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"Defying Gravity"A Romance in Three PartsWritten By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language Summary: A multi part story of romance starting
with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC
mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer
vacation. "Part Two: It's Back to Work"
Chapter 16
Duo's POV again as we transition to the next story arc. I have to give my bud, Quatre, a lot of credit. He was a wonder boy at times. He fabricated the entire cover story for the operation recovering the boy, Jimmy, from the clutches of the pervert Count Giopinno, making it appear that the police had been following the Count's activities and not Gunter's. We still had need to "protect" Gunter. We still needed to connect all the links from source to sink to fulfill the mission objectives, and that meant we still needed Gunter alive and cooperative. "It wasn't hard to find plenty of reasons for the police to investigate the corrupt official," Quatre said. "True," I told him, not letting him escape taking the credit, "but it was your skills that wound it up." His determination, political savvy and skillful manipulations of press and of the count's many enemies, caused the man's many indiscretions to come to light in the subsequent police investigations. The count was depraved and dishonest and now incarcerated. The press had a field day and Gunter's name was never mentioned, his connection to the "boy for hire" scandal remained hidden. Hopefully, he would feel safe enough to continue his dealings with the 'army' recruiters until we could catch him and arrest his perverted ass. This was our hope and our plan. I on the other hand, assuming you have another hand, was not a wonder boy. Duo "Scythe" Maxwell was a mess. I really needed to be someplace else. Every night I hit the swankiest night spots and pranced around enticing sexual attention. Mill accompanied me, sometimes with Quatre, sometimes Trowa, or even Heero, rarely all four of us. We drew attention wherever we went. There was interest in the skin Wind was trading. If we wanted to change careers, any of us could have made a damned impressive income as rent boys. Not that we did, obviously. We preferred making less money risking our lives as Preventer's agents. What happened every night when I'd get home is I'd be horny as hell, and sick because of it. I hated the others thinking I was getting off on this lifestyle, 'cause, well, it was too much like being a L2 slut. I didn't like my best friends thinking that was what I'd become. Working on my own was better in that way. I locked myself in the bathroom for private relief. Nearly every night I'd whack off in the shower. I could sleep platonically with Mill when I was done, or less platonically with Heero in his bed. I had a choice, sometimes. Other times, Heero insisted I shower and sleep with him, bond with him. I have to admit, it kept me sane and I agreeably took that route more often. Still, I didn't want him to find me repulsive and grow to disrespect me. I tried to explain to him that there were nights when I felt sullied and unworthy of his arms. I did not want him around when Scythe had to do something Duo'd be ashamed of. I didn't. I just couldn't do that to Heero or me, Duo. This one night Mill took me, Quatre, and Trowa out, leaving Heero at home with the monitoring job. Quatre and I had a rough night. He got pawed and pinched enough to have greasy prints on his clothes and bruises on his skin. He was somewhat effeminate looking with his cultured, effete gestures and manners, and attracted one set of deviants, while Trowa interested a different set, who liked his graceful strength and agility. Why I got the druggies and head cases, I'll never know. We were at this club called "Dead End" in German. The music wasn't bad, just too loud and the lighting crazier than most other places, all these tiny lights outlining wall features and blinking. I'd had groping hands down my pants and would have ripped one off had Trowa not ground his groin into my "admirer's" ass and lured him away. Why didn't I find that funny? It wasn't as if Trowa was very aggressive, normally. Nothing about being bait for war-monger-whore-mongers was funny, I guess. A minute later, Mill rescued my braid from a dude perving on it and stuffing it into his shirt. Man, I woulda cuffed him upside of the head with a meat cleaver or a scythe had I had one, which would have been a bad thing for business, so it was a good thing Mill was there. He seemed to be there for all of us more often since the drug incidents, so often that Quatre called him our "keeper." Mill hated that nickname, so we starting using it around the house; working he was "Wind" or "Sir." Wherever we went, he mostly accompanied us, schmoozing