Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

Title: "Eye of the Storm (Ground Zero)"

Type: series, action

Warnings: violence, language

Spoliers: not much that I could think of

Teaser: When Japan gets involved in an unnatural virus outbreak, Kritiker's best team is sent to the United States of America to try and stem the disaster

Keywords: Weiß, action

"Eye of the Storm"

Part 1

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

Centers for Disease Control

Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America

      Race Gardner felt like a stuffy idiot in his suit.  He found the elegant Cerruti a waste of money, but certainly not a waste of time.  Not simply because of the rewarding glances the women in the office were throwing his way, but mostly because… he had a reputation for recklessness (unfair, in his mind, especially since he was also an efficient worker).  And if an overpriced Cerruti would get the right ears to listen to what he had to say, an overpriced Cerruti was the way to go.

      "You can come inside now, Dr. Gardner," the middle-aged secretary told him with a half-smile. 

      "Thank you," he said, getting up from his chair and straightening his coat.  He picked up his suitcase and stepped into the well-kept office of Doctor Maya Carlton, his director.

      "Well, well," she said, a smile tugging at her stern yet beautiful face.  She leaned back in her chair and motioned for him to take the seat across from her.  "You're looking presentable.  The last time I've seen you this decent, you were pulling my leg so I would assign you to the West Africa incident"

      He grinned at her.  "There's nothing I like more in a woman than her brains, Maya.  Don't do that to me, because you're breaking my heart"

      She waved the issue away, well used to his tactics by now.  "Why are you here?"
      He started to pull out papers from his suitcase, which she stopped by raising a hand.

      "I don't want to see paperwork, Race," she said tiredly, "Give me reasons"

      The argument was already prepared in his head.  "We have three cases of what looks to be similar strains of viral hemorrhagic fever reported in three different states in the span of two weeks"

      "Isolated cases," she said, "and no other reports have been made.  It couldn't be viral, much less an outbreak"

      "All of the people who have been infected are dead," said Race tightly, "by some strain that we haven't seen before.  I think that should be reason enough to investigate"
      "We have investigated," said Maya, "in the past two weeks since the last report was made.  It's not a strain we've seen before, but that's not reason enough to cause mass hysteria, especially since nothing has been reported since"

      "All of the cases lived within a mile of a factory of Darell Pharmaceuticals," said Race, "I think that's something"

      "What are you suggesting?" Maya asked.

      "Close it down," said Race, "at least long enough for a proper investigation"

      "No!" said Maya indignantly, "Not reason enough! We're talking about a multi-million-dollar corporation! You're not the one who has to face Washington with this, Gardner.  We could be in for lawsuits, stock manipulation… the list goes on!"
      "You won't shut it down," Race deduced.

      "Hell no!"
      "That's all you needed to say," said Race with a slow smile.  It was what he had expected, after all.  "But I think you'll approve my next suggestion"
      "What's that?" Maya asked.  Gardner was an exhausting person to spar with.

      "Let me investigate," said Race, "unofficially, if you're afraid to cause mass panic.  Put me on paid leave, or something.  I have a hunch, Maya.  When did I ever let you down?"

      Never.  But she didn't want to say it out loud.  He was overconfident enough as it was.  And besides, his last hunch earned them both commendations, and big, fat raises in their salaries.

      "You'd investigate even if I didn't give permission," she snapped.

      "Yes," he said shamelessly, "but I would rather get paid, and get the requisite passes and NOT get in jail"

      She sighed.  "All right.  I'll assign it to you.  But only for a week.  If you haven't gotten any results in a week, you go back here and I give you another assignment"

      "Two weeks," he bargained.

      "All right," she said.  It was no use to bother putting up a fight with him.  "Two weeks.  Results, Gardner. I want results"

      "And no restrictions on my manner of investigation," he added hastily, "including use of unofficial contacts"
      "Fine," she said, "just don't get caught"

Exodus Laboratories

Tokyo, Japan

      He was a man of about sixty, give or take a few years, and no one ever really cared because his mind didn't seem to age.  And in Exodus Laboratories, hardly anything else mattered.

      His name was Dr. Izumida.  He acted like everyone's stern, loving father.  Except perhaps to his assistant, Satoru Ogawa, a hotheaded brilliant young man who helped him in all his undertakings and was feeling profoundly misused.

