Delivery
by Lena (language corrections by Shayne)
Chapter 2
The officer on duty looked at Mane confused and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid we can't give him to you"
Mane frowned. "What do you mean you can't?"
The man shifted his finger under his collar as if it was pinching his neck, and swallowed again. "Orders from the top. I received a priority message from Tanagura that they'll send someone to pick your man up. I'm absolutely forbidden to give him to anyone else."
"What?!" Junior cried out. "What the hell? It's my father who orders you. He's paying your asses off! He's the top! You locked that guy for us, not some geek from Tanagura."
The cop glanced at Junior's infuriated face and winced almost painfully. The whole conversation was obviously a torment for him.
"I'm sorry sir, but the geek is the first Tanagura Blondie himself. With all due respect, he's more important even than your father. Regardless of your father's... offerings."
A guttural growl came from Junior's direction. The youth reached into his jacket in the gesture that could mean only one thing. Mane threw up his arm and blocked the younger man's hand on his chest. He could feel the hard shape intertwined in Junior's fingers under the leather. He sighed. Stupid kid.
"Stop it," he snapped, not looking at his companion and sizing the officer with a stern gaze. "Now," he spoke to the man. "I don't get it. What would Tanagura Blondie want from that guy? The brat is no one. He doesn't even have a name."
The policeman spread his arms helplessly. "I have no idea, sir. I don't get it either. But I'm not in the position to question the Blondie's orders. I'm sorry I can't help you."
Mane clenched his jaws, anger building inside him as well. "Fine," he grunted and turned on his heel. "Let's go," he waved at Junior and moved towards the entrance.
"Expect a call from my father," the youth spat, aiming at the man with his finger. "And better start cleaning your desk already."
Before the door slid shut behind them, Mane heard a high-pitched, hasty: "Yessir," and couldn't help a little sadistic smile that twisted his lips.
"Why the hell did ya let him get off like that?" Junior yelled when they stopped in the corridor. His slightly bruised face came into Mane's sight. "If he'd seen the gun between his eyes no Tanagura fuckin' Blondie would've made him refuse us! You're becoming soft, Mane, or what?"
Mane winced. "It's called brains, moron, not softness. I'm sure your old man would be very happy to find out that we threatened cops with a gun and kidnapped a prisoner from the police station on his behalf. All the more, that we messed with the first Tanagura Blondie. Right?" Junior's face fell a bit. Mane gave him a crooked grin. "Right. Now, let him decide what he wants us to do. Right?" he suspended his voice, waiting.
A moment passed in silence.
"Right," Junior grumbled reluctantly.
Mane rolled his eyes. "You're too quick-tempered, kiddo." He poked his companion's forehead with his finger. "A little bit of mind, that what matters in our business. Big guns are just an addition."
Junior's spirit was back in an instant. "Hey, don't call me 'kiddo'! You're not that much older than me. And don't preach me. You're forgetting yourself. It's enough I say one word to my father and you're out."
Mane snorted. "I don't think so." He decided there was no point in further discussion. He fished onto his pants for the cell phone, but stopped in his tracks and motioned at the youth. "Wanna call him?"
The kid nodded and reached for his own mobile.
The conversation turned out to be very brief. Two minutes later Junior disconnected and looked at Mane with a smile.
"Let's go. I'll tell you what he said on our way."
They moved down the corridor towards the main entrance, Junior explaining their new orders to Mane. At the gate they passed a young man, more or less Junior's age. Mane glanced at the wet trench coat, wrapped tightly around the man's slim body, at the chestnut hair, the ends dripping with water, and cursed another spring downpour waiting for them outside.
"Your wine, master." Kyaru sat the tray with the glass of wine on a small table by the ledge.
Raoul looked at him and just nodded his head in dismissal. The boy bowed and retreated inside.
Kyaru had been here since Iason's death. Raoul didn't need another furniture. Reo was absolutely enough. But he found the idea of taking the boy in strangely comforting. As if having something that had once belonged to Iason could soothe him. He winced at the thought of himself being so sentimental. He knew he shouldn't.
