Crawl Away: Chapter 9

    I drank some coffee.  The bitter fluid burned my throat on its way down but it left a nice after taste.

    "Kiros' mother was not the one who issued the orders," I said.

    "She's a possibility, but never a probability.  The woman thrived off spite and made her decisions on heat of the moment.  She's not conniving enough, although she thinks she is."

    He walked back with the vodka and took the seat in the sofa across from me again.  

    "I would recommend not moving him from this place," I said.  "It's going to be nearly impossible for a sniper to find him from any angle unless he choppers in.  The mansion has the height and isolation--and I assume not many people knew he's here."

    "If you can find him, then anyone can find him."

    "We found him because Kiros wasn't too bright with covering his tracks.  He had Ishimaru handle the papers and finances when he bought this house."

    "And you trust Ishimaru would not betray the information to someone else?"

    "I doubt it.  I don't like him and I don't trust him, but as a lawyer, he's also instinctive when it comes to protecting his prized position as the finance executor of the estate.  He knew I'd come to protect Kiros' rear end.  If Kiros died, he would not have his job anymore."

    "Unless there's a third party that Ishimaru worked for."

    "There is always that, but so far, there's only a strong feeling of the third party.  I can't do anything with the strong feeling."

    He leaned back against the plush pillows of the couch.  "So you've come to offer your help to Kiros?"

    "Not really. I don't like him."

    He smiled.  "You came to watch him die."

    "Maybe," I said.  "I am not interested in him.  I'm here for the person who's due to be dispatched to finish him off."

    "I don't think he would be very thrilled to hear you say that."

    I shrugged.  "I don't think he'd be thrilled to see me at all."

    He turned the thick glass tumbler in his hand thoughtfully.  "Who are you doing all of this for?"

    "Me," I said and drank more coffee.

    His cordial smile remained.  He opened his mouth to say something when the faint sound of the front door being shut interrupted him.

    "Master of the house's home," I said.

    Kyrie placed his tumbler on the table and got up.  "Let me break the news of your visit to him.  He's already a little paranoid about people finding him when he's suppose to be in hiding."

    I nodded.  He walked out and met with Kiros in the atrium, from the vague sound of their conversation.  I walked to the window with the coffee and drank it, looking at the city below.  I didn't realize how much I despised wealth and what it took from the common man until that moment.  

    A few minutes had gone by before Kiros came into the room, his face was a little red and he did not look happy to see me.  Kyrie was a few steps behind him.  

    "I'll fix you a drink, Kiros-sama." Kyrie said and nudged for Kiros to take a seat when he didn't sit down.  

    "Great place, Kiros.  It's very...you." I said.    

    He sat down in one of the sofas noisily and put one of his feet on the table.

    "What do you want?" 

    "Kiros-sama, he's here for what we discussed last night," Kyrie said, he was mixing a Bloody Mary.  "We share similar concerns."

    "So you finally figured out that I had nothing to do with Aoshi's murder," Kiros said smugly. 

    "I never thought you did," I said and walked to the bar and placed the cup and saucer into the small porcelain sink built into the bar.  "You are not bright enough to pull it off."

    Kiros' already flushed face turned several shades redder and a few thick veins surfaced around his temple.  Kyrie gave me a stern look, shook his head at me and carried the Bloody Mary to Kiros.  

    "Take it easy," Kyrie said and ran his fingers through Kiros' hair, as if he was calming an excited puppy.  Kyrie leaned in and said something to him that I could not hear.  Kiros settled down, some redness started to fade as Kyrie continued to speak to him in a low voice.  Kyrie kissed Kiros on his forehead and sat down next to him.  I almost complained out loud when Kiros grasped Kyrie's hand and held it on his lap.

    "You think I'm going to die?" Kiros said and picked up his drink with his free hand.

    "Two names away," I said and took a seat facing them. 

    "Who's going to kill me?" 

    "We don't know," I said.  "Same person or persons who killed Aoshi will finish the job.  You got to where you are because you were set up as bait that drew all of the other fishes out."

    "I don't believe you," he said and took a drink that drained half of the tall glass.

    "It doesn't matter what you believe.  Someone who Von Erich worked for dropped the cue for you and mother to send the papers in.  Von Erich didn't work for you or did you a favor.  He had set up you and all of the other greedy bastards that came along.  Like the little ducks in the row in the carnival game."

