Within: Chapter 4

   "My name's Derek," the man said in perfect Japanese with a German accent.  "St. James."

    Kyrie was stunned.  He had probably caught on how familiar St. James was, although he looked nothing like Von Erich.  His voice came out in a dry whisper when he asked St. James where he got the ring.

    "Aoshi said to bring it as proof that he'd sent me," he said as he took a seat where Okita had gestured for him, next to him facing Kyrie and I.  "And for you to keep it."

    "Keep it?" Kyrie said.  "When did you see him? Is he okay? Where is he now?"

    St. James held up his hand to halt Kyrie's battery of questions.  

    "I saw him five days ago in Germany at the Von Erich's estate," he said.  "After our conversation about his ring and myself, he left for London to stay with a politician by the name of Walter Parker.  That is all I know."

    "Von Erich estate?" Okita said.  "Where he took Ian...?"

    St. James nodded. 

    "Are you related to Ian?" I finally asked when he gave no more cues on who he was.

    St. James broke into a small smile.

    "Half brother," he said.  "We share the same father."

    "Why didn't Ian mention you?" Kyrie said.

    "We were not raised together," St. James said.  "I was the product of a long and involved affair, let's just say.  My mother left Scotland and moved to Germany to stay close to father but decided not to interrupt the marriage.  We lived in another part of the town, in another house, with both Ian and Ian's mother's approval for mother and I.  We were just two different families with the same head of household.  Father provided well for all of us, although most of his time was invested on the Takeda family.  Of the two sons, Ian was the one who followed father's path.  I suppose I became the black sheep when I chose to be a cop in Germany instead.  Father was understanding and allowed me to do as I wished...although my job often goes against everything father and Ian did for the Takeda family."

    He paused.  For a moment, he seemed to be at a loss for words.  Okita took the opportunity to pour a cup of coffee for St. James.  St. James took the coffee and held it in his hands but he didn't drink it. 

    "The first time father was shot on duty, he nearly died.  I suppose it was his brush with death that made him call me and make him a promise," he said.  "If Ian should die before I do, I would take Ian's place and continue to walk the Von Erich's path and serve the Takeda family."

    "And you agreed," I said.

    "I did.  It was important to him that I consented although I was not committed to the promise then.  I agreed because I thought if I refused, I would distress him into his early death.  He was still very ill when he asked me this," he said.  "My mother loved him desperately although I only have vague fondness for him.  He was a kind man but he was rarely in my life as I was growing up.  So I made the promise for my mother than for him.  Father made sure I was prepared for it by insisting on Japanese language lessons and remain proficient in the language so I could easily transition into Takeda's home on a day's notice.  I won't bore you with details on what exactly changed my mind but I do want to honor father's wish....even if it meant the end of my career.  I've resigned from the police force six days ago."

    "So you are now the head of Von Erich estate?" I said.  "And assuming the head of security for the Takeda estate?"

    "Legally, yes.  But I will not take the Von Erich name.  I did not earn this post, I merely inherited it.  I am not certain if I could do what my father or Ian did."

    "Why are you not with Aoshi now?" Kyrie asked.

    "Aoshi sent me here to you to protect you," St. James said as he looked at Kyrie.  "He gave me that order as one of the last act of the head of Takeda estate."

    "One of the last...?" Kyrie whispered.

    "The day himself and or Ushakov dies, you would be the new head of the Takeda estate."

    "I have your boy, Ushakov," Wilde said as he twirled the key ring against his index finger.  "This will cost you three times the usual."

    "You're looking to get a bullet in your head, aren't you?" 

    "Not at all.  I just know what Shinomori cost in the market.  Actually, I'm cutting you a deal since you've been such an accommodating customer for so many years.  Shinomori's worth a few hundred million US at least.  He's also been a little more difficult for me to get.  Killed a couple of my men, you know."

    Wilde snickered when he heard Ushakov curse in Russian. 

    "I've already gotten an offer from someone in the Middle East for the same price," Wilde continued.  "Of course, you know Shinomori's own estate wouldn't even hesitate to pay the ransom."

