Trompe L'Oeil
Chapter 3
(***)
Through the fog of sleep, he heard traffic. Or were those trains? Or an airplane perhaps? He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that the sound hurt his head and he didn't like it. On a subconscious level, he realized the futility of it, but he thought about telling it to shut up, to quiet the fuck down so he could continue to sleep. But no matter how hard he willed it, his mouth never moved. He wanted to stay here in this cloudy haze of emptiness, and away from the harsh cacophony of life. It was so much easier here – no sight, no sound, no touch ... nothing.
Takaba woke up slowly, the reality of his surroundings registering to his senses one by one. He saw darkness through heavy-lidded eyes, shadowed outlines with a grainy resolution that gave no indication whatsoever of the chill that danced along his skin. He shivered. His mouth felt dry, as if cotton had been stuffed in there and left a trail of arid bitterness in its wake.
What had happened? Where was he?
Everything was still so muddled. Full awareness was continuing to flitter just out of reach, a slip of silk floating in the wind that he couldn't quite grasp. There had been a party, he recalled, with people in fancy suits and dresses. Asami had been there and ... and the body.
Takaba's breath hitched and his eyes sprang wide open as realization hit. He sat up, only to have the room spin from the sudden action. He pressed his hands down on the cold cement floor to steady himself.
"You're awake." The feminine voice was soft and timid, but even so, it startled him. He looked around, trying to make sense of the dark shapes around him. Large crates and heavy machinery loomed over him like silent sentinels, and it took several seconds before he noticed the petite figure nestled between two large boxes on his left.
"Y-yes." His voice sounded hoarse and scratchy. He swallowed against the dryness, but it barely helped. "Where am I? Who are you?"
Thinking back to how many times he'd been put in these untenable situations by the nature of his job and his intimate association with a crime lord, he would've thought he'd become accustomed to waking up in strange places. But no, it was as disconcerting as always, and he hated it.
"I don't know where we are," came the quiet voice, "but my name is Sato Sachiko." The small body shifted and Takaba made out the shape of a slim woman inching a little closer to him. In the dim light, he couldn't make out her features or her age, but she sounded young and frightened.
"I'm Takaba," he said in hopes of easing her fear. "Takaba Akihito." He rubbed his eyes and tried to clear away the remaining cobwebs in his head. He remembered losing consciousness, but everything beyond that was a mystery, which only meant that he must've stumbled onto something worth hiding. His investigative instincts were definitely piqued.
"It's nice to meet you, Takaba-san," Sachiko responded politely, as if the manners had asserted themselves by force of habit.
"Likewise, Sato-san." He looked over at the woman. He could likely guess why he had ended up in a strange industrial warehouse, but that didn't explain his companion's presence. "I'm sorry if I sounded rude earlier, but you can imagine how confused I am to wake up in a place like this. If you don't mind me asking, why are you here?"
Takaba could make out a slight nod from Sachiko. "I-I don't know," she started in a wavering voice. "The last thing I remember was waiting in the hotel room. Then, everything went black and I woke up here."
The gears started to turn in the younger photographer's mind. "What were you waiting for in the hotel room?"
Sachiko hesitated a moment before answering. "I was ... entertaining."
Takaba didn't have to think hard to deduce the connection to his own situation. "Entertaining?" he repeated. "You were with Kinoshita-san this evening." He had said what she'd implied more for his own benefit than hers.
Again, after a brief pause, Sachiko nodded.
She was likely the 'rendezvous' he'd overhead the two men talking about. She had just been the victim of unfortunate circumstances when Kinoshita had met his end. Still, that didn't explain where he was and why he was here.
As if on cue, the blare of a horn reverberated through the warehouse and gave him an idea as to his whereabouts with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. The docks ... he was somewhere on the pier, and that loud horn had probably sounded regularly throughout the whole time he'd been unconscious. It was a wonder he hadn't been woken up sooner.
Taking a fortifying breath, he pushed himself off the ground to take stock of his surroundings. If there was one thing he'd learned after starting his quasi-relationship with the head of a criminal syndicate, it was that rescues never really worked according to schedule, and that he was better off looking for an escape route than sitting around and waiting. Besides, this was something he'd gotten himself into, not Asami, and he would take responsibility for getting himself out of it. Yet, as he eyed the locked entrance and the small ceiling vents, he absently wondering if Asami was looking for him right now ... or if the man even noticed he was missing.
"There's no way out," Sachiko stated in a defeated tone as she also rose and joined him. "The windows are too small and too high. Same with the vents. The door is looked from the outside, and I have no idea how to pick a lock. I've knocked on it many times, but never hear anything on the other side."
She was a slight woman, Takaba noted. Standing no higher than above his chin, she wore the derivative of what used to be a very elegant cocktail dress, and walked in bare feet that had likely had shoes on them earlier. Yet, despite her rumpled state, she moved with a confidence and surety that contradicted her timid demeanor. "Did you see who locked us in here?" he asked as he pushed on the metal door. Not surprisingly, it didn't budge.
"No." She gently clutched his arm, whether for support or to stop his redundant assessment, he didn't know.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. We'll find a way out. I'm sure of it." He moved away from the entrance, secretly wanting he believed in his own words.