He ignored the drink for now and moved his eyes to the point he'd been staring at before. The tallest tower of Eos. The top of it. The place Iason had once lived. Currently uninhabited.
After Iason's death the whole elite world shook to the foundations speculating who would now take his place. Who would become the new head of Tanagura's Syndicate. Who would move into Iason's penthouse. Raoul was the most prominent guess of everyone. And yes, those guesses turned out to be right – Jupiter had chosen him. But they were only partly right – he was supposed to be just a substitute boss. Just a temporary outcome. She justified her decision claiming that Raoul had never been destined to become the city's head.
He didn't feel offended. Not at all. He fully agreed with her – he was a biologist and he liked that, never dreamt of more. He was glad he didn't have to leave his condo. He was glad he didn't have to change his life. He had no idea what her long term ideas were – Iason's due successor was still long before adulthood. But then, it was not his place to question her decisions. He trusted her better judgment.
So in fact he was no more than a figurehead. The actual power was divided among a few people – him including. Still, he was Jupiter's spokesman and at the moment most of her 'motherly' feelings were directed at him. He still felt awkward with it.
As the Syndicate's official head he was now the one responsible for its cooperation with the black market and continued it without a moment of hesitation. He liked the thought of tightening his relationship with Katze like that. But mostly – having studied the accounts – he realized that it was indeed very profitable. The market was a surprisingly big part of the Syndicate's income. Katze initiated him into Iason's illegal dealings and Raoul gave him full latitude in running them. All he demanded were the detailed reports on the state of affairs. It meant more autonomy for the mongrel, and more responsibility. But five months of such status quo proved that it had been the right move.
Life went on and by joint efforts they managed to push the world forward without great disasters. But it was hard. And it was sorrowful. And in fact Raoul wanted nothing more than to move back. He wanted his best friend back. He hated being aware that he would never see Iason again, never talk to him again. That Iason was no more. It created an almost painful void inside him. If not for Katze around him, sometimes he thought he'd have lost his mind.
Enough! He shook his head sharply, trying to chase this angsty mood away. Abruptly, he turned his gaze away from the view, reached for his drink and headed inside.
Daryl didn't understand people sometimes. It was the fourth hour he spent at the police station. Sign this, fill that, go there, wait, answer a thousand questions... uh-oh sorry, I forgot about one more form to fill, we have to go back... And the neurotic officer on duty, who looked as if he were afraid of his own shadow, wasn't making things easier.
Finally, when the dusk had already fallen outside the windows, the officer announced that everything was settled and led him to the cell block. Standing before the door and watching the cop nervously dealing with the port, Daryl couldn't suppress the thrill that went through his body. At last he would see that bastard. At last he would be able to... no, he stopped himself, he wouldn't be able to do anything. All he could do was to take good care that someone else would do it.
The door slid open and they came in, the lights going on automatically.
"Get up!" Finally the officer's voice wasn't faltering and became forceful. "They're here for you."
A slim young man lying on the bunk struggled to his feet hastily, clumsily, apparently just raised from sleep. He was squinting his eyes, dazzled by the light, but finally, slowly managed to open them. Daryl examined the youth curiously. Guy was more or less his height and stature – average. Light brown hair was gathered in the ponytail at the back of his head. His face was nothing extraordinary either. His features were regular but wore no particular beauty. Some people could consider him handsome, some could not. But he has a smile you'd kill for, Riki's voice unexpectedly sounded in Daryl's head.
His hand clenched into a fist, but he forced it to unclench.
Guy was staring at him questioningly. Without a word, Daryl produced a collar from his pocket and stepped up to him. The mongrel drew back on reflex.
"Stay put," Daryl ordered, grabbing his shoulder, and when the prisoner tensed, locked the piece of metal around his neck.
Guy's hand rose instinctively to the device and examined it. "What's that?"
"A little protection. We have a long way to go and I wouldn't like you to escape. It has a tracker and a remote controller that can do very unpleasant things to you so don't you even think of making trouble. Now," Daryl turned to the cop, "are we finally free to go?"