    Kiros started to speak but instead, brought the glass up to his mouth and finished the drink.  

    "I refuse to believe all of this was someone's...game"

    "And I kind of don't want to believe you could be this deaf, dumb and blind.  You didn't notice there was a pattern with who was getting killed?"

    Kyrie took the emptied glass from Kiros' slightly shaking hand and placed it on the table.  

    "Perhaps with Saitoh-san's assistance, we should consider a defense that would not impede with your lifestyle?" Kyrie looked at me when he said it.

    Kiros said nothing for awhile.  He stared down at his hand that held to Kyrie's.  He was motionless.  If the phone in the atrium hadn't rung and startled him, I could have sworn Kiros had fallen asleep in midst of his panic stricken contemplation.  Kyrie extracted his hand from Kiros' carefully and excused himself from the room.

    "So why are you here?" Kiros said and looked up at me.  "You came all this way to tell me I'm going to die?"

    I shrugged.  "In a way."

    "Why are you not doing your job and catching who's doing this?" He said, sounding a little drunk.  

    "It's kind of hard to do much of anything when only the Japanese government pays me and issued me the badge.  Most of this happened outside Japan.  Quite honestly, no one outside Japan really cared about this case.  You should've considered keeping the McPike name, Kiros.  Kanryu Takeda was not liked by the police everywhere."

    "Well," he said and got up.  "Fuck them.  I don't need any fucking help from the minimum wage cops."

    He made his way over to the bar and helped himself a tumbler full of whiskey.  He drank the full glass like a professional drunk--without stopping until it was empty.  He sighed, looked a little happier and poured himself another glass.

    "Kiros-sama," Kyrie said as he entered the room.  He frowned when he saw Kiros having a good time at the bar with the whiskey decanter.  

    "Who was it?"

    "Our contact in Hong Kong told me," Kyrie said and looked at me.  "...he's dead."

    Kiros broke out into a laugh that echoed in the spacious room.  He laughed until a small drop of tear rolled out from a corner of his eye.

    "Who's left?" Kiros asked, then drank another glass of of whiskey.

    "Canada," Kyrie said softly.  

    Kiros started to laugh again, then in midst of it, he threw the crystal decanter across the room, close to the window.  The glass shattered, showering glass and whiskey on the wall and floor.  

    "What the hell is all of this good for?!" He screamed and threw his glass down on the floor.  "What the fuck is the point of having this money if all I can do is wait for someone to kill me?!"

    He shook his head and pointed at me.  "No, no...I refuse to die.  I will not die.  No one will take anything from me!"    

    He kicked a bar stool out of the way, toppling it, then walked briskly out of the room.  Kyrie watched him leave then went to the house phone by the bar and called for a servant to come for the clean-up.

    "I had enough excitement for the day," I said and stood up.  "I think I will go back to my hotel room and chain smoke for a few hours."

    Kyrie picked up my coat and slung it over his left arm.  "I would like for you to stay."

    "Pardon?"

    "Although I am quite capable, I would like for you to stay and help me watch over Kiros for the next few days.  Until I can find another place to relocate him."

    "Speaking of which, where are your security details?"

    "Kiros' very distrustful toward anyone who's paid to serve him.  You might notice there's not many servants in the house.  Kiros fired all but five and they are sequestered in the east end of the mansion.  They come out only on call and for their daily meal preparation and morning cleanings.  The security detail, there's only ten that shared 12 hour shifts, making it five on duty at all times.  One at the main gate, two in the towers which are on the top floor of the mansion, and a two-person team remained in the vicinity--they respond to any part of the house on call."

    "What is the point of being chief security advisor if he won't let you do what you need to do?"

    "I won't try to explain his irrational behavior.  However, it is my job to work around it and make sure he's safe, regardless of how difficult he made the situation."

    Kyrie came to me and wound his arms around my waist.

    "Besides, how could you refuse a front row center ticket to the spectacle you came all the way from Japan to see?" 

    I couldn't.