      "Please, doctor?" said Satoru, "I could do the enzyme test.  I've done it a hundred times before"

      "NOT with unidentified viruses, young doctor Ogawa," said the older man, frowning over his work.  "This is very strange"
      Izumida looked over his notes, and the cultured specimen that he was studying, enclosed by glass in a biohazard container. 

      "However," he murmured, "I believe I have just the thing…"

      He grinned as he watched his solution work wonders on the virus sample. 

      "What happened?" Satoru asked eagerly, reverently.

      "A cure," Izumida said with a grin,  "Call our lady friend Manx, and tell her I have discovered a cure"

Koneko no Sumu Ie

      The shop above the basement was alive with voices and color and squeals and peals of laughter, though the world below was beyond the reaches of the sunlight.

      Down spiral steps into a mysterious underworld, Manx, a tall, beautiful woman in a blinding red suit a match to her hair, was standing in front of White Cross.

      They didn't seem to be so dark, here in their home.  Intimidating mission clothes were removed in favor of comfortable shirts and jeans.  They looked like four bachelors in one house, just as they were supposed to.

      "This mission is going to be different," she said, "I would only need one man, and I want it to be Fujimiya"
      "What's he got that we don't?" Yoji asked, more curious than annoyed; it couldn't have had anything to do with skill, because he was long since assured of his own, and his other teammates'.

      "I'll start from the beginning," she said.

      "After rigorous schooling here in Japan," she said, "I had special training in covert operations in America for four years, to further my skills.  That's where I met Race Gardner, who became a very close friend of mine.  We parted at the end of those four years, I to work for Kritiker in Japan, and he to pursue a doctorate in biology, specializing in pathogens.  With his militaristic skills as well as brilliance in the scientific field, he was employed by the Centers for Disease Control in Georgia.  Race worked in various sectors that included Bioterrorism Preparedness and Response, as well as Research sectors of the organization.

      "Recently, three cases of similar and unidentified deaths have been reported in various states in America," continued Manx, "and he was assigned to investigate it.  Unofficially, because of complications within their government.  That's why he contacted me, after all these years.  Looked me up.  Since Kritiker has access to expansive laboratories.  He sent me tissue samples of all three victims, which one of our esteemed doctors identified as coming from the same, unidentified viral strand, and who also just recently came up with a cure.

      "The thing is," she said with a frown, "Dr. Izumida has confirmed that the strand is not known to be naturally occurring"
      "Someone's making viruses?" asked Ken, eyes wide.  "That's crazy!"
      "Race already has a suspect in mind," said Manx, "Recently, stocks to a company called Darell Pharmaceuticals have been plunging.  All victims lived in close proximity of their factories.  Either they have been violating safety requirements in disposing of their biohazard wastes… or they've been deliberately infecting people"

      "Why would they?" asked Yoji.

      "It's a relatively old trick," said Omi, "You infect people, let a few of them die.  Get the public in a panic.  Release an outbreak.  Then come out with a cure.  If they're the only company who has the cure, prices of their stock will rise, and they would definitely profit"

      "Exactly," nodded Manx, "that's why Dr. Izumida will need protection if anyone knows that he also has a cure and is intending to give it to the CDC for public use.  He is coming to America with a sample of it, and I want Ran to escort him to Atlanta and meet up with Race there.  According to Race, the U.S. Government via miscellaneous expenses of the CDC will be willing to reimburse us for the trouble"

      "It's pretty suspicious," said Omi, "Why won't your doctor friend Race Gardner come to legitimate sectors? I mean, surely his government cares for the welfare of its people and has its own means of protecting them?"
      "Yes," conceded Manx, "but apart from the fact that I could readily vouch for his character, Race also explained that the big-shots in Washington won't let him openly investigate Darell in fears of a lawsuit, unless he could come up with more proof.  So he can't go near any legitimate body of authority without causing suspicion, not to mention hindering his investigation."
      "So I'm going to America," said Ran flatly.

      "If you choose to accept the mission," she replied.

      "Which brings us back to the original question," said Yoji, "why just Ran?"

      "Because I think one man would be enough to protect the doctor, since no one else is supposed to know he has the cure," she replied, "Second, Ran is different enough from Race to get along with him perfectly well"

      Manx smiled slowly, "And lastly, I know Ran won't ask Race what we had between us"

Atlanta, Georgia

United States of America

      Ran was grateful to find Dr. Izumida as a quiet, if slightly eccentric professional.  He spoke pleasantly and only when he needed to, which was fine with the taciturn redhead.