"Of course. I'll walk you to the entrance."
They were silent all the way. Daryl noticed his charge's curious glances in his direction. At the gate they quickly retrieved a few of Guy's personal belongings (which was fortunately settled before) and the officer left them. Daryl waved his hand at the mongrel and moved to his car. Only when they got inside, did Guy speak.
"Where are you taking me? Who are you?"
"You're going back to Tanagura. Jupiter has claimed you," he answered shortly, unwilling to go into a longer discussion.
Guy blinked. "Jupiter? You mean, that's why I was arrested? I thought Kat..." he broke off abruptly. "How did she find me?"
Daryl turned to him, slightly surprised by those words. What? Didn't the scum know what he'd been locked for? "She found you because you were arrested. I have no idea why they locked you, but certainly not because of her."
For a moment Guy's blue-gray eyes stared at him.
"Strange," the youth murmured.
Daryl shrugged, deciding to ignore it and started the engine. The car glided from the parking lot and pulled to the road, heading towards the airport.
"So," after a short while the mongrel spoke again. "Do you have a name I can call you?"
"Names won't be needed. I hope I'll get rid of you as fast as we get on the place."
"Great, so you don't like me." Guy turned away from him and stared at the road. A few glass buildings slid silently past the car windows. "Can you at least tell me what she's going to do with me?"
Daryl snorted. "What do you think she's going to do with you? You killed her favorite Blondie, there's only one way to pay for that."
For a long moment nothing happened. Then:
"Ah." And that was all.
Slightly surprised, Daryl glanced at the prisoner's face, but it wore no particular expression. They drove in silence for another few minutes when a beeping sound came from a pocket on Guy's chest.
"May I?" the prisoner asked.
Daryl just shrugged and waved his hand in permission.
The mongrel produced the mobile, after a quick glance at it tapped on the keyboard, put it to his ear and waited. Daryl kept his eyes on the road. He didn't notice the stir beside him, or the sudden intake of breath. Only the sharp: "Shit!" startled him into attention. He glanced at the passenger seat. Guy was hastily tapping at the phone again. He closed it to his ear, an alarmed frown on his face. A few more seconds passed. The frown deepened. He broke the connection abruptly.
"Fuck!" he spat, staring at the mobile.
"What is it?"
Guy clicked at the phone for yet another time and handed it to Daryl.
"I've received a voice mail. Listen to it."
When the tone in the speaker sounded away, there was a quiet snap announcing the beginning of the recording and a male voice spoke in the receiver: "Hello, Guy. You don't know us, but we know you pretty well. We've been trying to get to you for a while, but in the face of the obvious difficulties we've decided to reach for other means. We have taken your friends into custody. Might I add, it was against their will. If you want to know how to get them back, go home, you'll find there all needed information. We expect you to contact us as soon as possible." Another snap and the recording ended. Daryl punched the disconnect button forcefully.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I have no fuckin' idea what's that supposed to mean, dammit!" Guy's voice broke into high tones of desperation. "I really don't know what's happening, but something is definitely wrong. First someone follows me for a few days, then they attack me on the street, then I'm locked up under some stupid pretext, now this. Apparently someone wants something from me and unless I go home, I won't find out what it is."
Daryl felt a deep frown tugging on his face while the tried to understand the other man's hasty babble. On reflex, he pressed the brake, pulling up to the curb. He turned to Guy angrily.
"Are you telling me you got into some shit and you don't even know what it is?"
"Oh man!" the mongrel threw up his arms. "If I got into some shit it's definitely not my fault this time! I know of absolutely nothing I did lately that could get me into any kind of trouble! I swear, okay?"
Daryl was watching him skeptically, his mind working the problem over like crazy. Could the bastard... no, it didn't make sense. The scum hadn't expected him, he couldn't have possibly arranged anything like that. And he sounded honest enough. He was always a bad liar, Riki's words again. Daryl shook his head, deciding there was no point in troubling himself with that.
"Never mind," he affirmed. "I don't care what's happening in your freakin' life. It's about to end soon so it doesn't matter anyway. We're going to the airport. End of talk."