    "You goddamn motherfucker," Ushakov said in English.  "After this deal, I want you to disappear for good or I'll do it for you."

    "Always a pleasure to deal with you, dear Valdimir.  The usual procedure.  As soon as the money's wired, my messenger will hand over the key to the room."

    "How would I know you wouldn't fuck me over and keep the cash and Shinomori?"

    "Have I ever cheated you, Vadimir?" Wilde sighed.  "I may not be a model citizen but I do not cheat my customers.  Shinomori will be alive and well to entertain you once the money's in my account."

    Ushakov cursed again then hung up.  Wilde placed the receiver back into cradle and stared at the phone.  For a moment he restrained the laughter that had bubbled up at the pit of his throat.  Then he finally let it out and laughed until there were tears in his eyes.  Wilde kissed the silver key latched into a silver key loop before he pocketed it then left to visit his investment one last time.

    I left for London two days after Derek St. James came walking through the door and assumed the responsibility of watching over Kyrie.  Okita's Interpol contact confirmed St. James' story about being a cop in Koblenz for the past 12 years and his father had been a Von Erich.  I liked him in the manner that I knew he could be trusted and able to carry out his new duty with finesse and competency.  Kyrie had taken an instant liking to him as well and was comfortable with St. James.  Perhaps St. James was one of the very few men that had met Kyrie and did not fall for his looks or distracted by it.  He displayed genuine respect for the young man.  

    Before I left, Kyrie swallowed a little bit of his pride and phoned his father.  We needed the senior Spencer to contact Parker and convince him to meet with me in London.  

    "I'm sorry I've made you worried," Kyrie said as soon as he found a break in between his father's yelling to speak.  "But I can't leave now.  Oh God, daddy, are you hyperventilating?"

    I left the room to finish packing.  When I came back nearly an hour later, Kyrie was still sitting at his desk listening to his father on the phone.  Kyrie had doodled on a notebook as his father spoke.  He looked the least bit phased by the guilt his father must have been trying to ply on him for the past hour.  Kyrie pressed his palm over the speaker piece of his phone and asked me to give him a cigarette.  I pressed two into the corner of my mouth and lit them as I walked toward him.

    "You owe me big for this one," Kyrie said as he took the cigarette from me and took in a big drag.  "I don't think there's anything you could do to make it up to me."

    "It depends on the results, honey.  Will your father be able to get me a meeting with Parker?"

    Kyrie nodded and blew out the smoke he had held in his lungs for a few seconds.  

    "He said he would, only because he want to make sure Aoshi's alive enough to kill Ushakov.  He said he wants me back home as soon as Ushakov's dead."

    "He didn't know what kind of fortune you've just inherited here?"

    He shrugged.

    "I don't think he cares."

    I looked at my watch and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

    "Call me at the hotel once you confirmed the meeting time and place with Parker," I said.  "I have to go.  I'll make up all of this to you when I come back.  If St. James' not already beat me to it."

    He smiled and ran his hand along my cheek.

    "I think he already has," Kyrie said cryptically.  "But you will always have a special place in my heart."

    "I'd rather have sex instead."

    He laughed and rose from the seat to kiss me on my mouth.  

    "Go bring him home," he said into my mouth.  

      He dashed through the woods, his little feet climbed and hopped over the fallen trees and thick veins.  He felt happy, although he was not certain why.  He ran with the vigor of a child - running to the pond to see Pudding.  

    "The leaves are wet.  Don't run too fast or you'll trip," a familiar, kind voice said somewhere behind him.  

    "We are late already," Aoshi said.  "Pudding will be angry."

    "He will be angry if you fall and hurt yourself," the voice said.  "You've already dirtied your clothes.  Papa will be angry."

    Aoshi stopped to look down at this clothes.  There were specks of mud on his white socks and powder blue shorts.  He patted at the spots but he smeared them instead.

    "Look at this mess.  I've just bought them back from Milan yesterday."

    Aoshi looked up and into Kanryu's face.  

    "I'm sorry, daddy..."