      The two men sat side by side in first class, Ran declining the free wine all throughout the flight and the older man seemingly trying to drink enough for both of them.

      "Relax," Ran felt obliged to say, for the first time feeling ridiculous.  He supposed the older man didn't trust his safety with the hired assassin.

      "I'm going to be sick," Izumida said, running to the bathroom and even then, taking his briefcase with him.  The briefcase had been marked 'diplomatic goods' by Kritiker, so it was untouchable by customs.  It held the precious cure.

      Ran sighed, sinking to his cushioned seat.  So much for professional.  Though it was perfectly normal to be nervous.  Dr. Izumida was in grave danger, after all.  He never thought his first trip to America would be like this.

      The doctor arrived after awhile, looking pale and shaken but much more subdued now.

      After hours upon hours of flight, comfortable as it was, Ran was relieved to finally touch down on land, in San Francisco, where they made a brief stop before flying to Atlanta.  At last, Ran thought.  He was going to go crazy cooped up much longer, first class or no.

      The two men sailed through customs, no doubt through Kritiker's intervention again.  It was after all the papers had been settled and all their bags collected that the doctor said he wanted to go to the washroom.

      Izumida insisted on going alone, but Ran was adamant about his own position.  He was bodyguarding-- he won't let the old man out of his sight.

      Sighing in resignation, Izumida let Ran follow him around the vast airport; though it was nothing to Japan's own Kunsai. 

      Izumida led the way to the men's comfort room, Ran patiently guarding him still. 

      Izumida waited for the bathroom to empty.  Then, with all his might, he used his briefcase as a weapon.

      With inhuman strength that surprised even its wielder, Izumida struck the unsuspecting Ran over the head, causing him to collapse to the hard ground.

      "I'm sorry," Izumida said, dragging the body behind one of the stalls to hide it there and give him more time to escape.  He took the briefcase with him as he walked hastily out of the washroom, and out of the airport.

      Ran opened his eyes to a--thankfully-dimly-lit room.  From its sparse furnishing, he identified it easily as a hospital.  He wasn't alone.  In one corner, a man about a few years older than he, was standing by the window, looking out into the view of the city at night.

      He was tall and lean, clean-shaven and would have looked like an ideal model of an American yuppie, if he didn't look so… lethal.  Piercing green eyes were reflective as they stared out into the night.  His dark blonde hair curled at his nape, just above the collar of his polo shirt.  His hands were in the pockets of his navy slacks.

      Ran had no doubt that this was the Doctor Race Gardner of Manx's story.  He was more than handsome enough to be attractive to a woman of Manx's standards.  He was intelligent enough not to be daunted by her.  And he seemed successful enough not to be insecure of her accomplishments.

      Ran watched the aristocratic features form into a quick smile.  The face had a lot of laugh lines in them, which also made him seem somewhat accessible to people.

      "Through watching?" he asked.

      "Yes," Ran said shamelessly.

      Race laughed, stepping forward and shaking Ran's hand.  "Hanae is brilliant.  We'll get along, Fujimiya"

      "So you're saying the sixty-year-old man," said Race patiently, after debriefing Ran, "happened to hit a trained assassin over the head with a briefcase and run away"

      Ran scowled, feeling more embarrassed than anything.  "Yes.  Are you calling me a liar?"
      No, but Race was thinking that he spoke too soon in saying they would get along.  But this was straightforward enough.

      "Actually," said Race thoughtfully, "before getting the story from you, I checked out the security cams.  Dr. Izumida wasn't kidnapped.  He left of his own accord.  I just wanted to make sure"

      "He left with the briefcase that contained the cure?" asked Ran, feeling a headache come along.  Or maybe, finally feeling the already-existing ache once the painkillers started to lose effect.

      "Naturally," said Race, "but he took nothing else with him.  His personal effects are in my custody"

      "Manx didn't say you were a cop," pointed out Ran.

      "No," said Race, "but I have the proper paperwork that says I can requisition anything I wanted.  And even if I didn't… I'm very, very good at what I do"

      Ran looked as if he didn't care, but for whatever it was worth, he didn't bother to question the seemingly capable man.