With that he pushed the gear and they moved from place again. Guy hung his head and pressed himself deep into the seat, wrapping his arms around himself. After a while he again started to talk. Quietly, as if with resignation.
"Look. You might not care what's happening in my life, but apparently it's not only about my life. It seems that whoever has a thing to me, took to my friends. And they are really good people. They didn't deserve my shit. Please, what does that cost you? I can't escape, right? We'll miss our flight to Tanagura? There'll be another one in an hour or so. Please," he repeated with force. "Let's go there. Let's at least check what is wrong. Please!"
Daryl sighed. He didn't feel like spending with Guy any more time than necessary. But – hatred aside – he had to admit the punk was right. He bit his lip.
"Right. So where do you live?"
'Have you found what I asked for?' he heard her metallic voice in his head.
"Yes."
'And?'
Raoul lowered his eyes, unable to bear her gaze. Damn, and what was he supposed to do? He was aware that telling her the truth could be disastrous for Katze. She wasn't a good-natured, understanding deity to forgive an offence like that. She was a cold, analytical mind, basing her cognition on hard logic. On the other hand something prompted him to give her the real story. She deserved it in a way. And – would he be able to lie to her in the first place? He found it difficult to escape with smaller fibs, let alone with something like this.
It seemed there was no other way but to take the risk and play the game. He raised his eyes again and looked straight at her.
"The mongrel Katze, Iason's ex-furniture, lied during the interrogation," he tried to make his voice sound indifferent. "He knew Guy survived and covered up for him."
Her countenance twitched minimally.
'Tell me more.'
He did. He told her everything, hoping the story itself would be enough of an excuse for Katze.
"You must understand him," he said when he finished. "With his irrational human mind he believed that what he was doing was in fact for Iason's sake. In a sense, there was logic in his way of thinking. Maybe... you could consider his reasoning. Maybe letting that punk live is really granting Iason's last wish."
'Are you suggesting I should forgive the murderer?' she hissed. 'Let him walk away freely? No, my son, that's out of question. He deserves the most severe punishment and he will meet the fate he made for himself. As for the furniture's reasoning, I see no sense in it. No one can act for the sake of the dead. Iason's last wish no longer has any value for him.'
Raoul's hand tightened on the armrest of his chair. Right, how could he even begin to think that she might understand it? He kept his face expressionless, though, and lowered his head courteously.
"Of course, Jupiter, you're right. Still, I ask you to absolve the furniture. He made a mistake, but what he did was nothing else but an expression of his loyalty."
For a long moment there was silence in his head, her eyes studying him closely. Her face, capable of only a few basic expressions, had not changed but Raoul suddenly thought that if she were a human, she would have cocked her head.
'You seem to have developed some kind of attachment to that mongrel,' she finally said.
He stirred.
"You are mistaken, Jupiter. That's absurd. I... value him for his intellect, but any attachment here is unthinkable."
'Is it?' a slight frown decorated her features. Suddenly she became translucent and transformed into her spherical form. The spheres flowed towards him and instinctively Raoul pressed himself deeper into his chair. She stopped just before him, hovering in the air and reappeared, bent over him. Her face, now just inches away from his looked almost affectionate. He forced himself to sit straight and meet her gaze. She'd done it with him only a few times before and it'd always made him feel uneasy. He wondered how often Iason had been through this.
'He lives in your household, doesn't he?' she asked softly.
Raoul tensed. It was the first time she'd brought this matter up. He'd never told her about it – he must have lost his mind to do so – but he was aware she had to know. She knew everything. Still, since she'd never pushed the issue, he was only too glad to skirt around it. Now... he knew denying would be futile.
"He does," he admitted.
'Why?'
"He amuses me. He is an ordinary human with extraordinary characteristics. I like... studying him. And, as you know, he closely cooperates with the Syndicate. Having him near me can be very useful."
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She reached out her hand and touched his cheek – the touch he felt as coldness.
'Do you have feelings for him?'
Raoul stared at her, completely taken aback by this question.
