July 4th, 1973
Edward was stiff all over by the time he and Alphonse dropped into chairs in the mess hall at dinner. :I'm starving,: he griped as he looked down at his plate of food. He was getting really tired of beet soup, cabbages, and stringy beef, but that seemed to be a favorite meal around here. :Don't they believe in food around here?:
:This is food,: Al replied, looking amused. :Though I'm getting tired of it too. We should be grateful they're feeding us so well. The bread is good. And there's plenty of that.: He picked up the rough country wheat and ripped off a large hunk.
:Damned optimist,: Ed grumbled, but he ripped off a large chunk of bread for himself and dipped it in the soup.
Al just shrugged. :One of us has to be.:
Ed was mid-bite when he spotted Cal coming towards them through the crowd, with an intense expression. :Well it's not him.:
Al looked up too as Cal joined them, dropping down across from them with a look that seemed to say 'is this the only place left?' Though Ed knew it was an act.
Cal began to eat, taking several bites before muttering, :They took him inside today.:
Ed's pulse quickened. He knew exactly what Cal meant. The plan had worked, and Urey was inside the laboratory. It was a thrilling, and slightly terrifying, moment to think about his seventeen year old grandson in there, going undercover with a lot less practical experience than Ed had at that age. Still, it was too late to change plans now. :They moved two work details today,: he responded. He and Al had spotted them shifting bunks on their way to dinner. This might not have been notable, except that they were moving them into the bunks on the north-west side. Those were the ones the Aerugeans were in, and where Ed suspected they were taking all of their people from for experiments.
Cal nodded. :They took ten guys from our sections.:
:Five from ours,: Al nodded. :They called it reallocation of resources and labor.:
:I'll just bet it is,: Ed grumbled, thinking. If they wanted any chance of keeping any more people from being used in alchemical experiments, than they needed to act quickly. :I think we need to step things up,: he said over the sound of the crust of his bread crunching as he broke off a piece and dipped it in the beet soup.
:How?: Al asked. :We still don't have an entrance point.:
:Sure we do,: Ed commented, a smile spreading across his face as an idea came to him. It was a brilliant….crazy…. possibly insane idea. Which meant it was perfect. :We'll just go in the front.:
Al looked worried. :I don't like that expression. Just how do you plan to do that?:
:That's what I'm wondering,: Cal agreed, looking curiously at Ed.
He couldn't help the maniacal smile. :Why… walk up and knock of course.:
July 5th, 1973
This wasn't exactly the kind of thing Trisha had expected when she had accepted this mission to Drachma, not on a security detail, but she hadn't been about to tell her superior officer no when given her orders, even if she didn't much like them, and even if that commanding officer was Uncle Tore. He certainly didn't act like it on duty. Funny, she'd never once pictured him as the commanding officer type before becoming a State Alchemist. He never acted that way at family gatherings. Heck, he almost never acted like one in Central.
Trisha came to a stop on the street outside the estate gates, hoping that the guards would let her in. She had called ahead, and Gavril had been more than happy to hear from her, and had invited her to dine with him that evening.
Which had, of course, been the whole idea.
The house was not one of the palatial mansions set back from the road behind large barred gates. Instead it was more of a giant row house, set along the street in the portion of town where many of the nobility from further out in Drachma kept their "city houses." The Gurinas and extended relatives were just such a family, though Trisha had found out from intelligence that the Chairman himself did not live here, but in one of the more palatial estates in a different part of the city. This area had fallen out of favor with many of the noble families as the wealthier merchant class had begun to buy and build in it.
So Trisha rang the bell, and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. All Tore had asked her to do was have a conversation with Gavril, and try and find out if he actually knew anything more than what he was telling them, because he had a strong inclination –based on observation- that he did.
No one questioned a superior's observations if they wanted to keep their job, and Trisha wouldn't put it past Gavril, no matter how charming he was, not to know far more than he was telling. She'd have bet on it and won, she was sure.