      "He could have gone to Darell Pharmaceuticals," Race muttered, "goddamn sell-out," he sighed, "but we don't know anything for sure yet.  And as long as that's the case, it's not safe to talk here, or in most places"

      Ran agreed silently to this assessment. 

      "Spend the night here in the hospital and get some rest," said Race, "you can check-out tomorrow morning and we can discuss our next move in a safer place."

      Race left the room, giving him a reassuring smile.  His door would be guarded tonight, Ran knew.

      But somehow, he still couldn't sleep or rest his mind.  He was the foreigner here, sick and alone, and in the middle of an intrigue he knew nothing about.

      The apartment was in the expensive part of the city, far enough from its heart to be peaceful, but not too far from his office so as to be inconvenient.  It was a corner building made of bricks, reminding him of Koneko, and across the street from a charming little coffee shop.

      Ran looked around the interior.

      It was impossibly clean; Gardner was a cautious doctor, so there had to have been no doubt about that.  It was tastefully furnished in monochromes and designer articles, balanced by an explosion of color in select abstract paintings along the walls.  It was big and expensive-looking, but didn't look as if it were lived-in much…

      Ah.  Of course not.  His kitchen was the only place that came remotely close to chaotic--there were photographs pinned haphazardly on the refrigerator, of Race in different places from all over the world, and people he's met.  Ran counted seven photographs that included Manx there, before deciding to stop.

      "Want anything?" Race asked, "I can't cook, but I make a decent cup of coffee"
      "No thanks," Ran said, following the older man who led him to one of three guest rooms-- he definitely had too much space, for a bachelor.

      "My mother used to come in on weekends," he said sheepishly, "now that she has grandchildren with my sister, she's forgotten about me.  And… ah… anytime I feel something big is coming with the CDC, I make all my relatives come over, just to be safe"

      Ran almost smirked.  Well.

      "So make yourself at home," said Race, "Rest up.  That had been a relatively serious concussion, you know.  I've contacted Manx and she's sending the rest of your team over, to sort out this mess"
      Ran raised his eyebrows.  "They're coming?"
      "Yup," affirmed Race, "You will be compensated, you know, though Manx says it doesn't matter.  White Hunters will fight the dark, even in the farthest corners, all that mumbo-jumbo"

      Yoji, Ken and Omi were awaited by Race and Ran, standing near customs.  They made a fetching picture, two urbane men seemingly set apart from the crowd.  Even in the thick of things and the bustling activity, one could see them right away.

      "You must be my rival for Manx's affections," said Yoji to Gardner playfully, extending his right hand out to shake the older man's.  Race smirked, and returned it just as happily.

      "Any developments?" Omi asked, looking at Ran closely and noting the extra-paleness of his already-too-white skin, just on the brink of recovery from his recent injuries  "You okay?"
      Ran acknowledged his concern with a curt nod, touched but embarrassed.  "Nothing new has come"
      "Then we'd better start this investigation," said Omi.

      The group was settling in Race's apartment (with Omi and Ken sharing the biggest room, while the three older men each had their own) when the phone rang and it was Race's boss, Maya Carlton.

      "There are two more reported cases," Race said with a grimace, after hanging up the receiver.  "We now have a case in Rhode Island, North Carolina, Texas and two more just now, in California.  My deadline has just been extended.  We're going official, now"

      Ken muttered a curse.  "Damn.  Five cases of the same strain?"
      "Yes," said Race, "the same unnaturally occurring strain"
      "So it's not an outbreak yet," pointed out Omi, "We still have time.  We catch the culprits and it's okay, there would be no other uncontrollable way to spread it after all, since it isn't airborne"

      "It's not an outbreak YET," said Race gravely, "let me give you a little background, Omi.  There are three kinds of flu: human, swine and avian.  Avian-- bird viruses-- is the worst of them, and thankfully couldn't be caught by humans, if the strain is pure.  The thing is, swine--pigs--are open to all three viruses, which means that once in awhile, when an Avian strain hits a pig, it can mutate within the host and hence be caught by humans. There are many ways a virus can mutate to adapt.  We have a very slim timeframe"

      "How long does it take to kill?" Yoji asked with a very justified frown.

      "All victims died within a period of four days from admittance," said Race, "we're looking at about an incubation period of about five days then, since it probably hit them before they went to the hospital, and a mortality rate of 100 percent"

      "How does it spread?" asked Ran.