"Really, Jupiter," he whispered, "this idea is simply ridiculous. How could I..." the hand moved to his lips and covered them. Strangely, she didn't seem angry. Only concerned.
'Be honest with me, my son.'
"Why... why do you ask that?" He cursed himself at the sound of his voice – weak, faltering.
To his surprise, she seemed to hesitate. For a long while she was silent, then instead of answering she said: 'You do feel something. I can sense it even through your blocks. Be careful, Raoul, feelings are dangerous and oftentimes needless. I will not forbid you to live with your mongrel. Keep him if you please. But heed my warning. Always remember what happened to Iason. I would be most unhappy to lose my second most dear son.'
With that she withdrew her hand and transformed again. She hovered back to her post and reappeared in her usual form.
'I'd be very much pleased if you punished the mongrel after all,' the voice in Raoul's head was gentle, but cold and emotionless again. 'He gave a false testimony and protected the culprit, which in fact makes him an accomplice in crime. But I will leave the punishment to your discretion. I trust you, Raoul.'
He bowed his head. "Of course, Jupiter. I'll take care of it."
For a moment she stared at him curiously, as if trying to asses what his decision would be, but eventually she left it without comment.
'You may go.'
He rose, bowed at her and left the sanctuary quickly. In the elevator he leaned heavily against the wall, trying to calm the crazy pounding in his chest. Why? Why, dammit? Why hadn't she denounced him for his obvious crime? He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. He didn't understand a thing.
The flat was shabby – the way he had expected. It was surprisingly big and unsurprisingly dirty. It was obvious its inhabitants didn't care for tidiness much. But first of all it was evident that it had been plundered. It looked like there had been a fight. But only just.
Daryl rose from crouching over a few drops of blood that stained the floor in the main room.
"Hasn't even clotted yet," he murmured. "About two hours old. At most."
Guy meanwhile stood beside the desk, staring at the computer screen. A display box in the middle informed him that he had a message. Its blinking informed him that the message was urgent. His hand twitched and stopped in mid-air. But then he took a breath and decidedly pressed the button. For a moment the screen turned black, then a picture appeared on it – a side of a dirty green van with a big metal door in the middle. The picture wobbled slightly and Guy realized that the message was a vid file.
"Decided to follow our instructions after all?" a male voice spoke from behind the camera. Out of a corner of his eye Guy noticed that his guardian raised his head and looked in his direction. "Good. As I recall we promised to tell you what happened to your friends. So, here you are." For a moment a hand appeared in the frame and pressed the button beside the door. The flap slid open. Guy stirred. "As you see, they are perfectly okay, just a little uncomfortable. But soon they will be much worse. Unless, that is, you do what you are told."
There they were, inside the van. All three of them. Tied up and gagged. Crouched by the opposite wall of the car. Toma apparently angry and trying to scream something. Kai and Alex just staring numbly at the camera. Guy swallowed hard, feeling a terrible, desperate rage raising inside him. His watchdog strolled over, stopped beside him and glanced down at the screen, arms crossed on his chest.
"Now," the voice continued evenly as the finger pressed the button again and the door closed, cutting the view from Guy's eyes. "We are taking them to our headquarters. All we want from you is to go there and make a little exchange. Their freedom for your freedom. You shouldn't have any trouble finding our base. It's called the Citadel. I'm sure that rings some bells in your head," there was a hint of a snicker in the voice. Guy's fingers clasped convulsively on the desktop. The picture spun around and a handsome, brown haired man in his late twenties came into view. "Call us or directly our boss. You'll find all you need in the text part of the message. This vid will be now deleted." The man sent them a smile that apparently meant to be endearing and the screen faded to black. After a second the desktop reappeared. Guy's knuckles were white from clutching the desk. Hell, it would have been so good to shove his fist into the monitor, to feel it shutter under his blow. It took all his willpower not to do it.
"You still claim you did nothing and don't know what they want?" a spiteful snort beside him reminded him that he wasn't alone.
"How the hell should I know that?!" Guy threw up his arms, infuriated. "All I know is what I saw! Why do you think that I know something?!"