The door opened, and a sour-faced woman in a uniform style black dress looked at her sternly, and for a moment said nothing.
:Good evening,: Trisha finally said, refusing to fidget. : Mr. Mihalov is expecting me.:
:The Amestrian.: The woman nodded shortly and opened the door.
Trisha walked in, but wasn't entirely sure where to go as she stood in the tall foyer, which was open up all three stories of the building, and she could see the stairs going up to each floor. The floor was white marble, and the walls were lined in dark-stained wood, as were the stairs, though the carved details in relieve every other panel were in bright colors.
But where was she supposed to go?
"Trisha, you're here!"
She looked up, and spotted Gavril grinning at her from the second floor balcony. :I do try to be on time,: she smiled back at him.
He chuckled. "We can speak in Amestrian. It will be good practice for my… political future."
"All right then," she replied.
"Please, come up," he waved at her. "Dinner's just about ready."
So much for being afraid it would be overly formal. Trisha began to relax. "All right." She moved forward, and went up the staircase, turning at the landing, and eventually came out on the second floor, where Gavril was waiting. "I was beginning to wonder where to go," she admitted with a light laugh.
Gavril shook his head. "Never mind Mrs. Galatinov. She's a protective relic of my uncle's younger days, but she's quite good at her job running the house. But never mind her, welcome to my home away from home. I hope you enjoy the ostentatious but lovely décor. I'm told my grandmother chose every bit of it."
Trisha couldn't help chuckling. He was awfully good at putting people at ease with his charm and relaxed smile. His way with words didn't hurt either. "I feel as if I've walked into a museum display," she admitted. "Though I hope your grandmother would take that as a compliment. I've never seen wall carvings like these."
"And you won't again. The artist who did them only worked in Petrayevka, and every house he did is unique," Gavril offered her one hand as he gestured with the other towards an open doorway. "If you really are into architecture, I can tell you more about it later. Or I'm told there's a great book about all of his architectural paneling and other artistic features for sale in every gift and book shop in the city."
"Maybe I'll pick one up then," Trisha replied as she moved with him into what turned out to be a luxurious sitting room with a small dining table, obviously meant for more private, intimate evenings rather than a full formal dining room. There was also a deep fireplace and richly upholstered couches further back. Being a corner house, the wall to her right was full of windows with luxurious dark green velvet drapes. "This is really fabulous, and I always thought we had a nice home in Central."
"What is your house like?"
"Two stories, with a yard, inside a walled privacy fence," Trisha said as she took her shoulder wrap off and draped it across the back of her dinner chair as Gavril pulled it out. She smiled in thanks and sat. "It's fairly large really, at least as far as houses go. It's got three bedrooms, and a couple of spare rooms that could be bedrooms, but Mom and Dad use them for home office and project space. We've got a big kitchen, and a dining room, and a big sitting room. All the things you'd expect in a house for a whole family, but it's not quite this big."
"That's all right, my parents' home isn't this big either," Gavril admitted, chuckling as he sat down across from her and popped the cork on a bottle of wine. "My Uncle's the one who inherited the family fortune, and this house. My mother got a nice dowry and some property out of it, but my father's well-off enough being his family's only heir that we're not exactly hurting. But he's also a lot thriftier than Uncle. Not that I object to Uncle letting me live here," he added as he poured the wine, and handed her a glass. "It's very generous of him, and I appreciate being so close into the city. I'm much more interesting in politics than my father. Uncle likes to think maybe I take more after his side of the family."
Well, wasn't Gavril conveniently talkative this evening? Trisha sincerely hoped his chatty open mood in private would continue into more sensitive realms of conversation. But she had to play it carefully, no matter how easy it was to simply get drawn into enjoying the evening. "Thank you." She sipped the wine slowly, and was glad there were also water glasses on the table. "And thank you for inviting me over."