      "That's just it," said Race, "No one knows.  It's not airborne, there is no proof that it was passed in the bloodstream, there is no proof of ingestion, there is no proof of, God help us, infection from human contact, or direct contact with infected fluids, no proof either of animal vectors.  We are completely lost on this"

      "Someone better find out soon," Omi said pointedly, "So none of the people the victims have come into contacted with were quarantined?"
      "There was very little proof that it would be effective," Race growled, repeating the words that Maya said when he asked the exact same thing.

      "So if this IS airborne, we have people all across the continent carrying it," said Yoji disapprovingly, "I'm in the wrong damn country"

      "All the bodies will be shipped here in the morning," said Race, "The World Health Organization is on it, the United States Army, and the CDC.  Which means tomorrow will be one bloody hell of a power struggle.  But one of us will get to the bottom of this.  One way or another"

      "You're going to be there?" asked Ken.

      Race grimaced.  "Yeah"

      "And Izumida?" asked Yoji, "he presumably has a cure for all this.  Who's doing what about finding him?"

      "That's our job," Ran said.

      "You should take a break," Ken moaned as he turned over, half-asleep on the matress on the floor.  He thought it was a waste that he had yielded the real bed in the guest room to Omi, who wasn't using it anyway.  But he was too sleepy to say so, or bother moving.

      Omi ignored him, knowing he'd go back to sleep anyway.  Instead, he focused on his work, absorbed.  He looked at the computer screen, brows furrowed in matched concentration and frustration.

      So Izumida hits Ran over the head in this bathroom over here.  Leaves his bags in the ramp and heads straight outside, bearing only the suitcase where the cure supposedly is.  The security camera footage ends where he boards a cab.  The old doctor seemed nervous and edgy.  Any deception from someone inexperienced would justify that.  Ran said the doc had been a little nervous even in the plane.

      Which means… that IF the doctor did sell-out to someone, which was the most probable scenario, he had been contacted in Japan.

      Omi tapped on a few keys, zoomed in on the plates and registration numbers of the cab.  The Cool Ride Company would get a visit tomorrow.

      Before leaving for the laboratory where representatives of the CDC, WHO, and the U.S. Army would autopsy the bodies of the victims, Race gave them a set of keys to a rented car, a map, and a contact number.

      "See you around," he said cheerfully, hopping into his spiffy Chrysler.  Yoji suddenly had a longing for his Jalopy back home… More so when he glanced at the rented car, a serviceable black minivan.

      "Remember," Omi told Yoji seriously, "driving is different here, with the lanes and everything"
      "I know the drill, mom," Yoji drawled, unlocking the door.  The car phone rang the moment he opened the driver's door, making him jump as if he were waiting for the damn thing to explode.  He muttered a curse as he placed the tiny Nokia to his ear.

      "Before going anywhere," said the synthesized voice, "Make sure you pick up a cup of Mocha Java over in Coffee Paradiso" Then it hung up on him.

      "That's weird," murmured Yoji, then looked across the street from Gardner's apartment.  The coffee shop was called Coffee Paradiso.

      "What was that?" Ken asked.

      Yoji slammed the door closed and locked it, stalking straight for the coffee shop.  "A damn endorsement, that's what"

      The coffee shop was empty that morning, save for the members of Weiß and three American women who were manning the shop.

      They looked like Amazons, behind that stylized counter.  Like… Manx.

      One minute with them guaranteed the Kritiker training behind the curled lashes and the sculpted faces. 

      "Mocha Java," Yoji said, brightening a little at this new prospect in his life.  He almost forgot about extending his charms across the ocean to America.

      The girl on the counter smirked at him, and he glanced down to look at her nametag.  She noted it with a laugh.  "That's not my real one"
      "It's as good as any," said Yoji, "Hi Mabel, I'm Yoji Kudo.  What the hell do you want from us?"

      "Wait," said Omi, "Is it safe to talk here?"
      "As safe as the Koneko," one of the girls, Janine, replied with a challenging gleam in her eye.

      Ran's eyes narrowed in irritation.  How could these Americans know about them while Weiß never even knew they existed? Kritiker is one hell of a secretive organization, but how come some know about other Kritiker groups while the rest, like Weiß, are kept in the dark?