The man looked at him coldly. "That guy mentioned that you should know the place. The Citadel. How come?"
"And who doesn't know it?! The Citadel! The seat of the greatest villain of this area. The king of crime. The Crimelord! Everyone heard about him." The man only stared at him. "Haven't you?" The man shook his head. Guy sighed. Right, Mr. Too-cool-for-this-dump wasn't from here, one couldn't expect him to be an expert on the topic of local villains.
"Never mind. I'm calling the bastard." He moved his hand to the keyboard, but his wrist got trapped in a strong grip immediately. He raised his eyes and met the unyielding gaze again.
"What?"
"You're forgetting something," the guy hissed. "You're here under my supervision. And I did not allow you to call."
"But I..." Guy fell silent, realizing that it was indeed true. He wasn't free to call, was he? He was no longer free to do anything. He was totally dependent on the man before him. The man kept his eyes fixed on him sternly. Looking at them Guy knew there was only one thing he could do.
"In that case I ask you to allow me. Please, let me do it," he spoke in a surprisingly even voice.
The eyes narrowed distrustfully. "And what do you intend to tell him?"
"That I'm not gonna come. I'll beg him to get off my back and let the guys go whatever he wants. I'll tell him that by no means I'm gonna make it. Just that. I swear. Please, let me do it. Give me at least a chance to find out what they want. Please!"
Daryl sighed inwardly. He supposed the scum had a point after all. They should find out what was going on. If not for anything, then just to avoid could-be troubles. He let go of the prisoner's hand.
"Very well, call, but I'm right here all the time. And make sure I'll be able to hear every word he says." He stepped back so as not to be caught in visual range and leaned against the wall.
Guy glanced at the text message, found the number and quickly tapped it in. He turned up the volume, feeling the intense hazel gaze locked on him the whole time. He gulped, finding it hard to focus his attention on the screen.
He all but forgot about his guardian the moment the comm came to life and a dark haired man in his late forties looked right back at him. Slightly graying, but still handsome, the man presented the well-composed picture of someone profoundly pleased with himself. Guy knew his face – had seen it many times in the news and on the net. He searched frantically for something to say, but it turned out it wasn't necessary.
"You must be Guy, I presume?" the man started with a slight smile. "Fast reaction. We were prepared to call you if you didn't contact us in another half an hour. I'm glad we didn't have to. Means you'll be willing to cooperate with us. So. I suppose you got rid of your sentinel already."
The arrogance in the guy's demeanor, confidence in his voice made Guy tremble with rage again.
"What the hell do you want from me?" he snarled.
"I'm sure you were already informed of that. Don't worry, my people will take good care of your friends until they get here. Afterwards... give yourself into my hands and I will set them free unharmed."
"Why? We don't know each other! What have I done?"
A ripple of quiet, controlled laughter escaped the Crimelord's throat. "Let's just say we have a mutual friend. And let that be enough for you for now."
Guy felt a deep frown drawing his eyebrows together. A mutual friend?
"Who?"
Only now did something else occur to him. The Crimelord knew about his 'sentinel'. How come?
Finally the villain got more serious. "Too many questions, young man, you ask too many questions. You already know everything you need to know. And if you care for your friends you will come. After all, it's a very profitable exchange. Three for one."
"I can't come!" Guy spoke quickly. "Even if I wanted to. I just can't. I haven't got rid of any damn sentinel. He's standing right outside the door, waiting for me. He won't let me go no matter what. I was lucky he allowed me to come here and check what's going on. Please, leave my friends be. There's no point in hurting them, I won't come anyway!"
But the Crimelord's eyes remained stern. "I'm sorry, but that's not an option. You're still with your protector? Then get rid of him. That's my final word."
The fist of Guy's artificial arm thrust against the desk – not too hard, just an expression of desperation he couldn't stop – and the next moment it rose to cradle his aching head. His mind worked frantically. Shit! What was he supposed to do? What!? He felt the heavy presence of the said protector just a few feet away. Watching him. Listening to his every word. But he didn't have a choice, did he?
