couple of computer boxes and strode out to the truck, loading them as if they were the empty boxes they'd been asked to take with them. Then he walked briskly back to the office.

 

Yoji turned it over in his mind. If they didn't get ambushed in the hallway, he might actually be able to get Aya into the truck unnoticed - it was close to the door, and the security cameras weren't a concern anymore. The guards outside hadn't been very close to the house, and he'd left the back of the truck open, so Aya would only be visible for a couple of seconds. Then, Yoji would just have to drive past the guard at the gate without getting him suspicious enough to alert the rest of the security force. It was already dusk, so the man probably wouldn't notice the blood on Yoji's black coveralls. He'd want to see the signed paperwork, though. Yoji rifled through the secretary's desk and found some papers with his signature. He practiced a couple of times and then forged the name on the delivery form. It wasn't bad - not perfect, but it might do. And if it didn't, Yoji thought he might still have time to kill the guard and get the gate open before the reinforcements arrived.

 

He jammed the clipboard with the delivery papers into his bag, flung it over his back, and turned to Aya, who wasn't looking good. Yoji squatted next to him and kissed him, whispering, "I've got you, baby." He grappled with the motionless body and got him into his arms, groaning. Fuck, he was heavy. Yoji made some adjustments as he carried Aya across the room and was relieved when Aya made a small noise of protest. Yoji listened at the door, then negotiated Aya out into the hallway, which was mercifully wide. And empty.

 

Walking as fast as he could, Yoji headed for the back door. Looking through the small back window, he thought the coast looked clear, so he went straight for the truck and lay Aya down in the back. He fished the keys from Aya's pocket, drew down the metal door, and ran around to the driver's side. Pulling the papers out of his blood-smeared bag, which he stowed on the floor under the passenger seat, Yoji checked himself out in the rearview mirror. He wiped a small splatter of blood off the side of his face, turned the key in the ignition, and drove at a reasonable speed to the gate, where he presented the forged form. He sneaked a look around for the presence of other guards, and for the location of the button that would open the gate.

 

Handing the work order back to Yoji, the guard said, "There was another guy with you. Where is he?"

 

"He's in the back of the truck, going over the paperwork for the next delivery. Want me to get him?"

 

The guard glanced at his watch, shaking his head no. He walked back into his little office and opened the gate. Maybe he had a hot date waiting. Yoji hoped he took her someplace nice, since she'd just saved his life. Yoji drove slowly and carefully until he was out of the neighborhood and on a main road. Then he pulled out every traffic trick he knew he could get away with in a five-ton truck, and he got out his cell phone, and he called Ken.

 

That mother fucker had better not decide to teach Yoji a lesson and let it go to voice mail, or Yoji was going to fucking kill him.

 

Finally, Ken picked up. "You had better -"

 

"Shut up. I need you, Ken. Is there anybody around?"

 

"Yeah, OK - I can take over your practice. Which field?"

 

Yoji heaved a huge sigh of relief and gave Ken the address to Aya's hideout. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Ken, I need you to find a doctor and bring him over there as soon as you can. Aya's been shot, and it's bad. I can't take him to a hospital. I'll explain it all later, I promise, and you can kick my ass then, but please help me, Ken. Please." Calm melting away, Yoji thought he might start hyperventilating. "And Omi can't find out," he added as an afterthought.

 

"I'm not a complete idiot," Ken snapped quietly. Then, in a normal tone of voice, he added, "OK, I'll get there as fast as I can, man, but you owe me."

 

For real this time, Yoji knew.

 

"Thanks, Ken. Really. I just… Thanks."

 

"Yeah."

 

Yoji disconnected and headed for a nearby industrial complex that he remembered from a recent mission. It should only take a few minutes to dump the bloody rug in the incinerator there. He forced himself to concentrate on the driving. Nothing but the driving. He'd done what he could, and the rest was out of his hands.