"Does your superior know you're here?" Gavril asked curiously.
"Of course not," Trisha scoffed, then smiled conspiratorially. "I told him I was going site seeing since it's my night off duty. This house certainly qualifies doesn't it?"
Gavril laughed. "Yes, I suppose it does. Well I'm flattered you not only accepted, but evading questioning to do so. I hope you like veal."
Trisha looked at the tender meat on her plate and glazed in a light sauce with a side of cooked spring vegetables, all of which smelled tantalizingly delicious. "I love veal."
She did not try and guide or press the conversation through dinner. Instead she continued to trade little harmless bits of information about home, and about their families. She didn't say much about her parents, but she felt freer to tell a couple of stories about her little brother, which paired nicely with Gavril's amusing tales of his experiences with his little sister.
It wasn't until later, when she had barely finished her glass of wine –though she sipped it as often as he did- but was sure Gavril had imbibed at least two or three, and she had just finished chuckling over one of his earthier stories, that she allowed a seemingly innocent comment to fall from her lips. "You know, you really just don't seem much like the old nobility I've met here."
Gavril looked up from his last bite of veal, as if trying to determine what she meant. Then he shrugged and chuckled. "That's probably because I'm not." He sipped his wine. "I mean sure, my blood is what it is, but I don't see things the way my parents or my uncle do. A lot of us don't."
"Us?" Trisha asked.
"The younger generation, if you want to call it that." Gavril leaned back in his chair. "There are a lot of the younger nobility who don't see things the same way. There's a terrible imbalance in the wealth in this country, what little remains, and we have different ideas no how to improve the economy, and Drachma as a whole. Would it shock you, to find out I'm not even a part of my uncle's political party?"
This was exactly the opening Trisha had been waiting for. "Not really," she admitted, smiling. "It's not at all uncommon to think differently than the previous generation. Not where I'm from anyway, and I did say you don't remind me of the rest of the nobility."
"Fair enough." Gavril nodded. "Well there's another party I've been a part of, quietly of course, for quite a while. It's not really a secret, but the nobility don't really take us seriously. We're sort of, progressive."
"So you're the ones behind this trade negotiation?" Trisha nudged.
"We're certainly for it, though I wish we had that much pull," Gavril grinned. "We want to reinvigorate Drachma, but to do that requires changes that not everyone is willing to make. Fortunately, the government is currently in a more open minded mood, even if it is born of desperation."
"And how do you plan to reinvigorate Drachma?" Trisha asked, smiling and demonstrating rapt attention. It wasn't hard.
"You're really interested?" Gavril looked momentarily surprised.
"Well of course I am," Trisha replied. "My family has always taken interest in the good of international policies, and has a soft spot for underdogs," she added, her voice softening just a little.
Gavril seemed to take that as she'd intended; that she had a soft spot for him. He leaned across the table. "We want to even things out. Renewing international trade is the first step. Drachma needs the inflow of money, and the productivity. But we want to do it without losing Drachma's dignity, which is why these negotiations are so important. It needs to be a fair trade between equals, without beggaring Drachma." He began to warm to the subject, clearly eager to discuss it with someone who wanted to listen to his ideas. "And we need to get more of the wealth just sitting around in storehouses like the one you saw, out and distributed among the people. Now, that can be done this way, selling it off and then bringing the money back into the economy. It's easier than handing out old gaudy chairs to peasants," he chuckled. "But we've got to encourage Drachman businesses and farms too. We've even got alchemists working on improving seed and fertilizer to help deal with the several bad growing seasons we've had."
Now there was a detail Trisha filed away for future information. "So you want this to happen as much as I do."
"Of course I do."
"Then… can you help me?" Trisha asked.
"What do you mean?" Gavril asked, looking slightly anxious, though he hid it well.