"All right," he exhaled. "Alright, I'll try to get rid of him. But I don't think it'll be easy. The guy isn't a fool. I need time. Please, give me a few days. Ten days." He looked up at the screen pleadingly, stealing glances at the figure by the wall, expecting that every moment the guy will jump up to him, revealing his presence and spoiling everything. But the dark shape at the edge of his vision didn't move.
The Crimelord considered his words for a few moments.
"A week," he said finally. "Midnight next Tuesday is a deadline."
Guy breathed deeply, feeling how his legs were shaking.
"Deal," he gasped.
"See you soon then," the criminal concluded shortly and broke the connection. The screen went blank again. Guy leaned heavily against the desk, fearing he could fall any moment.
"You won't get rid of me," he heard the calm voice of his another tormentor. He tiredly raised his gaze. The man still stood in his place, arms crossed. He saw the cool relentlessness in those narrowed hazel eyes, he could almost feel the air of confident control the guy had over him. And suddenly that was too much.
"Fuck!" he yelled, pushing away from the desk, leaping up angrily. "What's wrong with y'all!? Everyone is after me all of a sudden! My life is fucked up already. I don't need you to fuck with it more! Jupiter wants me dead, right? Great, she'll get it. Ya think this guy will be so nice as to spare me? Hell no! He's not that kind of man. He'll have me killed as soon as he gets whatever it is he wants!"
He paused abruptly, suddenly tired again, all anger escaping him as he shouted out what was on his mind. His arms slumped down helplessly and his back hunched. The man studied him motionlessly, lips tightened into a thin angry line. Only after a moment did he speak, slowly, with the calmness that could freeze fire.
"You're right, he probably does mean to kill you, but I don't think it will satisfy her. She wants to be the one to do it and she will not give up her revenge. I wouldn't. And that your life is fucked up is solely your fault. You're the mindless murderer, now pay for it. Don't be surprised there are many who hate you."
Guy held the man's gaze for a short moment, then lowered his eyes, ashamed. He slowly dragged himself to the armchair and slumped down into it. He closed his eyes and threw his head back.
"You think I'm the mindless murderer," he murmured. "Ya know, you're right. And I can see you'll be happy handing me over to ol' Jupe. Hey, no hard feelings, I understand you. The problem is – if you do it, I'll have even more lives on my account. If you despise me so much for being a murderer, don't make me become even worse. Don't make a murderer of yourself."
Daryl watched the long haired youth sprawled limply in the armchair and had to admit that he was surprised. Surprised with a total lack of fight when it came to his own life. Surprised with the ferocity with which he fought for the lives of those friends of his.
"There's no way out," he said. "She accepts no excuses. Me neither."
"I'm not telling you not to take me to her." Guy still kept his eyes closed. He seemed almost relaxed. "All I'm saying is please, let's think of some way to get my pals out. Give me those few days, maybe we'll come up with something. Afterwards I'm all yours."
Beeping of the cell phone interrupted the silence of Katze's room. Reluctantly he looked away from the monitor, trying to remember where he'd put his mobile. Right, the bedside table. He got up with a sigh. Judging by the signal it was one of his men. Why didn't they ever use the comm unit?
He looked at the number. Daryl. He pressed the button.
"Yeah?"
"Why the hell is it that every assignment from you turns out to be some kind of shit-job?" a slightly irritated voice snapped at him from the receiver.
Katze rolled his eyes. "Not every assignment, just part of them. And that is why I have men like you, Daryl. Competent to deal with the shit. Now, what is it?"
He heard a quiet grunt from the other side.
"I fetched our charge today. I have him with me right now. But it appears we have a serious problem here. I think I'll need your help."
"So," Guy asked, sliding deeper into the armchair's cushions, unable to suppress a vicious little grin. "Looks like we're gonna spend more time together after all. Will you finally tell me your name?"
The man gave him a distasteful glance, but seemed to consider that.
"Daryl," he said at last. "It's Daryl. But don't get too cozy with it. I don't think I'll like the sound of it coming from your mouth."