with the other high class pimps, arms dealers, drug dealers, and other cream of the underworld society bastards. I think the Prince of Sanc found his vocational niche, proving my point all along: those OZ operatives were just high class pimps, arms dealers, and drug dealers dressed up in uniforms and organized into a military unit. That's what made this mission of ours so damned familiar. I was back in the war fighting for a vague notion of freedom and self-reliance. I was better fed, better dressed, but I sure did miss my Gundam and the license to blow things up. Stress release, destruction, chaos, yeah. Now, all I had was sex. Sex, Zechs, and Heero. Over time, Scythe transformed into a dominating, up market, sexy piece of merchandise, but it was strictly hands off Wind's commodity for the time being. Prince Wind made it clear that he was aiming for the marketplace of the upper crust, and rumors of "the big event" thrummed at the edges of conversations. "Hey, babe, dance with me," one piece of shit would offer me. Sometimes I would. "One." "You are gorgeous, sweetie. I can get you into the big time." Stuff like that perked my interest. "Think so?" "Yeah, but I have to get to know you better. Say, I got good stuff back at my place." Always the drugs. I'd pretend to consider the idea. "Where is it?" I'd ask, not that I had any mind to take anyone up on their offer, but I would test my memory. I'd spent many hours learning the details, studying maps, calling real estate agents—well, Heero did—and I committed it all to memory. I knew the tony addresses, the expensive real estate around the financial district with extortionate price tags. Often the slummiest places were close by, hidden from view by twisting alleyways. You had to know with exactitude the concrete location of an address in the vast network of the numbering system, or you'd find yourself in a fleapit rather than a palace. "Real nice place on 53rd." I knew with precision most of the grey areas. "Upper or lower?" "Upper. 270-view of the city." Gottem! "Go to hell! The only city you see from there is where your mother works the streets." End of dance. Hell, I gave the dude a tumble. He had his chance. I know my teammates were worried about me going over the edge, and I was close for sure. My sense of humor was shot. I couldn't pull off practical jokes, and sarcasm was more Heero's style than mine. At times, I just played Scythe to the hilt and stayed there for a few days just to get him out of my system. In Heero's arms, I'd be Duo Maxwell again. Maybe my brain was split and would never mend back into a single operative unit again. I wasn't sure and I wasn't sure if there was anything to do about it anyway. Not at the time. Over a month had passed since the night we'd gotten Jimmy out. The drug shipment that had been scheduled for the middle of the month had been nicked in the bud by Wufei's impressive sting operation, but caused the next one to be delayed indefinitely. We still didn't have a complete breakdown on the drugs I'd been slipped. Gunter had canceled another dinner and had avoided me like the plague. We continued to watch and wait for things to happen. But the only thing Gunter did during that time was visit Mill's dummy, porn web-site. I had started to worry that Gunter was onto us, but Mill just smiled and told me to be patient. Quatre stuck his wet head out of his bedroom. "Give the water heater ten more minutes before you shower." "'Kay!" I looked up at the clock on the wall above the desk in the office. It was six-thirty and Trowa had not called yet. It was a Friday night and I was taking Heero to a quiet dinner. We needed a night away from the house anyway, so I didn't complain. I'd asked Quatre and Trowa to tag along and Trowa was supposed to call if he could get away. It had grown increasingly rare for Gunter to let him out of his sight for very long. The earlier plans for Mill to offer to buy Jimmy, or some other boy, now that he was gone, had been nay-say-ed by Trowa. The game plan had changed. After little Pascal's escape and Strom's quick demise, Gunter had a few reasons to be nervous. Add the loss of Jimmy and the Italian count's arrest to that and I'd call Gunter terrified. He must have had the car inspected and discovered the tracers because we lost the feed. The other one had been on Strom's car, we discovered, when the last feed we got landed us at a used car lot. So much for those. Trowa volunteered to attempt to place new ones, but Mill said definitely no. Too risky. I think Quatre smiled more that day after hearing that. It was a very odd thing about the Italian count. He seemed more afraid of outing Gunter than doing time. He'd refused to talk to anyone but his lawyer and even his lawyer seemed aggravated with him. I realized that there was probably a lot more