"Your uncle asked Lieutenant Colonel Closson, Major Mustang, and I to help investigate the arson," Trisha reminded him. "And so far we're not turning up much in the way of leads. No one wants to talk to Amestrians, even half the Drachman investigators. But if we don't find out who did this, it could happen again, and if someone dies next time, who knows if these negotiations would even be continued." And then Gavril's plans would fall through too.
Gavril's expression was slipping, his concern more obvious as he finished the last of the wine in his glass. "You make a good point."
"I just thought you might know more people than your uncle," Trisha explained, keeping it as nonthreatening as possible. "Or an idea that some of the more traditional minds might have missed. We know not everyone is happy about this. It would be foolish to assume unanimity from any populace on international policy." She didn't beg for information. That would be pushing too much.
Gavril refilled his glass, and topped off hers. "I admit… I have suspicions," he said finally. "Not that I can be sure, but as you say, not everyone likes this. Not even the parties are united, except that pretty much every merchant or company with product to sell wants to widen their market. There are… some… who agree that while we need to expand the economy and increase trade, want it to be entirely on Drachman terms."
"You mean instead of an equal partnership."
"Exactly." Gavril clearly did not like this idea. "They want other countries to take the cut, to put Drachma back on top where they feel she belongs. Drachma on Drachman terms."
"Do you know who any of them are?" Trisha asked. "I mean… I don't want you to turn in your friends or anything, but this has to stop."
"You're sweet," Gavril smiled. "And I agree, it does. Unfortunately, there's not a coherent party to blame, or point to a meeting place. As far as I know, it's scattered dissidents out of several groups, working together."
"So everyone's got leaks."
"Pretty much. And I don't know who they are in most of the different parties," Gavril admitted. "I've tried to find out."
"And your own party?"
"I have only suspicions, and no proof what so ever." Gavril looked up at her, his keen gaze boring into her eyes, as if ascertaining for himself how much he really could afford to tell her. Was he wondering if he had already said too much? "Even if I named names, it would be based only on possibilities and maybes and gut instinct. I could very well be wrong, given that I'd like to think everyone in the party is behind its ideals and our methods, which do not include sabotage or attempted killings."
He shifted back again, agitation on his face, though it was clearly directed inward. Trisha waited patiently for him to continue, hoping his internal war would end in her favor.
"I… I really don't know for certain, and there are places in the city I just can't go without drawing notice, even now," Gavril finally said. "But I don't like this at all, and if we need to find out the truth, I can suggest a couple of places to go…and a couple of doors to listen at, to see if you can find out anything. Then, maybe whoever is really involved can be flushed out without any good names being ruined falsely."
Perfect. Trisha nodded in understanding and smiled sympathetically. "I like the sound of that. I don't want to ruin anyone's life on accident either. So, where should we start?"
Roy had, ostensibly, been given the night off, the same way Trisha had. Which meant that to most people, he was off duty. In reality, he was out hunting down a potential lead on the investigation.
He knew where Trisha had headed out to tonight. Tore had specifically asked her to talk to that Gavril Mihalov guy, and Roy had little doubt that she would get plenty to hear, though he doubted much of it would be true or of any use. He did not trust Mihalov any more than he liked him, and the idea of Trisha spending the evening dining alone with the guy made him antsy and irritable.
But Roy had a lead of his own, and one who knew Gavril and was presumably as well connected. He didn't have her number to call, but it hadn't taken long to track down the information that the best place for the middle-class but socially stylish folks in his age bracket was a club downtown with a name that translated to The Crystal Cavern.
So Roy had dressed in the only fashionably casual outfit he had brought with him, and gone for a stroll.
The Cavern turned out to be a pretty swinging club. Roy could see the neon sign two blocks away, and hear the music before he was within half a block. It was a bit different from the music he was used to back home, but a swinging rock beat was a swinging rock beat, no matter where the music was written.
Roy slipped inside and had a moment's apprehension when he had to show the bouncer at the door his identification, but he grinned at the man and said :A visit to Petrayevka can't be all work right?:
The guy nodded, and almost smiled, and waved him in.