    He ordered a latte and fanned out the newspaper in front of him.  The waiter came back with his coffee and gave him a smile as he set it down with a spoon he took out from his apron.  He shook his head when the waiter asked him if he wanted a pastry.  The waiter placed the check on the table and returned to the counter.  He folded the newspaper into two and set it on the chair next to him.  He raised the coffee cup and took a small sip, and watched a group of seminarians in long cassocks scurry by with the books tucked under their arms.  

    Being in Rome made him happy, although he only remembered being upset when his father took him into the Basilica when he was a child.  The sculpture of Michelangelo's Pieta made him feel sad, although he was too young to fully understand why.  He stood in front of the glass-cased sculpture and cried.  He remembered two priests had come to comfort him but he only cried harder.  His father was not angry, although he was not pleased with the attention the boy had drawn.  When his father asked him why he was crying, he replied, "Because God is dead."  

    He took out five thousand Italian lire and placed it on top of the check.  He took another sip of the coffee and set the cup down on top of the bills and got up.  He fished his sunglasses from his pocket and put it on and stepped out of the small cafe.  He felt even happier as he walked along the cobble stone road.  He shot a look behind him and stared at the gray mansion on stilts that was half immersed into the mountain side.  He stood there, in middle of the small road, for awhile.  

    "Are you lost?" Someone said to him.  He looked to his speaker.  A gentle old man with white hair and thick mustache smiled at him.  He appeared to be a local.  

    "Not at all," he replied in Italian.  "Just on my way to the Basilica." 

    Kyrie sent a servant to my hotel room and picked up my things.  Kiros had drunk more whiskey in his room and had fallen asleep.  Kyrie and I dined alone in a smaller, cozier room that also had a spectacular view of the city and its lights.  We managed to avoid talking about Kiros throughout the dinner but the subject in question made his untimely appearance just as the dinner table was being cleared.  He stumbled in and slumped into one of the chairs, barely conscious.  He didn't answer when a maid asked him if he wanted to have dinner.  

    "Let's go to bed," Kyrie leaned in and brushed some unkempt hair from Kiros' face.  "You've had a long day."

     Kyrie coaxed Kiros back up on his feet.  Kiros pointed at me and waved his finger.

    "You are wrong..." he said.  "Wrong, wrong..."

    I smiled and nodded.

    "I'll send someone to show you to your room, good night." Kyrie said and half walked, half dragged Kiros out of the dining room.  

    I was awakened by the sound of my door being opened.  I sat up and snapped on the light at the night stand.  Kyrie closed the door and leaned against it.  He wore a white silk sleep shirt that came down over mid-thigh, and nothing else.  I smiled happily.     

    "Shouldn't you be--" 

    He shook his head.   "There's double staff on duty at the gate, in the towers and in the house.  If he need me, all he need to do is press a button," he said and held up a small pager.  He walked over and put it on the nightstand.  "Now..."

    He bent down and kissed me while he undid the buttons on his silk sleep shirt.  I ran my hand up his leg and discovered he was not wearing anything beneath.

    "You came prepared," I said and pulled him down on top of me.

    "Of course," he said and shrugged off the sleep shirt.  He leaned over and clicked off the light at the night stand.  "You don't have any more questions cluttering up your head, do you?"

    "Not at the moment," I said and kissed his bared shoulder.  "Not for awhile."

    He untied his robe as he stepped into the darkened room.  He could hear Kiros' breathing--steady and drawn out.  Kiros was sleeping.  As he drew closer, he could smell traces of alcohol in the air.  He slipped off the satin robe, letting it crumple into a pile by the bed.  He carefully climbed into the bed and situated himself on top of Kiros' nude body.  Kiros stirred and woke with a start.

    "It's okay," he whispered and pressed his finger over Kiros' mouth.  "It's me..."

    Kiros stared at him through the darkness.  He recognized the eyes and the long golden hair.  Kiros smiled and rose up to kiss him.

    "You drank a lot tonight, what's wrong?" 

    Kiros sank back into his pillow.  "It was horrible.  Someone told me I will die soon."

    The blonde laughed softly then kissed Kiros' mouth.  "Let me make you forget..."

    He licked a trail from Kiros' mouth, down to his chin, down to his chest and belly, until he knelt between Kiros' legs.  Kiros' cock was already half hard.  With a few more lingering licks, it swelled into a full erection.  