 

**********

 

The apartment Aya kept for emergencies was small, nondescript, and in an iffy neighborhood. Yoji had circled around, looking for the best place to park, and he'd gotten the truck right up to the back staircase. A neighbor or two might have seen him carry Aya up the stairs, but this didn't look like the kind of place where anyone would pay much attention to someone helping a drunk friend up the stairs. Once he'd gotten Aya inside, he moved the truck a few blocks away and jogged back, all without incident. And thank God; Yoji had worked around about as many complications as he could handle for one evening.

 

For furniture, there was a futon with dodgy sheets, resting on the floor, and there was a chair. Yoji had been sitting in it for a while, watching Aya sleep and drinking from the bottle of whiskey that had been the only provision in the kitchen, aside from a large medical kit and a few cans of coffee.

 

It had been close to an hour since he'd called Ken. Yoji knew it would take a while to rustle up a doctor and get him to the apartment, and Aya seemed to be doing okay, although that was hard to gauge with much accuracy. He was breathing more or less normally, his pulse wasn't doing anything dramatically wrong, and the bleeding had stopped - or if it hadn't, at least the impromptu bandages were keeping it contained. Aya looked sweaty and pale, and his forehead was still drawn in pain, but he wasn't making those disconcerting whining noises any more, since Yoji had shot him up with a good dose of morphine. Which hadn't killed him, either, so Yoji was calling that a win.

 

But Yoji was tired. Utterly drained, from panic, from exertion, from care. Aya was hanging on, but so many things could happen. And there was only so much the doctor would be able to do without sending Aya to a hospital, which wasn't an option, if Aya was telling the truth. And probably even if he wasn't, since Kritiker would find him and kill him, whatever the real story was.

 

And Yoji only had two cigarettes left. He'd smoked half a pack as he waited, and drunk half of Aya's whiskey. He needed a shower and clean clothes - you'd think Aya would have something stashed away, but no. He did have a couple of books, but Yoji was too keyed up to read.

 

Yoji heard footsteps, way at the end of the hall, and he held his breath as they got louder and louder. Two men stopped in front of Aya's door; Yoji had it open in two seconds.

 

Ken gave him a hell of a look, but that wasn't important. Yoji stepped aside and let him in, along with the other man, who looked nervous as hell. How had Ken found him? What had he done to get him to come here? The doctor probably thought they were yakuza, which would be just fine He'd take care of Aya because he'd be afraid not to - which was the right answer, even if he'd gotten the details wrong.

 

The shiny, sweaty little man looked at Ken, who shrugged and gestured toward Yoji. Yoji looked at Aya. "Over there. The one who's bleeding to death." The doctor swallowed audibly but got his wits together quickly and kneeled next to Aya, checking his vital signs.

 

Yoji watched, continuing to ignore Ken, who mercifully remained silent and out of the way. Yoji was well beyond anxious, beyond scared, beyond any of those things that didn't matter. "It happened -" he looked at his watch - "about 90 minutes ago. I gave him close to twenty milligrams of morphine at 6:45."

 

The doctor looked irritated but nodded, pulling blunt-nosed scissors out of his bag and carefully cutting away the bandage, and Aya's coveralls and shirt. "Your friend said you won't take him to a hospital. That's a bad decision."

 

"Nothing available but bad decisions, unfortunately. Can you work with it?"

 

"I'll do everything I can. If there's internal bleeding…" The doctor shrugged delicately, then turned back to Aya. He'd looked like he was going to say something else but had changed his mind. Yoji refused to read anything into that. Doctors never wanted to make promises, and that had to go at least double for doctors who'd been hijacked by killers.

 

"Are there towels?" the man asked, not looking up.

 

If there were, they were probably filthy. "I'll check," Yoji said. The tiny bathroom turned out to be immaculate, though, and there was a stack of stained but laundered towels. Yoji brought them out, and the doctor grunted in satisfaction. He'd cut away most of the blood-crusted cloth and was squirting saline on the last piece to loosen up the bits that were stuck.

 

Yoji watched, feeling a little light-headed - not from the gore, but for fear of how bad it might be. He hadn't checked at Nakayama's house, since there hadn't been anything he could do about it anyway. Blood didn't start gushing all over the place when the bandage came off, so that was something. The doctor looked at the wound, pulling gently at the edges with his deft, gloved fingers, and he grabbed a couple of metal tools.