The interior was dark, almost black in corners, though the room had a surprisingly modern look to it; smooth lines and minimalist, a startling contrast from the highly elaborate and colorful carvings and paintings that seemed to fill most of the city. The floor was black, as was the ceiling and the walls, though the tables and seats were stark white. At least, he thought they were; the changing lighting on the ceiling shifted through deep, moving colors mostly in blues, greens, and purples. A warm pulse of red and yellow washed the stage in light; the live band pouring out sound underneath them.
Roy's first care was to find a drink at the bar. It gave him time to look around and see if he could find who he was looking for, or at least spot a good place to sit down and wait. He had it on good authority anyone who was anyone would be here…and Talya definitely seemed the type.
He wasn't disappointed either. By the time he had his drink, he had spotted Talya on the other side of the room, sitting at a small table by herself, watching the dancers as she sipped her drink. Tonight's dress was far more modern, black, and stylish.
It was perfect. Roy sidled his way around the room until he was within ear shot. :You're too pretty to be sitting her by yourself.:
She looked up sharply, though her expression eased into a smile as she recognized him. :What does my beauty have to do with it?:
:You should be escorted, so you don't get mobbed by adoring fans,: Roy suggested, chuckling.
:And you aren't mobbing me?:
:If you wish me to go, just say so,: Roy replied with a small bow. :But I suspect it wouldn't do anything to improve either of our evenings.:
:That's true.: Talya eyed him approvingly. :Care to join me?:
Roy stepped around the barrier and took the other chair. :I thought you'd never ask.:
He settled in next to her, not making any overly forward moves. She wasn't the type of girl to put up over moves, and he wasn't really here to hit on her anyway. :So why are you here by yourself?: he asked, dropping any pretense and going for interested conversational tone.
:Because I like coming out by myself,: Talya replied with a casual shrug of her delicate shoulders. :And because I see no reason why I have to replace my boyfriend before I can enjoy myself.:
There was a bit of a sting there. :Nothing wrong with a woman having fun by herself,: Roy offered with a smile.
Talya smiled over her drink. :And what are you doing out on the town by yourself?:
:I had a night off, thought I'd take in the local night life,: Roy shrugged.
:Without your girlfriend?: Talya asked.
Roy bit back the urge to growl that she wasn't his girlfriend. He just didn't know anymore. There wasn't a good time, or place, to talk it out. :She's still on duty,: he replied instead.
:Well that's a shame.: Talya sidled a little closer to him. :You know, I was getting a little bored here anyway. Why don't you come to my place instead, where's its quieter… much easier to talk.:
Well now, wasn't that an interesting turn in the conversation? Roy wished he knew whether it was a real come on, or just a preference for quiet, given her earlier statements. Still, it was the perfect opening. :Don't you think that would look a little suspicious?: he asked cautiously.
:No one here knows who you are except the bouncer…and he's a friend of mine.: Talya chuckled and slid her hand lightly across his forearm. :Coming?:
"And that's when we broke it off…" Talya said softly, her head leaning against Roy's shoulder as they sat, snuggled on her couch quite some time later. "Political differences of all things. I just couldn't live with his methods."
"I don't blame you," Roy stroked her hair absently with one hand. It only lent credence to his natural dislike for Gavril Mihalov. "Clearly, he didn't deserve you."
Talya tilted her head to look up at him, her expression much more soft and vulnerable than he had ever seen it in public. "Really? All my friends thought I was foolish to end it."
"No… if it wasn't working, it's less painful just to sever things while you can… while you can still be friends." Roy's hand cupped her chin gently. Those warm, dark eyes held so much soul, so much hidden pain. There was still caring there, but Roy had the pained realization that maybe he should be listening to his own advice.
"You're right," she replied softly, leaning in closer. "I should…" her lips found his, and a moment later, Roy responded in kind.