    "Do you like it when I punish you?" Kanryu said, the warmth gone from his voice.  "Is that why you constantly disobey me?"

    Kanryu seized Aoshi by his arm and lifted him up by it.  The boy screamed, his feet - barely touching the ground, kicked, trying to gain purchase on the ground.

    "It hurts, daddy!"

    Kanryu dangled Aoshi by his arm until the boy started to cry.  He lowered him, allowing his feet to come back down on the ground but his hard grip remained on the small arm.

    "Do you still want to see your goddamn cat?"

    Aoshi nodded.  Tears spilled out from the corners of his eyes, wetting the collar on his shirt.

    "Come on," Kanryu said and cursed.  He pulled Aoshi along as he walked.  Aoshi ran, his feet barely kept up with Kanryu's quick and wide strides.  Kanryu didn't seem to notice or cared, when thorn vines cut at the boy's thighs.  Aoshi just knew he couldn't stop running or Kanryu would drag him by his belly, all the way to the pond.

    When they finally stopped, Kanryu release Aoshi.  Dark red bruises where the grip had been were left around the thin arm.  His thighs were scratched and blooded - droplets of crimson had already stained the white socks.

    "Go dig that damn cat up."

    Aoshi blinked, not understanding Kanryu's instruction.

    "Did you hear me?" Kanryu said, his face becoming ruddy from anger.  "I said go dig up that goddamn cat."

    "But..."

    "You seem to love that dead thing more than me," Kanryu said.  "So go get it.  I want you to sleep with that damn thing tonight.  Show me how much more you love that thing."

    "Daddy..."

    "Go," Kanryu said in the tone that brooked no further argument from Aoshi.  

    In tears, Aoshi went to the small grave that Von Erich had marked with a small stone plaque in the shape of a cat's head.  He knelt down, not caring about the stones and prickly dried leaves that cut into his knees.  

    "I'm sorry, Pudding..." Aoshi whispered, as his fingers scratched at the damp soil around the plaque, raking them into his hands.  The boy continued to say his apologies, as he dug - spooning the dirt with his hands and putting them into a small mound beside him.

    He hesitated, when his fingers touched something soft.  It wasn't bones and it wasn't fur. There was something pale that was beneath - peeking through the dirt.  Carefully, he brushed the dirt aside.  His heart palpitated, when he recognized what it was.  He dug faster, in a frantic to unearth it.

    "No no no no ...." he said, shaking his head.  Tears came again.  The vision came and went, as he watched droplets of his tears sank into the earth.  "You can't leave me... you can't leave me...I don't want to be alone...you promised you will never leave me..."

    Aoshi was startled awake at the sight of Von Erich's pale face and half-lidded eye embedded into the soil.  He drew in an unsteady breath, irritating his raw throat.  He had been screaming in his drug-induced nightmare.  He drew his legs together and tried to sit up.  He couldn't.  It took him a few moments to register that his wrists were shackled in thick leather cuffs, its short link looped through the frame of the bed.  He decided to lie still and wait his strength return.  

    He studied what he could of his present prison.  He was lying on a thin velvet blanket that had been over a rather uncomfortable bed.  The blanket did little to stave off the cold that embraced him completely. The room he was in was dark and scentless.  He could detect the faintest traces of his own blood.  His wound at his left shoulder must have opened up again, although he could barely feel the pain from it.  

    It might have been only a few minutes or perhaps it had been over an hour when the darkness of his world was lifted into the brightness that flooded the room and stung his eyes.

    "How are you doing, sleeping beauty?" Wilde said as he rounded the corner of the room and came into his view.  Aoshi blinked, fighting to make his eyes stay open against the harsh fluorescent light that came from a square plastic cube in the center of ceiling.

    Wilde sat down on the wooden chair next to the bed.  

    "You look a little harassed," Wilde said as he ran his fingers through Aoshi's slightly dampened hair.  "Had a bad dream?"

    "Do what you have to do and get out," Aoshi hissed.