about the count and Gunter than we knew. Was I afraid of Gunter, the man himself? Fuck no. Was I afraid of being around him? Fuck yeah. I was afraid he'd drug my ass again and I'd end up killing him. I'd thought to myself several times that that wouldn't be a bad idea at all. I certainly would feel no pain over it, other than from Agent in Charge Bauer and the rest his dumbass agents that were now "watching" our operation. Tens minutes were up and it was my turn at the bathroom. I did the quick clean, skipping my hair so I'd leave enough hot water for Heero. I dried and dressed in what I'd been wearing. I really needed to do some laundry soon. I crashed on our futon bed, fresh from my shower, and smiled at Heero. "So, did Barton call you?" Heero asked. I looked up suddenly and shook my head slowly. "I haven't heard from him, and he's not making appearances with the cameras in either house." "Winner is showing signs of severe stress having him working Gunter's place," Heero said quietly. "I know that it's not any consolation, but he's actually safest where he is now. If we get him out, Gunter will hunt him down like a dog because of the things he's witnessed. Trowa's going to have to go through some of that swell Preventer's counseling, even after Gunter is taken down." I rolled Heero to my right side and then rolled my body over his. He sighed and lifted his arms above his head, lying relaxed beneath me. "I've been trying to explain that to Winner. He just wants it all to go away." I laughed. "Who can blame him?" "I'll shower and get dressed while you go check the monitors and call Jimmy," Heero said. "I put his home number on the desk. His father was located and he's living with him. I guess he's very grateful to you and the man wants to meet you, even though he know you can't now. You promised to call the kid." I nodded. "You always seem to get your way." "Of course I do. I'm the one who's always right." As I peeled off of him and the bed, I raked over his half-naked body with a glare, but there was no heat in it. There was no way I was going to tell him that he was indeed right ninety-eight percent of the time. "Whatever you want to believe, babe," I mumbled. As I headed for the door, I stopped and turned, biting my lip to keep from smiling and failing terribly. Heero lay there with one hand tucked under his chin, the fingers of his other hand tapping patiently on the bed. "Go ahead, choose any of my clothes you think you can get your fat ass into," I said as I walked out. I could still hear him laughing as I went into the living room. I cursed him silently for knowing me so well and at the same time, the thought of it sent shivers down my spine. I went into the office and scanned the computer screens for activity. One of the alarm boxes on my computer was flashing. The motion alarm that I'd set in Gunter's library had been triggered. I pulled the camera up and there was Raul Frolich sitting at Gunter's desk, appearing to search for something on the laptop computer. I watched as he sifted through the desk drawers before returning to his chair, frustrated as hell. "Aw, don't let a little challenge frustrate you. You don't have all night, you know. Gunter can come back any minute. You wanna bullet to the brain, too?" I muttered at the monitor. I didn't know what he could be searching for, but I half-ass hoped that he would find it. He suddenly left the chair and turned to the book-lined shelves behind him to poke and prod around. He pulled a book half way out and pushed it back in. He repeated that gesture over and over again as he scanned the titles. A few of them he actually took out and thumbed through before putting them back. He checked his watch as he pulled out another book. "Come on you SOB, don't give up now. Find the mother—" A small case slipped from the book and clattered to the floor, a case with a small CD. Nothing's better than an answer to your prayers. "Bingo!" I heard the Mill's bedroom door slam and knew that he'd had gotten out of the bathroom. Talk about shower hogs; he was the worst. A consequence of vanity is hogging the facilities—you can quote me. I leaned back, propped my feet up on the desk, and watched Frolich on the monitor. He walked over to Gunter's laptop and I reached over to Mill's computer to make sure that the feed would come through if Frolich inserted the disc. Sure enough, he jammed in the disc then took another from his jacket pocket. When he started typing the copy instructions, I pulled Mill's keyboard closer, entered in a few commands, and confirmed that the data stream would all come through. As the CD copied, I extracted the data through the secured wireless server. I lived for moments like this. Mostly, they were just that, moments. This was too easy, and I knew nothing worth it ever came that easy. "Ah, shit," I