      The last girl, whose tag said her name was Cass, motioned for everyone to sit in a round table as Mabel rounded up seven Mocha Javas and Janine flipped the sign by the door to 'Closed.'

      "We know about you," explained Janine, whom Yoji had already pegged as Amazon leader/spokeswoman, "Because we work for the Intelligence branch of Kritiker.  The organization has branches all over this country, and in other countries too.  After all, to protect Japan, we have to look at the wider picture"

      "You know," said Mabel, handing out mugs of coffee, "Expatriates and exiles and outpouring and incoming criminals, international terrorists… Kritiker spread from Japan to go global about eleven years ago"

      Ran looked suspiciously at the coffee.  No one touched anything until Janine rolled back her eyes and mixed the mugs around, making it random.

      "Most of the international branches of Kritiker are Intelligence agencies," added Cass, "We don't have assassin groups here because we don't have jurisdiction in this land.  But we like to keep our eyes open"
      "The situation is different now," said Janine, "Dr. Izumida directly involves Japan, and the organization too.  That makes it Kritiker's job to control the problem.  That's why you've been sent in.  Kritiker's best in the field, so to speak, since we don't have 'commandos' of our own"

      "Manx told us to help you in any way," said Cass, "Whatever you need, we can requisition"

      A silence hung in the air, as the members of Weiß digested this new information.  The Americans seemed to be so much more uncomfortable with the quietness. 

      "You're Americans," pointed out Ran, "Why are your loyalties to the cause of Japan?"
      "The money's good," snapped Janine, genuinely offended, "Oh! And incidentally, we work to uphold justice too"

      Yoji laughed at the girl's audacity and Ran's frown.  He raised up his coffee cup in salute, and took a gratifying sip.

      Coffee Paradiso had a basement too.

      "We're stationed here," Cass was saying as she led the group down the annoyingly nostalgic spiral steps, "specifically to keep an eye on Race Gardner.  You must have noticed… this place isn't exactly the heart of the city"

      "He's a threat?!" exclaimed Ken.

      "Only in a manner of speaking," Mabel replied, "He has a lot of connections to a lot of organizations, including our own, so we make sure he doesn't tell anyone about it.  After years here though, it's a pretty useless post because Gardner is almost always not home"

      "He's a pretty straight arrow," added Cass, "You're in good hands with him"

      The group reached the bottom, and someone snapped open a switch that had lights opening in the relatively spacious basement.  It looked so much like their own that it gave Ken chills.

      There were four packages of various shapes on the couch, which the women motioned for.

      It was labeled "Diplomatic Goods" also.

      Ken tore up the package that was addressed to him.

      His bugnuks.

      The others found their weapons from home too, except for Omi who found a few techno-gizmo- extras in his box.

      Kritiker really did mean business (and it certainly isn't going to be very diplomatic).

      The black minivan stopped in front of an aging building, with gruff-looking men pouring out of the doors, looking at them strangely.

      Omi passed around some communication earpieces and asked everyone to test it out.  After assuring that they were in good working condition, he shifted in his seat and looked at Ran in an unconscious sign of trust and dependence.

      "Yoji, stay in the car," Ran said, "If whoever drove that cab is an accomplice, we could need a quick getaway.  Ken with him, Omi with me"

      He unlocked the door and hopped out, heading straight for the building entrance, with Omi trailing along, bearing his laptop.  Ran's dark clothes well-concealed the katana hidden in the folds of his jacket, and he moved fluidly without a hindrance from it.

      Ken looked at Yoji wryly, who had a resigned expression on his face.

      "Did that just happen or what?" chuckled Ken, "He moves so fast I can hardly see him anymore"

      The Cool Ride Company, reflected Omi, had a pathetic set of ill-kept records.

      But he found he could rely on the secretary--the sole woman in the establishment, who had a pretty solid memory of a three-day-old event.

      Omi gave her the plate number from a clip he had pulled from the video coverage, as well as the time it was taken, and the slightly-distorted zoom of the face of the driver.

      "That shift belongs to Cooper," she told him, "Wolfgang Cooper.  As in Mozart? You boys ever heard of that?"

      "We know Mozart," Omi said in consternation, to speed her along.

      "Yeah well," she continued, "I know that shift belongs to him.  Not only am I sure he drove the man you're looking for because of that, he came back here and told me about it too"
      "Told you what?" prodded Ran.