Sachiko sighed. "I just wish I knew why I was brought here. I didn't do anything wrong."
'As do I,' Takaba mentally echoed her sentiments. He reassessed his environment with the shafts of light that had fought its way through the mottled windows. The warehouse storeroom was a fair size, easily housing several dozen crates of various sizes throughout the expanse. In fact, he'd hazard a guess that his old cozy apartment could've easily fit in here with room to spare. That being said, the ceiling was vaulted, and the windows were too high for him to even consider stacking the crates.
Takaba gritted his teeth in frustration. He had been in worse situations than this, and he had always managed to find a way out. Where were his bright ideas now?
'Where was Asami right now?' a small voice asked inside his head before he could stop it. He hated himself for depending so much on the bastard, and yet, at times like these, he was always fighting pangs of ... of something that made him miss his domineering lover.
'He's not here,' he told himself silently as he walked the perimeter of the chilly storage space, hands skirting over the crates and trying to find an opened one to determine if anything inside was useful.
Sachiko followed his progress unobtrusively from the middle of the room. Just as he was finishing up his first go-around, the door creaked, a loud ominous scratch of metal that caused both occupants to jump.
"Takaba-san ..." Apprehension tainted Sachiko's voice and he moved over to give her shoulder a reaffirming touch before putting himself between her and the door. He may have been put into a helpless situation and needed rescuing himself, but he still did have his masculine pride to consider.
The time it took for the heavy metal door to open was likely no more than a few seconds, but in Takaba's mind, the moment seemed to stretch beyond a hundred heartbeats. And in that time, he was almost certain that everything around him had stopped – all sound, all movement, all life – all waiting with bated breath for the big reveal.
Two suited men filled the entranceway, both imposing, and more importantly, both carrying guns. Instinctively, Takaba tensed. With his current living arrangements, he'd been around the weapons enough to hate and respect them at the same time. His attention partially trained on the Glocks, he tried his best to make out the two owners themselves. The glare from the exterior light behind them made the task difficult, casting their faces into shadow, but he was certain he did not recognize them as any of Asami's or his associate's men.
"You! Come here!" The voice was gruff and guttural, and slightly accented. A gun waved in Sachiko's direction.
Takaba felt her move closer to him, and he stood firm as the man who'd issued the order neared. He barely registered the neatly trimmed goatee and closely shaved head before he was abruptly pistol-whipped aside. His vision blanked and the air left his lungs as he thudded to the unforgiving floor. Seconds passed before the shock wore off and the left side of his jaw screamed bloody murder at the abuse it had taken.
Sachiko called his name from what sounded like a long distance away, but when he regained enough sense to look for her, he saw her being dragged out the door. Forcing his stunned body to move, he half crawled and half ran toward the entrance, his legs and arms moving as if they belonged to four uncoordinated people. But his efforts were all in vain, for he'd taken no more than two steps before the deafening click of the lock sealed him in once again ... alone.
(***)
The firm knock came at an opportune time. Asami looked up from the SynCorp proposals he'd been perusing, and watched Kirishima enter his office with his usual discretion and stand quietly before him, waiting to be acknowledged. He pushed the papers aside. Not that he'd been giving them his full attention anyways. Takaba had pulled off his disappearing act for a whole day now, and even though he'd arrived at Sion as usual and had made a show of going over the papers he'd received last week, a small part of him wondered where the hapless photographer had hied himself off to. He knew Takaba couldn't have perpetrated any type of crime - drunken and disorderly conduct aside - which only meant the tiresome boy had gotten himself into a shitload of trouble once again.
To say his pride wasn't a little bruised would be lying. First, not anticipating Kinoshita and SynCorp's behind-the-curtain dealings, and now, losing track of one of his possessions, he was not in the mood to suffer any incompetence at the moment.
Kirishima did not disappoint. After a quick permissive nod from Asami, the assistant stepped forward and placed two familiar items on the desk. "Our contacts in the police department managed to sneak these out before they were tagged for evidence, Asami-sama."
Neatly manicured hands touched the scratched cell phone and picked up the camera case. Asami was slightly surprised at the weight - or rather, lack thereof. "And the camera?"
Kirishima straightened and pushed his sliding glasses up high on his nose. "They couldn't find it. It's missing, sir."
A muscle tightened along the side of Asami's jaw, but he hid the reaction well with practiced ease. What had happened to cause Takaba to leave his cell phone and camera case behind, but not his camera? A seed of ... of concern began to flower in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't like the distraction it was causing him. Sometimes, he wondered why he indulged himself so much with his errant lover. It would've been so much simpler to just cut Takaba loose. But deep down, he knew that his chances of quitting the kid were as likely as him quitting his smoking habit - nil.
"And the other thing I've asked you to check on?"
Lines creased around Kirishima's mouth. "We haven't found anything yet, but we're still searching."
Asami stared impassively at the articles on his desk, briefly recalling the most recent moments he'd spent with his stubborn, headstrong lover. Since there was no possible way that Takaba had anything to do with Kinoshita, the fact that there was a murderer at large still held true. Finding said person would go a long way in unraveling this undesirable situation.