 

"Did you give him anything to knock him out?" Yoji asked sharply.

 

"No. I think you gave him more than enough."

 

Yoji wanted to growl something offensive but decided it might it might not be the best strategy at this point. He walked over to the kitchen area and stood beside Ken, who was leaning against the counter. Ken didn't look up at him, didn't say anything. "We'll talk later," Yoji said quietly. He was so fucking tired.

 

Ken's head jerked up. "Oh, yeah. We will." He went back to watching the doctor's back.

 

Yoji winced at a sudden wet, slurping noise. Soon after, though, the doctor was applying bandages and checking Aya's vital signs again. He stood up, turning to Ken and Yoji and explaining about wound care, which they certainly knew already. He gave Yoji a bottle of antibiotics. "He needs to rest and get plenty of fluids, and you should watch carefully for any sign of infection." Then he handed Yoji another bottle, pain pills this time. "Lay off the morphine," he said sternly.

 

Yoji nodded, and Ken came over to walk the doctor to the door. "Thanks," he said gruffly. The doctor nodded and got the hell out of there.

 

Ken looked over at Aya, then back at Yoji. "That was one hell of an expensive house call, Kudoh."

 

Yoji nodded absently. "I'm good for it."

 

"Maybe. You're a fucking liar and a cheat, though, so it's hard to say. But money isn't what I'm concerned about at the moment." He looked at Yoji expectantly, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked dangerous.

 

Yoji took a deep breath. He'd thought about what he was going to say to Ken. He'd come up with a lie that Ken might even buy. Then again, he might not. And Yoji still needed his help. "We just killed a Kritiker agent. A few, maybe."

 

Ken's eyes widened. "Christ on a stick. And you got me involved."

 

"I'm sorry, Ken. I didn't know what else to do." He motioned toward Aya.

 

"Start from the beginning, and don't fuck with me. I'm in a pretty bad mood."

 

Yoji nodded. Yeah. Looked like that was what he was going to have to do. Yoji told the story, starting with the night they'd met Schwartz and hitting all the highlights, up to the present moment. Ken was quiet the whole time, not asking any questions, just listening. Yoji had no idea if that was good or bad. In the silence that followed, Yoji offered Ken the whiskey bottle.

 

Ken took a few slugs and handed it back. He was staring at Aya, who would have looked dead except for the slight movement of his breathing. Ken turned his attention back to Yoji. "You know, Yoji, you are the damnedest fucking thing. I could fucking kill you for bringing me into this."

 

Yoji nodded. He understood and was grateful that Ken hadn't acted on his feelings.

 

"Tell me the truth, Yoji. Do you believe him?"

 

"Do you think I'd have done this if I didn't?"

 

"You might. Sometimes I think you'd do anything for the rush. You don't have much of a conscience."

 

Yoji huffed, offended. Of course, he could see how it would look that way. "I have a conscience. It just doesn't work the same way yours does." He sometimes thought Ken wouldn't recognize a subtlety if it bit him on the ass.

 

"Just give me a yes or no, OK?"

 

See - there. "Yes. I believe him." Basically.

 

Ken leaned against the wall and thought about it, directing the occasional searching look Yoji's way. Finally, he said, "OK. How are we going to get out of this?"

 

Yoji sank into the chair, closing his eyes in relief. "Aya was sure it wouldn't get tracked back to him. I don't know, but we do need to clean up that truck and get it the hell out of here, first thing." He looked toward Aya, then back at Ken. "Um - would you?" Yoji told him where it was parked.

 

Ken stared in disbelief. Finally, he nodded. "What do you need me to bring back?"

 

Yoji had never loved anyone as much as he loved Ken at that moment. "Clothes for both of us. Food. Whiskey. Some clean sheets and towels." He grinned sheepishly. "And a carton of cigarettes?"

 

"Yeah." Ken held his hand out for the keys. "I'll be back in a few hours. While I'm gone, see if you can get some help from the people Aya's working with." He left without meeting Yoji's eyes.

 

Yoji watched the door close and sighed. He'd make it up to him eventually.