    "Such hostility toward the man who'd found you a master," Wilde said.  He reached into pocket inside his jacket and retrieved a small leather case.  "You'll have a long night tomorrow.  Ushakov seemed to be very eager to see you again."

    Wilde opened the case and carefully took out the syringed needle and a small bottle of clear solution.

    "Let's make sure you don't try to hurt yourself in the mean time, 'eh?"  Wilde said and plunged the needle into the bottle top.  "You know, I was a little surprised how much money you went for.  More than enough for me to retire in style.  Then I got a look at the pretty little blonde you had running your estate.  What do you think? He'd hand over the Takeda fortune and maybe a month of his personal service to me for your freedom?"

    "You son of a bitch," Aoshi growled.  "I ought to kill you for thinking about it."

    Wilde laughed.  He had filled his syringe.

    "Calm down," he said, tapping at the filled needle then squeezed out a couple of droplets.  "I was only kidding."

    Wilde caught Aoshi by his chin and turned his head to the side.

    "Have a good night, Aoshi.  Maybe you will have a pleasant dream this time," Wilde said and plunged the needle into the side of Aoshi's neck. 

    I didn't have to find Parker to meet him.  He found me.  He was already waiting for me at the Ritz Hotel's main lobby when I came in to register.  The clerk gestured at a handsome man in his early 40s in an expensive black suit sitting in a cream-colored leather sofa reading a newspaper when I gave my name to check in.

    "That gentleman has been waiting for you for a couple of hours now," the clerk said.  "He asked me to tell you if you could introduce yourself to him when you complete check-in."

    "Who's he?" 

    "He didn't say his name," the clerk said.  "He only said to tell you that he's a friend of...."

    The clerk paused, straining to recall a name.

    "Aoshi," he finally said.  

    I nodded and thanked him, then finished the check-in.  After he gave me my room key, I went over to Parker and introduced myself.  He stood and shook my hand as he told me his name.  

    "Mr. Spencer...Kyrie told me you would be here and you've asked to see me," he said.  "I hope you don't mind."

    "Not at all," I said.  "But I think it might be best if we continue our conversation in my room."

    He nodded and followed me.  We didn't speak on the way up to my room.  He stared at down at the folded newspaper he had in his hand, his mind obviously somewhere else.  I was not too entirely focused myself.  I was jetlagged and irritable being without a cigarette for nearly 16 hours.    

    "He didn't come back," Parker said as soon as we entered my room.  

    "What?" I asked and closed the door.

    "Aoshi," Parker said.  "He told me he would be back from meeting with a contact early morning three days ago, he didn't come back."

    I put down my suitcase and rummaged through my coat pocket for my cigarettes.

    "Who was this contact?" I said and walked toward the desk where the ashtray with a book of matches with Ritz Hotel logo laid.

    "He didn't say," Parker said.  "He didn't like talking about it."

    "It?"

    "Ian's death and whatever plans he has to...rectify it."

    "Did he ever mention Ushakov?"

    "No.  I learned about this name through my sources only yesterday.  Aoshi didn't say much about how Ian died, although I knew it was through some kind of violence.  He did show up with a couple of gunshot wounds himself.  He only said Ian had died and he needed to fix the situation.  Once in awhile, he would leave for several hours to most of the day, armed with at least two guns, and come back late at night.  I never asked what he did or where he went."

    "He wouldn't have told you anyway," I said.  I lit the cigarette and took in a deep drag.  "As soon as he told you anything, he'd involve you.  This revenge of his -- it's a private matter."

    "You came here to tell me about the German government and their warrant out for him," Parker said.  He took a seat on an arm chair by the bed.  "Kyrie told me a little about it.  I asked for a copy of the Interpol report and read it for myself."

    "That would have been an immediate issue if we knew where Aoshi is right now," I said.  "His disappearance could only mean he found Ushakov or Ushakov found him.  Or the German government decided to reel in their fishhook a bit early."

    "What did you come to see me for?" Parker said after awhile.  

    "Use that political power of yours to kill the warrant and strong arm the Germans to grant unconditional pardon to Aoshi if and when he surfaces or you will keep him in England and refuse extradition."