said to nobody because nobody but me was there at the time. "The entire file's encrypted! Man, how long is it gonna take me to make it readable?" Too long. In calculable hours. I just wasn't up for that tonight. I saved the file to a memory stick and returned to watching mister sneaky bastard. Frolich pocketed his illicit copy and returned the original disc to its hiding place. He took a look around and rearranged a few items, possibly trying to make it look like he hadn't been there. I couldn't figure out why Frolich would be snooping around in Gunter's office, but I was curious as hell. I just hoped that whatever was on the disc would point me in the right direction. None of us believed Raul Frolich was clean as his stats read. "Well, Raul, what were you so willing to risk you life snooping tonight?" Okay, I couldn't leave it at that. I had to give it the old Maxwell try, at least. I ran the file from the memory stick through a couple decryption programs, which were all I had on this computer. I'd have to ask Heero what he had with him, but I knew it couldn't be much. The most sophisticated programs resided back at headquarters. We had the best high-performance supercomputers with super highly-tuned computer cluster distributed-memory systems using commodity processors combined with custom interconnects: IBM Blue Gene/L, NEC Earth Simulator, IBM ASCI White, and an Intel ASCI Red. In spite of my personal software limitations, I finally managed to convert a tiny portion of the file into something readable. Naturally, not a lot of it made sense to me, some of it I wasn't sure if I'd gotten completely unencrypted; in fact, I might have made it worse. But instead of dumping my new file of crap on Quatre or Heero, I decided to send it to Wufei and his contacts in the decrypting lab. "Okay, I recognize one column of cities names, including Brussels, New Germany, Paris Certain, East London, and Venice Proper. Train schedules. Who knows? Could be several schedules and several foreign contacts. Ah, more data... Those might be codes and passwords along with names." I really didn't have a clue what it meant, except that nearly every "contact" had a foreign city name in one column—that much I could tell. Heero and I could figure it out, given the time and computing power, but we didn't have either. I didn't mind waiting on the lab to work out the results. They actually knew what they were doing most of the time, which was impressively high in an organization as big and clogged with worthless idiots as the Preventer's. There were times when I missed working for people who had it together. This assignment was not one of those times, replete with people functioning as obstacles while masquerading as agents, police, and professional investigators. The New Germany constabulary was adequate, but it still had holes and bureaucratic assholes that thought they ran the show. Same thing for the local Preventer's office, only the Preventer's knew it, and flaunted it. I had two words for Agent in Charge Klaus Bauer, who persisted in calling me every other day now—fuck off. That hadn't made him too happy, and he'd threatened to have my ass in a sling. I told him it sounded kinky and that if he attempted it, I'd cut off his balls and hand feed them to him. Yeah, I could swing into old Shinigami Duo again, and I didn't care. "Okay, who's home?" I checked each camera feed. Gunter was not in the house, but I located Trowa - at last!-- was in the living room. He must have been in the kitchen earlier, where we had no surveillance. I called his cell phone, which would vibrate silently. I watched the feed as he checked the caller ID and answered. "Yo." "Think you can get me a complete print set from that Raul dude?" "Yeah." "Thanks. You cool?" I asked, but Trowa he was always one cool dude. "It's chill, babe." "We're waiting dinner in case Alric shows." "Thanks. Later, dude." Yeah, there was more to Raul than an interest in building a CD collection. I left the office in search of Heero, checking on his progress dressing. He was not in the bedroom, so I sauntered into the living room where he and Quatre were watching Mill as he finished an intense conversation. Now that his injuries were healing fast and he felt better, Mill's mood had improved and he wanted back in the game, and in control. "I have my fifth boy arriving tomorrow." Mill waved me into the room signaling for me to keep my mouth shut. "Yes, I can meet you that evening. All right. I think your run of bad luck is about to change. Yes, and good night, Gunter." He hung up the phone and cracked a smile. "Well, it seems that Gunter is in trouble. He has lost two boys, lost his contact Count Giopinno, although we don't understand the importance of that connection, murdered his own man, Strom, lost his hollow sculpture for