"Then keep looking," he commanded. "I want the real killer found, and Takaba back."
(***)
His watch display read 1:49 a.m. when Takaba finally heard some discernible shuffling outside the door. His watch - a Tag Heuer that had been a reluctantly received gift from Asami - had ticked away so slowly the last three lonely hours that he'd been beginning to think that Asami had spent two thousand dollars on a defective product. But the moment he heard the lock click, he was on his feet, thoughts of Asami quickly brushed aside for something far more immediate.
As the door swung open, his jaw throbbed as a reminder of his last encounter with his less-than-amiable captors. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't be caught unaware again. His muscles tensed at the possibility of another confrontation, a rush of adrenalin flooding through him as if preparing him for battle like the samurai of old. If there was a chance to escape this place and look for Sachiko, he was sure as hell going to take it.
But all his haphazard plans melted away when the door swung open, and a distinct feminine shape stumbled into the room. He quickly moved to steady Sachiko as she regained her footing and caught a brief glimpse of Mr. Goatee Man's form outside the door right before it slammed closed. Takaba ground his teeth together, surprised that he was actually a little angry at not getting the chance to retaliate against the man who'd hit him earlier.
He turned his attention to Sachiko. "Are you alright? What'd they do to you?"
With the meager light that had filtered in, he could make out a slight bruise developing on the side of her face. That, combined with the smudged eye make-up, made Sachiko look like she'd just been through a horrendous ordeal.
But she just nodded and straightened, the subtle strength he'd sensed from her belying her slight frame. "I'm fine. They were asking me questions about the party at the hotel, but I didn't know anything, and they hit me."
The party? Takaba wondered what significant event might've happened there. He certainly hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Then again, his attention had been somewhat diverted by a sadistic golden-eyed bastard, but that was beside the point. "What did they ask you?"
Sachiko shrugged. "I'm not sure. It didn't make sense. Something about some photos." She looked at him inquiringly, as if he might be able to clarify.
"Photos?" Takaba's mind turned, thinking back to the shots he'd taken at the reception. He couldn't even recall who or what he'd snapped pictures of other than the usual run-of-the-mill posed images of socialites. Had he somehow managed to capture Kinoshita's murderer on his memory card? And speaking of, where had his camera disappeared to? Theories abounded with renewed ferocity inside his head, but he tried to present a façade of calm in front of his companion. Asami, Mr. I-Have-the-Emotional-Range-of-a-Rock himself, would've been proud. "I wonder what they're after. I don't know anything about whatever photos they're referring to."
Sachiko's posture slumped slightly at the response. Apparently, Takaba wasn't the only one eager to find answers to the whys and wherefores of their imprisonment. But then, Sachiko walked slowly toward the door, casting him an excited glance over her shoulder before she turned to stare at the metal barrier. The hopeful twinkle in her eyes was unmistakable, even in the shadows.
"Sachiko...?" He moved closer to get a better look at what she was up to.
Without a word, she reached down into the low-cut neckline of her dress and pulled a key out from her cleavage. "'Entertaining' isn't the only thing I'm good at." She gave him a bashful smile and handed him the key. "I managed to stumble right into the guy who locked the door behind me when I was hit. Now, what do you say we get out of here and answer our own questions?"
Surprise and a newfound respect warred for dominance on his face. Part of him was slightly taken aback that this unassuming woman had done what he couldn't and found a way out for them. The other part leapt with joy and told him not to reject this opportunity just for the sake of pride. Finally, with a reassuring smile of his own, he reached out and grabbed the key. The edges dug into his palm, and he relished the feel of them for what they represented - freedom.
(***)
"Asami-sama."
Asami paused in mid-motion at Kirishima's voice. He looked over at his secretary and gestured for him to proceed as he put his other arm into his suit jacket and shrugged it into place. After a couple more hours of work - or rather, of going through the motions of running his empire while distractedly trying to solve the case of his missing lover - he'd decided enough was enough, and had planned to head home. For all he knew, Takaba could've snuck back into the penthouse without any of the guards noticing. The chances were slim of that happening but the boy did surprise him sometimes.
"I have someone here to see you, Asami-sama."
A dark, elegant eyebrow rose. "It's after three in the morning, Kirishima. Reschedule the meeting for tomorrow night." Normally, the man knew better than to disrupt his usually well-organized schedule.
"I would, sir, but you'll want to take this meeting." The incandescent light from the ceiling fixture danced off Kirishima's glasses and brought attention to his serious expression. "It has to do with Kinoshita-san, and possibly, Takaba."
Asami turned to face his secretary fully, his usual expressionless mask easily concealing the intrigue he felt.
"You told us to look for the murderer, and one of our contacts in another club uncovered someone who might lead us in the right direction."
"Who?"
"Nakamura Aiko."
The name didn't sound familiar at all to Asami, and he waited for Kirishima to continue.
"She's Kinoshita's lover. Apparently, she spent the night with him in his hotel room yesterday, right before he was killed. And she's waiting outside your office right now."
End Chapter 3