    "They have nothing to lose to refuse me."

    "They have everything to lose," I said.  "One of the senior agents pointed out in the report that Aoshi would probably be their best bet to get rid of Ushakov and from the tone of the report, they want to get rid of Ushakov in the worst way.  Even if Aoshi fails, then at least Aoshi's out of the way and it's not a total loss.   If you take Aoshi away from the equation -- they would lose both Ushakov and Aoshi because both would be out of their reach."

    He nodded. 

    "I'll see what I can do," he said.

    "While you have the German representative with you to talk about this, ask them to send you the senior field agent in charge of tracking Aoshi.  He might be able to shed light on where he is."

    Parker appeared to be amused by my suggestion.

    "What made you think they'd be that accommodating after I threaten to refuse extradition and harbor a criminal?"

    "They will be, after they weigh just how much more they want to get rid of Ushakov than get rid of Aoshi.  They will think like cops, not politicians.  No offense."

    He smiled.  

    "Who are you to Aoshi? To come all the way from Japan to do this for him? Are you his lover?"

    "Not what you think," I said.  "I am only taking care of him because he's no longer able to take care of himself."

    "Have you come to take him back home?"

    I shrugged.

    "I don't have any kind of ownership on him.  He goes where he wants to go.  You don't have to explain to me what your relationship is with Aoshi, I kind of know.  I am not planning on interrupting, if that's what you are concerned about."

    "I am not..." Parker began, then paused to let out a deep sigh.  "I love him but he doesn't love me.  He said so on the day he disappeared.  At first, I thought I had driven him away because I became angry with him that morning when I told him I love him and he acted as if he didn't care.  I suppose all I can hope for now is for him to be all right.  He's suffered through so much and I just want his pains to end at some point..."

    I didn't answer him.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that the only kind of ending to his pain Aoshi would settle for would be death.  Suffering was the only validation he had to know he was alive.  Tragic beauty -- eternally cursed and sealed inside a room without a key.  

     Aoshi's awareness returned in different shades of sensations.  There were dull aches emitting from the base of his spine and his neck.  The wound at his shoulder started to throb again.  Briefly he wondered how long it had been since he had changed his dressing then he realized it had been awhile...before he met with Wilde at a small sidewalk cafe days ago.  The haze in his mind stubbornly remained as his thoughts wondered, recalling bits of his conversation with Wilde that made little sense to him.

    Someone was speaking to him in Russian although he didn't understand what he was saying.  Calloused hands with strong fingers slipped beneath his sweater and moved in slow circles. The fingers lingered at his nipples, rolling them between the pads of the fingers until the sensations drew reactions from his body.  Aoshi let out a soft moan.  The touches were familiar, although he could not place the name to the face that was slowly emerging from his memory.  He felt his sweater pushed up and a warm mouth caressing from his belly up to his chest then nibbled at his ear.  

    "Ian..." the name slipped out even before Aoshi knew what he had said.  

    A hand cupped his chin, the thumb and middle finger pressed against the hinge of his jaw until his mouth opened.  A tongue that tasted of vodka and cigars filled his mouth.

    Aoshi's eyes snapped open when the fog in his mind suddenly lifted and the recollection of where he was came to him in that instant.  Aoshi bit down on the invasive tongue and made Ushakov retreat.

    "You little whore," Ushakov cursed in German and touched his tongue with his fingertip.  He was not bleeding although he tasted blood.  He lifted his hand to slap Aoshi across his face but he decided to hold back the last possible moment.  "Obviously you don't like men who treat you nice."

    Aoshi tugged at his cuffed wrists, the thick leather had already chafed his wrists.  

    "Please loosen them..." Aoshi whispered.  "They are hurting me..."

    Ushakov broke into a smile then into a laugh.

    "You think I'll be stupid enough to let you out of the bracelets? I know what you use to do for Kanryu....and I know you killed four of my men in the parking lot," Ushakov said.  "Did you come to kill me? You insipid little creature.  Did you think you could kill me?"