transferring drugs in Chang's sting, and now he has called me for help." "Your help? For what? What does he want?" I asked. Someone had to. "I'm going to find out. The man sounded frazzled. What he said is that he has employment opportunities for several boys, older ones like mine. He's been very impressed with the job Tamer has done for him." I guess I didn't look impressed or enthusiastic enough. None of us did. Mill huffed a little then said, "This is a good thing for us. Don't you see? Getting you placed in different parts of his operations will give us looks into his businesses. We haven't made much headway lately just sitting here, and, more importantly, if he is a player in the big 'trade show', then we can finagle an invitation out of him." Trowa entered the house, looking weary, but anxious to leave the neighborhood. He made a point of unwrapping his jacket slowly from his arm to reveal a shot glass sealed in an evidence bag. "You got it!" I shouted excitedly. "You are terrific, Tro! No wonder Heero adores you—as a partner, I added quickly. "Do you think the local agency can be trusted with this?" Mill sighed and rubbed at his temples. Ah, the return of that tension headache. Well, we'd be out of his hair momentarily. Maybe the man could sleep it off. I felt bad knowing I was the cause. I know he was tired of my distrusting everyone and leveling cutting remarks at their lackluster abilities. Quatre had warned me, too. I had practically single-handedly sabotaged all the connections with the local agencies. But I was right, to a point. It wasn't that the officers and agents couldn't execute instructions or do their jobs; it was that we were very, very good, so much better skilled that the others were flawed in comparison. Didn't matter. If Mill had expected me to be easier going than Heero, that was his problem. I was just as exacting. My stomach clenched up. Great, his stress was transferring to me. Transfer guilt-- man, what next? Mill dragged out a tortured answer. "I am... sure... that they can handle a finger print ID, if that is what you mean." "Yeah, that is what I mean. Okay, then I guess we can drop this by on our way to dinner," I said. "Can you give me a minute to clean up?" Trowa asked. "Take your time," I said. Maybe my appetite would return. "Mill, I have a bad feeling about this offer of Gunter's." "Don't tell me. You don't like the idea of separating the five of you," Mill said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made the sentiment sound kinda grubby. "Well, divide and conquer, ya know? Thinning out the opposition in order to take on the size units you felt beatable. As a team, we watch each others' backs; we're strong. Taken one at a time, we have vulnerabilities, even us." Mill leaned against the window, bracing himself with an arm and gazed out at the house that hell built, thinking. "Point taken under consideration. I'll listen to his proposal and not agree to anything until we've had a day or two to think over any offer he makes." "We should make a point of keeping us in pairs, at least," Quatre said. Heero agreed that to hear Gunter out made sense. I hung on to the idea that the man was poison and nothing he would propose would benefit us unless we put a lot of effort into ensuring it did. Trowa strode past me to Quatre's side wearing a fresh shirt and a smile. We filled him in and traded ideas, settling on a prioritized list of what we wanted to achieve and what was not negotiable. After learning what it was Gunter wanted, we'd decide how we'd adapt it to our needs. We settled the issue for the night. No more discussing it on the way out to the car even and left Mill to hold down the fort alone for a night. I'm sure he was sick of us and welcomed the privacy. It felt to me a bit like escaping an Oz prison— the rush of freedom followed by gut-level creeps wondering what was waiting right around the corner. And true to form, we were cutting into dessert when Heero's cell phone buzzed, his being the only damned one not shut off. "Hn. Intercept in... thirty. Hn." Heero snapped it shut and sighed. "That was Zechs. Good news, actually. We are to proceed to the airport and pick up Chang. Ahead of schedule, so he must be coming directly from mopping up after the Brussels job." "He'll need clothes," Quatre said. "Something to disguise his appearance." "So do I," Heero said. "I've been borrowing since I got here." "Makes tomorrow sound fun," Trowa said, rolling his eyes. "Day off and I spend it shopping." He smiled and looked at Quatre, who had taken responsibility for doing nearly all the wash for everybody. "Better than doing laundry, I guess, though." "Yes, it is!" Quatre agreed. "About that, none of you seem like you're about to start doing your own laundry, assuming, I suppose, that some little fairy will swoop