    "You are wonderful," Kiros said to him.  "Put it in your mouth."

    He giggled and continued to tease Kiros' erection with his finger tips.  Kiros repeated his demand again, this time with an urgency.  He closed his mouth over the tip, caressing it with his tongue then slowly took the length deeper into his mouth, into his throat.

    "Wonderful..." Kiros whispered and thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into the blonde's throat.  "I want to come in your mouth..."

    He continue to draw on the thick shaft, milking it in with his tongue and teeth until he felt Kiros was about to come.  He pulled his mouth away and held the cock in his fist, put pressure on it until the contractions subsided.  Kiros cursed, his body stiffened until the blonde released his grip.

    "I want you to come in my ass first," the blonde whispered and crawled forward.  "I want you to rape me, Takeda..."

    I was awaken by the rich smell of breakfast and coffee.  Kyrie was curled up against me, his head nestled against my chest.  I laid still, then my mind suddenly filled with memories of Aoshi and how he had felt in my arms that rainy night.  Kyrie felt like him, but then, he doesn't.  Being with Kyrie reminded me how much I had missed Aoshi.  I tried to remember how Aoshi smelled and how smooth and taunt his body was, but I couldn't.  It had only been a little over a year since he died and already he was just a faded memory and a vague feeling.  I held Kyrie a little closer and the movement woke him.  He smiled up at me and gave me a kiss on my cheek.  He lied back down and we didn't move for awhile.

    "I could lie here forever," he said.  "But, I think I should check on Kiros-sama."

    He pushed himself up and glanced down beneath the sheets at our nude bodies that were still laced with evidence of our union from the night before.

    "After a shower," he added and climb over me and out of the bed.  "Come on."

    He took my hand and dragged me into the bathroom with him.  It took us another hour and half before we showed up at the breakfast table.  The chef had to reheat and re-cook our breakfast three times already. 

    Kyrie spoke to one of the servants in Italian and pointed at the empty seat with a full plate and still-folded napkin.  After the servant left, Kyrie told me he had sent the butler to wake Kiros.  No matter how much Kiros drank or how little he slept, he always woke for breakfast.

    Kyrie poured some coffee for me, then for himself.  He followed my eyes and looked at the city that was still enveloped in the early morning mist.  

    "Gorgeous, isn't it?" He said.  "It almost make you forget how terrible the real world really is."

    Before I could answer, the servant who had been sent to fetch Kiros sprinted back into the dining room, his was face pale.  In a flurry of Italian, he told Kyrie of his find.  Kyrie frowned and pushed himself from the table.  I caught the word "police" in Kyrie's answer to the servant and sent him scrambling again. 

    "Something had happened," Kyrie said and took my hand.  He led me down the hall and up the stairs.  After passing three rooms, he pushed open the ajar door to the fourth room and gasped.  I looked in and saw blood.  A lot of blood.  The bed was soaked with it.  Patches of smeared blood on the carpet marked a path from the bed and into the bathroom.

    I walked to the bed and had a closer look at Kiros' body.  He was nude, half of his body tucked beneath the silk sheet.  His head was turned to the side, the eyes and mouth wide open.  His throat was slit and it looked deep enough to decapitate him.  I picked up Kiros' hand and tested the fingers for rigor.  It had already set.  The bottom of the arm that had made contact with the bed was slightly discolored.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Doing a field assessment of when he died," I said.

    "To eliminate me as a suspect?"

    I looked at him.  He was not angry.  He wasn't showing much of any emotion.

    "About three to four hours ago," I said and put back Kiros' hand.  "The livor mortis' still in the early stage."

    He looked confused.

    "From the blood splatter pattern, it looked like someone was riding him when his throat was cut.  Was he expecting intimate company?"

    "I didn't know if he was last night.  When I got him into bed, he was passed out.  But he does order escort services often without my knowledge."

    "I find that hard to believe," I said and carefully made my way to the bathroom.  "Unless you were not sleeping with him."

    I looked into the bathroom from the doorway.  Four damp towels laid on the floor in front of the shower stall.  In the sink, there's a blonde wig with blood tangled in the mane.  Beads of water with pinkish blood stains spotted the shower door.  Whoever this person was, he was not expecting to be caught and he took his time cleaning himself up, yet left the crime scene as it was.    