    Ushakov unbuttoned Aoshi's jeans and pulled down the zipper, his movements slow and deliberate.

    "I've been good to your business and you think you could just throw all of it away just because your stupid old man died?"

    Ushakov pulled down the jeans and wrestled it away from Aoshi's legs.  

    "That's right -- it was all for that pretty little English blonde.  That letter wasn't a threat, dear Aoshi, it's a promise.  After I'm through with you, you'll beg for me to take your money to give you a quick death.  Before that happens, I'll have to rip the blonde open in front of you for interrupting our relationship."

    "That wasn't his decision..." Aoshi said and grimaced as Ushakov's hand slipped in between his thighs and stroked at the butterfly imprinted there.  "I decided everything."

    "It doesn't matter," Ushakov said.  "I think daddy misses his little boy anyway.  I'll send him home one way or another.  A father should be with his son."

    "Leave him out of this -- "

    Ushakov's fingers moved toward the the tailbone, stroking it for a few seconds before they dipped down to the cleft.  

    "You should think more about yourself and your situation rather than care about Spencer," Ushakov whispered as he drove two of his fingers inside and wrung out a strangled cry from Aoshi.

    "The last time Aoshi was seen, he was in the company of a Nathan Wilde," the German agent said through the translator.  "Wilde's a human trafficker who primarily worked out of Scotland and Southern London.  Ushakov often bought human stock from Wilde -- men, women and children, for himself and his men for recreation.  Then Ushakov would sell off the used goods and turn a profit."

    "If Aoshi fell into Wilde's hands and Wilde has direct connection to Ushakov..." Parker said.  His face paled.  For a moment I thought he would faint.  He didn't.

    "What was Aoshi doing with Wilde to begin with?" I asked.

    Hauffer looked at Parker then looked at me before he offered a shrug.

    "He has been quite active canvassing for information on Ushakov's usual hideouts and hidden headquarters," Hauffer said.  "The people whom he went to for such information's not been quite so...reputable.  Most likely, Wilde pieced together from the incident between Shinomori and Ushakov that Ushakov wanted Shinomori.  It's not exactly a hidden secret what Shinomori's worth as a hostage.  It would take very little to lure Shinomori to an isolated location with the promise of information on Ushakov.  Now Shinomori's part of Wilde's stock waiting to be traded for cash.  That is, the exchange has not already happened."

    "Aoshi's a professional hitman," I said.  "A trafficker and whoever he hired to come along to strong arm him won't be much problem for Aoshi to handle."

    Hauffer regarded what I said for a few moments then shrugged again.

    "Shinomori's not exactly focused on defending himself or simply protecting himself from a predator with his present state of mind.  Wilde's also a professional.  One of his favorite techniques' drugging his victims.  Once a drug's introduced into a human system, even a professional hitman's not immune."

    Parker pressed his hands over his face and cursed.  The words sounded odd coming from someone who carried himself in exquisite manner.  The translator leaned over to Hauffer and whispered something into his ear.  The woman probably translated the curse words for him.

    "I shouldn't have let him go..." Parker said when he looked up.  His eyes suddenly looked tired and bloodshot.  "I didn't want to let him go...but I..."

    Parker started to curse again.  Hauffer and I sat back and let him.  It was probably the first time Parker cursed in his life.  It came out ungracefully and hard to listen to.  Briefly I regretted learning English.

    "You couldn't have prevented anything," I said after Parker after his litany of frustration and self-hate had dwindled down.  "Even if you held a gun to his head, you couldn't have stopped him."

    I looked to Hauffer and tapped at the folder containing the photo of Wilde.

    "Where does he usually do his business?"

    I expected Hauffer to shrug again.  Instead, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the folder hard, as if the answer would suddenly rise from it.

    "I think he would bring Shinomori to Germany," Hauffer finally said.  "Ushakov would not leave Germany, even if it meant to take Shinomori.  Ushakov's network's quite complex and well fortified in Germany.  He would be vulnerable with no place to hide and without logistics support once he steps out and into another country.  He would then become a hunted man.  I do not think Ushakov would risk being arrested or assassinated just to make a transaction, even if it's worth hundreds of millions of dollars."