in and do it for you!" Trowa smiled. "Yeah, when I saw your cute ass walking back to the laundry room with the two overstuffed bags of my clothes and everyone else's towels, that's what I was thinking. Fairy wash boy. I got my wish." Quatre's face turned pink and he looked down at his plate, forcing back a giggle. "What I'm saying is —if I'm doing the wash, someone's got to do bathrooms. Duo's kept the kitchen all by himself, I think, so it's not his job." "I'm not in much," Trowa said. It was true. "I'll run a vacuum." "We don't have one. You can change bedding or collect and wash towels," Quatre told him, but his eyes were on Heero, the other one delinquent it taking on housekeeping duties. "Prince Zechs can see to his bathroom; I'll take the other," Heero said. "And Wufei likes clean, so he will find plenty to do, I'm sure," Quatre said, his smile returning. "I have my limits and with everything else we have to put up with—" "Why not stay out by the airport night, then?" Duo asked. "That way we can shop-and-salon first thing and farther away from curious eyes. Quatre, you and Trowa need professional color touch ups. Maybe 'Fie would like a perm? We could all use those manicure/pedicure jobs. The works, ya know?" "Everyone okay with that?" Heero asked. "Fine. You drive I'll notify Zechs. I would not mention the perm idea to Chang." "Oh, that's okay," I said with a smile. "I thought I'd do that." The break from the duties of the past weeks was long overdue. Even Mill was grateful that we were taking the burden of dressing Wufei off his shoulders. Everyone was pleased, except Wufei, naturally. "Another nasty hotel?!" Wufei nearly shrieked then he whined, "I've been in hotels for days. I was hoping for a nice bed of my own." "Well, this'll be as close to that wish as you are going to get," I told him as we wended their way through the throngs at the gate and to the bar where the other three ex-pilots were waiting. "What do you mean by that and it had better not be what I am thinking. I am not sharing a bed with any of you, and that's final. Or Zechs! You weren't thinking of putting me with him?!" "Hi, Wufei!" Quatre greeted him. Two beers on top of the wine at dinner and he appeared light-hearted again. I don't think Wufei recognized the others at first; definitely, he stared blankly at Quatre, the one speaking to him. It had been months since he had last seen them. Their hair had grown, for one thing. Quatre's was still red-hued, center parted, and past his jaw. Trowa's hair was also center-parted, grazing his shoulders and even a lighter reddish-blonde from repeated highlighting treatments. He looked like Quatre's slightly taller, hunkier brother—not what you look for in a boyfriend, the brother part. It wasn't doing their relationship any good, for sure. I noticed fewer lingering touches and loving smiles, those intimate gestures two lovers in the early throes of discovering their shared feelings can't seem to avoid, and hoped this hadn't killed their spark. Heero's hair hung limp and straight from the conditioning care, while yellow-tinted glasses disguised his eyes, but his rigid stance as he rose to greet us was all Heero. I think my braid was a dead giveaway; at least, 'Fei hadn't seemed to have a problem knowing who I was at the gate. "Yuy, Barton—?" Wufei's voice was husky, probably from the bad air on planes causing throats to dries out. "Winner? Is that...you?" "Yes, although I don't think even the Maguanacs would recognize me any more." Quatre's voice was familiar. "Have a seat. Have a drink!" "That is a very good idea." Wufei sank into soft chair and closed his eyes a moment, relaxing for what I'da guessed to have been the first time in months. "I feel like a moth amongst butterflies," he said in a voice so low I barely heard it. "I take that as a compliment," I barked out in a laugh. "Don't worry, after tomorrow, you'll be a heart-breaking piece of eye-candy." His eyes flashed me a warning, narrowed, then closed again. "My ancestors will be so proud." We laughed at his wry humor, glad of it, frankly. There was too much sorrow and grim truths in our short lives. The waitress arrived with menus and another round of beers, giving us another distraction. We traded the kind of small-talk close associates do, ordered food and more drinks, mapped out the next day in town, and dove into the dishes as quickly as they were place before us. When we finished, Heero picked up the tab and motioned for us to head outside, where we could speak freely and not be overheard. "You haven't mentioned the results I sent on the ID workup on Alric Gunter," Wufei said. "We received no data," Heero told him. "I can't believe—" Wufei reached for his shoulder portfolio, muttering a curse in Chinese. "When I was landing in Belgium, I remembered to call Milliardo with