      "That he just drove this Chinese guy to this motel on the edge of town," she replied, "Said the old man looked sick, as if he was about to, like, keel over and die or some shit like that.  Wolfie just left him alone when he was told to put a lid on it, though.  So that's all I know.

      "By the way," she said in delayed suspicion, "Why'd you say you were looking for this guy again? He your uncle or something? No offense or anything, but you Chinese folk all kinda look alike--"

      "We're Japanese," said Omi darkly, genuinely, genuinely annoyed, "And by the way, lady--"
      "MY uncle," said Ran, looking for a graceful save as he tugged at Omi's elbow.  "He's my uncle.  Thank you for the information.  Do you, by chance, have Cooper's contact number or address?"
     

      After tracking the man down, Weiß found that their stories were straight.  If there was a conspiracy here, it wasn't apparent to their expert-eyes.

      The two witnesses said practically the same thing.  The only additional information Cooper was able to provide, was the name of the motel he had driven Dr. Izumida to.

      It was in the middle of a two-hour drive that Race Gardner called them on the car phone.  By that time, the city had vanished into a wide road with trees and fields lining it, vast and empty-looking.  Omi turned on the speaker.

      "I've checked out the bodies," Race said.

      "How bad is it?" Omi asked, hearing the helplessness in the older man's voice.

      "It's a kind of hemorrhagic fever, all right," came the reply, "It's like they swallowed a working blender in there.  God, what a mess"
      "Is it contained?" asked Ran.

      "Yes, thank God," answered Race, "no more reports have been made in the past hours.  The researchers have all declared that the virus isn't naturally occurring too.  All the victims live within a mile of a Darrell Pharmaceuticals lab, so the place is crawling with investigators now, closing it down 'til this blows over.  In the meantime, we're still looking for the cause of infection"
      "We got somewhere too," Omi said, "We have a lead on the missing doctor"

      "Great," said Race, "Listen, I have to go.  We're opening a new corpse now.  God, does that sound horrible or what? I can't believe I'm doing this for a living.  Out."

      Omi sighed.  "Well.  Five cases, nothing new.  What do you think?"
      "I think it's too soon to be relieved," said Yoji, keeping his eyes on the road.  "Damn bastards.  Who could be spreading this?"
      "I'll look up Darrell Pharmaceuticals," said Omi, "I think there's more to this case then meets the eye"

      Yoji stopped the car in the near-empty parking lot of a small motel.  It was almost lunchtime by the time they arrived at Good Times Motel.

      Ken smirked at the name, but let it go at that.  There weren't much people around.  He doubted times were as good here in the day as they were in the night…

      "We're going down to ask," said Ran.

      "I'm definitely coming this time," argued Yoji, "I've been in that car way too long.  My butt hurts"
      "We'll stay," offered Ken, looking at Omi who was preoccupied with the laptop and the research he has drawn up.

      "Old drill," reminded Ran, "If he asked to be delivered here, then we could very well be going into hostile environment.  Keep the lines clean"

      "You got it, boss," Omi said distractedly as he scrolled down his research and the two older men walked off. 

      Ken looked at the screen for a few moments, until he couldn't stand what he was looking at and not understanding anymore.

      "What am I looking at?" he asked.

      "Stocks," Omi replied, "winners, losers, prices, buyers, sellers.  Darrell is a definite loser in this round.  Stock prices are plummeting.  And, from what I've been looking at for the past hour, it's been falling for a long time now"
      "So if they had the cure to a disease they released themselves," said Ken, "They'd profit real good, right?"
      "Right," said Omi, "But the situation is too blunt for my taste.  It's like shoving a suspect in your face.  There could be more to this"

      "So how are their stocks selling?" asked Ken.

      "Not very well, predictably," said Omi, "The situation of their closure, all that.  No one wants to be in the sinking boat--"
      The car phone rang.

      Ken reached over and put it in speaker mode.  "Yup?"
      It was Race.

      "Seven more cases were reported just now," said Race, "They're all in one area, in Boston.  They're still alive, but it isn't looking good"
      Ken muttered a curse.  "Shit.  What are you doing now?"
      "I'm flying over there to investigate," said Race, "If you need anything, you know how to contact me.  Who the fuck is doing this? People are dying.  Innocent people"
      "We'll find our doctor, Gardner," said Ken determinedly, "and then we'll have your cure"