    "He had some strange tastes that I will not accommodate,"  Kyrie said.  He sounded indignant.  Most likely at the way I had phrased the question.     

    "Kiros does not happen to have a thing with blonde wigs, does he?"

    "He has a thing for blondes," Kyrie said.

    "Besides you, who else in the house or hired help was a blonde?"

    I looked over to him for an answer and he shook his head. I stepped over the bloodstained spots on the carpet and out of the room.  We waited for the police in the dining room.  Kyrie called in and questioned the gate guard on duty.  The burly man confirmed a cab had come through and dropped off young blonde a little past two in the morning.  The blonde had presented a letter signed by Kiros of the nocturnal appointment.  It was how Kiros ordered his sex; in person and in writing.  The most interesting revelation was the fact that no one had seen the blonde leave.  However he left, it was not through the main gate.  There was a camera that recorded all of the entries and exits.  Unfortunately, the lighting was so poor that it barely showed any distinct features on the blonde when the cab shipped him in.  The only thing I could be certain of was the long, blonde hair on the film was the same one in Kiros' bathroom sink.  

    The Italian police had an odd way of doing business.  It took them awhile to come, but when they do show up, they arrived in a convoy.  It was a little after noon when they swarmed the house with rubber gloves, plastic baggies and cameras.  The translator who had dropped me off yesterday interviewed me on the side and made too many inquiries on what Kyrie was like in bed.  Kyrie was surrounded by three detectives who were too obvious with their interest in the case.  They made Kyrie sit on the chair while they stood around him in a semi-circle and questioning him.  

    "Is that how interviews was suppose to be conducted?" I asked my translator.

    He smiled and slapped my shoulder.  "Only if he's good looking."

    "He looked very annoyed," I said.

    "He'll be fine.  He should be used to having attention drawn to him like that," he said.  "So tell me what he was wearing when he showed up in your room?"

    It was well into 5 in the afternoon when the body was removed and the police left the mansion.  A small score of reporters lingered outside the gate, pressing the gate guard to tell them who had died.  Kyrie went into his room and took a long shower, probably desperate to wash the not-so-well-meaning attention the Italian police had left on him.

    He came to my room, he wore a white satin robe that clung to his figure nicely.  His hair was damp and unkempt, a towel wound around his shoulder.  He was listening to the phone.  He nodded and replied in English.  When he hung up, he held the phone against his chest.

    "That was our man in Canada," he said.

    I nodded.  He didn't have to say anything else.  I knew the last heir of the Kanryu fortune had died.

    After three days of repeating the same stories and admitting I had been with Kyrie during the time of the murder, I was allowed to return to Japan.  Kyrie assured me that he will work with the Italian police and he would contact me as soon as he found something.  Two weeks passed by and no word came from Italy or Kyrie.  Okita and I waited for the new head of the snake to emerge.  It didn't.  Or at least, it didn't come as quickly as we thought it would.  I did not receive any kind of news on Kiros' case until 20th day into the investigation.  

    I was in a personal conference with one of the superintendents in my office when my secretary called.

    "I said hold all calls.  I'm in middle of something."

    "I think you should spare a minute and step out, sir."  She sounded a little worried.  

    I excused myself and opened the office door.  Kyrie, dressed in a fitted black suit, stood in front of the secretary's desk.  The motions and voices in the office has stopped, all of the attention focused on him. 

   "Kyrie..." I said.  He walked forward and placed a small envelope in my hand.

   "There is many things we need to talk about.  Mostly answers I think you've been looking for."  His voice was soft and honeyed.  

   I nodded.  He smiled and gave me a kiss on my mouth.

   "Thank you." He said.

   He turned and walked away.  Some of the eyes stayed on him as he left.  A couple of men followed him out.  I returned to the office where the superintendent had watched the entire scene through the half-opened door.  I closed the door and opened the envelope.  It was a plain white card that listed a suite number in Keio Plaza Inter-Continental with a Friday date and 8 p.m. meeting time.

   "Was that what you were doing in Italy?" The superintendent asked and pointed at where Kyrie had stood.

   "More or less," I said and slid the card back into the envelope. 

   "Next time when you go out on assignments, I want to go with you."

~Narcissus  241201