the results from the finger print analysis. I could not get a secure line, so I left a message with Agent Blake Edwards to contact Miss Dorothy Catalonia for the details to forward to Agent Milliardo Peacecraft ASAP. Damn it all!" He thumbed through a few papers until he found what he wanted. "So, Gunter left finger prints on the gift card?" I asked. "Very poor ones. They got dumped on some novice who gave up. I had to lean on that Catalonia woman to get some results." Trowa smiled. "She will make you pay." Wufei's eyebrows shot up. "I interrupted her day off. I have to take her to dinner, that's all." "Better bring Sally and another male along," Trowa said. Wufei looked alarmed. "You don't think she expected anything more?" Trowa nodded. "I made that mistake once—underestimated her concept of settling a debt. I had to call Heero in the men's room to have him come by with some emergency to get away." I grinned at Heero. "You're good at those bogus extractions." "Hn," Heero said, but he smiled. "I think you should invite Agent Edwards to join you. He has earned a night with Dorothy." "You are right. Edwards deserves that much." Wufei's face smoothed out, the frown lines softening with his mood. Quatre raised his head, sober enough to recall where the conversation began. "You have an ID for us?" "Oh, yes. Here is what I was looking for. It seems that Duke Dermail, leader of the Romefeller Foundation through the war years, had a brother, who had died in the war. This brother had a son, who would be the Duke's nephew, Franz Dermail. Franz, we believe, is the man controlling the Romefeller Foundation today. From what we'd learned about Franz, I could believe he was the type to raise an army of terrorists and disrupt the world. More sleuthing uncovered a birth certificate proving that the Duke's brother, in addition to fathering Franz, also had an illegitimate son. Franz' step-brother is Alric Gunter—imagine that!" "Thank you, Miss Catalonia!" I said. "We have our Romefeller-Gunter link at last." Quatre perked up immediately. "I will investigate that; if I have time, that is. Where there is family, there are secrets dying to be exposed." "Commander Une has a team devoted to uncovering and exposing this rubbish. She wants us to dredge up more," Wufei said with clear distaste. "Which reminds me," I interrupted the stream of thought and explained how I copied Raul's file earlier in the evening. "We'll need to look into the CD encryption and finger print results on Raul immediately," Heero said. "Chang, how tight is your relationship with Catalonia?" "Tenuous, but no matter. It is Edwards who will become a limpet to the woman of stone." Wufei said this in a light-hearted manner, once again lifting our mood, which, I think, was an odd turnabout: I deflated it and 'Fei-man elevated it. "Any results on the drugs Duo's been loaded with?" Heero asked. "Some. Agent Catalonia's work again." Trowa chuckled and said, "Fucking big dinner. Theater tickets, too." Wufei rubbed his face with a hand, groaning. "Edwards will do it all. I shall call him tonight, with my regrets that I cannot attend. This job requires my presence and participation for quite a while." "Drug results?" Heero prompted him. "What Maxwell had in his system was 5 times as strong as ecstasy, and that was just one component." Wufei sighed. "It's still being analyzed, but there should not be any long-term neurological effects." "No permanent damage, then," Heero asked. "Not with the two doses. Just stay away from it from now on." "Thanks, 'Fei, I'll remember that when some dude's shoving fast-dissolving pills down my throat." Okay, so Heero didn't own sarcasm. Heero filled him in on the latest meeting Mill arranged with Gunter. "Gunter's scared. He trusts us and needs us to work for him. In return, Mill gets an official invite to the meeting with the powers that be in the boy-trade ring." "And then what?" Quatre asked. "When is this going to be over?" Heero stared at him, his face softening with understanding and empathy for our kind-hearted friend. "As soon as we get to that 'show' we can pull Trowa and the boys at Gunter's. If one of the 'jobs' Gunter needs us for requires moving drugs, Chang and I will handle that. We will keep the DE agents, the police, customs, everyone out of the action so that we appear to be all Gunter needs to ensure safe deliveries. He will trust us and we will secure the information we need. Do not doubt that we will learn where the boys are being taken, where the army training grounds are located, and acquire the means to link the operations to all the names at the top." "Then the mission is done," Quatre said. "Yes." "Is that all?" Trowa drawled. "Piece of cake." "I hate cake," I said. "No you don't," Heero said. "Now I do."
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