    "A creature of habit," I said.  "How would Wilde be able to smuggle a human out of England?"

    "If I were him, I would keep Shinomori heavily sedated and transport him in the trunk of a vehicle by sea or tunnel through the English Channel to the Port of Oostende.  Then drive through Belgium into Germany.  It would take almost a full day but if Shinomori is in good health, he would survive the trip relatively unharmed."

    "It has been two days, so we can assume Shinomori's already in Germany," I said.

    "And probably already in Ushakov's hands," Hauffer said.

    "There's no news of a ransom demand yet," I said.  

    "Maybe Ushakov would like to have some personal time with Shinomori before he gave him up."

    Parker snarled at the remark.  He started to get up and looked like he was about to launch himself across the table and tackle Hauffer.  I placed my hand over his forearm and squeezed it hard.

    "This is not the time," I said and applied more pressure onto his arm until he sat back down.

    "Since this is the only lead we have," I said to Parker.  "Can you have have someone scan through the films or video recordings of the passengers who boarded and shipped cars in the last couple of days through the Chunnel or by ship that matched Wilde's description? If we can confirm Wilde's no longer in England, at least we know where not to look for Aoshi.  If we can get the plate and make of the car, perhaps the German police can help us locate it."

   "Should not be a problem," he said.  "I'll see to it immediately."

   Without saying a word to Hauffer, he only nodded to me and walked out. 

   "A difficult man to please," Hauffer sighed.

   For sake of avoiding an argument, I agreed with him.

   "Tell me," Hauffer said as he leaned forward and dropped his voice, completely forgetting about the translator sitting next to him.  "When you find this Shinomori, what would you do? Would you take him back to Japan with you or let Parker keep him in England?"

   "Shinomori's not a pet two divorcees are quibbling over," I said.  "If Ushakov's still alive, then he would probably stay in Europe until the job gets done.  After that, he does what he wants."

   "You would not be upset if he stays with the uptight Englishman?"

   "Why should I?"

   "I didn't think you would," he said with a knowing smile.  I almost expected a wink and nudge with his elbow from the grin he had.  "Spencer's quite beautiful.  He looks like he would be very good in bed.  Eager to please."

    "High maintenance," I said.  "Too expensive for me to keep.  Both him and Shinomori."

    "But what I would not give to just take them out for a test drive."  

   The woman blushed slightly as she translated our conversation.  Hauffer broke out in a laugh that sounded as harsh as the way he spoke German.  He gave me an approving look then pushed himself away from the table and stood up.  He brushed at the wrinkles that had collected at the crook of his arms but they remained.

   "Will you help us find Aoshi?" I said to him as he collected his papers into a neat pile.

   He didn't look at me for a few seconds, then when he did, all of the humor he had left his face.

   "Honestly, the German government don't care about Shinomori.  His father had directly and indirectly contributed to deaths of many of my colleagues and important people who could have changed Germany for the better.  For many years, the widows and orphans and friends of the dead want a resolution.  Even if it means for the son to bear the sin of the father."

   "That is ridiculous," I said.  "Aoshi worked to undo what Kanryu did.  This is why he's where he is now."

   "What he is doing now will not bring back the dead," Hauffer said.  "However, the forked road is presented before us...and we choose to rid of the greater evil."

   "With some persuasion from Parker."

   He nodded.

   "I would rather cut Shinomori loose than have both of them alive," he said.  "So, I suppose the answer you want is yes, I will help you.  I do not have the confidence that he would be able to kill Ushakov, especially in the predicament he may be in.  I only hope all my theories were wrong and he will succeed."

   "He will," I said.  "There's methods to his madness.  I wouldn't put it past him if he had intentionally got himself caught by Wilde as part of his plan."

   Hauffer smiled and stuffed the stacked paper into his briefcase.

   "I hope your theories are correct," he said.  "With all of heart, I want you to be correct."

End Part 4  23122002

~Narcissus